finding joy, again.

I hoped that ringing in 2017 and starting fresh would wipe clean the pain, confusion and doubt that 2016 was weighted with. It didn't. In fact, it grew heavier and darker.

I kept quiet, lost in the maze of it all.
Until one night as I was wrapping up at work, a text came through that ripped me into a thousand shreds. Another one.
I rushed home, hoping my Lyft driver wouldn't notice how hard I was biting my lip to keep the tears back. I ran straight from the door to the foot of my roommates bed. In the warmth of her friendship, I broke. I broke from the text. I broke from the months of mind games and fights. I broke from the words that ripped at my identity. I could keep quiet no longer. I spoke, and she listened. I wept, and she prayed.

A few weeks later, I ended a relationship that wasn't right and was swept into a sea of love from every corner of community.

Over the next few months, the revelations, healing and favor came pouring in as I changed positions within the company I work for, bought my dream Subaru and began a hefty dose of counseling. Change began to infiltrate every area of my life.
I craved it.
My dear friend followed her heart back to California, and I moved to a new part of town with a few other close friends. Our ministry team for the youth group dissolved from one set of four to a new set of four - which brought a new addition to my Portland family. Not only did those individuals become some of my best friends, they introduced me to Jon Brown. 

Let's talk about him for a moment shall we? 

It's June at this point. Though healing was real, the year had been heavy and I was convinced that relationships were not for me despite what I once thought. If genuine love was at all defined by my last experience - I was out. Better off on my own.
My friends had dropped Jon's name a number of times at this point, always tying it to a humble and swoon worthy characteristic. My ears would perk up any time he was mentioned but I was too scarred and afraid to notice.
Better off alone, I told myself.

One unexpecting Sunday evening - I met this Jon fellow. He was shy, wore a See See's trucker hat, and as I stood next to him in worship, I could hear the passion exude deeply from his lips. Later that night, he shared with our mutual friend that he thought I was gorgeous and would love to opportunity to get to know me. Upon hearing that, I was flattered. But this man that sung with passion didn't know my story, or my year, and surely if he did, he'd snap out of that crush real quick.

Three weeks after meeting, my friends invited both Jon and I to a jazz festival. I remember arriving a bit late and seeing his See See's hat from afar as he admired the musicians on stage. It wasn't long after I sat down that Jon launched in to a slew of get-to-know-you questions. 

Don't show him that you're shattered, I thought. Don't show him the mess that you're still cleaning up. Wow he's kinda cute, wait, no, stop. Walls up, Kels, you can't do this again. You can't survive another damaging relationship. 

Let him be, walk away.

Our friends had no hesitation in creating opportunities for us to be in the same room. A week later, a group of us ended an evening out to drinks, and surprise, Jon was coming. He again launched into another round of get-to-know you's and ended the conversation with telling me I was beautiful and then asking if he could take me on a date. 

I was shocked. He is kind, attentive, and bold? Who is this guy.. 

I said yes, because frankly, I lost all other words of the english vocabulary in that moment. Also, I was intrigued. And he had those dark swoon worthy curls sticking out from under the See See's hat. 

When the night was over and goodbye's were said, I drove away. It was on my drive home that I began to panic. Not just a little anxiety, but a full on there-is-an-elephant-on-my-chest-am-I-dying sort of panic attack. 

I wasn't ready. I couldn't do this. I wanted him and everyone else to be far away with zero access to my heart, my thoughts, my emotions. Zero access to me. This was not happening. 

I told him a sliver of my story. I told him, essentially, why he was wasting his time on me. I was a damaged lost cause, or at least it was safer to elude to that with him rather than lead him on. I'd heal, I knew it, but by then his crush would be long gone.

Thinking he'd text me back with an aloof "thanks for your honesty, see ya around" message - I was pretty stunned by his response of encouragement and honor. 

Okay, I see you Jon and your good heart, but stay back.

I proceeded to have one of the best summer's of my existence. 

It was a summer to heal, and a summer to rejoice. 

Endless nights of staying up late with friends both new and familiar, spontaneous midweek dinners a the coast, watching the moon block out the sun in the middle of Oregon, and so many evening walks. It was a summer filled with laughter and happy tears and vulnerable late night chats and mini road trips. I was feeling like myself again. 

Alive, filled and able to dream again slowly but surely.

During a trip to Bend with my roommates, I saw a banner that said in bold letters "these are the days". I bought it as an Ebenezer of sorts. 

