For Those Who Did Not Receive Healing

Let me start this off by saying this first and foremost: I do not claim to be a theologian. I do not claim to have all the answers or to know everything. I am simply writing from what has been on my heart lately, and everything expressed in this post is personal opinion. I understand that not everyone agrees with me, but I ask you to please respond with grace.

Okay, let's get started.

John 5:1-9a:

Afterward Jesus returned to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish holy days.  Inside the city, near the Sheep Gate, was the pool of Bethesda, with five covered porches.  Crowds of sick people—blind, lame, or paralyzed—lay on the porches. One of the men lying there had been sick for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, he asked him, “Would you like to get well?”“I can’t, sir,” the sick man said, “for I have no one to put me into the pool when the water bubbles up. Someone else always gets there ahead of me.”Jesus told him, “Stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!”Instantly, the man was healed! He rolled up his sleeping mat and began walking! 

My God is awesome. It is SO cool to see how he heals people in the Bible and today. It is awesome that He is the same God today as He was thousands of years ago (Hebrews 13:8). I love watching Him move and seeing people get healed of physical, spiritual, mental, and emotional needs. It is one of my favorite things to see my God touch people's lives in tangible ways.

That being said, let's take a closer look at the passage above. It says that there were crowds of sick people. Crowds. And for whatever reason, Jesus chose to heal only one. For that one guy, I'm sure it was awesome. Life-changing, even. But what about the tons of others? What about the people that were still sick and watched this happen? I don't know why Jesus chose to only heal one person, and I don't think I ever will. All I know is that He is sovereign and I will trust that He knows what He's doing.

As most of you know by now, I have struggled with clinical depression for a long, long time. Growing up in the church, I went to healing revival after healing revival, begging God to heal my mind. I would say to Him, I'm leaving this here at this alter and I declare healing over my mind. When I walk away, I will no longer struggle with this. And I would walk away and the next day I would still be sad. It got discouraging. What people in the church said to me was even more discouraging. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I have been told to "just have more faith" or to "believe more" or to "just ask" or to "choose joy." I will be blunt here: I am so sick of hearing that. I am so sick of people telling me inadvertently that I don't have enough faith or that I'm not asking enough. As if I hadn't thought of that. As if I hadn't thought that a little more faith would help me through.

I don't think me asking 500 more times or worshipping harder or saying the right words is going to get me healed. Why? Because healing is not about what I do. It is about what God does. And falling into the trap that thinking it is about me will only leave me either A. prideful or B. more hurt. If God is going to heal me, fantastic. I will receive that and I will be so thankful for it. But if he doesn't, still I will praise him. Because it's not about me. It's not about the way I ask to make the words just right or the way I do anything, really. It's about my sovereign King knowing more than I ever could about what is best for me, and me having the faith to follow Him in that whichever way He may lead. And I think that sometimes, the faith to follow even when the healing doesn't come can be so much more difficult, and so rewarding.

If you're reading this and you're in a similar boat as me, I want you to know that I am praying for you. If you've been struggling with some type of illness for a long time and haven't yet received healing, please understand that it is not your fault. I am sorry if you have been lead to believe that it is. Please, dare to have the faith to follow even when the healing doesn't come. Because I promise you, our God is still good. He is still faithful, He is still true. The healing may come, and it may not. I do not pretend to understand why God does things the way He does. I know, it can be frustrating and discouraging. I want to encourage you to talk to God about that. He can handle it. He can handle your questioning and your frustration, you anger and your pain. He is a good God, full of many good things, and He is holding you tonight, even if you can't see it right now.

He loves you, oh He loves you so much.

Percentages Do Not Define Me

When I was younger, my parents put me in a soccer league. My dad had played semi-professionally before he busted his leg, my mom had coached, and my brother was awesome at it, so naturally, I was placed in a soccer league. We quickly found out that sports was not my thing. I hated running so I didn't do it. In the middle of games, I would literally sit on the field and pick dandelions. It was a disaster. We also quickly found out that I am tone-deaf and pretty bad at anything musical. So, what do I have to offer? I'm smart. I'm good at school. I've always excelled in the classroom, going far beyond what was expected of me at every grade level. I found my niche in the school.

