f*ckin' problems.

OK. We have all heard it on the radio. Unless you only listen to K-LOVE...in which case the title of this post may be offensive to you. But if you are a regular listener of today's hit stations it is most likely you have become familiar with the song "F*ckin' Problems." It's not necessarily the most morally uplifting musical masterpiece butttt....

Let me tell you something.

I LOVE this song.

Like, I really love it. I don't know if it's that the majority of the hook is bleeped out, leaving the avid listener to question whether 2 CHAINZ actually has tourettes OR Drake's misplaced reference to the Lord mid-song that gets me most. Either way, I am sold. I blast that beat in the buick like I'M the one with the f*ckin problems.

And you know what, I think that's the reason I (albeit unhealthily) play it on repeat these days. A$AP Rocky has a point. We all got f*cking problems. And while some may shy away from admitting it so blatantly, this song does not. With bold and rebellious authenticity the truth is declared--YEAH, I got a f*cking problem.

No apologies.

No shame.

I don't know about you, but I work pretty hard to be perfect. Or to at least to give the appearance of being perfect. Hell, on most days, I would settle for just being good. I want to be the first draft when it comes to the dodge ball game of life. I want to be accepted. I want to do everything right the first time, to be so excellent that I never need help, to fall asleep resting in the fact that my life has no f*cking problems.

But above all, I think I want to believe that there are no problems in me. I'm tired of wrestling with anxiety and depression. I'm tired of broken relationships, daily reminders that there is no love without pain. I'm tired of failing. I'm tired of trying really really hard and coming up short.

This thing that we call life is a crap shoot sometimes. We want so badly to experience heaven here on earth, and sometimes it seems so far out of reach. We try our best to hide it--to go on and pretend that we can achieve perfection. We convince ourselves that it is a crime if we arrive at anything less than our very best. We beat ourselves up for not being what we feel we should be by this point in our lives.

Until one day you wake up and realize with mild surprise and a great amount of certainty...you got f*cking problems.

And it's kind of a relief. The tension between the real self and ideal self is abruptly broken and we are all the better for it.

I don't think that I particularly have a lot in common with Drake or Kendrick Lamar. I maybe have even less in common with 2 Chainz and A$AP Rocky. But one thing is certain--we both have f*cking problems. The difference in who I was before this song and after is that I am much more apt to claim it now.

It's OK to have problems. It's OK. The sooner you accept that about yourself, the sooner you will be on your way to wholeness. You can't fix what you don't believe or acknowledge to be broken.

Part of life is the peace that comes from realizing things will never be exactly the way we want them to be, or how we think they should be--or how we think we should be. It is from this point that we can feel the freedom to believe that our value does not come from how perfect we are. Our value is the same whether we are drafted first or not.

And the beauty of it all is that there is hope. No matter how bad we feel we are or how effed up we find ourselves to be, there is always hope. That is part of who God is--who God made you to be. He knows we have f*cking problems. And you know what, it doesn't surprise Him. It doesn't make Him give up on you, and it certainly doesn't make Him stop loving you. And I think he even rejoices a little bit when you figure it out, because it allows His grace to do the work it was meant to do.

So today, say it loud and proud: YOU HAVE F*CKING PROBLEMS. Own it. Be OK with it. Understand that it doesn't make you less beautiful, only really human. Treat yourself with kindness, allowing your heart to move into a more gracious and undefined space.

Embrace the problems and believe the hope.

You can thank A$AP and Jesus for that.

the God who sees me.

There is a story in Genesis about an Egyptian slave named Hagar. She didn't have a lot going for her. In fact, looking at her story in whole, she basically had nothing going for her. She served two of the biggest celebrities in the Old Testament--Sarah and Abraham--so it's no surprise that her story often gets pushed to the side.

Most people find Sarah's story to be the fascinating one. You know, how she was barren for so many years only to have a child in her ripe old age. In fact, she named him Isaac--which in Hebrew translates more or less into "laughter". She thought it was so hilarious that God would grant her a first born when she was ridiculously old that she felt it appropriate to give him a name that expressed her sentiments. And sure, I guess it's kind of a big deal. A miracle, if you will. And so her story gets talked about the most. Which is fine.

