Jesus at the Center of Everything // on how the pursuit of Jesus is so much more fulfilling than we could ever imagine

Jesus at the Center of Everything on how the pursuit of Jesus is so much more fulfilling than we could ever imagine

It’s funny how God speaks, sometimes.

 

I think I often expect it to be audacious and resonant, in the moment. A distinct voice from Heaven as I’m reading my Bible or writing in my prayer journal. But lately, I’ve realized that when we’re looking for Him to speak, and seeking Him in every area of our lives, we can’t help but hear His voice in the littlest things.

 

Because I’ve come to this realization, though it’s taken me a while –

 

God is meant to be at the very center of our lives, the One that guides everything we do – not just the Being we worship in some set-aside times of the week or the day – but the reason we do everything we do.

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Finding Passion, Purpose, and Life in a World of Wasted Time & Empty Dreams

Finding Passion, Purpose, and Life in a World of Wasted Time & Empty Dreams

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

 

As the school year draws to a close, and my final year of high school at that, there have been a lot of frantic nights, staying up late to get all the preparations in order, waking up early to the thoughts of, “What am I doing all of this for?”

 

I hit an almost-crisis point a few months back, struggling with the idea of staying in the English field forever, in favor of something exciting, something lifesaving, something so much more fulfilling than tapping away at a keyboard for hours on end, day after day.

 

But in all the busyness, the planning, the last-minute studying, I stopped writing.

 

And my soul felt drier than it had in a long, long time.

 

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Enough: my battle with the hustle, the stress, and the busy, and how I found rest

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It’s Saturday morning.

 

Rainy and chilly, I tiptoe across the living room carpet, coffee in hand, hair thrown haphazardly into a messy bun. I breathe.

 

After a week of running fast and hard, it’s finally quiet. No more hustle. Just me. It’s a refreshing change of pace, but I find my mind spinning with thoughts to make up for the lack of stimulation in tasks, math problems, and meals to cook.

 

I think about how much I absolutely adore New York City. I love the noise, the lights, the crowds, the pace. I’m enamored with the culture, the resilience, the opportunities.

 

But maybe, sometimes, I identify with it a little too much? I fill my life with faster, louder, more, more, more. I say YES and tack more onto my to-do list, put more friends and meetings on my calendar, apply to serve in my church more and more and more and more – and then I collapse. Hard.

 

Because I tell myself I can’t rest, I shouldn’t take the time to be refreshed. And it’s not as though I don’t rest – just that often, those times are laden with feelings of guilt.

 

Because don’t I need to do more? Be more? Write more? Work more? Study more? Sing more? Don’t I need to prove that I can be independent, capable, and strong? That I can meet people’s expectations?

 

Don’t I need to prove that I’m enough? Continue reading

Finding Contentment in the Struggle {Guest Post at the Unbound Blog}

Finding Contentment in the Struggle

Do you ever feel stuck, dry of joy, just going through the motions of mundane life, day after day, wondering when the cycle will ever end?

 

Sometimes I do too.

 

Last week, I got the chance to write for my college’s student life blog. As much as the post applies directly to Lumerit students — (Lumerit is an accelerated distance learning program for people pursuing a college degree) — I’ve been learning a lot about what contentment means.

Not just as a student, no — as a person, a Christian, a girl trying to make her way in the world.

Here’s an excerpt from the post, and a peep into my current musings on the subject:

And slowly, slowly, through the ruts, the challenges, the pain, the stress – I’m learning that contentment starts in the little moments. That if I’m depending on my next achievement to make me content, I’m missing what contentment is: joy right where I am.

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Beautiful and Bright {Guest Post at Moriah Mari}

Beautiful and Bright

This week, I had the opportunity to write for my friend and classmate Moriah over at her blog, Moriah Mari. She has a lovely blog that I think you’ll all really enjoy, and this post, while written more in the style of a short story than my usual journal-style, is a side of me that I tend to write less from, though I love it. Go on over and read the post and give Moriah a follow!

It’s not every night that’s as beautiful as this one.

It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted in all senses of the term, having worked all day while wrestling with issues concerning me, my future, my plans.

And it’s starting to feel like too much.

I crawl into bed and slip under my covers, pulling my fleece sheets to my chin and letting my soft white comforter envelop me. My head hits the pillow, Beethoven’s piano sonatas playing in my ears, and I finally have a chance to breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My eyes lazily drift to the window next to my bed, and at once I see the stars glisten in the midnight sky, so clear, so breathtaking.

They’re beautiful and bright, and something hits me hard in this moment – something I can barely begin to put into the right words. Continue reading

Easter Weekend: on how art echoes purpose & hope in a desperate world

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It’s Easter weekend – but you already knew that.

 

In past years blogging, I’ve made a big deal about this holiday – my favorite holiday, that is – and written posts, and tweets, and I’ve jumped up and down over what Easter means to me.

 

This year’s a little different.

 

Not because I’m not excited, no. I’m thrilled. But Easter means something a little different to me this year, something a little deeper, something I hold a little tighter to my heart than in years past.

 

This day means everything to me, and it’s difficult to find the words to describe it well. Continue reading

Embracing Seventeen

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i.

 

I turned seventeen this past Sunday – on April second, two-thousand seventeen.

 

If you don’t know me personally, you may not have known my age until now.

 

And it’s not as if it’s a secret – I simply decided a while ago that I didn’t want people to judge me or my writing on my age alone, or have to try and explain when I mention school that I’m a college student, even though I’m supposed to be a high school student, and kind of still am for a few more months.

 

(See? Complicated.)

 

But something hit me really hard last week. I was talking to some college friends, and coming to the realization that the average age of the majority of my friends is around twenty years old.

 

And it’s funny – because I joke about it all the time, the fact that I forget that I’m not twenty, myself.

 

But it’s more than just a joke.

 

After spending almost an entire week discussing everything under the sun with a dear friend, a friend that’s my own age, I realized how important it was that I don’t forget that I’m only seventeen.

 

I’ll only ever be seventeen once.

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my story isn’t over yet.

 

My Story Isn't Over Yet.

My story isn’t over yet.

 

I gently ink these words onto my left forearm, pen gliding along my skin, the letters coming out with lines and loops.

 

The words echo in my head, bringing me peace and hope that wasn’t there before.

 

It isn’t over for me –

 

I mark a semicolon on the edge of my wrist.

 

I know the One who holds the pen to my story.

 

** Continue reading