my story.

"Hello, my name is Joanna Hope Beresford."

Pull up a chair. Grab a cup of coffee. I want to tell you a story.

It's my story.

But, it really isn't mine. It belongs to a the hero who saved my life. That's who I'd like to dedicate it to, anyways. After all, every good story is dedicated to someone, right?

Let's begin.

I was a very good girl.

If you asked me who I was, I would have rattled off some titles and identifying factors:

Preacher's daughter; homeschooled; sold-out Christian; theater enthusiast; writer; singer; speaker; horse-crazy country girl; the loyal best friend to many; my mother's sweet girl, my daddy's straight-A student; full of potential; full of joy.

I'm going to make such an impact in the world for Jesus. 

I may have been many things, but above all, I was a very good girl.

Cool story, Jo. 

...

My knees hit the cold cement. I looked up and the stars mocked me. The awe and wonder of their beauty no longer stirred me. My mind swarmed with thoughts darker than the January night. I was numb, but it wasn't the winter air. 

"God, why won't you just let me die?"

...

The story that my performance told was a lie. The truth? I was not a good girl. And it plagued me.

There were deep wounds inside my heart from childhood trauma that I had buried.
Real emotions that I had drowned in the name of godliness.
Passionate self hatred and shame.

I'm not sure when, but at some point I went into hiding. I hid the real Joanna behind the Joanna that I wished I was.

This is my story:

The lies and pretending go back into early childhood.
The sexual addiction was confined to junior high.
The eating disorder took control in high school.
Anorexia appealed to me. Bulimia disgusted me.
First one and then the other, I became a slave to both.
Self harm became my release. The temporary escape.
The lies continued. False fronts. Intentional deception.

The darkness was my friend.

Finally, obsessed with death, I sought my own.

3 years ago my life spiraled out of control and into a nightmare I never dreamt possible.

I applied for a 6 month women's residential treatment program as a result of an ultimatum from those who loved me most. Something had to change.

I was accepted into the program and became a resident of Mercy Multiplied in Lincoln, CA on June 25th, 2014. In my pride, I thought I would be in and out in 5 months. In my hopelessness I was convinced it would fail me and upon returning home, I would commit suicide.

I was wrong on both accounts.

For one thing, this "6 month program" turned into 14 months as I fought to maintain my control.

I walked through the doors of Mercy with a fantastic attitude. I was unmotivated, unwilling, unfeeling, and silently furious. I fought the help extended to me. I refused to change. I broke the rules just because I wanted to. Much of my time there was caught in a familiar cycle of success to failure and hopefulness to despair.

One by one my destructive behaviors were addressed, but more terrifying than that, the roots that ran deep into my heart were exposed.

Pain.

So much pain.

Ugly.

So much ugly.

For the first time, the real Joanna Hope Beresford stepped forward.

(And for the record, I didn't like what I saw.)

My healing and freedom journey during my time in CA was m-e-s-s-y.

At one point when I got honest about the ugly, it devastated me and fear took control. I plunged back into my suicidal mentality, and was taken to the emergency room by the staff at Mercy. I ended up being involuntarily admitted to the county psychiatric hospital and diagnosed with severe clinical depression. After the week long "vacation" in the hospital, I returned to Mercy and resumed the program.

(Another for the record: Becoming a patient in a mental institution wasn't on my bucket list as a "good girl" growing up. Nope. Pretty sure not.)

By my own profession, I had been obsessed with Jesus.

But, to be honest with you, I wasn't obsessed with Jesus. I was obsessed with my misconception of who He was and my own ability to impress Him with my good behavior.

When the real me stepped forward, I had an encounter with the real Jesus. Funny, it happened when I was stripped of everything that I believed qualified me to know Him.

While "Messy" does seem like an accurate description of my time in treatment, it doesn't capture the entirety of my story. So, "Redeemed" is the word I've chosen.

Can't take credit for that one.

I discovered that I am loved passionately and jealously by someone who calls me precious. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear while I sat in an unkept corner room of a psychiatric ward. He consistently called me beautiful on the days my face lit up with joy, and on the days my face was swollen from crying. I uttered my deepest secrets in counseling and fell into the loving arms of mercy and grace. Nothing I said or did could shake the truth of my Redeemer's love.