But there is another story there that is of equal importance. Before Sarah ever got pregnant, Hagar was the first to bear Abraham a son. Actually, this is where her trouble began. Since Sarah could not conceive, it was Hagar who was sent to Abraham in an attempt to carry on the family line. Fertile woman that she was, she had no trouble getting pregnant and eventually giving birth to Abraham's son, Ishmael.

This made Sarah mad. Because even though it was her idea in the first place, what barren, old woman really wants to see the hot lady concubine be the one to start a family with her husband? Not Sarah. And so Hagar was mistreated. Which is understandable, but incredibly unfair. She had no control over the situation--this is what being a slave meant. She was there to serve, relinquishing all rights not only as a woman, but as a person as well. 

Eventually, Hagar couldn't take it anymore. She fled to the desert (despite being completely pregnant and void of resources), hoping to escape the brutalities of Sarah's despise for her.

Except God had a plan. He knew how important Hagar's son would be--how important Hagar was to the story. He commanded her to go back, but not before promising that her descendants would be "too numerous to count."

And in the midst of the pain and suffering and hopelessness, this promise brought Hagar life. She knelt, right there in the middle of the desert, pregnant as can be, and declared:

"You are the God who sees me."

Damn.

I don't know about you, but if I was in this situation, I would be hard pressed to be praying any kind of thankful nonsense like that. She was shit out of luck. She was pregnant,  alone, and most likely scared as Hell. Sarah hated her, baby daddy  Abraham already had a wife, and she was a SLAVE. Sure, it was a miracle that Sarah got pregnant. But Hagar? She was the miracle. All that faith and love and wisdom wrapped up into one really crappy life. And through it all--she found solace in the God who saw her.

I think this is the beauty of who God is, though. He sees us....He really sees us. He sees our pain. And I don't think He stands in judgement over how we carry it. I think He bends down low to meet us, to carry us through the hardships that this very cruel world can unjustly bestow upon our shoulders. He looks at our shame and bitterness, and He feels great love. He feels compassion because He is the God who sees.

And you know what, I think part of the way God sees us includes the omission of how we often see ourselves. He doesn't see the failure that we so readily claim as a part of our identity.When He looks at us He sees who we were meant to be. Our potential. Our worth. He sees love and hope and promise. Where we see a lack of importance He sees infinite worth. And it's His desire that we see the same.

He sees the pain and believes the promise. And because of that you can trust again--you can rest knowing that He knows you. He stands in awe of you. He never belittles the hurt and always remains faithful.

He is the God who sees you.

May you be able to see the same this holiday season.

teach me that you love me.

I prayed these words over and over for a full two years of my life. I was so lost in my pain--so blinded to everything good and right and hopeful in the world. I was confused. I felt let down and left out by the God who claimed that He cared. I had given life my best shot and had come up short on everything. On joy, on peace and most of all on love.

My journals were wrought with questions. The tear-streaked pages were evidence of the desperate heart that desperately needed to be heard. Even now as I look back on those entries I cringe at the complete loss of sanity I experienced in the midst of the most turbulent season of my life. I truly cannot believe I made it through, and I am thankful to now be in a place where I can reflect thoughtfully on my past self.

However, what is most incredible about the ability to reflect is that I am now able to see the miracle that God was working all along. Yeah, I said it--miracle. Anyone who knew me over the last couple of years can attest that it is true. My life is a miracle.

Here's the thing--people always say that their hardest times in life are the times that they felt closest to God. Now, I wouldn't necessarily say that is always the case. There were times that I felt the Lord's presence in the darkest hours, but then there were also a lot of times that I didn't. In fact, there were times that I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt nothing but exhaustion. I felt nothing but sadness. I felt that there was no possible way that God gave a crap about my life, because the emptiness and exhaustion and sadness were so deeply penetrating and so unbelievably never-ending. No one told me that pain could be like that. That life could be like that. So void of hope and challenging in the most ridiculous ways.

Where was the God that loved me?

And so, that became my request of Him--teach me that you love me.