These were the days. 

After months of quiet, slow processing and a few beautiful conversations between Jon and I amongst a sea of our friends - I had seen all I needed to see. Jon's heart and character are by far the most genuine of any man I've ever been intrigued by. The way he spoke to me, our friends and about others was full of love and conviction. He serves his community well and listens intently to the heartbeat of our God. He was someone I could feel safe around, someone who valued my process, my thoughts and my heart. One night at church, just before my big trip, I passed him a note asking him if he'd still like to go on that first date. He ran across the church annex and spun me around shouting YES for the whole city to hear. His ever so patient wait was over. 

It was a victory for us both. 

See, in May I had promised my heart I would never rush it again. I promised I would be kind to myself and allow for slow processing. I told myself if anyone tried to come in and rush that process, that I would kindly ask them to leave, without shame or guilt. I would trust my instincts from here on out and bend the rules for no man that sought after my affection. Aching from the pain of allowing myself to be pushed around, I swore, never again. Never again, Kels. 

Jon wanted to date me the moment he met me, but yet he encouraged me to heal and take my time regardless of if any outcome would be in his favor. He prayed for my healing. He told our friends he knew that he may never have the opportunity to take me on a date, but he would care for and encourage me regardless, taking each day as it came. 

The pressure was always off. 

There was never a weight. 

There was never a time frame. 

There was never a demand. 

There was never a harsh word or comment. 

This man was safe and to be trusted. And let me tell you, our first date was so filled with JOY. Not only for us, but for our community of people that had fought for my healing and for his.
It was incredible to get to say yes to this man, my friend, after months of already knowing he was worth saying yes to.
It still is incredible.

And that's the beginning of my story with Jon. 

The end of my 2017 year held many precious memories and moments. I traveled to Thailand to see one of my very best friends. Got to have a sleepover minus the sleep with a handful of my favorite young women who I get to walk alongside as they journey through their middle school years. Celebrated my 28th year under an apartment sized blanket fort with so many dear hearts. Road tripped to Lake Tahoe with my people to rest and see another of my very best friends. 

I celebrated. I cried. I prayed. I laughed, maybe more this year than several combined. 

Because - that's what you do with community. You celebrate together. You eat together. You cry with one another when life feels unbearably difficult. Or you cry with another when breakthroughs are happening, and they are real, and long hoped for. You pray, going before Jesus with one another, and stand in the gaps together. 

And you LAUGH. Especially in our home on Corbett, do you laugh.

As with any story, as with any year, there are countless side stories and details that make the greater narrative possible. 

Laced throughout and within the stories of road trips and times with friends are the stories where I was met by the power of God in the counseling room with Susie. The story where I wept into the floor during worship as a few close women in my life contended in prayer for my healing. Story after story after story of Jesus breaking through my pain, my confusion, my doubt, my anger.

I was met again by His gentle, yet fierce love and grace. 

He spoke to me in that quiet whisper He is so well known for. 

And when he spoke, my story shifted. When he moved, so did my perspective. 

He is the reason that life has come back into my eyes. 

He is the reason that I can hope and dream and laugh. 

He is who I hold on to when moments of trauma and anger arise, as they do, and He's there.

He's always there.

I believe He was there at the foot of my roommates bed as I sobbed and shook with grief.
He was there.
And with love in His eyes, He made a game plan for my healing.

The weight of doubt, confusion and hopeless that 2017 began with, is no longer.

He has saved me, again.

He has turned my story of hardship into thriving, again.

And with that, I welcome twelve new months to unravel my heart into my community, into my relationships, my ministry, my work, my art, my city.

To unravel my heart into His. 

Here's to finding joy, again. 

And again. And again. 

an honest recap.

One year ago I was on my way out the door to this apartment for the very last time, my home and safe haven for years. With a racing heart and teary, tired eyes I asked Dom to take a photo before we headed to the airport. 

I knew on days like this, I would want it.

My goodness, this year was awful. 
And it was wonderful. It was the best and the worst all twisted and tangled. 

I have learned this year that risk taking is far from glamorous, but even through the pain and the mess, it is so entirely worth it to follow your gut. It will cost you, be it a little or a lot, but it is worth it. 

I had my brave days this year, sure, but they were far and few in between. In reality, I spent day after day out of my comfort zone, looking fear in the face, wrecked with anxiety and shaking in the knees. 