When I was in fifth grade, we had a "strikes" program. For every homework assignment you missed, you would get a strike. At three strikes, there would be small penalties and then it added for each one. If you managed to make it through the year with no strikes whatsoever, you got to go to a special pizza party. I've always loved food and I'm good at school so I thought, "Hey, this is awesome! Something I can actually win!" This turned into incredible anxiety for ten-year-old me. I remember countless nights spent lying awake re-thinking every moment of the school day, trying to make sure I remembered every homework assignment. I would watch the clock turn to 3AM and lie in bed crying and feeling sick to my stomach about missing something. I would check and re-check my assignment book and wake my parents up asking them to help me remember if there was any homework. It was terrible. I have never struggled with anxiety as much as I did that year.

I ended up making it the whole year without any strikes, and I went to the pizza party at a bowling alley. I remember sitting there thinking, "This wasn't worth it." Even then, I knew that this was becoming a serious problem. I wish I hadn't won that year. That pizza party taught me that perfectionism gets rewarded. If you never miss a single assignment, if you turn everything in ahead of time, if you get straight A's, you get rewarded. I found my identity in this. I was smart. I was good at school.

My brother struggles with learning disabilities. Growing up, I hated the school system for the way it failed him and allowed me to excel. It never seemed fair that our report cards would become a defining statement of our worth. Mine always had A's, while he struggled to pass classes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't okay that I never seemed to measure up to the ridiculous standards I held for myself.

The first paper I turned in in college got a 96%. I looked at that grade and I was disappointed. I lost sleep over it. That four percent destroyed me. I looked over the comments over and over again, vowing to never make the same mistakes again.

Throughout college, I have always done fairly well. I have managed to get all A's except for one B every semester. You'd think I'd be happy with this. You'd think I'd look at my grade card and feel pride in knowing that I'm doing well. If I'm being completely honest and vulnerable with you, I have never once looked at a grade card during my three years here and felt anything but complete disappointment. B's make me feel stupid. I am smart, that's what I have going for me. I should be able to pull of straight A's.

As I start my last semester, I have already spent a good amount of time pouring over every syllabus, trying to find a way to get my 4.0 this semester. I have found out that if I get a 4.0 this semester, I will be able to graduate with a 3.8. I tell myself that this will make me happy, but I know the truth. I will NEVER feel good enough as long as my worth is defined by a percentage. There will always be room for improvement, I will always fall short of perfection.

God has really been working in me for this last semester. I've dismissed it as senioritis or just being done caring about school, but that's not me. I do my papers weeks before they're due. I have never procrastinated anything before, and this semester, I find myself not caring quite as much. But this is still a journey. This is still going to be hard for me to work on this semester. So I ask you to join me. Pray for me, if you remember. If I start talking to you about the stress of school and making sure my grades are perfect, remind me that my worth is not determined by a grade. I am not a letter. I am not a percentage. I am a child of God. I am good enough in that.

So, here it goes. My last semester. I wish I could say that I don't care what grades I get this semester. I wish I could tell you I'm done aiming for that 4.0. I'm not. But I'm working on it. I'm slowly letting go of letting those marks define me. And I think that, in the end, if I am able (which I am because I have God and He's fricken awesome, let's be honest) to let go of this perfectionism and find peace in wherever my grades fall, I will be ten times more proud of myself than I would be with a 4.0.

Depression and Manna

Exodus 16:18-21a: "And when they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed. Then Moses said to them, 'No one is to keep any of it until morning.' However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell. So Moses was angry with them. Each morning everyone gathered as much as they needed."

To say I am going through a rough season of life would be an understatement. As many of you know, I struggle with depression, and let me tell you, it has been so hard lately. I have at many times felt so alone. This past summer, I moved home, and I loved being with my family, but it was hands-down the hardest summer of my life. I didn't have any friends in Ann Arbor since my family moved after I graduated high school. I was missing Zeke like crazy as well as all my other friends from NCU. As I have now moved back to North Central, it has continued to be a difficult season of my life. I still miss Zeke since he is out in Cali changing the world, and I have been incredibly overwhelmed with what this last semester brings. My depression is still haunting me and oftentimes, it feels like I can't make it through the day.

God has been bringing me through the Old Testament lately, and I have found myself relating a lot to the Israelites. Many times, with depression, I feel so lost and it feels as if all of my effort is just having me go in circles. God has been teaching me a lot through the Israelites about seeking Him even when it gets hard and remembering what He has done for me in the past. Today, I read this verse (above) and I realized it is exactly what God has been speaking to me lately.