I am happy to say that I did complete the program, and found myself up front for a graduation ceremony on August 26th, 2015. I walked out the doors of Mercy, not with the intention of ending my life (like I had previously predicted), but with every intention of living it to the fullest.

A little less than 6 months ago, I left California stomping my feet in victory and filled to overflowing with a hope I never imagined possible.

Now, I'm trying to figure out how to live life outside the safe walls where I first tasted freedom. Messy is still one of my favorite adjectives.

These months of transition have been, and continue to be difficult and painful. I have fallen flat on my face more times than I want to admit. This week. My journey of healing from past trauma and the internal consequences of addiction continues. The counseling that began at the Mercy home is now relocated to the lovely and rainy state of Oregon.

And God is still good.

I am falling deeper in love with my hero, Jesus. I am being pursued and won back again and again by His tenderness as He relentlessly restores me.

I'm discovering new levels of freedom, and yes, new levels of my own brokenness. I'm trying to accept the reality that I am not perfect-on a daily basis! I'm trying to push past the fear that screams "you'll never make it!" I'm trying to trust my God and choose to believe that He is a good father.

I am terribly human, just like you.

Here's the deal,

My story is nothing special.

It's special to me. And it's special to Jesus, cause He freaking loves me like nobody's business. But in the grand scheme of things, it's not all that grand. I haven't been through the best or the worst circumstances. All I know, is that when it was just my story, it was a story of darkness, death, deception, and despair. Now, I dedicate it to Him, because it's only when I let Him take it from my hands that it became beautiful.

I know that you have a story too.

And while I will never know the depths of your story, (the pain, the shame, the mistakes, the victories), anymore than I can get you to understand what has happened in my heart, I do know that He knows your story.

I share my story because I want you to know what He has done for me. I want you to know who He is. I want you to know what He's done for me because it's incredible! Because He is incredible!

I am not who I was.

I am no longer Joanna, the good girl.
I am no longer Joanna, the performer.
I am no longer Joanna, the victim.
I am no longer Joanna, the liar.
I am no longer Joanna, the eating disordered.
I am no longer Joanna, the depressed.
I am no longer Joanna, the cutter.
I am no longer Joanna, the suicidal.
I am no longer Joanna, the bound.

I am not what I have done and I am not what has been done to me.

I am loved.
I am chosen.
I am treasured.
I am free.
I am restored.
I am whole.
I am healed.
I am pure.
I am redeemed.

I am His.

My life is now His story.

So, let my story end here.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:17‬

“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭1:7-10‬

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:14-17‬

“He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭18:16-19‬

“But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭1:16-17‬

too real.

The struggle is real. 

It amazes me how often I hear this phrase in one day. At work. At home. In my mind. From my own lips.

I try to tie my shoes and get tangled in the laces. The struggle is real.

I try to juggle far too many grocery bags while opening the front door. The struggle is real.

I can't open the pickle jar. The struggle is real.

But, this seemingly light and insignificant phrase has been ringing in the corridors of my busy mind lately. And you want to know something? It isn't always as comical as impossible pickle jars and tangled shoelaces.

Sometimes the struggle is too real. 

Can we be too real?

I want to be real. I want to be genuine. I want to be authentic.

That sounds so nice.

I bet you would say the same.

Be yourself. Be honest. Don't hide the pain. Open up. Be vulnerable.

I mean, c'mon, denial, minimizing, unhealthy coping, self deception...these are not favorable attributes.

I'm learning how to be real with God. Ugly, snotty, angry, broken, weak...etc.
But when I am sobbing on the floor, allowing the real me to be exposed...Then what? 

What happens after I'm real?

"Joanna, look at me."

If maintaining eye contact with my shoes was possible, I was well on my way to becoming a champ at sneaker etiquette.

"I need you to be honest."

An avalanche threatened to crash inside my chest. I clenched my jaw so that a quick flinch would be the only thing that escaped to the outside of me. 

You would think the pressure from the command combined with the pressure within would be enough to break down my resolve. But to my own surprise, the walls refused to cave.

