Saturday, February 19, 2011
Saturday, October 9, 2010
kelsiesvirtualnotebook has been, at least temporarily, retired. :(
Blogspot has turned out to be an annoying medium to work with and I'm taking a break.
If you want to follow my writing, go to http://kylermartyn.tumblr.com. That's my tumblr. I post pictures and writings sometimes. The writing is different than the writing on here...I write it for me, and not so much for you. But that's okay, because sometimes it's cool to read too. :)
Thank you for following me through this blog! Maybe someday I'll resurrect it. :)
Love,
Kelsie
Blogspot has turned out to be an annoying medium to work with and I'm taking a break.
If you want to follow my writing, go to http://kylermartyn.tumblr.com. That's my tumblr. I post pictures and writings sometimes. The writing is different than the writing on here...I write it for me, and not so much for you. But that's okay, because sometimes it's cool to read too. :)
Thank you for following me through this blog! Maybe someday I'll resurrect it. :)
Love,
Kelsie
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Grace and Broken Branches
"If grace is an ocean we're all sinking..."
I love little kids. I love the funny stuff they say, I love how creative they are, I love how innocent they are, I love teaching them new stuff about the world. And maybe most of all, I love kids' imaginations.
I was babysitting for a little boy the other day, and in his room, he had a spider made out of pipe cleaners, a ladybug made from clay, a flower made from construction paper, and a frog cut from a coloring sheet. When I asked him about it, he casually replied, "Oh, those are from the other day when I made a rain forest." I love that.
I know when I was little, I made up all sorts of things. A stick was a sword. Couch cushions were a rocket ship. My stuffed animals were an audience. The floor was hot lava. Legos were a towering skyscraper.
Little kids seem to have an inherent ability to see things, not for what they are, but for what they could be.
When we grow up, we lose some of that. Sure, we can still play pretend with little ones, but we don't really see the stick as a sword. We see it as a stick. We name it "pretend". Whereas two four-year-olds might actually argue over what the stick is supposed to represent, we are much more mature than that. It's a stick and nothing but a stick.
Of course, it's a good thing to grow up. It's natural to mature. If there were two forty-year-olds fiercely shouting "No, it's a sword!" "No, it's a fairy wand!" in the middle of the office, there would be an obvious problem.
But I think God works a little like those little kids.
See, we're the stick. We're the ugly, broken twig lying in the dirt. Because really, what would a broken branch have to offer? It doesn't do anything. It can't be grown into a tree. It's broken - it's worthless.
But God doesn't see us as the broken branch. God sees us for what we could be.
That's what grace is, really. God could have looked down at me and said, "Look at her. She's worthless. What has she got to offer me? She's broken, lying in her own sin." But he didn't. He looked at me and said, "Wow! Think what I could do with her! She's not a loser...I can make her beautiful, I can use her to further my cause."
And so he offered me grace. He picked up this broken branch and washed off the dirt with his own precious blood. He sanded off the messy bits and held me up and proclaimed me beautiful. God saw past what I was, to what I could be.
God sees my potential. What do I do in return? I will do anything I can to fulfill this potential, to live the life that he wants me to live, to be used in the ways he wants to use me.
God saw what I could be. And at the end of my life, I want to present myself to him, as a living representation of what I could be...now become what I am.
I love little kids. I love the funny stuff they say, I love how creative they are, I love how innocent they are, I love teaching them new stuff about the world. And maybe most of all, I love kids' imaginations.
I was babysitting for a little boy the other day, and in his room, he had a spider made out of pipe cleaners, a ladybug made from clay, a flower made from construction paper, and a frog cut from a coloring sheet. When I asked him about it, he casually replied, "Oh, those are from the other day when I made a rain forest." I love that.
I know when I was little, I made up all sorts of things. A stick was a sword. Couch cushions were a rocket ship. My stuffed animals were an audience. The floor was hot lava. Legos were a towering skyscraper.
Little kids seem to have an inherent ability to see things, not for what they are, but for what they could be.