In my finances--teach me that you love me.
In my relationships--teach me that you love me.
In my job--teach me that you love me.
In my depression and fear--teach me that you love me.
In sickness and death--teach me that you love me.

I could go on. There were so many ways that I had given up on the Lord. So much bitterness and anger in my heart. So much doubt. I stopped believing. I stopped trusting. But I never stopped saying, "teach me that you love me."

I had to. I had nothing left. I think your body and mind get to a point of surrender where you stop fighting the way things are and give in to the process of pain. Its a strangely freeing experience--to know that there is nothing you can immediately do to change your situation or what you are going through. To confront the things that you have spent so much time running from. To ask yourself the honest questions--of yourself and God.

I would never choose to go back to that season. But I would never ask for it to be removed from my life either. Because here's the thing about it--God showed up.

Not in the sense that he wasn't there one day, and then suddenly appeared the next. I think its more that He was there all along, that He knew my heart and knew what I needed to get to the point where I am today. I was just too burdened and weary at the time to lift up my head and see him bowing low to meet my broken life.

I came across this verse in my old journal today. It was towards the end of my fight, right before I was to enter the joyful season I am currently in:

Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him full redemption.

Yesterday, I was talking to my housemate about what God meant to me, and I found myself saying these exact words: "I feel like I have learned to trust God with my whole life, because I know that He loves me and knows me far better than I know myself, and the peace I have in being able to rest in Him is well worth the wait."

Wait, I said that? Those words came from my mouth?

I have learned to trust in love again. I could not be more blessed, or more in love with life as I am right now. I feel whole, I feel healed. I feel this great big hope that I want to share with everyone, that I want to explode with because I feel it so strongly. I know deep in my heart that He loves me. I know that I know that I know. He has taught me in such a sweet way that could never be replaced or reproduced by anything other than what I have been through these past years.

Our God is real. He is unfailing in hope, fully redeeming in love, and absolutely 100% for us.

He loves you. Let that be lesson enough for today.

Restless.

I think we were born into restlessness. As I have gotten older it has become painfully apparent to me that we were not meant for this broken world. Our souls were built for so much more life than what is offered here on earth. And because of it, we are always striving, always challenging, and always in a state of restlessness.

Or at least I am. I had the opportunity to visit some of my beautiful friends from NYC this past week, and I was reminded of how alive I am really capable of being. It was so good for my heart to experience joy and laughter and real, genuine love through my time with them. They bring out the very best version of Sarah there is, and I always leave feeling extra privileged to be a part of their lives.

But this time, I also left with a deep sense of restlessness. And you know, I think much of this stems from a fear of losing control. I want the things that I want when I want them. I want to know that God cares about my happiness, that He is going to deliver the things that I have neatly written out on a list of life expectations for the coming years. And until I receive them, I feel restless.

Or so I think. But really, the truth is--I can be satisfied and fully rested in the here and now.

One of my friends put it so simply when he said "you will never come second by putting God first." And you know what, I think he is right. The fact of the matter is, the Lord created us restless so that we would find real rest within Him. I know it's a typical Christian idea that only Jesus can satisfy, and that I am just another person writing another blog about what is really the whole meaning of the gospel. But here's the thing--so many people write about it because it is really, really true.

I could spend a whole lot of time complaining about my life. I could also spend alot of time planning out my future, fighting and pushing and running really hard after the dreams that I must have. I have already spent many nights in fear of a hopeless future--a terrifying world where I live alone with cats and work as a secretary in a dark office in the most remote part of suburbia.

And so then I feed into the restlessness. I work hard to avoid any possible requests that God may make of me--any challenges that may make me uncomfortable or force me to give up the things I really want.

Here's the thing--God is for us. Did you know that? He loves us. He ultimately wants us to be satisfied and most of all, He wants us to take our restlessness and rest our hopes in Him. I have spent so much time looking for the place where I belong. It is tempting to think that if only this or that were to happen or if I were different or had another job life would be better.

