Running.

The time has come.

You know you need to do it.

But you just can't.

You can't bring yourself to follow through.

You keep running.

Before you know it, it's been months.

Months of hiding, of pushing it further into the deep.

Months of bitterness, of anger. 

Months of build-up.

Before long, the build-up solidifies.

It can no longer simply be wiped away.

It has to be chiseled away, bit by bit, section by section.

Moment by moment. 

It's now a slow, meticulous process instead of the quick, less painful process it could have been.

It hurts.

And the longer you wait, the deeper the wound.

The longer you wait, the harder the build-up becomes.

When it could have just been dealt with it at the beginning.

When it could have been made it simpler.

When it could have been much less painful.

Yes, facing the music hurts.

Yes, looking into their eyes can be petrifying.

But what's more terrifying: dealing with your junk right away or waiting and discovering yourself ten years after the matter still running?

Person. Place. Thing.

"I just gotta leave this damn town..."

"Man, I need a new girl..."

You know those people.

The ones who always talk about leaving but never do.

Or the ones who keep leaving, never staying in the same place (or relationship) for too long.

They blame the town for their ill-fortunes, for their sad eyes, for their blurring thoughts, sleepless nights, restlessness, dissatisfaction. 

They blame their lover for their own inadequacies.

They "need a change."

So they dip.

They stop talking to their lover, usually with little or no explanation.

They pack up and move.

And you know what?

For a while, all is well.

For a while, things seem like they calm down, they get more exciting, they go like they're supposed to.

But soon enough, it begins to resemble what it did before.

New lover, same old thoughts creeping in.

New city, same old life.

Changing the scenery has a way of fooling our hearts into believing something has actually changed.

New relationships fool our hearts into believing it's going to be different this time.

But that simply isn't the case.

People are still people.

You are still you.

And while a change in scenery can be a good thing, and changing a relationship can be a good thing, neither of these things will be the answer you're looking for.

Your dissatisfaction comes from within.

It's up to you to change it, to push through, to be the change you seek.

Otherwise, you'll end up running your entire life.

It's tough to admit that the problem lies within and not on the outside. 

It's tough to admit to yourself that things are not the way you want them to be.

It's tough to admit that you aren't as strong as you try to appear.

But it's necessary if you want to really live. 

And it's infinitely beautiful.

{Let love in.}

Lines.

We create them.

Then we cross them.

The funny thing is that when we make them we think they'll keep us from going somewhere we "shouldn't."

But most of the time, the lines just taunt us.

All we think about are the lines.

All we want is what's on the other side. 

Sometimes, we fool ourselves into thinking we've got it all under control, but we know that's not true.

So we create more lines because somehow more lines equals more control.

And pretty soon, we're trapped.

{So. Many. Lines.}

But what if there were never supposed to be lines?

What if our lives were supposed to be simple? 

What if Love was the only thing that mattered? 

Once your heart is captured, you don't need lines.

Lines will eventually trap you, box you in, close you off.

But Love will guide you.

If you let it.

Residue.

People get sick.

Opportunities get missed.

Lotteries get won (but not by you).

Things get lost (usually in translation).

Love is ignited and quenched in one fell swoop.

Sadness, gladness, passion, and lust.

Ignorance, arrogance, bliss, and mistrust.

And all of this is sealed with a kiss.

It's sticky.

It's tough.

You can't explain, so it must be God's will... right?

Stuff happens.

Life happens.

There isn't always a reason, at least, not in the sense that we think of reason.

Sometimes, it just is.

God absolutely works things out for the good for those who love him.

But that doesn't mean we won't have to go through life.

It also doesn't mean God singled us out and decided to go on a mission to sabotage us.

He's simply letting his creation do its thing, letting the machine work the way it was intended to work.

And all machines leave behind residue. 

It's called {life}.

Truth.

It can be blinding.

It can be startling.

It can be offensive.

It can be hard to spot even when it's right in front of your face. 

It's easy to deny yet undeniable.

It builds cages and sets captives free.

It keeps us from loving but shows us how necessary love is.

It leads us to the water but doesn't make us drink.

And just like almost everything else, it simply is. 

We must make something of it.

The question is: what?

To Live.

For the first time, I think I'm finally getting what it means to live.

Life isn't this crazy, untouchable thing we can't make sense of.

It just is.

It's this ginormous conglomeration of ideas, things, circumstances, dreams, wishes, heartaches, truths, lies, joys... 

It's moments that take your breath away and moments you wish your breath would leave you.

It's not something we have to try to do.

In fact, trying too hard actually hinders 

Life happens all around us.

It happens on its own.

{If we let it.}

It's so much bigger than you and I.

We can feel so far from so close.

Losing Grip.

It's scary.

To be in that place where we aren't holding tightly to something we see, to not feel that weight in our hands.

We feel all alone, like nothing can be done. 

It becomes a game of defense.

So we latch on to whatever we can find.

Because holding onto something seems to be better than holding onto nothing.

And we hold on so tightly that only death could break the clinch.

What we don't realize is that when we let go is when have the best grip. 

When we realize that what we're holding onto isn't really real, we can let go.

When we realize that the only thing we can hold onto can't be seen, we can let go.

When we realize that nothing in this life is worth holding onto more than the thing that created it, we can let go.

But until then, we're stuck feeling like we're losing grip.

Why not just let go?

{It was never mine to hold.}

To Love.

Lately, all I want to do is give myself away.

All of me.

Is this about a man?

Well... maybe a little bit, but no. It most certainly isn't. 

(Though, it manifests that way, too.)

It's this deep desire that's been rooted in me for as long as I can remember.

It's that thing in me that sees the good stuff when everyone else sees the bad.

It's that thing in me that sees what can be, if someone would just realize that they were worth it.

It's that thing in me that sees incredible beauty when everyone else just sees a screw-up.

But practically, how does this translate? 

It doesn't.

Love is not a practicality.

It is.

So, what does it mean to love?

I don't always know.

But that won't keep me from doing, from being, from living.

{Those who are willing will be used.

Those who desire will be filled.

Those who seek will find.

Those who yearn will be satisfied.}

Listen.

I hear a small, booming voice.

It says "yes" when I say "absolutely not." 

It screams "I know you can" when all I think is "I can't do this anymore."

It breathes "love" when all I can muster is "hate." 

Sometimes, I add more boom to it from the outside world.

Maybe if there's so much crazy around me, I won't have to listen to it.

But I can never quite drown it out.

It always sticks around.

It never tries to push too hard. 

It always stays right where I put it.

It never leaves. 

I just choose to forget it. 

It's everywhere I am.

It's in everything I do.

It's every reason I am.

It's every remedy to every need.

Can you hear it?

  

Chosen

"I chose you to come out of the world, so the world hates you..." - Jesus, John 15:19

I've often wrestled with the idea of us being chosen verses us choosing. 

(Working it out with fear and trembling, you know.)

After all, we love because we were first loved.

I think I've come to the conclusion that there simply isn't one answer... at least, not one I can understand this side of heaven.

The more I read Jesus' words, the more I realize just how big of a mystery it is, how entwined everything is, and just how much I don't need to know and am not responsible for.

All I know is what is, not how it came to be, and I think that's okay.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Some things I simply don't need a definition for.
The only thing I need is to {trust}, fully unbridled and unashamed.
And that's what I plan on trying to do.

{The chosen ones of God were those who let God pursue his interest in them, and as a result received his stamp of legitimacy.}