With depression, every day is a fight at times. It can get hard to get out of bed in the morning and it can get hard to make it through each day. As God teaches me to lean on Him alone, I am reminded to daily ask Him for the strength to make it through the day. That is my manna. And so many times, I get ahead of myself and think, "If I can barely make it through today, how in the world am I supposed to make it through tomorrow?" But then God reminds me that I only need enough for today. That is so hard, but it is so rewarding. It is so humbling to have a God that can give me enough each day and I just need to trust Him and stop trying to take it into my own hands.

20 Things I Learned When I Was 20

I somehow keep forgetting that tomorrow is my birthday, but alas, here I am, with two more hours of being twenty years old, and I take the time to reflect on where God has brought me this year. I am so thankful for all the blessings that twenty brought me, even though it was a very difficult year in very many ways. Anyway, here's twenty of the many things I've learned this past year:

1. Sometimes, you relapse. It's okay. Keep trying.
2. If you want a relationship to work, you have to fight for it.
3. You must fight for community. You sometimes need to take a while away from people. Learn to distinguish between the two. Don't let fear keep you from loving people.
4. Get a job that you love; one that makes you feel like you're not even working. Do that for the rest of your life.
5. Sometimes you'll be the only person that cares. Keep caring.
6. There comes a time in your life when you have to face your fears. When that fails, climb on the table with your roommate, scream, and call your boyfriend. Buy mouse traps the next day and try again.
7. God is not a feeling.
8. It is 100% okay to feel differently than everyone else in the room. Form your own opinions.
9. Driving stick shift sucks. Learn anyway.
10. Best friends are hard to find. When you find one, hold them close.
11. Plan your meals out before going grocery shopping or you might end up spending $50 on snacks.
12. Manage your money well.
13. Don't be afraid to love yourself. Self-care is essential.
14. Impromptu dance parties are good. Impromptu dance parties in the middle of finals week are great.
15. Going to counseling is hard. Go anyway.
16. If you don't work through the things that have happened to you in the past, you will never move forward.
17. Middle schoolers have an insane amount of energy. I'm getting old.
18. You are more blessed than you realize.
19. You may find friends where you once had enemies.
20. Life is hard. Keep trying, keep trying, keep trying. 

The Day I Stopped Wearing My Purity Ring, and How the 90's Ruined My View of Relationships: Coming Out of the Closet on Purity

I grew up in the church in the 90's. And for those of you who also grew up in the church in the 90's-early 2000's, you are most likely all-too-familiar with the era of "kissing dating goodbye." I bought into all of it, too. I rolled my eyes at couples in the hallways, tucked away letters to my future husband in my notebooks (which, by the way, are HILARIOUS), and read books about the evils of dating more than I actually read the Bible they were talking about. And don't get me wrong, that era had some good things come out of it. It probably saved me from dating a lot of losers, but it also really wrecked my view of relationships.

I always swore that I wouldn't date someone until I KNEW that they were the person I was going to marry. I didn't want to waste my time or my purity. This, it seems, was a pretty good concept. It was a good concept until I actually got a boyfriend. Three months after Zeke and I started dating, we took a week-long break and were extremely close to breaking up. Why? Because I didn't know if I was going to marry him or not. Now, it seems ridiculous that we almost broke up for that reason. Of course I didn't know if I was going to marry him. I barely even knew him! I had only spent three months with him. But, I felt, it was either make or break at that point. And, praise the Lord, He has taught me so much about dating since then. Looking back, I would have missed out on a truly amazing man of God that pushes me to be a better woman of God every day simply because I, like a normal human being, wasn't ready to commit to spending my life with him after only spending three months being his girlfriend. Now, almost two years after becoming his girlfriend, I know that I will marry him. But it's been two years, people. I didn't need to know at three months, I didn't need to know at one year. I just needed to keep God first every single day and let Him lead us.

When I was thirteen, my dad gave me a purity ring. I wore it every single day up until a few months ago. Growing up, my view of purity was always this: wait until you're married. That was it. Not "wait in the Lord" or "seek God first," nope. Just wait until you're married and then you get to have all the sex you want. While that is true, it should not have been my focus. My focus was not on the Lord, at all. I was remaining pure because of my love of my future husband, not because of my love of Christ, and come on people, can we say idolizing? From day one, my focus was always on guys first, Jesus second. And, friends, that has been a struggle every day of my life. Zeke is a wonderful man. He is not God. And all to often, I put Zeke before God, and I think that may have stemmed out of my original view of purity. 