The incredible thing is, we can take our restlessness to Christ and He uses it. He directs us, fulfills us and leads us to the very places we never thought we would be. He does this not because He's vindictive or wants us to suffer, but because He knows there is no greater peace and joy that can be experienced except that which is found in Him.

I don't want to miss out on my life anymore by being restless. I want to be very still, to listen to what God has to say to me about myself and my day-to-day experiences. He can do so much if only I let Him. And that is the tricky part--we have to let him. We can not accept His blessings if we do not learn to let go of our ultimately unfullilling ideals of happiness.

Mostly, I think we want easy satisfaction. We want to be gratified now, and we would rather settle for less love than more. And when we are restless and then run after those things which are short-lived and small glimpses of true life, that's exactly what we are doing. We are rejecting the life which Christ lovingly gave us, we are settling for half of what has already been made available to us on the cross.

So, be restless in the best possible way--run after Him who made you, knows you and wants to see His glory displayed wherever you may be.

You won't regret it.

The countdown.

One year ago at about this time, my life was changed. By Beyonce.

I'm not kidding. If you want a picture perfect painting of a woman with unapologetic strength and incredible beauty, just pop in one of her fabulous CDs. She has taught me the very important aspect of sass in every day life. She has brought truth to my questions of single-hood and empowered me to become a survivor. And yes, I do that believe that girls run the world--did you even have to ask?

Most personal to me, however, is the fact that she taught me to count down. I don't know whether or not you have heard the actual song, Countdown, by Ms. Sasha Fierce--but if you haven't, you should, and you should right NOW. I have posted the youtube link below for your convenience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XY3AvVgDns

I mean, can an anthem get any better than this? If you want to know how to love someone wholeheartedly while also remaining fiercely independent, Beyonce is most certainly your woman. She makes it all sound so easy and so AWESOME at the same time. You tell me you didn't want to prance around your kitchen in some hott high heels after listening to THAT.

Anyway, the Countdown is mostly meaningful to me because it signifies how much growth can occur in a year. Last fall, I was a struggling person. Actually, I don't even know if you could call me a person at that point in time. It was a tough life, you can take my word for it. I was running after Jesus, for sure, depending on my friends (and therapist), alot, and doing whatever I could to find the spark of life that had seemed to disappear in my soul. But I was dying inside. Slowly, painfully, I was fading into darkness.

And then--a halo appeared.

Now, I know you are thinking I'm being over dramatic, and truth be told--I am . But I really do feel like God sent me the angel of Beyonce to boost my spirits and remind me that, I too, have a Sasha Fierce within me. I have the potential for greatness, respect, and all around kick-ass awesomeness. And what was sweet about the Countdown, was that it was OK that I wasn't quite there yet. That didn't mean I wasn't trying, it didn't mean that I lacked what it took at the time, and it most certainly didn't mean that it would never happen. It was, however, the start of my very own countdown.

I would play this song over and over and over again, until the words no longer held meaning for someone else but for me, Sarah, the girl who had exhausted her options and come up empty so many times before. The girl who never took chances, who accepted life as it was handed to her, who refused to be anything more than what she was for fear of failure.

One year later, that girl does not exist. The countdown has dwindled to one, and Sarah?

She's back. Rocking those high heels and demanding from life all that she so sadly gave up before.

So thank you, Beyonce. Thank you for teaching us to believe in who we are, for reminding us of all we have to offer, and most of all--for teaching us to countdown to the most fabulous version of ourself there is or ever will be.

The coloring book.

There are days where I wake up and that feeling is still there. You know--that one. The feeling of depression, hopelessness, despair.

For as good and as great as my days and life have been lately, I still get them. Those days.

I don't like waking up like that. Feeling empty and purposeless inside. Feeling dead--numb to the world and apathetic to my relationships. Feeling like my life doesn't matter, that life itself doesn't matter. The worst is feeling nothing at all--no pain, no anxiety. Just blank. A canvas that has lost its color and substituted all that beauty for grey. For nothing.

Well, if therapy (and being a counseling graduate student) has taught me anything thus far it is that I have the power to PAINT IN ALL THE COLORS I WANT. I have the choice to use whatever materials I can handle, really. Newspaper, yarn, chalk, pastels--they are all mine and my responsibility to engage. Art doesn't just happen on its own--you have to create it.

