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Wednesday, May 8, 2013


I found my old writing blog the other day and it totally messed me up. 
Back in the days when blogging was pure fun and folly, I had this whole separate website that was just for my real raw writing. I might read family-related blog posts from those years and laugh and think on how little I knew then or how silly I sounded, much like you would if you found a journal from high school. But this writing blog, it wasn't like that. When I found it, I genuinely wanted to read more. I wanted to write more. I wanted to connect with words like that again. And this huge chunk of me was wistful. Like, what have I been doing all this time and what happened to that lady who use to sit and soak in all the things and WRITE

I've been thinking so much on insecurity and leadership and what happens when passions and desires mix with fallen ability and human capacities. I can't deny that no matter how I got here, I am now leading some sweet small tribes. The little humans that live in my house that will grow to be big humans. The women who will come to our church, who I will worship beside and meet for coffee and power-walk with on hot afternoons. The ladies online, who sit behind laptops with tender hearts and wide eyes and big dreams. For so long I thought it was conceited to acknowledge leadership and now I'm realizing that great leaders have very little to do with their own greatness and very much to do with where their eyes are. 

There is this song I listen to when I'm out running that wasn't written with Jesus or toddlers or online women in mind at all. And yet, when I hear it - I hear a little warrior cry rising in my heart that genuinely WANTS to lead. And not in any of the ways I ever saw leadership, but in this new feeble and fresh pounding forward. 

I imagine an army, a tribe, feet stomping and ground shaking. Fists in the air and eyes on Jesus. They aren't confident in themselves, they aren't confident in their gifts or their presence or their appearance - but they are firmly rooted in their position. They are daughters, sisters, mothers, wives, and friends who are relentless in their devotion to get love right because Love Himself has gotten them. They refuse, they absolutely refuse to fall prey to their enemies cunning devices that will lie to them from both ends - telling them they're too much and telling them they're not enough. And yet, when they do inevitably fall - grace resurrects them and they dust themselves off as if nothing ever happened, running only harder. 

This is an army I want to be on the front lines of. 
From where I wash dishes in the kitchen, as I grip my husband's arm while I pray for him before he preaches, at the kitchen table with my kids, from behind this laptop, in the coffee shop, at the conferences, from the broken and beautiful places. 

What are we fighting for? What are we fighting for? Against only one enemy, the one who wants our hearts shifted off true worship. We are fighting to celebrate freedom that we ourselves can't win, but that was bought for us on the cross. Our fists shake with the passion of an army that is out to have the Lord wring every drop of glory that He wants from our lives. In any way He wants it. 

So it's been a long time since I had days and days to write like I did back then. 
This, for me, is a season of being on the front lines with my hands full and my available words are less than back then. But I am standing securely with my eyes on Him, completely and utterly insecure of myself, but irrevocably rooted to Jesus and His mission in my life, sure He has already won this war. 

And it's our just our joy to join in the battle. 
This is our battlecry. 

And here's my song. Warning: it's definitely not Christian and it may be too abstract for you to relate to this post. That's ok. I'm a weirdy. Either way, give it a listen and answer the question: What are you fighting for? 

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