This one thought singed the back of my mind: 
If you knew what was going on inside of me, you wouldn't tell me to be honest. 

One day I woke up and the struggle wasn't just "real." It was hideously ugly, and too massive to hide.

In the horror of my exposure, I discovered something:

Being real doesn't fix anything.

Not. one. ugly. problem. 

In fact, being honest has consistently made things uglier for me.

Well, thank you, Joanna, that was encouraging. 

Uh huh. I feel your pain.

 "Fine. You want the truth? I hate this! I wish it was different. Maybe I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. And I hate it. I have tried to change and failed over and over again and I just don't care anymore. I'm too tired. I'm sick of facing this. So what am I supposed to do now? Huh? You have all the answers, right?" 

Silence.

What a sick joke.

Sinking to the floor I held out empty hands. 

"I don't have anything left, God. I just don't have anything left."

This is too real. 

The world is crying out for people to be honest and real about the ugly. But "being real" only took me down a dead-end road where I found that my worst fear was true, and I was hopeless. 
 
It was there, in the land of "too real" that I found the purpose of "being real"...Are you ready?

Honesty pulls the plug on my illusion of strength. 

 In my ugly mess, I find myself stripped of every option and solution my brilliantly confused mind has conjured up.

This is a beautiful place.

Why?

It's not because real is beautiful.

It's because that's where I learn that beautiful comes from Him, not me.

Be real, my friend.

Be ugly, gut-wrenching, tear-streaming, real.

But, once you get to the deep pit called real...don't despair there.

Your struggle might be too real for you, but it's not too real for God. 

More than your no-make-up Monday, more than your sweaty gym shorts, more than your broken marriage and your wounded past. More than the struggle is real,

God is real.

His very real feet walked the turf of our very real world. His very real hands touched the filthiest beggar and the ugliest sinner. His very real blood dripped down a very real cross. 

If anyone is real, He is real.

I know that you are not interested in a God who is uninvolved, uninformed, and untrustworthy.

I'm not either.

I'm not a fake person, ok? I don't do fake. Inconsistency when it comes to hardcore life issues irritates me (my sock drawer is another story, don't judge).

Yes, I read my Bible and I pray and pretty much all the music I listen to has something to do with Jesus. But, can I be honest with you? 
Most of the time my conversations with God are not sweet and angelic. I often read things in my Bible that bug me, confuse me, or sound stupid to me. I have a million questions and I trust God very little in comparison to how much I wish I trusted Him.

But I continue to pursue Him because I am desperate for something real. I am desperate for hope. I am desperate for purpose that is beyond a few short years of the mundane on this earth. I crave a real God.

Leading. Guiding. Instructing. Comforting. Helping. Supporting. Training. Encouraging. Counseling. Rescuing. Revealing. Interacting. Speaking. Loving. Pursuing. Transforming. Longing. Touching. Listening.

This is who He is.

I walked through the kitchen and felt a presence over my shoulder. A whisper in my heart saying "this is the way, walk in it."

I told Him I was terrified and felt His touch calm my heart, "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go. I will counsel you with my eye upon you."

I handed a cup of coffee to a woman at the drive-through window last week who said her mother was dying, and my eyes stung with tears. "I'm making you like me," He said, and I felt His heartbeat. 

I want you to know Him. I can't express to you how badly I want you to know Him. 

I can talk and type until I'm blue in the face. You are the only one who can choose to believe Him when He says that He is real and that He is everything He claims to be.

Did you hear me?

You will never know how real He can be until you let your walls down and let Him in. 

It's time to get out of your own way. It's time to quit.

Quit trying to make your reality feel less real. Quit trying to put a bandaid on a real gushing wound. Quit pretending that you can fix a problem that you have no real hope of fixing. Quit fighting Him.

He is real.

This is my challenge for you:

In this struggle called life, don't just get real.

Get real with Him. 

Pick up a Bible. Ask the tough questions. Invite Him to show Himself to you.

And if that freaks you out, join the ranks! It is a terrifying thing to turn and face a real God.

Do it afraid. 

You might not like what He has to say.

Listen anyway.

You might not like the pain that comes with the restoration He wants to do inside of you.