When we grow up, we lose some of that. Sure, we can still play pretend with little ones, but we don't really see the stick as a sword. We see it as a stick. We name it "pretend". Whereas two four-year-olds might actually argue over what the stick is supposed to represent, we are much more mature than that. It's a stick and nothing but a stick.
Of course, it's a good thing to grow up. It's natural to mature. If there were two forty-year-olds fiercely shouting "No, it's a sword!" "No, it's a fairy wand!" in the middle of the office, there would be an obvious problem.
But I think God works a little like those little kids.
See, we're the stick. We're the ugly, broken twig lying in the dirt. Because really, what would a broken branch have to offer? It doesn't do anything. It can't be grown into a tree. It's broken - it's worthless.
But God doesn't see us as the broken branch. God sees us for what we could be.
That's what grace is, really. God could have looked down at me and said, "Look at her. She's worthless. What has she got to offer me? She's broken, lying in her own sin." But he didn't. He looked at me and said, "Wow! Think what I could do with her! She's not a loser...I can make her beautiful, I can use her to further my cause."
And so he offered me grace. He picked up this broken branch and washed off the dirt with his own precious blood. He sanded off the messy bits and held me up and proclaimed me beautiful. God saw past what I was, to what I could be.
God sees my potential. What do I do in return? I will do anything I can to fulfill this potential, to live the life that he wants me to live, to be used in the ways he wants to use me.
God saw what I could be. And at the end of my life, I want to present myself to him, as a living representation of what I could be...now become what I am.
Unrelenting
"You won't relent until You have it all..."
This is one of my absolute favorite worship songs - You Won't Relent (Seal) by Misty Edwards. The chorus is very simple: "You won't relent until You have it all; my heart is Yours."
I looked up that word "relent". Here's what dictionary.com says: "to soften in feeling, temper, or determination".
God won't give up on us. He won't soften in feeling or determination until He has all of us. Rejection won't stop Him. Outside influences won't stop Him. Satan won't stop Him. Our own sin won't stop Him. He won't give up. He'll fight as long as we're alive to win our hearts.
I'm currently sitting on my bed in my bedroom. Zoom out a bit, and there's my whole family. Keep going, there's my neighborhood, my city, my county, my state, my country, my world. I'm swallowed up in a sea of humanity. I'm one person in a giant pile of six billion. I'm one face in the crowd of our entire planet. And God won't give up until He's won my heart.
If God was a shepherd with six billion sheep and I was the only one who wandered away, God would track me down, stopping at nothing until He'd gotten me safely back home.
But it wouldn't be enough for Him to find me and forcefully drag me to Him. That's not how God operates. Instead, He'll risk himself. He'll make his heart clear, and then leave it up to me to respond. If I tearfully throw my arms around Him and allow myself to be carried home, He will rejoice the entire way. And if I reject His offer and continue to wallow in this world...He won't relent.
He won't relent until He has it all. Until all of my heart is His.
God knew me before the world was formed. He knew me before there was a me, before there were my parents, before there was a King David and a Moses and an Abraham He knew that there would be a me someday. He knew there would be a me, and He knew there would be a problem, because He knew I would have no way to get to Him because of the barrier blocking humanity from getting to God: ourselves, our sin.
And so, before I ever existed, God started planning a way to get me back.
" 'Now we're getting somewhere. But that's not the way it works, Groovy. I need to know what it's worth to you. It's not what I want that matters here. It's how much you want whatever's over there that matters. How much will you pay?'
'Twenty thousand.'
Sweeney just stared at him.
'Fifty thousand - if you get me in.'
'Not enough.'
'For crying out loud, then! How much is enough?'
'Your desire's bigger than that, Groovy. I've seen it in your eyes. You would sell your soul for whatever's in that building...'
'You're asking me what I'll pay you, not what it's worth,' he said.