Another problem that stems from the only "wait until you're married" view of purity is what happens when you mess up? We all do, in some form or another. What happens when one aspect of our purity is no longer there for our future spouse, whether it was stolen from us or we gave it away? In my former view of purity, that just meant that it was gone. It was gone, and I was lost in a world of shame and condemnation, and I didn't mind giving it away again, because, hey, it's already gone, right? Also, what happens when we find our future spouse but aren't married yet? I always knew that putting guys before God was a struggle for me, but I was in for a whole new world of struggle when it came to maintaining my purity when I had found my lifelong mate. Why? Because "True Love Waits" told me to wait for my future husband. He's here.

I no longer wear my purity ring. To me, it symbolizes years of a skewed and broken view of purity. I now try to focus more on loving the Lord than loving my Zeke, waiting in Christ and devoting my life to Him instead of devoting my life to waiting for my future husband. And I make mistakes, oh do I make mistakes. But the wonderful thing about my God is that His grace is all-suffienct and always enough for me.

Ps. If you're interested, here's a great article that inspired this post. He's a much better writer than I am. :)

I Think God is a Writer

It's 1:30AM, and I can't sleep. It's 1:30AM on a summer Friday night. It's 1:30AM on the night after God began revealing something new to me, and today, it's still keeping me up.

I'm sure there will be more posts about this at some point, when I start figuring it all out and God teaches me more. But for now, it's 1:30AM and I'm up writing this blog post, because I can't sleep, and because I am a writer. Because I think God is a writer, too.

This all started yesterday. I woke up to do some devos and lately, they have been kind of dry, so I've been really desperate for something new from God. And He gave me something new. Something I'm still trying to unpack and fully understand - but something very new, and very exciting. And then I went on a run and ended up stopping at the Stone Arch Bridge because I saw flowers as a memorial for what I'm assuming is a suicide victim. And I stood on that bridge for a very long time, my heart completely broken for the broken. And I had a one-on-one earlier this week and was able to talk about my dreams and the passions God has given me for the broken, and I spent a few hours looking at plane tickets to Seattle. And I spent time with a man who I can see being in my future. And I don't know, I've just been processing a lot lately, and here I am writing all of it - because I am a writer. Because I think God is a writer, too.

If I could, I would write it in a way that makes more sense, but for now, I can't really find the right words. So instead, I'll leave you with a journal entry from the day God started showing me this:

I think you're a writer God. Because you invest so much time into me and love me in this unique way. You're quirky and you write billions of stories. You pay attention to details and paint sunsets only a writer could. You make things for your eyes only and delight in those hidden things. You show off, too. You display your characters for all to see and you take pride in those creations. Your heart breaks when theirs does, too.

You stay up all night, don't you? Tirelessly working on a story. And yet, you're so much more than a writer, as I can understand it. Because you let your stories go. You let them have the choice to take the pen. Even when it's better for them to let you write, they still take it. And yet, you're still there to take it back when they've realized they've failed. When they come to you broken, you gladly and forgivingly take that pen back. You write in things that fix them. You heal them.

You love words, don't you? God, I think you're a writer. I, too, Lord, am a writer. And, as a writer, it's hard for me to let someone else write my story. It's hard to let you have the pen because I forget. I forget that you know how the story ends. I forget that I'm only a character. I forget, and my pride gets in the way, and I try to be the writer. I think that, if I have control, I can write my story better than you ever could. How silly of me to believe that - to think that a character could take the writer's place. I'm sorry. 

The journal entry went on a lot more about control and how I so often feel the need to have it over God, which is just stupid of me. But I so often try to write my own story and forget that God is the most perfect writer out there.

There will be more posts about this when it makes more sense to me, but for now, this is all I have. Because I am a writer, but I am not the perfect writer - God is. And there are some words I may never know how to say.

Or perhaps God just hasn't given me them yet.

The Love of Christ

It has been quite a while since I last posted on this blog. To be honest, it's because I didn't have much to say. Last semester was really rough for me, especially in the spiritual aspect of things. I was very stagnant in my relationship with God and didn't really make a whole lot of progress. I kind of went through the motions and did the minimum. I'm disappointed in myself looking back on what I could have done/been last semester, but I am walking forward and choosing to make new and better choices, especially concerning my walk with Christ.