Don't run.

Be brave enough to face up to your real, even if it's real ugly.
And then, take it one step further...

Ask Him to be real to you there.

I dare you.

.



It's worth it.

Did I mention that it's worth it?

To experience Him as real is so worth it.

extraordinary.

I'm not a fan of the ordinary.

I'm just not.

In fact, while I've been mulling over sitting down to write this post, I've been considering how much I loathe the ordinary and it has put me in a rather unpleasant mood.

I'm a dreamer, an idealist, an extremist.

What a terrible disappointment to live in a world that functions on the wave link of reality.

In the pictures of my mind, life is full of wonder, passion, and inspiration. I have this burning inside of me to live for the miraculous and the extraordinary. This is who I am.

Unfortunately, sometimes the Dreamer Joanna bumps into the Out-of-Clean-Laundry Joanna in the hallway of my life and knocks all loveliness out of my hands, creating a monumental, disorganized mess all over the floor.

Ugh.

Life is full of the ordinary.

Can I confess something embarrassing? I feel like I do far better handling the "significant" issues of life than I do the simplest, everyday tasks.

You know, the life maintenance type stuff:
Food, water, sleep, exercise, organization, cleanliness...etc.

These things are just plain boring to me.

Sometimes I pitch a fit about the difficulty of being disciplined in such "stupid, unimportant, time consuming...etc" areas of life.

Super mature, I know.

Sometimes I give up and attempt blissful ignorance as those areas fall by the wayside (cue the "out-of-clean-laundry" incident).

Super smart, I know.

Running from the ordinary hasn't served me well. So, I've decided to do an about-face and look my longstanding foe in the eye.

"Hello, ordinary. Nice to see you again. How's your family? Nice weather we've been having, although it's a little too cold for my taste."

Now, are you ready for the ugly?

This is what I discovered when I looked honestly at my hatred for good ol' ordinary:

I hate it, because...I want to be extraordinary. And I'm not. 

I'm a 100% organic, home grown, ordinary human.

I find myself broken, needy, and weak when I long to be mended, sufficient, and strong. I find myself dull and boring in the moments I want to be spectacular and exciting.

So on an ordinary morning, in an ordinary apartment, this ordinary girl sat down to have a chat with the One who cares about her not so ordinary desires.

Hey Abba,

I didn't want to get out of bed this morning... To be 100% honest, I don't really want to be talking to you right now. Would you bring me back to your feet and reveal yourself to me? I've been getting bored with you. I know I shouldn't! You are limitless.

Why is it so hard to just be? 

...I want to be acceptable to you...I want you to be pleased with me. 

...I'm disappointed with myself...I feel like I've been trying so hard...and I still don't know how to navigate life."

When all the words, and a few tears, had spilled on the pages of my journal, I sat in the stillness and I heard Him.

"Joanna, I need you to let me be God."

Ugh. Nailed it.

"God, I feel like I have all this pressure to make my life look a certain way right now!"

"Well, is it working?"

"No."

Point made. 

This week I received an invitation from God to hang up my "extraordinary" cape and exchange it for the freedom to just be me.

Later that very same day, up to my elbows in some very ordinary soap suds and dishes, I was frustrated with myself. Why? Because as much as I want to be content with the mundane, I'm not! I don't like it. I crave something more.
The internal conflict was so irritating, that I finally put words to it and directed it at Mr. "Let-me-be-God-and-you-can-just-be-you" Himself.

"If I'm so ordinary, and life is so ordinary, then WHY did You make me like this? Why do I have such a powerful desire for more?"

He is so gentle.

"Baby girl, your longing for the extraordinary is not bad."

Wait, what?

"...In fact, I put that inside of you. You may be ordinary, but I am not. Will you let Me come be extraordinary in you?"

His words are still ringing in my ears.

"Will you let Me be extraordinary?"

Oh.

It's Him.

He doesn't need colored lights and mountain tops and award winning anthems. He requests unhindered access to my heart right here in my ordinary.

Extraordinary isn't what He needs from me, it's who He is. 

There is never a moment too normal for His nearness, too mundane for His magnificence, or too insignificant for His incredible.