'They're synonymous. You'll pay whatever it's worth. It's worth what you'll pay for it. What price are you willing to pay for this obsession of yours?' "
-Obsessed, Ted Dekker
God won't relent until He has me. Until He has you. We're his obsession. He won't give up, won't stop at anything to win us back.
As Sweeney said in that piece from Obsessed, something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. And for His obsession, God was willing to pay His life.
He won't relent. He won't give up until we choose to love Him back. He loves us enough to let Himself die for the mere chance that we might return His love. And so I will give my life over to loving Him back.
"...my heart is Yours."
This is one of my absolute favorite worship songs - You Won't Relent (Seal) by Misty Edwards. The chorus is very simple: "You won't relent until You have it all; my heart is Yours."
I looked up that word "relent". Here's what dictionary.com says: "to soften in feeling, temper, or determination".
God won't give up on us. He won't soften in feeling or determination until He has all of us. Rejection won't stop Him. Outside influences won't stop Him. Satan won't stop Him. Our own sin won't stop Him. He won't give up. He'll fight as long as we're alive to win our hearts.
I'm currently sitting on my bed in my bedroom. Zoom out a bit, and there's my whole family. Keep going, there's my neighborhood, my city, my county, my state, my country, my world. I'm swallowed up in a sea of humanity. I'm one person in a giant pile of six billion. I'm one face in the crowd of our entire planet. And God won't give up until He's won my heart.
If God was a shepherd with six billion sheep and I was the only one who wandered away, God would track me down, stopping at nothing until He'd gotten me safely back home.
But it wouldn't be enough for Him to find me and forcefully drag me to Him. That's not how God operates. Instead, He'll risk himself. He'll make his heart clear, and then leave it up to me to respond. If I tearfully throw my arms around Him and allow myself to be carried home, He will rejoice the entire way. And if I reject His offer and continue to wallow in this world...He won't relent.
He won't relent until He has it all. Until all of my heart is His.
God knew me before the world was formed. He knew me before there was a me, before there were my parents, before there was a King David and a Moses and an Abraham He knew that there would be a me someday. He knew there would be a me, and He knew there would be a problem, because He knew I would have no way to get to Him because of the barrier blocking humanity from getting to God: ourselves, our sin.
And so, before I ever existed, God started planning a way to get me back.
" 'Now we're getting somewhere. But that's not the way it works, Groovy. I need to know what it's worth to you. It's not what I want that matters here. It's how much you want whatever's over there that matters. How much will you pay?'
'Twenty thousand.'
Sweeney just stared at him.
'Fifty thousand - if you get me in.'
'Not enough.'
'For crying out loud, then! How much is enough?'
'Your desire's bigger than that, Groovy. I've seen it in your eyes. You would sell your soul for whatever's in that building...'
'You're asking me what I'll pay you, not what it's worth,' he said.
'They're synonymous. You'll pay whatever it's worth. It's worth what you'll pay for it. What price are you willing to pay for this obsession of yours?' "
-Obsessed, Ted Dekker
God won't relent until He has me. Until He has you. We're his obsession. He won't give up, won't stop at anything to win us back.
As Sweeney said in that piece from Obsessed, something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. And for His obsession, God was willing to pay His life.
He won't relent. He won't give up until we choose to love Him back. He loves us enough to let Himself die for the mere chance that we might return His love. And so I will give my life over to loving Him back.
"...my heart is Yours."
As Yourself
Written a couple of months ago, but I don't think I ever posted it anywhere.
***
We have a tendency to mock those who are different than us.
Even we Christians, we Christ-followers, we who label ourselves with the very name of God, we reject people. We point to people who live in sin and smirk that we are better than them.
But this is exactly like the hypocrites and Pharisees - a holier-than-thou mentality which makes us just as messed up as them. What should our response really be?
We don't see the whole picture, you know.
We see the girl with too-short shorts and a too-small blouse and label her immodest, slutty, a hooker. But we don't even consider her background - a father who rejected her, years of loneliness spent trying to find solace in boy after boy who were unable to fill the void in her heart, who wears these to attract eyes and to mask the insecurity that she won't even admit to herself.