There were times of relishing in my new found independence, most definitely! But beginning at zero with everyone and everything, in a brand new place, it was (still is) more vulnerable than I expected. So much time was wasted in isolation, feeling completely alone and burnt out.

I wanted to take this year by the reigns and give it my best shot, but no matter how much I succeeded (be it in getting a job I love, learning how to manage finances, making new friends, etc), I couldn't shake feeling like a complete failure. All I saw was the list of things I set out to do, and how many of them were still dreams and ideals. 

In hindsight, I see the anxiety, the burn out and the sense of failure came from putting far too much pressure on myself. It came from buying into a lot of nasty lies. I didn't talk about it because I was afraid honesty would sound like complaint, and besides, I had chosen to do this. I was determined to make this move worth what I had given up to be in Portland. Worth leaving my friends, my community, my family and so many other opportunities for. 

With many missed expectations and dreams appearing improbable, I slowly and subconsciously began to believe the big ugly lie that I had failed and I am nothing but a disappointment.

But praise God (for real) the story doesn't end there.

Eventually, right after my 26th birthday, I had enough. I was exhausted, embarrassed, and .. exhuasted. Whatever I was doing (read: ignoring all of my emotions), it wasn't working. I remember one morning I woke up around 6am for work. Before a single thought entered my mind I immediately burst into tears, and that scared me. I didn't pray anything fancy. I just looked at Jesus, a familiar and comforting friend, and gave up control. I was done. 

Over the last six weeks or so, I have found time to step back, to heal and to see truth for truth and lies for lies. Though I am very aware of my shortcomings, I am more importantly so aware of who my God is and my absolute need for Him. Those exact words have left my mouth before, but man, He continues to teach and lavish me in extravagant grace and I will continue to sing His praises. 

He has taken my shame, taken the weight I have carried for far too many months, and replaced it with the ability to rest.

It is He who revives my heart, no matter it's state. It is He who reminds me to be thankful that I am who I am, and for this beautiful story I have been given to co-write and navigate.

Today, I celebrate this last year for what it was and grow giddy with excitement for the next. 

There is no promise that it will be easy, but with hope in Him (not in circumstances), it is promised to be good!

And with that I move forward.

Miracles [happen] in Michigan.

In November, I felt the Lord told me that once I left YWAM I was to rest, but also to prepare to begin a job on February 2nd. I tried to make things happen in the way I thought they would and I failed. I cried (read as: sobbed) out to God and surrendered myself and my plans again - feeling completely lost on how to move forward. 

On my last dollars I flew to Portland for a week, hoping to receive confirmation that I was taking the right steps. While I was there getting drenched in His hope for the future - I received a text from a friend. Her uncle was hiring, and if I was willing, he needed me to start the job on February 2nd - so I did. (come ON!) 

I’ve now finished two 50 hour work weeks with eight more on the horizon. I could not ask for a better place of employment for this transitional season and have already had so many incredible conversations with my co workers as we swap stories about our lives, miracles and faith. Each day, I am humbled to see and learn that Jesus is just as real and relevant outside of missions as I knew it - something I was desperate to know for myself. 

Today, I am thankful for a Sovereign God.

And sweatpants on a Saturday morning. 

#ilovemyjob #butialsolovemybed #andmywholedarnlife

What Preteens & Terrorists Have in Common.

The following thoughts are inspired by 3AM and "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller.

I read this book for the first time when I was 14. Actually I just skimmed through it, half daydreaming and half annoyed by the fact that Miller wrote paragraph long sentences. I must have thought something was interesting as I found the pages marked up with red pen, underlined, starred, even the occasional written “yeah!” - but I don’t know if much of what he was saying really made the journey from my head to my heart at the time. I was only just discovering this whole relationship with the living God thing.

What I knew was that I didn’t want religion (though I wouldn’t have known to say that yet). I didn’t want fairytales. I didn’t want hype and show - not in the church - not anywhere.

Hype and show do not comfort a 14 year old girl, desperate for identity and belonging. Religion will never be there for her when she quietly sobs under the blankets because someone at school told her she was ugly and would never be worthy of real love. Fairytales would spur endless daydreams (not that she needed any help with that), but could never be a true anchor of hope.

At 14, I went searching for authenticity.
What I’ve discovered over these last 11 years is that Jesus is as authentic as it gets.

 [Exerpt from Chapter 3 of "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller] 
"And that is the thing about life. You go walking along, thinking people are talking a language and exchanging ideas, but the whole time there is this deeper language people are really talking, and that language has nothing to do with ethics, fashion, or politics, but what it really has to do with is feeling important and valuable. What if the economy we are really dealing in life, what if the language we are really speaking in life, what if what we really want in life is relational? 

