You call me out upon the waters
the great unknown where feet may fail
and there I find You in the mystery
in oceans deep
my faith will stand
I will call upon Your name
and keep my eyes above the waves
when oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace
for I am Yours and You are mine
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
will be my guide
where my feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now
So I will call upon Your name
and keep my eyes above the waves
when oceans rise
my soul will rest in Your embrace
for I am Yours and You are mine
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
let me walk upon the waters
wherever You would call me
take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
and my faith will be made stronger
in the presence of my Savior
You came like a winter snow. Quiet and soft and slow.
Below is an excerpt from Elizabeth Elliot’s book, Passion and Purity. It tells of the love story between Jim and Elizabeth Elliot as they waited several years to be married while Jim was serving as a missionary in the jungles of Ecuador. Elizabeth describes her journey of experiencing the gift of singleness, marriage, and widowhood during her life time, with Jim being her first true love; a love centered around Christ. The excerpt below resonated deep with me in the way I oftentimes doubt the bigger picture God has me playing a part in. As changes are soon coming my way, my heart is restless, and my thoughts run deep with fear and doubt. But how refreshing and life giving it is to be reminded that all things belong to God, and the Oak tree remains unwavering as the acorns drop one by one and our selves die little by little as we come to understand the bigger picture. It is then that we find life again, and how true and deep that rings in our new and satisfied hearts.
There is no ongoing spiritual life without this process of letting go. At the precise point where we refuse, growth stops. If we hold tightly to anything given to us, unwilling to let it go when the time comes to let it go or unwilling to allow it to be used as the Giver means it to be used, we stunt the growth of the soul.
It is easy to make a mistake here. “If God gave it to me,” we say, “it’s mine. I can do what I want with it.” No. The truth is that it is ours to thank Him for and ours to offer back to Him, ours to relinquish, ours to lose, ours to let go of —if we want to find our true selves, if we want real Life, if our hearts are set on glory.
Think of the self that God has given as an acorn. It is a marvelous little thing, a perfect shape, perfectly designated for its purpose, perfectly functional. Think of the grand glory of an oak tree. His intention for us is “… the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.” Many deaths must go into our reaching that measure, many letting-goes. When you look at the oak tree, you don’t feel that the “loss” of the acorn is a very great loss. The more you perceive God’s purpose in your life, the less terrible will the losses seem.
The lesson of the seed is not fully learned until there is relinquishment. There is no way around it. The seed does not “know” what will happen. It only knows what is happening —the falling, the darkness, the dying. That was how it felt to be separated as we were —as though we had been given no clues as to why this had to be. “The wanting itself is good,” Jim wrote, “it is right, even God granted, but now God denied, and He has not let me know all the wisdom of the denial.” We were yet far from the depth of spiritual perception Lilias Trotter has when she wrote those profound words quoted earlier: “The first step into the realm of giving is…not manward but Godward: an utter yielding of our best. So long as our idea of surrender is limited to the renouncing of unlawful things, we have never grasped its true meaning: that is not worthy of the name for ‘no polluted thing’ can be offered.”
We were given grace to see, however, in our saner moments, some of the wisdom of the denial. Jim was able to live in a makeshift house, with makeshift furniture, letting Indians stream through kitchen and bedroom when they felt like it, and he was free to give attention to language learning and evangelism and the building that had to be done for other people, rather than to me and to a house for us to live in and all the rest. I could occupy myself in a job I could not have done if we’d been together. We were being asked to trust, to leave the planning to God. God’s ultimate plan was as far beyond our imaginings as the oak tree is from the acorn’s imaginings. The acorn does what it is was made to do, without pestering its Maker with questions about when and how and why. We who have been given an intelligence and a will and a whole range of wants that can be set against the divine Pattern for Good are asked to believe Him. We are given the chance to trust Him when He says to us, “…If any man will let himself be lost for my sake, he will find his true self.”
When will we find it? The answer is, Trust Me.
How will we find it? The answer again is, Trust Me.
Why must I let myself be lost? we persist. The answer is, Look at the acorn and trust Me.
—Elizabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity
I have been MIA from tumblr for months now, and I figured it’s time to finally come back and give this blog some lovin’. New year, new blogging habits to develop, I hope. There are so many times this semester where I wanted to update this thing, but life as a senior in college has been busier than I had anticipated (in good ways). Turns out taking less hours does not amount to less work, just more room to make yourself busier. But as I am waiting to leave for my last semester of college, this is the perfect moment to update a few things from the beginning of my 2013. 2012 was a rough one. Trying to adjust back to life in the midwest after having experienced the most wonderful semester abroad. In some ways it was an identity crisis, feeling like I was back at square one. Feeling as if I came alive in a way I never have in Latin America, yet my heart still attached to my American roots. I longed for my experience abroad again, and struggled to choose contentment in the season I found myself in. I learned a lot (and still am) about contentment, and the lack of it was coming from not resting in the Lord. How funny that we often think we know what’s best for ourselves. Reflecting on my 2012 was good and healthy, though it happened in the middle of a crowded Atlanta airport. And for the first year in my life, my new years resolutions did not consist of a long list of things that i wished to be. There we go again, contentment. I realized that I spend so much time reaching for the things i wish to be, instead of asking the Lord to continue to reveal who I am in light of Him, and what ways my gifts and character can be used for His kingdom. So it took all of 2012 to recognize my stubborn and fickle heart, and I am thankful for the new learnings ahead of me in 2013. This year especially will be one of change; college graduation, a trip to India, and a move to Florida. All of the above contain much emotion and adaptivity, and only by the Lord’s grace will I find a restful and content heart.
I plan on instagramming the crap out of my last semester, my beautiful Kansas City, the simple pleasures, and the people that surround me with much love. I have joined the world of iphoneographers, and here’s some simple captures of my 2013 thus far.
Happy 2013, friends! May you all find peace and contentment in yours hearts too.
some morning reading
iphone / vsco cam
looking through old letters
iphone / vsco cam
lunch at this gem
iphone / vsco cam
new polka dotted socks
iphone / vsco cam
golden hour train traffic
iphone / vsco cam
cupcake baking
iphone / vsco cam
best friend friday
iphone / vsco cam