We see the loudmouth boy who likes to say shocking things for attention, and we label him a hopeless rebel. But we couldn't understand how scared he is of being ignored because his family doesn't love him, and all his stunts for attention are just because to him, being in trouble is better than being ignored.
We see the teen throwing his life away with drugs and alcohol and simply pass him by. But we don't care that his heart aches from the abuse of life and that he's drowning himself in a vain attempt to dull the pain.
We judge despite explicit instructions not to. We label, perhaps in the face of our own insecurities. We build ourselves up by tearing others down.
But what are we commanded? What would Jesus say to the lost and broken outcasts of society? All Jesus did was love them. That was all he needed to do. Love - love gently bandaged the wounds and started brokenness on the road to healing, because love was the one thing they truly lacked. There's an empty, aching void in the chest of every person which will never fill no matter how many relationships, drinks, drugs, stunts, friends, pills, clothes, or thrills we try to clam in there. Only love can fill it. Only God can restore. Only God can heal.
So love. Love your neighbor as yourself. Put the stones down and quit judging and open your arms and love somebody. Be the light they're looking for. Be the hands and feet of Christ. Be the love that will finally heal their heart.
***
We have a tendency to mock those who are different than us.
Even we Christians, we Christ-followers, we who label ourselves with the very name of God, we reject people. We point to people who live in sin and smirk that we are better than them.
But this is exactly like the hypocrites and Pharisees - a holier-than-thou mentality which makes us just as messed up as them. What should our response really be?
We don't see the whole picture, you know.
We see the girl with too-short shorts and a too-small blouse and label her immodest, slutty, a hooker. But we don't even consider her background - a father who rejected her, years of loneliness spent trying to find solace in boy after boy who were unable to fill the void in her heart, who wears these to attract eyes and to mask the insecurity that she won't even admit to herself.
We see the loudmouth boy who likes to say shocking things for attention, and we label him a hopeless rebel. But we couldn't understand how scared he is of being ignored because his family doesn't love him, and all his stunts for attention are just because to him, being in trouble is better than being ignored.
We see the teen throwing his life away with drugs and alcohol and simply pass him by. But we don't care that his heart aches from the abuse of life and that he's drowning himself in a vain attempt to dull the pain.
We judge despite explicit instructions not to. We label, perhaps in the face of our own insecurities. We build ourselves up by tearing others down.
But what are we commanded? What would Jesus say to the lost and broken outcasts of society? All Jesus did was love them. That was all he needed to do. Love - love gently bandaged the wounds and started brokenness on the road to healing, because love was the one thing they truly lacked. There's an empty, aching void in the chest of every person which will never fill no matter how many relationships, drinks, drugs, stunts, friends, pills, clothes, or thrills we try to clam in there. Only love can fill it. Only God can restore. Only God can heal.
So love. Love your neighbor as yourself. Put the stones down and quit judging and open your arms and love somebody. Be the light they're looking for. Be the hands and feet of Christ. Be the love that will finally heal their heart.
Wiped Away the Stains?
"You've stolen my heart, yes you have!
You've wiped away the stains, broke away the chains,
Yes you have!"
You know God died to take away your sins?
Of course you do - that's a core belief of Christianity, taught from Sunday school on up through adulthood. Possibly the most elementary concept of the faith, because were it not for Christ's death, there wouldn't even be a faith. It's so well known, in fact, that it's become a cliche. Why bother to write about something so simple?
It's more, though, than just my sins being covered up. If I tripped and spilled ink all over the wall, I could paint over it with more white paint. You wouldn't be able to see it, but technically it would still be there, and that's not what Jesus did.
It's more, even, than just cleaning off my sins. I could scrub at the stain on the wall and possibly restore it to what it once was, but even that is not enough - "You've wiped away the stains" does not do it justice.
If I could somehow take back what had happened, if I could actually remove the stain and make it so that the ink had never been there, that that would be an accurate representation.