 Now this changes things quite a bit, because if the gospel of Jesus is just some formula I must obey in order to get taken off the naughty list and put on a nice list, then it doesn’t meet the deep need of the human condition, it doesn’t interact with the great desire of my soul, and it has nothing to do with the hidden (or rather, obvious) language we are all speaking. But if it is more, if it is a story about humanity falling away from the community that named it, and an attempt to bring humanity back to that community, and if it is more than just a series of ideas, but rather speaks directly into this basic human need we are feeling, then the gospel of Jesus is the most relevant message in the history of mankind. 

As I said before, the god I renounced that evening at the car wash was an impersonal god, a god of rules and lists and formulas. But what if all our rules and lists and formulas came together for a reason, and if we stopped looking at the rules and lists and formulas and rather looked through them at the larger and more obvious message? What if the motive behind our theology was relational? My need, the brokenness that existed inside me led me to play guitar and memorize poems and even renounce my faith in an effort to think myself smart, was all driven by relational motives: I wanted other people to value me. So what if the gospel of Jesus was a message that was relevant to that need? 

I realized that. Jesus was always, and I mean always, talking about love, about people, about relationship, and He never once broke anything into steps or formulas. What if, because we were constantly trying to dissect His message, we were missing a blatant invitation? I began to wonder if becoming a Christian did not work more like falling in love than agreeing with a list of true principles. I had met a lot of people who agreed with all those true principles, and they were jerks, and a lot of other people who believed in those principles, but who also claimed to love Jesus, who were not jerks. 

It seems like something else has to take place in the heart for somebody to become a believer, for somebody to understand the gospel of Jesus. It began to seem like more than just a cerebral exercise. What if the gospel of Jesus was an invitation to know God? 



Now I have to tell you, all this frightened me a bit because I had always assumed a kind of anonymity with God. When I saw myself in heaven, I didn’t imagine sitting at the right hand of God, as the Scripture says, but I pictured myself off behind some mountain range doing some fishing and writing a good detective novel. But if the gospel of Jesus is relational; that is, if our brokenness will be fixed, not by our understanding of theology, but by God telling us who we are, then this would require a kind of intimacy of which only heaven knows. Imagine, a Being with a mind as great as God’s, with feet like trees and a voice like rushing wind, telling you that you are His cherished creation. It’s kind of exciting when you think about it. Earthly love, I mean the stuff I was trying to get by sounding smart, is temporal and slight so that it has to be given again and again in order for us to feel any sense of security; but God’s love, God’s voice and presence, would instill our souls with such affirmation we would need nothing more and would cause us to love other people so much we would be willing to die for them. Perhaps this is what the apostles stumbled upon.” 

“Perhaps this is what the apostles stumbled upon.” 

Perhaps this is what I have stumbled upon over these 11 years of searching.

Long story short - it is. It is exactly what I have stumbled upon. I stumbled into this giant pit of unconditional love and belonging and identity and purpose which I will spend the rest of my life discovering and diving deeper into. Me - an imperfect and vulnerable mess - gets to be lavished in the fierce love and grace of a Holy, just and perfect God over and over and over again! What the heck kind of goodness even is that.

And as I’ve had the great honor to meet people all over the world - I’ve learned that they too - have stumbled into the same depth as me. The one with all of the belonging and the unconditional love. Different cultures, different upbringings, different languages - but the same Jesus.
I love that about Him. He gave His life for every one, every nation, every tongue - for everyone to have the chance to know their Creator. All of humanity was designed to come alive when aligned to love Himself.

In the same places, I have had the same honor to meet those who have yet to stumble.
They are loved all the same. They are valued all the same. But they haven’t the slightest idea.
Some of them, in the midst of searching for belonging, purpose and value - they make the decisions we hear about on the news every day.

I can’t help but think this one thing. And I’m just going to say it. I can’t help but think that these individuals who do not know the Love that longs to mark them - they are a lot like my 14 year old self. Desperate for belonging. Desperate for identity. Desperate for something, someone, to fill the void that shouts “you are not enough!”

Because of culture. Because of geographical location. Because of circumstances - my life looks very different than the ones I watch cut and edited on the news. But who is to say, that if I didn’t grow up in the way that I did - that would be the case?

