Love and a Little White Lie

To admit prayer works is to admit that God exists, and admitting God exists means that the words in Sandra's Bible are not just a collection of fanatical writings but instructions for living. And, well, there's just too many things in that book that would change everything in my life.

Prayer is not about changing your situation, although sometimes God grants those requests. It's about changing your heart.

Because in this moment, I'm not running or hiding from something I don't want to face. This time I'm walking forward, intentionally, purposefully.

You can't truly know someone from a distance, January. Every one of us has our own set of secrets and demons and quirks. You just have to decide if it's worth taking the time to learn them. And if you're willing to let someone close enough to learn yours.

Because sometimes it's more about loving a person through a hard time than it is about forcing a conversion. God was going to do what He wanted to do. Meanwhile, I was convicted to use every part of this amazing ministry to show you His love.

But that is why I cling to grace so fiercely. Because without it, all we have left is the anger and shame. And that isn't how life is supposed to be lived.

I do see the pockets of light. Then why do you insist on staying in the darkness?

It's amazing how life can change in a flash. One year. That's all it took to transform my world. I walked into Grace Community lost, broken, and desperately searching for meaning in my life. Now I know exactly who I am.

How is it possible that this blessing is mine? This broken, cynical girl who denied God her entire life - how could He give me so much? I don't have an answer to that one. I doubt I ever will.

The two of us were never meant to be forever - just stepping-stones on the journey to something more.

I'm not who they think I am, nor whom they need, but in this case I intend to pull a page from Doreen's handbook. If this is their God's plan, then I'm going to ride it as long as I can.

And there's nothing more painful than thinking you know someone, sharing your life with them, and then finding out it's a lie.

It's an uncomfortable feeling when nothing matches the stereotype expected, and so far the people in this building haven't fit with any of the churchy clichés I was certain to find.

A friend once told me that no good would ever come from a lie. But I don't agree. I think sometimes people don't really want the truth. They want to believe the best in people and smashing that illusion feels just as cruel.

Prayer is not a feeling. It's a power source, and those who tap into it get far more than a warm fuzzy. They get strength to move mountains.

Here's the thing about being depressed: you lose all the little joys that make life worth the effort. Laughter becomes a memory and, in some ways, a painful reminder of all you've lost.

It's time for me to ask the hard questions. To face my own doubt and stop spending my life tossed back and forth by the wind. It's time I stop pretending and figure out who I really want to be.

We’re working on trust today, and putting him in vulnerable situations is the first step in showing him that I’m not going to hurt him.

He’s staring at me like I’m the most adorable idiot he knows.

Neither do I, but sometimes you have to force life to go on, even when it feels impossible.

Every one of us has our own set of secrets and demons and quirks. You just have to decide if it’s worth taking the time to learn them. And if you’re willing to let someone close enough to learn yours.

God isn’t just an imaginary thing used to make everyone feel judged and kept in line. He is real. As real as the wind and stars and the tears falling from my eyes. I feel His soft touch as surely as if His hand were vivid in front of me.

Prayer is not a feeling. It’s a power source, and those who tap into it get far more than a warm fuzzy. They get the strength to move mountains.

He kisses me again, but I can barely respond through the sobs at the back of my throat. How is it possible that this blessing is mine? This broken, cynical girl who denied God her entire life—how could He give me so much? I don’t have an answer to that one. I doubt I ever will.

You are a mess.” His lips trail up to my forehead, then down the bridge of my nose. “But I love that about you. I love that you never notice the obvious. I love that you trust no one and yet found a way to trust me. I love that you make me laugh when I’m sad and you challenge me to think beyond my failures.” Our noses are a millimeter away, his mouth so close to mine now that it feels like a kiss when he says, “I love you, January. Every part. You never have to prove to me you’re worthy of it.

I’m nestled in my comfy pj’s, hair in a messy bun, and watching a movie when a banging starts at my door. Cameron. Hope fills my chest, and I toss off my blanket. “Who is it?” “Cupid,” says a surly voice. “Who do you think? Open up.” My heart shrinks. Of course it would be Dillon and not Cameron.

My head feels funny, and I have this sense that something is chasing me but I don't know what.

His gentle handshake warms me like an old comfortable coat.

My shoulder brushes his, and tingles tiptoe down my arm and into my fingertips.