When the Bible says "as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us" (Psalm 103:12), God means it. The east never meets the west. Has never met the west. Will never meet the west. We are not our past mistakes.
In God's eyes, he looks at us and sees a soul covered by the blood of Christ. He does not see our sin. To him it is as though we never did any of it.
My pastor tells a story of a time when he got up on stage and told the audience: "I was preparing to go on stage to preach the sermon a few minutes ago, and as I stood backstage looking out at the audience, one particular woman caught my eye. I felt God ask me, 'Do you know the history of this woman?' " He tells how, as he said this sentence to the audience, he saw this woman's face fall and her shoulders slump. And then he continued. " 'No, God, I don't.' And after a pause, God replied, 'Hm. Neither do I.' " The woman looked up, hopeful, confused, trying to grasp this concept - when we have confessed our sins, they are forgiven. God doesn't hold a grudge against us.
God remembers our sins no more. Why should we? Why dwell on it? It is hard to forgive oneself, but if God has forgiven, so should we. It is as though they have never happened!
As I said in a previous note, "Guilt is nothing when our mistakes are not only erased from our record but erased from all of history and thrown infinitely far from our lives - made nonexistent."
We were dead men. Corpses. Rotting, filthy beings, drowned in our own shame, shackled in our own sins. And Jesus removed those chains. Jesus brought us to life. Jesus made us as though it had never happened, as though we had never fallen from our original glory. And though we, like a child, will fall again, Jesus is standing there to help us back on to our feet.
So although we sing that God has wiped away the stains - and indeed he has - it's even more than that. Christ's sacrifice means even more than that. It means God has removed them permanently. It means we are freed from our guilt, from the burden of sin. It means he has made us perfect - we can be his child.
"My chains are gone, I've been set free! My God, my Savior, has ransomed me."
You've wiped away the stains, broke away the chains,
Yes you have!"
You know God died to take away your sins?
Of course you do - that's a core belief of Christianity, taught from Sunday school on up through adulthood. Possibly the most elementary concept of the faith, because were it not for Christ's death, there wouldn't even be a faith. It's so well known, in fact, that it's become a cliche. Why bother to write about something so simple?
It's more, though, than just my sins being covered up. If I tripped and spilled ink all over the wall, I could paint over it with more white paint. You wouldn't be able to see it, but technically it would still be there, and that's not what Jesus did.
It's more, even, than just cleaning off my sins. I could scrub at the stain on the wall and possibly restore it to what it once was, but even that is not enough - "You've wiped away the stains" does not do it justice.
If I could somehow take back what had happened, if I could actually remove the stain and make it so that the ink had never been there, that that would be an accurate representation.
When the Bible says "as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us" (Psalm 103:12), God means it. The east never meets the west. Has never met the west. Will never meet the west. We are not our past mistakes.
In God's eyes, he looks at us and sees a soul covered by the blood of Christ. He does not see our sin. To him it is as though we never did any of it.
My pastor tells a story of a time when he got up on stage and told the audience: "I was preparing to go on stage to preach the sermon a few minutes ago, and as I stood backstage looking out at the audience, one particular woman caught my eye. I felt God ask me, 'Do you know the history of this woman?' " He tells how, as he said this sentence to the audience, he saw this woman's face fall and her shoulders slump. And then he continued. " 'No, God, I don't.' And after a pause, God replied, 'Hm. Neither do I.' " The woman looked up, hopeful, confused, trying to grasp this concept - when we have confessed our sins, they are forgiven. God doesn't hold a grudge against us.
God remembers our sins no more. Why should we? Why dwell on it? It is hard to forgive oneself, but if God has forgiven, so should we. It is as though they have never happened!
As I said in a previous note, "Guilt is nothing when our mistakes are not only erased from our record but erased from all of history and thrown infinitely far from our lives - made nonexistent."
We were dead men. Corpses. Rotting, filthy beings, drowned in our own shame, shackled in our own sins. And Jesus removed those chains. Jesus brought us to life. Jesus made us as though it had never happened, as though we had never fallen from our original glory. And though we, like a child, will fall again, Jesus is standing there to help us back on to our feet.