And that is what races through my mind and aches in my heart, along with the rest world, over current events. When I hear of tragedies in my backyard and on the other side of the world, I am reminded of one thing. Jesus is not a dusty fairytale we tell ourselves so we can sleep peacefully. He is not hype or show or a way to gain wealth. He is not a rulebook, or a formula, or a big angry guy in the sky.

He is a man. He is love.
He is alive. He is relevant.
He is relevant to a 14 year old girl, living in small town America, whose biggest “issues” are her pointy ears and mile long limbs.
He is relevant to the men and women we know as ‘suicide bomber’ or ‘terrorist’ - who are desperate for a purpose and making decisions without a grid for unconditional love.
He is relevant to me now at 25, and to you.

His message, this beautiful invitation to know Him - it is relevant yesterday, today and tomorrow. If you’ve already RSVP’d - then you know of it’s rich depths and extravagance. If you’ve tasted and you’ve seen, then you are fully aware that the church - that His Kingdom - is not an exclusive club, where we we all stand around and love to hate on the outsiders. Just the opposite. Knowing Him always equals loving others with an unexplainable and fervent love. When we choose to keep silent - we are choosing to be selfish - and the invitation doesn’t get passed along.
Just writing these words makes my heart race with conviction.

There is space for every ethnicity. Every gender. Every class. Every tongue. Every life.
There is a seat waiting to be filled by every human that you, that I, could possibly come into contact with.

The world is dying to hear that they’ve already been invited.
That He is the hope they, we, have been looking for.
That He is relevant.

MAKING THE MOVE

I have been contemplating how to write this for quite some time now - mulling over when I should make it public. Making sure I have certain personal conversations first. Writing and rewriting. So, here it is. Raw and real. Not quite fully formed but full of potential. 

I am moving to Portland, Oregon!

Faith, as I have discovered, is full of taking risks. 

Full of trust. Full of vulnerability and uncovering new depths that could not be discovered without discomfort. Full of obedience and adventure. 

Last year, I felt a few questions stirring up within me..

“What am I willing to fight for?” 

As in - what is it that my heart burns for so strongly, that I would be willing to give my whole life to it - even if I had to do it alone at first? I want to live in constant, daily, surrender to God - laying down all things for Him. All expectations. All desires. All of it. And I know as we grow in relationship with God, our hearts shift to desire what He desires. We shift towards people with a unexplainable, unconditional love. We shift from “I can’t” to “You can”.

“Where can I be the answer and bring the Kingdom?” 

The Great Commission that He’s given every believer is clear and simple. And if we don’t know the “call” on our lives - we actually do. It’s right in His word and it’s out of choice and revelation that we accept it. We’re called to make disciples of all nations - all people. Teaching them about Jesus and His character. We’re discipled - not to sit in the glory of it - but to disciple in return. It’s an active lifestyle - whether it’s in our hometowns or in remote villages. The call is clear and we start by saying “yes”. 

In this I have part of my answer - love and fight for people, always, to know Him. 

Whenever, wherever. 

Another piece of the puzzle, the one I knew has been simmering on my heart for years, began to be very clearly confirmed by the Lord this summer. 

I feel a massive part of His call on my life is to disciple the younger generation of men and women (pre-teens!), carrying a message of restoration of identity through Christ. Deeply embedded in my heart is the desire to see young women walking out their identity as daughters who know their Father - walking in honor, respect, and discovering their full freedom through Jesus.

Why Portland?

This is a decision I have been quietly processing for most of this year now, letting the Lord either form it into something bigger or shut the door completely. Slowly I began to share with friends, family and mentors - and this Fall it really began to take shape into something tangible. As I explore and contemplate other opportunities, it’s this one that I keep going back to and feel the tug towards. 

A few friends, who have served with YWAM Kona for 5+ years, have made the move to Portland first with the genuine desire to see this city come to know Jesus and establish Kingdom cultured community. I will be joining them in said community home with similar vision as well as a burning heart for everything I shared above. 

Honestly, I’m not sure how it will look quite yet.

I have a lot of big dreams, hopes and ideas.

This looks like everything from conference planning to plugging into youth groups, leading outreaches or joining active ministries. The possibilities are endless and I'm confident doors will open as I move forward. 

Phew. So there it is. 

One step at a time. 

I will be moving from Germany mid-December.  

My tentative plan is to be in Michigan for a few months before the big move to Portland in April 2015.

If you would like to financially support making this move possible - you can do so here.

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