There is never a moment too ordinary for Him.

So here I am, embarking on an ordinary adventure to discover an extraordinary God.

Want to join me?

.

"Great are the works of the Lord,

    studied by all who delight in them.

Full of splendor and majesty is his work,

    and his righteousness endures forever.

He has caused his wondrous works to be remembered;

    the Lord is gracious and merciful."
- Psalm 111:2-4

"The Lord is high above all nations,

    and his glory above the heavens! 

Who is like the Lord our God,

who is seated on high,

who looks far down

on the heavens and the earth?

He raises the poor from the dust

and lifts the needy from the ash heap,

to make them sit with princes,

with the princes of his people."

- Psalm 113:4-8

"these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. For who knows a person's thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God."

- 1 Corinthians 2:10-12

legacy.

I can see you now

Standing in the waiting room

Seconds ticking by

In moments, I'd meet you

Did I worry you much?

When my arrival was too soon?

What went through your mind

When my tiny hand, you touched?

You had a life so full

And mine only just begun

You welcomed me home

And you whispered "You belong"

One day eclipsed by many

And the time marched on

Life accelerated

For your tiny little one

I wonder, did you beg

For some long days to pass quickly?

Or did you feel them fly

And wish for moments to tarry?

What did you dream for me

When I had yet to gain my own?

And what prayers passed your lips

With my name the category?

I didn't realize, I never knew

The cost that became Me

When you set aside yourself

And set me on your knee

Through the seasons, I grew taller

Independent and smarter

Living life through my own eyes

But still your very own daughter

The way you walked and talked

The way you loved, and battles you fought

These imprinted on my mind

I was influenced as well as taught

Studious and observant

You were my fascination

My heart knit to yours

By God's imagination

I have your eyes

Your love for words

And your subtle, funny quirks

Love it or hate it

It's obvious, I'm yours

Far from perfection

Mistakes made were common

But if a heart could be measured

Yours would outweigh them

The best gift you gave me

Was the gift of yourself

Your own life invested

In my success, In my health

On the sunniest days

Sharing joy and laughing hard

I cherish sweet memories

Family heirlooms in my heart

Your weakness, your faults

Made sufficient by grace

Where you just weren't enough

You pointed me towards His face

And there I found Him

Don't you see?

I was prepped for success

Through your example

Of rare humility

His hands and feet

Unconditional love

One step at a time

Supporting me on the journey

Holding tight

Grace to show

Praying hard

Letting go

This is where my heart struggles to express

How much it meant to me

To watch you keep on loving Him

Through the ugly and the mess

This human legacy

Broken and bittersweet

Your two lives tied together

In the hands of His Majesty

On the good days and the bad

One thing never changed

"He is with us" you said,

And steady faith remained

A legacy is learned

For everyone, inevitable

Passed on and played out

Life after life unfolds

What you hold is what you were given

Good or bad

It's yours the same

Formed by another's decisions

Yours was interrupted

By a beautiful adoption

His children now

Fresh legacy bestowed

Beloved, chosen

Treasured, transformed

Accepted, fulfilled

Vessels of hope and redemption

The legacy I have

Is the legacy you gave

I hold it with open hands

And I praise the One who saves

So hear me out, mom and dad

From the tippy top of my head

To the bottom of my heart

And every mushy sentimental feeling in between

Thank you for this legacy

It's one I wouldn't trade

Because now, redemption is my story

And your own paved the way

meet me here.

When anger drowns out reason

When unbelief is a season

When my own strength is spent

Meet me here

When arrogance has burned me

When deception has cloaked me

When I'm totally confused

Meet me here

When selfishness has conquered love

When I doubt that You're enough

When I don't care anymore

Meet me here 

When I push you away

When I've run headlong astray

When I stumble...and then fall

Meet me here

When fear overwhelms

When it hurts like hell

When my hope flickers dim

Meet me here

When apathy reigns 

When I refuse to change

When my pride tunes you out

Meet me here

When I'm swimming upstream

When it's harder than I dreamed

When I just give up

Meet me here

Meet me here where no one else will

Meet me here where no one else can

Meet me here to wash away shame

Meet me here and take me by the hand

Meet me here, 

Then, please God, 

Lead me out. 