So although we sing that God has wiped away the stains - and indeed he has - it's even more than that. Christ's sacrifice means even more than that. It means God has removed them permanently. It means we are freed from our guilt, from the burden of sin. It means he has made us perfect - we can be his child.
"My chains are gone, I've been set free! My God, my Savior, has ransomed me."
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Through the Storm
"It is well, it is well
Through the storm I am held
It is well, it is well with my soul"
I've heard people say before, "God promises to never put us through more than we can bear." But that's not actually what the verse says. People are referencing 1 Corinthians 10:13, which says "...God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." Meaning God won't put us in a situation where there is no way out but to sin - he always gives us a way out.
It doesn't mean circumstances in life won't be more than we can handle alone. Sometimes things happen in our life that bring us to our knees. Sometimes it's more than we can hold.
And, really, if we could do everything on our own, what would be the point of God? If we could bear life alone, we wouldn't need to give our burdens to Christ. By surrendering our circumstances to Him, though, we draw so much closer.
When we were singing "It Is Well With My Soul" in church this morning, this is the way I thought of it: If I can stand up under life by myself, if I don't need God's help, if I can keep walking on my own, then I wouldn't need God. But if I'm brought to my knees by life, that is when God can hold me through the storm.
There's an age that toddlers reach where they want to do everything by themselves, because they're learning how to be independant. If there's a two-year-old who is determined to walk somewhere by themselves, and you pick them up and hold them, they aren't going to sit contentedly in your arms - they'll squirm and wriggle until you put them down. We're like that with God sometimes. If he tries to draw us in when life is great and everything's going great, we try to squirm and get away so we can get to what we want to do. But if that toddler trips and skins his knee - if something happens in life and we fall and we're brought to tears - they'll run back into the arms of their Father for comfort.
I'm not saying God causes bad things to happen to us, because I don't believe he does. Good things are from God, but he can use the bad things for good. When things happen in life that bring us to our knees, he can hold us through the storm and comfort us where no one else can. When it seems like we're most alone, God is sometimes the closest. He'll never leave us or forsake us. Through the storm we are held.
Through the storm I am held
It is well, it is well with my soul"
I've heard people say before, "God promises to never put us through more than we can bear." But that's not actually what the verse says. People are referencing 1 Corinthians 10:13, which says "...God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." Meaning God won't put us in a situation where there is no way out but to sin - he always gives us a way out.
It doesn't mean circumstances in life won't be more than we can handle alone. Sometimes things happen in our life that bring us to our knees. Sometimes it's more than we can hold.
And, really, if we could do everything on our own, what would be the point of God? If we could bear life alone, we wouldn't need to give our burdens to Christ. By surrendering our circumstances to Him, though, we draw so much closer.
When we were singing "It Is Well With My Soul" in church this morning, this is the way I thought of it: If I can stand up under life by myself, if I don't need God's help, if I can keep walking on my own, then I wouldn't need God. But if I'm brought to my knees by life, that is when God can hold me through the storm.
There's an age that toddlers reach where they want to do everything by themselves, because they're learning how to be independant. If there's a two-year-old who is determined to walk somewhere by themselves, and you pick them up and hold them, they aren't going to sit contentedly in your arms - they'll squirm and wriggle until you put them down. We're like that with God sometimes. If he tries to draw us in when life is great and everything's going great, we try to squirm and get away so we can get to what we want to do. But if that toddler trips and skins his knee - if something happens in life and we fall and we're brought to tears - they'll run back into the arms of their Father for comfort.
I'm not saying God causes bad things to happen to us, because I don't believe he does. Good things are from God, but he can use the bad things for good. When things happen in life that bring us to our knees, he can hold us through the storm and comfort us where no one else can. When it seems like we're most alone, God is sometimes the closest. He'll never leave us or forsake us. Through the storm we are held.
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