They say that age is nothing but a number.

Today I want to believe that. And I want to live that.

Today, on my 30th birthday, I’m asking myself to stop being limited by a number.

Today I am 30. Today I have been breathing for 3 full decades. I’ve voted in 3 presidential elections. I’ve had my drivers license for 14 years. I’ve gotten 3 speeding tickets and when I was in college I gracefully nudged a pedestrian with a car. I’ve been to 43 states and 11 foreign countries. I’ve driven across the country 3 times and I met Leonard from Salvation Mountain. I’ve spread someone’s ashes and I’ve run a 10k. I’ve photographed hundreds of beautiful faces and old churches around the world. I’ve fought battles with teenage girls and i’ve celebrated their victories. I’ve taught numerous people how to drive a stick shift. I’ve played every position on the baseball field. I’ve taught more Bible studies than i can remember and eaten duck. Accidentally. I’ve seen more live music than I can count and I’ve invented dozens of pancake flavors. I’ve made my own clothing and my own peanut butter. I’ve painted artwork for nurseries and offices and tried to save a civil war era split rail fence.

I’ve cried a lot of tears but I’ve laughed a lot of laughs.

I want to slow down and fight harder.

I want to dream bigger and quit more permanently.

I want to listen more intently and open my eyes wider.

I want to live more fiercely and play more frequently.

I want to read more books and rely less on technology.

I want to love more intentionally and breathe deeper.

I want to take more risks and choose more wisely.

I want to study more maps and learn another language fluently.

I want to stop making excuses and wishing for a different fate.

I want to write more stories and talk less about myself.

I want to sing louder and walk taller.

I want to give even more of myself away.

I want to look at myself in the mirror and believe it when I say “your life has been fruitful.”

I want to be all used up. And I want to start again, now.

Could it be that I’m finally learnin’?
Learnin’ I’m deservin’ of love and the peaceful heart.
I’m tired of lyin’ to myself, tryin’ to buy what can’t be bought.

(ray lamontagne- old before your time)

Unbelief. Desperation.

When I read this chapter of Mark, I always relate to one person in the story, and it’s not Jesus.

I’m the father begging Jesus to save his son. I’m the father who says to Jesus “if you can…” I’m the father who pleads with Jesus to help his unbelief.

“O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:19-24 ESV)

I believe. I do. I believe that Jesus is who He says He is. But I need Him to help the unbelief I have that He is still working in my life. That’s the cynic in me. That’s the visual learner in me. The hard proof I have, the things I can see and touch and hear, have left me feeling desperate, unbelieving.

I want to believe that Jesus knows what He is doing with my life. I want to believe that He knows better than I do. I want to believe in His promises to make my paths straight. Too often I stay focused on the physical evidence instead of Jesus’ promise that He is faithful. Too often I choose to look at my circumstances and slip into an unbelief that keeps me from fully trusting Jesus.

Thankfully, I am not alone. Thankfully, God thought it a common enough human problem that He decided to show me a biblical example of my cynical self.

Through this father I am able to see that what I need to do is continually ask Jesus to help my unbelief. He gave the control of his unbelief to Jesus. And not only did he surrender control to Jesus, he was able to see his son healed. He was a recipient of Jesus’ grace and mercy and power.

But first he asked Jesus to help his unbelief.

My personal prayer is that I will always be able to turn to Jesus to be the one to help my unbelief. That I won’t turn to the people who cannot help me with my unbelief. That I will always speak out loud my unbelief, not because Jesus doesn’t already know, but because my cynical self needs to humbly approach Him in everything.

Feel I’m on the verge of some great truth
Where I’m finally in my place
But I’m fumbling still full proof
And it’s cluttering my space
Casting shadows on my face

And If I stumble, and if I stall
And if I slip now, and if I should fall
And if I can’t be, all that I could be
Will you? Will you wait for me?

Jesus, I believe. But when I stumble, will You wait for me? Will You help my unbelief? Will You be my belief when I can’t see it? Will You be all that I will never be?

(Alexi Murdoch-wait)

it’s been some time…

but i have something i need to say. enjoy.

i’ve been praying recently for us to be able to see each other not as we normally would. but to see each other as Jesus sees us. we get really concerned with appearance, both physical and spiritual, emotional and relational… and so i’ve been thinking about the word transparent. which can be one of those words that people throw around but hardly ever aspire to.

if you think about the word as it is defined: ‘allowing light to pass through so that objects behind can be distinctly seen; easy to perceive or detect; having thoughts, feelings, or motives that are easily perceived.’ then it sounds scary. “having thoughts, feelings, or motives that are easily perceived. this means ALL our thoughts, feelings and motives. and if we’re being really honest, i’m not sure i want everyone to know all my thoughts, feelings and motives. they are not good all the time. in fact, i would say a majority of the time my thoughts, feelings and motives are selfish. unflattering. spiteful. terribly monster-like.

but if there is anything that i have learned recently, it’s this.

i’m not alone.

we all have terribly monster-like thoughts, feelings, motives. and i expect people to love me in spite of being monster-like. so. i think it’s time for me to start loving monsters.

and i think i should start by being a bit transparent myself. yikes… ripping off the band-aid.

– i like to control most situations. i’m working on not controlling you.

– i like to be right all the time. at the expense of others. i do not like looking dumb. i’m working on admitting when i don’t know something.

– i like things to stay somewhat the same. don’t mess with my traditions. only i can change them. this weekend i enjoyed misfit christmas. because i let go.

– i like to make things better. right away. i don’t like people to be mad. especially not at me.  last week i had to learn to let people have space. not everyone works out their issues like i do. some people need time.

– i like to be involved in everything. i’m working on stepping back. the world does not revolve around me. in fact it moves really well on its own.

upon review, this is a mild case of transparency. thin. veiled. shallow.

see, even my first attempt needs some revision. i’m not really sure i want to do that just yet.

but.

i’m working on it.

this all started because i had this thought. this simple thought that we just need to be able to see through the thick coat of monster we sometimes wear. Jesus does. He knows the cracks we have in our hearts. but He knows why they’re there. how they got there. and He accepts us with those cracks, in our monster suits.

can you accept me in my monster suit? i’m not always wearing it. but when i do, i need for you to know that it’s temporary. and i’m going to love you as a monster, too. because i know there’s more to you than that.

i know it.

(sleeping at last- heaven breaks)