I don't want to stay here

But I can't find my way out

My heart feels so raw

So can I give you my doubt?

If you can't meet me

Then what am I to do?

This is one big mess

And my only hope is You

I've tried every wrong turn

I've come back empty and hurt

So will you bind up my wounds?

Will you mend my heart?

"Trust me," You say

And I don't understand

Why I can't feel you here

Where I need you the most

So I pound empty fists

I declare You are good

It's not pious or pretty

It's just all that I've got

This I call to mind

Past times I groped for hope

You did meet me there

Where I needed you the most

So now I choose to believe

Though it's far from my heart

I stake my claim on truth

I believe you'll meet me in the dark

Someday, here will be there

In my journey's tale

And I'll turn my head and laugh

For every moment of doubt

"You met me There,

So Here I'll trust you again"

Sweet victory recorded

How my Shepherd led me out

"The Lord is near to all who call on Him,

To all who call on Him in truth" 

- Psalm 145:18

"This I call to mind, and thereford I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,

His mercies never come to an end

They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness.

'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul

'Therefore, I will hope in Him'

The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,

To the soul who seeks Him"

- Lamentations 3:21-25

lonely.

It's that feeling

The one we run from

The empty cavern

We labor to fill

We drown it out

We turn away

Numb the pain

Ignore until

In the silence

We've acquired 

Something dies

Deep inside us

We can survive

But never thrive

With hearts hidden

Underneath a performance

Pretend away

It must be something else

Hunger

Exhaustion

Boredom

Or irritation

We lose ourselves

Exploring explainations

Something's missing

This I know

In my familiar mess

Please tell me I'm not alone

In my own loneliness

I have a hunch

Have you felt it too?

Surrounded by loved ones

Or alone in your room?

It aches

Demands a voice

Cries out 

Takes many forms

You may be timid

Bold and boisterous

Confident, or insecure

Lonely masked is lonely still

Just the same

We have this sickness

And we scrounge to find the cure

Don't believe me?

Put it to the test

Turn off your phone

Steal away

Let your many faces rest

In the stillness

Who are you? 

When all is said and done

Without your labels

Without your efforts

Do you matter to anyone?

Your family maybe

Friends surely care

But your heart beats

For so much more

The thoughts you think

The hurt you hide

The happiness you keep untold

Do you feel understood?

To be yourself

To just let down

To kick back

And know for sure

That to someone

You matter

Even behind closed doors

In apathy, in laziness

In passion, and in your dreams

In secrets kept, and secrets shared

In memories of mistakes you never told

In silence and expression

In victory and in defeat

In ambition and disappointment

Do you feel seen?

Fully known and fully loved

In the pretty and the ugly 

And the tidy and the muddy

Does anyone get me?

These are my tears in the night

The longing buried inside me

No significant other

No closest best friend

No success at work

Or goal met at the gym

Can satisfy my heart

Or fill me up to the brim

So, forgive my fairy tale confession

But, I need true love

I'm hungry for unconditional

It's my one need in disguise

Catching whiffs here and there

So often chasing lies

See, we search everything in sight

Hoping something holds the key

Enough evidence to drive us

But the source eludes our eyes

Will you imagine with me?

Will you dare to dream?

That your longing could be filled

By a source that you can't see?

An available connection

Night and day, Rain and shine

Affirmation that stays steady

Love that stands the test of time

Never abusive

Never selfish

Never distant

Or uninvolved

Never destrucitive

Never distracted

Never unconcerned

Or far off

Love that's untainted

Innocent and unspoiled

By the sharing of my heart

By the messiness of life

By the confusion of my mind

By the dirtiest secret

By the real me unveiled

By my greatest weakness

My heart is drenched

Satisfied

Put to rest

Full of peace

To think that I am loved

By one who really knows me

And not just loved

But by my side

This one promised to never leave

I feel the presence in my room

Strong arms envelope me

In the dark alone in bed

Nightmares trying to rob sleep

In the car on my way home

A rough day inside my head

In the personal victory

Significant to nobody but me

This is where I'm found

By a wonderful Somebody

It's simple

Though not easy

To open up my mouth

To call the name

To trust that I am heard

To believe that nothing's changed

To stake my claim upon this love

Even though I feel lonely

Still there

Still willing

Still safe

Still loving

"Trust Me" touches my ears

When I pause to listen

"You're not alone" calms my fears

Truth amidst my commotion 

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forever more." 