This semester has started off with a great start. I have been much more faithful in spending time with God daily and have been so blessed by Him. I have been loving my floor and the girls God has placed in my life as well as my incredible boyfriend who continues to love me and help me draw nearer to the plan God has for my life. I recently (today, actually) got a job and am enjoying my classes thus far.

Something that God has really been laying on my heart lately is His love for me. I know, I know. It's cliche and girly. But it is real and it is something God has really been working in me. I have had a few amazing realizations about His love such as: if we fully knew and understood Christ's love for us, we would not still be living the way we did before we knew that love, and that His love is two-fold: it causes us to dwell and be in awe, but it also causes us to look beyond ourselves and share it with others. And tonight at Praise Gathering, God just spoke to me about His love for the entire two hours. It was so amazing. I can't really put it into words, but I thought I would share my journal entry from tonight with you guys so hopefully you can grasp the love that I was feeling from Him.

Your Spirit is so thick in this room. Your presence is so great and sweet I don't even know what to say or write. I don't know how to describe your love. It is something that even I can fail to say. It can not be put into a box comprised of ink and paper. It is free-flowing and unending. It is so incomprehensible to a mind so small as mine. Even a mind you created to make words form sentences can not even begin to capture the love you have for me. I am at a loss for words, grasping at strings, trying to find verbs, and racking my brain - the brain you created for such a purpose as finding words - can find but none other than "I love you, my child. I love you. I love you."

You love me with a love that is deep and passionate, a love that is holy and mighty and strong. A love that is not merely a good feeling but a love that overcomes all feelings of incompetency. A love that, in making me understand that I am, in fact, imperfect in describing the sheer vastness of Your glory, makes me understand that I am made whole and beautiful in Your arms. Because I am a girl searching, grasping, desperate for the love of a perfect Father that does not do me wrong. Here I stand broken, unsure, and unholy. Here I stand trying to find all the right words and fining nothing but despair and doubt. Here am I, a girl in awe of the love You have for her that you so freely give.

You love me with a love that is restorative and redemptive. A love that disciplines, corrects, and motivates. A love that does not let me stay at the place I am at. You love me with a perfect love, the dance of a father and his princess. The love of a man for his bride, of a mother for her child, of a good and perfect king for his people. You love me with a love that is unchanging regardless of my continual failure. You love me with a love that you acted upon and died for. You love me in my imperfections, in my sin, in my lust, in my greed, in my depression, in my unhealthy strive for perfectionism.

For You could have created anything and You created me. You could dwell anywhere and You chose to dwell in me - in my heart. In the heart of a daughter romanced by her King. You created me on purpose for a purpose and believing anything else would be devaluing to the life You gave because of this love. You love me with a love that leaves me craving more of You every moment of every day for Your love does not fail or leave me.

How foolish of me to believe I could ever run from you. How silly for me to think I could ever comprehend You or the love You have for me. Nothing stands in comparison to even an ounce of Your presence. Nothing tastes as sweet as this love. I will love You for the rest of my days.

Teach me to love You and others with a love even half as selfless and sweet as the love You have poured out upon me here tonight. Teach me to be as desperate for reaching the lost as You are for reaching Your people. Teach me to dwell in Your presence and love and not reject or run away from such a perfect example of grace and mercy. Teach me to embrace Your love and to allow it to change me from the inside out - to a girl passionate for Your people. Teach me to allow Your love to mold me. Show me how once Your love touches me I can not claim ignorance or walk away unchanged for Your love is a love that drastically and dramatically changes everything it touches.

I stand in total awe of You. How could I, a girl broken and bruised, impure and forsaken, be worth a love so thick and real? And still You love me, in all of my failures and doubts. You chose to love me with all of my dirt. How am I worthy? How do I learn to accept such a love? 

For Your love is perfect and it does not go away. Your love brings freedom. Your love brings revival. Your love brings the dead to life. Your love changes everything. Your love forgives and redeems, it keeps no record of wrongs.

The same love that gave sight to the blind and rose the dead to life lives in me. That same love is now upon me - something which I can not fathom or understand. Your love is unfailing and unending. It brings the dead in me to life and to a point of pure surrender of all wants and desires, for how could I, after experiencing this love, ever want anything more?

I give you all of me tonight, Lord. Take every part of me. I love you, too. 

God's love is so amazing, guys.
Blessings,
Elyse