Pause. Think. Pray.

My junior year came to a good start. I got most of the classes I wanted, and my workload hasn't gotten crazy... yet. The Lord has been making beautiful art through me in chapel each week as I've played the keys, sung praises, and shared verses in between songs that have ministered to my heart. I've heard prayer requests every day in classes such as theology and music theory, and admittedly, I haven't remembered most of them. The hardships my classmates have spoken about don't affect me, and ever since I can remember my brain capacity has always been taken up by one topic: Me.

Last week, things changed. My Wednesday morning classes were tangibly dampered by an inevitable sorrow, but I had no idea why. Finally, in fifth period theology class, the news was spoken: a homeschooled Christian teenage girl and member of the church that meets at our school on Sundays, Ellen, had attempted suicide without success. She was now in critical condition.

Oh, that's sad, I thought. I hope she survives and uses her testimony for the glory of God.

Things at our school went on as usual, though there was no student or faculty member who was unaware of Ellen's story. My news feed blew up with updates and prayer requests, and when I humbly fell before the Lord, thought about the possible condition of this girl's heart and mind  and asked Jesus to heal her body, I wept. My heart sunk just thinking about it: a girl, just my age, who has been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. Something happened to her that caused her to think that hanging herself was okay, ideal even. That she was so incredibly downcast to actually go through with that.

Part of me wants to say I can't blame her. I've been in her place before, placing way too many pills in front of me with the plan to overdose on them, all the while knowing that I had a relationship with Jesus Christ and thus, an opportunity to have joy and do great things for God. I couldn't explain to you the condition of my heart and mind at those times if I tried, much less that of Ellen. But her story stuck with me, since I related to her in more ways that most people know.

I prayed for this girl multiple times a day, fervently and with a heavy heart. I said to God, "Lord, I know You can work miracles, and I don't know if that's Your plan for Ellen, but I really hope it is. Whatever You do choose to do in this situation, I pray that You would somehow be glorified and Your truth would be proclaimed even in the midst of this horrible trial." The next day I was informed that Ellen's family had been sharing the gospel to each and every person who stepped foot in her hospital room. God found a way to be glorified, and I thought that was awesome.

In the beginning of this week, the doctors declared that there was nothing they could do. She'd made no improvements since first being admitted to the hospital, and it was left up to her parents to make the decision whether or not to take her off life support. And so they prayed, and before long God gave them His peace that passes understanding surrounding their next step. It was time for Ellen to go home, and they were ready to pull the plug.

Upon hearing this update, my mind immediately went to the story of my youth leader's granddaughter. As she was fighting for her life ten days after her birth, the doctors didn't think she'd make it the rest of the day. My youth leader's husband cried, "Lord, she's in so much pain. Just take her home." But He didn't. He chose instead to miraculously heal her, and they recently celebrated her third birthday. Maybe it's like that, I thought. Yeah, God will definitely heal her. We just need to wait. I couldn't rationalize the idea of a girl my age dying; it just didn't seem right.

I was first informed of Ellen's final update on Tuesday night via Facebook. I was working feverishly on my benefit show, and while waiting for a sponsorship letter to print, I refreshed my news feed.

Pause.

My heart felt like an anchor in my chest, keeping me from any possibility of feeling contentment at all. I called my mom and told her to pray. I said, "Yeah, it's really sad," and entered the confines of my bedroom to talk to God about it.

For the first time in my life, I now feel that deep, painful feeling of not knowing how something so horrible could happen. I cannot explain it, and I won't try. I know that there is sin in the world, and that Heaven is perfect glory. Beyond that, I cannot logically argue myself out of the searing sorrow surrounding this.

Think.

 "God is our refuge and strength,
   an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
   and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
   and the mountains quake with their surging...
                           Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
   he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
 The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.
                        
 Come and see the works of the LORD,
   the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
   he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
   he burns the shields with fire.
'Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.'
  The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress."

~Psalm 46: 1-3, 7-11

Pray.                

Love Always Hopes

My algebra teacher showed us a video of his daughter, Anna, learning to walk. It was taken a little while ago in her beginning stages, and her three-year-old sister, Sophia, was trying to help her, but turned out to be just a cutie in the way, pushing Anna across the floor briskly without allowing her to take the steps herself. She face-planted numerous times, sometimes failing to take more than one step before falling. But she always got back up. Her daddy kneeled on the other side of her path, watching in excitement with a great big grin across his face. No matter how many times Anna fell, he knew that his baby girl would eventually reach his arms wide open to receive a congratulatory hug. I sensed he may have been experiencing a hint of frustration each time she fell, but saw an even greater joy, excitement, and hope fill his heart, overwhelming any feeling of desperation. He knew logically each time she stood up and began walking towards him again, that she could not magically learn to walk perfectly. "But," he thought, "maybe... just maybe she'll get it this time. Maybe she won't fall," and that was all the hope he needed to persevere in aiding his youngest along in her journey.

"[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

~1 Corinthians 13:7

My big sister Gabrielle wears a ring on her finger that simply reads the single word, HOPE. Although she and I have been close for many years, I had never thought to ask her about it because I (mistakenly) never considered what the story may be behind it. Recently, on a two-day visit to the apartment she now lives in with her husband 300 miles away, she openly dusted off a deep area of her heart, hidden in the crevices of her soul, and shared it with me, so that I too, could be fed.