I think that life, by in large, is very similar. There is a whole lot of mystery out there--a whole lot of beauty and love and peace that is meant to be experienced--that needs to be experienced by someone. Its pretty easy to get stuck in routine. We get caught up in our schedules and our responsibilities. We forget how to color outside the lines. We forget to find joy and and meaning in the world around us. Most of all, we forget ourselves. We dress ourselves in grey and substitute the canvas for a coloring book. We want direction, not imagination. We crave control and exchange adventure for what seems safest.

Ultimately, we lose.

LIFE is WAITING. It's there, just for you. There is so much, so much good to be done in the world. Hope is a possibility--for you, for others. We have dreams to fulfill, our own dreams as well as the dreams of others. You can change, and in turn, change the world.

So today, when you catch yourself in a cycle you don't want to be in, do something. Anything--take a walk, watch the sunset, ask a friend to get coffee. Don't stay in your cubicle and color in that damn coloring book. Buy a canvas, fill it with color. And in the same way, color your days with the things that are important--the beauty of love, laughter, and always life.

To the kids of Mont Lawn Camp-I owe you.

To my MLC campers:

After my first summer at camp, a teacher I had asked me to compose a letter to someone I thought needed to hear how I felt about them. I chose you all. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives for all these summers--you are my heroes and I am so incredibly blessed by what each of you have brought to my life.

Don't ever forget it!

An Open Ended Letter the Kids of Mont Lawn Camp

            Do you know how loved you are? Do you know that you are precious, unique, and one of a kind? No one can replace you in this world. Your smile, your laugh, and all your movements are things to rejoice over. The day you were born you brought forth light and life you didn’t even know you had. Even if you do nothing at all, your importance does not dwindle. You are beautiful by just being.

            When you are sad, when you feel that you are nothing special, do you know how meaningful and irreplaceable you are? You are worth everything, without the makeup, clothes, or money. You don’t have to be a good dancer, singer, or anything else. You are wonderful just as you are. Do you know that? You don’t have to be tough, and you don’t have to fight back. Your power does not come from other people, no one can tell you who you are or what you deserve—because you deserve the world.

            If you fall, mess up, or feel unsuccessful, know that you have grace. Know that not one is perfect in this world, and never will be. Outward appearances and brittle smiles mean nothing if your heart is not in the right place. All that is expected of you is what you can give, and that, my dear, is everything. Don’t be afraid of failure, because it does not determine your value. I sincerely believe that you can do anything. Dream big, little one.

            Please know that it is ok to cry. That it is ok to depend on someone else, and ok to love. Yes, it may be painful, and yes, you will get hurt, but there is nothing left in this life if you close your heart to every opportunity to care and be cared for. Move forward in hope and faithfulness, giving help to those who need it. Pick others up as you go, because sometimes healing comes from walking with them through their own struggles. You will be amazed at your own strength.

            When you feel that you are at your breaking point, that nothing will be right again—remember that life is always worth living. There is such joy yet to be had. You have the opportunity to write your own story with whatever you want in it, the very world is at your fingertips. Don’t be ashamed of your background; don’t be ashamed of where you’re from, because they have made you who you are today. You are capable of all things. Your story is one to be proud of. You are smart, you will excel, and I believe in you so very much.

            Thank you for being a part of my journey, you have no idea how much it has changed me. I have been inspired by your hearts, by your talents, by your very presence in my life. I have received such joy from watching you work together, love each other, and selflessly place your friends and family before yourself. You put almost every adult I know to shame, including myself. It has truly be a privilege to spend time with every one of you—I hope you know that you have taught me to love, that you have taught me the tenderness of caring for others, and the life that comes from opening your heart in vulnerability.

            Continue to smile, continue to reach out, and continue to let your colors show. You are going to rock the very core of this world with who you are. Stop comparing yourself to others. You are who you are, where you are—you can and will make a difference however little it may seem. And always remember, please always remember, that you are a blessing in every way. Rest knowing that you simply are—and that is more than enough.