- Psalm 16:11

"As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake I shall be satisfied with your likeness." 

- Psalm 17:15

"For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul He fills with good things." - Psalm 107:9

"And my God will supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus." 

- Philippians 4:19

"I am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall never hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst." 

- John 6:35

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

- Psalm 23:1 










the empty "why?"

It terrifies me to write this. 

I feel inadequate to express what God has placed on my heart, yet I'm so compelled to put words to what is going on inside of me, that even the fear is being drowned out.

So here it is. 

This is for anyone who has ever screamed "Why, God?!" into the stillness of the night and discovered only silence as an answer. 

This is for anyone whose "why" never crossed your lips, because the weight of pain was too suffocating to speak.

This is for anyone who has whispered the "why" behind closed doors and felt the shame of asking such a question.

This is for anyone who has asked the question "Why, God?" in the past and heard it echo back to them through empty corridors of a reality that just hurts.

Maybe your "why" is not in the past. Maybe your "why" is drowning your today. 

I don't know where you are right now. I don't know what life has thrown at you, or what you've gotten yourself into. In the middle of the motion and rythme of my life, I've taken a seat in a coffee shop to allow what is burning inside my own chest to flow through my fingers onto this busy keyboard with the hope that it speaks to your heart. 

Everyday I brush shoulders with people who keep putting one foot in front of the next in order to keep functioning externally, regardless of what is going on internally. I am overwhelmed by the pain that I discover in the voices, eyes, and hearts of those who have the courage to let me in to see it. 

What can I say? Life just hurts. 

I could give examples of "life hurts", but I don't want to. We're already too good at comparing our stories to the stories of others. Right now, this is for YOU. Not your neighbor or cousin or coworker. 

Pain is pain. I don't know what your pain feels like, and you don't understand mine. We both know that it hurts, and that's how we relate. 

It hurts.

The reality is that everyone, at some point in life, will encounter pain that they wish did not exist. 

But it does. The pain does exist. 

You can duck and hide, 

you can scream and cry, 

you can deny it or defend it, 

fight it or embrace it

No matter how you choose to respond to it, the pain remains an unwelcome guest in your heart. 

I was a very idealistic little girl. All things beautiful and sweet and innocent captured my attention. I was a dreamer. In the world of my mind everything could be wonderful if it was just given a chance. 

The past few years have shattered this little girl.

I discovered pain. 

Real, unexplainable, unsolvable, pain.

I've come to the conclusion that I hate it. 

I hate the pain inside of me. I hate the pain around me. I hate the pain that I cannot take away from my loved ones. I hate the pain that I cannot cure for my friends. I hate the pain that I see in the eyes of the smiling stranger that I hand a cup of coffee to everyday at work. 

Today I got in my car and beat my fists on my steering wheel, crying out that familiar question "Why, God?"

"Can't you see that this world is falling apart? Don't you hear the desperation in our voices? You say that you see everything and know everything and have all power, and then You have the audacity to claim to be a good God in the face of our dark reality???"

I confess. I have joined the ranks of those who ask the empty "why?"

What kind of a sick minded person would choose to follow a God who allows (if not causes) pain that is so ugly and destructive?

I will no longer be the good Christian girl who feels the need to make excuses for God in the face of tragedy. 

Welcome to my messy heart. 

I'm inviting you to come and see what God has given me in exchange for my empty "why?". Not because I want to share my heart with you (I'm not that generous), but because I want you to know HIS heart. 

Here's the first truth: God didn't do it. 

That nasty thing that happened in the dark? That physical issue that drained away life and replaced it with death? The emotional torment? 

God didn't do it. 

This truth helps. But it isn't enough. 

My challenge: "So, God didn't do it? Well then, where was He when it happened?"

