Parts

Part of me broken,
Part of me strong.
Part of me Holy,
And part of me wrong.

Part of me trying
Part of me dying.
Part of me full and satisfied 
And masterful at lying.

I sing at the top 
Of my lungs, till I’m breathless
I scream at my mountains 
Unmoved and relentless.

A part of me astonished.
A part of me coy.
A part of me girl.
A part of me boy.

Growth spurts and progress
Grow quickly to death.
Grow countless the questions
Growth holding my breath.

Part of me captured.
Part of me lost.
Part of me feeling 
The freedom and cost.

Part of me searching
Part of me screeching.
Part of me soothing.
Part of me teaching.

Each part of me 
Part of me.
Each part of me,
Me.

Each part of me longing,
Each part of me yearning,
Each part of me hoping
And reaching and turning.

For food and for pleasure, 
For shelter and shame.
For crying out loud
My life’s not a game.

Hold tight these horses.
Hold tight these reins.
Hold tight to the promise 
Inscribed in my veins.

A part of me hides
In a cocoon of my fears
Alien abductions
Better than tears.

Tears that feel hollow
Tears that believe
That tears will wash clean
Tears never relieved. 

And it’s more than just tears
And curses in mire.
It’s trauma and cruelty
To reap the desire.


A part of me inanimate,
A plaything for others.
Used and abused
By sisters and brothers.

My family not safe.
My friends not safe.
My church not safe.
Nothing is safe.  I’m not safe.

A part of me furious,
Righteous, emboldened.
A part of me ruthless,
Undaunted, reloaded.

A part of me fishes
For compliments and wishes.
A part of me searches
For validation in mission.

A part of me humble.
A part of me dazed.
A part of me triumphant.
A part of me crazed,

Part of me subtle.
Part of me loud.
Part of me gentle.
Part of me proud.

Part bitch,
Part heretic,
Part symphony,
Part rhetoric.

My parts are calling, 
Consuming, undone.
My parts that are screaming
Eternal,“Be one!”

Be healed and broken.
Unsafe and undone.
Be wounded, be sinful.
Be righteous and won.

Disingenuous apart
Transfigured in art.
My soul is a litany of parts
Torn apart.

My parts that rhyme, that paint, that speak, 
These parts that are petty, or selfish, or weak,
Or these parts that scream courage 
In the face of defeat.

Part of me broken and hiding, alone.
A part frightened and worried and scarred to the bone.
Part silent, part patient,
Part powerful, unknown.

Part cripple, part mime,
Part incidental divine,
Parts mute and unknown.
Parts walking the line.

Parts feel lonely 
Others feel brave.
Parts feel victimized,
And others forgave.

I call for a conclave
An assembly of minds
Each different but unified
In purpose enshrined.

Each part will be heard.
Each part will be seen.
Each part has a story
A place and a dream.

No parts will be lost
To time or depression.
No parts will be stolen
By cruel indiscretion.

No parts will be banished.
No parts we’ll appraise.
Each part will be honored
And asked to engage.

Hard conversations
Will have space to decide
How best to handle 
The healing inside.

Each part has a story, 
A place and a voice.
Even parts with no words 
Will still get a choice.

Every word will be addressed.
Every part will be heard.
Every wound will be recognized
Bandaged and cured.

I hear you, I see you, 
I know you are mine.
Every part on the inside 
That scrambled and whined.

I praise you, great warrior parts.
And parts so grotesque,
I would recoil and shudder
And hold in regret.

I know now that each part
The good parts and bad,
The ugly and beautiful,
The celebrated, the sad.

Each part is worthy
Of love and respect.
Each part is part of me,
My part to detect and connect.

My parts will find unity
Despite the denial, 
The fear and the shame,
And parts undelivered in trial.

Be you manager 
Or exile or fighter prepare
To feel the elation 
Of flight in the air.

I offer you now,
This transformative treatise
through poetry mused:
I lean on the hope of completeness.

Unity, my darlings
In the Lord and in life.
Unity, my loves
In hardship and strife.

Together we have
All the tools that are needed
The Lord has provided 
The enemy defeated.

And I am committed 
To continue this journey,
Whether we stand or we fall,
It will not deter me.

We will all fall together
And stand up again.
Together united.
Together a friend.

It doesn’t have to be weird
It doesn’t have to make sense.
It’s just acknowledging our needs
And letting go of defense.

United together 
When we face any trial
Or victory or insight 
Or blessed denial.

We won’t hold it against us.
We’ll notice without judgment.
Because self awareness is beautiful
Not repugnant.

That shame that you’re feeling
That worry, that guilt?
It’s a lie, you can trust me,
I’ve seen what it built.

I know we’re not perfect.
And that’s nothing to fear.
I’ll recognize and comfort
Those parts, they are dear.

You heard me.
I love every part that has spoken.
I love the liars, the outcasts, 
The bended, the broken.

I love you and love you 
And love you again
Because you are made in His image
And will be again.

You will be made new 
Transformed and revisited.
Every great scar
Like Christ be uninhibited.

You will dance naked, unashamed
In the Garden again.
Because Jesus has made us 
And calls us His friend.

A video of me reading this poem can be found here.

In My Mind

In my mind.

Rubbed raw and brutal like burlap and salt on exposed wounds.

In my mind they fly

A tumult of debris in the hurricane of yesterday

Rubbing raw moments when hope was abandoned, when love became a tiresome and deceptive fear

In my mind.

When sex was rage and pain and blood and fear and loss.

No innocence left at five years old when hope was not a word I knew

In my mind. I listened and cried and waited.