"I'd read this passage [1 Corinthians 13:4-8] of Scripture so many times before, and I knew it was really talking about God, because God is love. So I was reading it once more, replacing every instance of the word 'love' with the word 'God,' so I could learn more about who God is. And it all made sense to me, you know, God is patient, God is kind. I knew that. And then I got towards the end, and I read, 'God always... hopes. What? God hopes? It didn't really make any sense. Hope implies not knowing the outcome of something." I started to subconsciously deny this verse, thinking well it didn't really mean hope. But she continued, "And then I thought of how a father hopes when he's teaching his kid how to walk. I've never experienced it, but I think it probably goes something like this: each time his baby starts walking towards him, he knows she's gonna fall. She's still learning to walk, and she hasn't at all gotten the hang of it yet. And she does fall. Yet every time she gets up, and every time he thinks to himself, "Okay, maybe she'll get it this time; she can do it," even though he knows she's gonna fall. But she falls again. And so it goes, hope pulls them both along, and eventually they meet together, face to face, in a loving embrace and true joy. I think that's what hope looks like to God. So now I wear this ring, you know, not because I believe in the act of having hope (though I do), but because I believe that God actually has hope in me."

That thought rings so beatifully true to me. That no matter how many times I fall, I have a reason to get up and sing and worship and be beautiful. Because my Daddy is waiting for me at the end of my path, rooting for me in pure excitement, lavishing grace on me with all wisdom and understanding (Eph. 1:8). People can help me, but really I have to decide to do it myself, because if I only rely on other people I won't learn how not to fall. When I finally get there, after thousands of face-plants and failures, He will kneel down to my level with arms wide open, and He will whisper in my ear, "Well done, love. I knew you could do it - I had hope in you."

"She fell, she hurt, she felt. She lived. And for all the tumble of her experiences, she still had hope. Maybe this next time would do the trick. Or maybe not. But unless you stepped into the game, you would never know."

~Sarah Dessen

this was taken about three years ago; the hope ring is on her thumb

The Story of My Baptism

I got baptized today! I'm so happy about my decision and am praising God for the conviction He placed on my heart to do so. What a glorious day that will go down in the history of all those who publicly professed their love for the Lord today at my church's baptism!

And some of you may know, this was not my first time.

I know that seems really weird, and rest assured -- I've got my baptism theology straight: water does not save or cleanse anyone (that's Jesus); baptism is a public declaration of dependence on Jesus Christ and is to be done following a person's salvation, thus, infant baptism has no significance in a believer's life; it is a picture of a Christian dying to himself and being raised to life in Christ and is a commandment; it's a one-time thing. Or so I thought.

And it usually is. I've never been one to think that repetitive baptism is asked of us. If someone being baptized were to say they'd been baptized six other times before, I may be a bit skeptical. But that is not what I plan to do.

I was born again about five years ago, and was baptized two years ago after having a bout with bulimia. At the time, I meant it completely. It was exciting, but nothing really changed. Well, that's not entirely true -- I definitely had my highs with God at various points following my decision. But I also had my lows... and they were, well, low.

Almost a year ago I told God, "No, I don't want anything to do with You for now. Maybe in ten years or so I'll come around and decide to have a relationship with You again, but right now I love my eating disorder more than You." And so I spiraled out of control, fast. To put it simply, I was in total darkness for a while before God put His foot down, telling me He had better plans and everything, and brought me back into the light. It was and is painful, but so worth it. I can't really explain this in words as well as I can in music and visual art, but I can begin by choosing words like transformation, dramatic, powerful, and deliverance, for whatever those are worth.

My church announced its annual summer picnic and baptism a couple months ago, and naturally, the thought of signing up to be baptized never crossed my mind. I, of course, did plan on attending in order to fellowship with my church family and be a witness to all the steps in obedience that were to be made (oh, and don't forget the dessert table!). A few of my good friends planned to be baptized, and on one occasion in talking to Lauren about her decision, how she was making a 180 turn and finally releasing control to her Master by allowing Him to transform her life, I remember thinking, I've been baptized before, but this past year has been like God saved me all over again, or something. It's almost like I should get baptized again, hahaha.

So today was the day, and I went into the event so excited for my friends. I sat with my feet in the pool with Jill, Chris, and Maria, and happily watched around ten or so people display their humility before the Lord by getting wet in public. Then I started feeling this searing urge to... go up there... and do it again. What? I thought. I've been baptized before! Surely God wouldn't be telling me to do it again! I tried to deny this call, but it didn't work. My heart started pounding, as I was filled with nerves and doubt. It took every ounce of courage out of me to tap on Jill's shoulder and whisper, "I feel like God's telling me to get baptized."

I was pretty sure she would tell me, "No, Liz, you've already been baptized, I don't think this is God." I just had to make sure I was just going crazy and didn't need to get in line to be immersed. But in fact, Jill, being the godly woman that she is, replied, "Well then, you've gotta do it!" I discussed it a bit more with her, reminding her I've been baptized before and explaining to her my confusion. Then I stood up and walked over to the entrance to the pool, trembling with every step. Joanne was there, and I told her I was getting baptized. "But... but I thought it was like, a one-time thing!"

"It usually is, but you can rededicate."

Oh, I'm one of those people.

So after I got over the initial pride of not wanting to be someone who comes sheepishly back to Jesus, asking for some grace because oh gosh, I've screwed up again, I grabbed the microphone and told the congregation that they might be confused why I was getting baptized for a second time and why my name wasn't on the list in the program, but based on the events of this past year and the current feeling of my heart beating out of my chest, I felt the need to consecrate myself to God once more.

And I did it.



I walked over to the end of the pool, and saw my sisters waiting for me with huge smiles on their faces. I received loving, awesome hugs, and many congrats, ate dessert, and went home, asking myself if I really just did that.

I'm still in shock. But I can't stop thanking my Lord for knowing what I needed today and informing me of it! I'm trying this thing again. Please pray for me as I begin the next chapter of my life.