What came out of me looked like anger and bitterness. What it masked was deep hurt at the thought that God could have prevented what happened to me, and He chose not to.

Like a father who stands idly by as his toddler wanders into a busy street.

This is not a good God.

More anger. More bitterness. More screaming and crying.

More hurt. 

How am I supposed to look at this pain without running from it, and continue to trust God's goodness?

The next truth: God never wanted this to happen. 

God loves you. He wants what's best for you even more than you do. The things that break your heart do not cause Him pleasure. The things that hurt you, hurt Him because He loves you. 

When it happened - whatever it was, God's pain matched yours. 

Did you hear me? This pain was not His design. 

I said earlier that "I discovered that I hate pain."

I have also discovered that God hates pain. 

My challenge: If He doesn't want it to happen, then why doesn't He put an end to it?

Ahh.

There it is. The Why?

In my pit, I beat the ground. I screamed into the silence. My voice went hoarse and then gave up. My anger spent in a fit of rage. He came and found me. He lifted my head. He cupped my tearstreaked face in His hands. With nothing left but raw pain, I whispered "Why?" 

" If you were there, and you saw, why didn't you do something, Abba?"

With my eyes locked on His, I found the answer. 

The scene flashed before my eyes. 

A dusty road. A furious mob. A wooden cross. 

The agony in His voice echoed my own. The desperation in His bloodshot eyes chilled me. His empty "why" broke the silence. It was all too familiar.

If I want to know how my Father felt about that moment in my life, I have to lift my eyes to the hill called Golgatha.

That was the moment He told me the answer to my "why."

"Joanna, I did do something. Can't you see? Feel the trace of nails in my hands, touch my side. I love you. Can't you see my heart?"

This is His response to a world full of "why".

The cost of healing for our pain? His own pain stamped it - paid in full. How much does your pain matter to Him? Enough for Him to die for you. That's how much it matters. 

He proved His goodness. He proved His love. He put action to His words. There is no greater way He could have expressed His heart.

So if He cares, why allow the pain to persist?

God is not a controlling and domineering God. Like a gentlemen, He extends the invitation for this world to draw near to Him. We either push Him away or welcome Him into our lives. When the choice is made to push Him away, there is no level of depravity that an individual will not sink to. I know this too well. 

This is not God's fault. Death, sickness, and cruelty were never God's design. Ever. 

We live in a world wrecked by the consequences of pushing God away, and it touches all of us. Whether it was our own choice to reject God or simply the impact of living in a world that has rejected him, the choice to reject God has wrought incredible pain. 

Yes, life hurts. 

My challenge: "So, that's it? We live in a broken world and that's the reality? Can I quit now? When do I get to give up? Cause this hurts like hell and I don't want it."

My final truth: God redeems.

My hope. My anthem. My theme. 

I refuse to thank God for the bad things that happened in my life. I cannot produce gratitude in my heart for the memories that make me sick to my stomach. 

I can, however, thank God for the good that He is able to bring out of that pain. 

Because, hurting one, He is able.

Because of the cross, we have access to Him right here, right now. In this life, He comforts, heals, and transforms ashes into beauty. These are not far off, sweet sounding concepts to me. I have sat in the ashes and He has raised me in beauty. 

We may still be in a broken world, but someday, whether tomorrow or on the other side of eternity, He will make every wrong right. 

I believe this. This truth carries me. 

In the meantime, I will run to His embrace, crying "Daddy, this hurts!"

It's there, in His arms, that I find what I need to go on. 

Will you run to Him too? Will you trust His heart? 

Are you willing to trade your "why" for His embrace?



"...The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil." -1 John 3:8

"Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, He himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death He might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death, were subject to lifelong slavery." - Hebrews 2:14-15

"The theif comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd, the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep." - John 10:10-11

"I have said these things to you that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have trouble, but take heart; I have overcome the world." -John 16:33

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."
-2 Corinthians 4:16-18

"And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience...and we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose."  - Romans 8:23-25; 28 

"Indeed we felt that we had received the sentance of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope, that He will deliver us again."
-2 Corinthians 1:9-10

Then comes the end, when he delivers the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every authority and power. For He must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death." - 1 Corinthians 15:24-26