Steel wool scraping away the rust of abandoned steel, twisted metal, fortune lost, potential extinguished.

In my mind where yesterday and today and tomorrow are jumbled together in frenzied footsteps and screams in black night.

Rubbed raw cheeks, burning eyes, a snow bank, a motorcycle, a tent

In my mind blowing away like glowing embers from a campfire, faerie dust fantasy.

In my mind so many words I do not know,

Pictures painted all at once with watercolors that run together and blur everything to numb dark and muddy gray.  Nothing but a stain.

In my mind.

Enter age like dried flowers, beauty and fragrance gone to memory, tight and lost and distant.

Blank pages filled with dark smears of tears and rage and fire.

Thick legs hold up what horror has melted like pure white snow into mud.

Pale body, mottled with scars, carries jagged stones in its fragile shell.

In my mind this sack of skin and blood and tissue and bone, leaking and torn and putrid, burned.

Worn down to sackcloth and ashes, mourning life lost.

In my mind a life fully spent, waits to finally, blissfully come to its end, come crashing down, come undone, come home.

Wicked thoughts despised, repressed, regressed, rubbed raw.

Through a glass dimly.

In my mind I tried.

Eyes of fire burn it down. No more raw, splintered metal.  No more rusted ruin extinguished, thirsty.

I am thirsty, in my mind.

Rubbed raw revelation, trickling down in a miniscule sliver of silver water that flows from within the pound of flesh fulfilled.

In my mind these heavy stones, these lumps of pummeled appendages grasping and scraping and wheezing

Cough one more breath as I lay dying.  Heart compressed into diamonds as many as the stars in the Heavens to share.

Forever treasures feasting, filling, finding one more breath again and again. One more drop of blood to move through this not quite corpse.

In my mind.

Champion’s crown of victory revealed in final breaths that never cease.  Always one more. That trickle of silver gleaming diamond water that grows and feeds and fulfills.

Sustain this bag of bones and flesh and blood.  Permeate.  Initiate.  Exonerate.

In my mind. Abundant life. Words on pages intangible.

Rubbed raw, relentless, but still one more breath.

Always one more breath, oh Breath of Life, oh River of Living Water.

I drink and drink and drink and life unfolds from this lump of mud and decay and death.

In His mind I am healed, refined, undaunted, vigorously restored, courageous, resplendent.

And in my mind, alive, renewed, I dance.

I’m the Girl Who Trusted Jesus: a Glimpse into My Missionary Dating Story

Twenty-six years ago I was a Christian but had never had any discipleship.  I had no growth.  I had no spiritual maturity.  I barely knew the Bible.  I was a good person.  I knew Jesus as savior and when I met a man who seemed to love God more than anything else in the world I married him.  And then I learned that the man I married was so zealous for God he was willing to do anything to prove it to him.  I married a zealous jihadist Muslim with a lust for martyrdom.

Two years later he came to Christ.

And that’s always what people remember when they hear our testimony.  See, I got so desperate for my husband to know Jesus as his savior, that all I could do was pray.  I literally had nowhere else to turn.  I had no background in apologetics.  I had no mentorship in my walk with Jesus.  I had nothing but the Holy Spirit of God within me and a passion to see my husband saved from eternal death.  So I prayed.  And I asked everyone who made eye contact with me to pray, too.

That’s what people hold onto.  That’s the part they remember about me.  They call me a mighty prayer warrior.  And a godly saint who prayed her husband to Jesus.

Yes, I did that.  But that’s not what I want people to know about me.  That’s not my story.  It never has been.

My story is about a girl who fell in love with Jesus when she was 5 years old but never learned anything beyond that.  My story is a girl who in desperation sought the Lord and He answered her.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me
    and delivered me from all my fears.
Psalm 34:4

I had nothing else.  Nowhere to turn.  No argument.  No help.  I had nothing but desperate pleas to the only One who had any power to do anything to help me:  Jesus.

I knew I’d made a mistake when I married my husband.  And no one ever wants to hear that part.  People who hear our testimony see the beauty that came from our ashes, but they don’t want to look at the ashes.  They want to see a hero when they see me.  They don’t want to see the broken girl that had nothing more to offer God than a broken and repentant heart and a desperate cry for help.

Sadly, stories come to me all the time from women who want to date or marry Muslim men in the hope that they can be like me.  This breaks my heart.  It should not be! 

Those two years before my husband’s salvation were the most painful and agonizing years of my life.  Dating a Muslim man or woman (or anyone who doesn’t know Jesus) is not the way to win them to Jesus.  It is arrogant and foolish.  You have no power to save anyone.  And neither did I.  It wasn’t me who saved my husband from Islam.  

Repentance and prayer.  That’s what invited my Lord into my problem.  That’s what got my Lord’s attention:  I came to the end of myself.  I gave up trying to fix the problem on my own.  I had a desperate need for His intervention.  I admitted I was wrong and I asked Him to fix it.  And He did.

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
“In repentance and rest you shall be saved;
    in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
But you were unwilling
Isaiah 30:15

I was willing to admit there was nothing I could do.  But so many people are unwilling.  The Isrealites referenced above were unwilling. Humbling yourself is hard. It means admitting you were wrong.  It means admitting you can’t do it on your own.

 But I beg you to try!  Humble yourself and recognize your helplessness.  If you can’t humble yourself, ask God to help you!  Only the Lord can save you.  Not only does He save us from our sin, He rescues us from our mistakes.  He guides us out of the pits we throw ourselves in and restores us when we put our trust and hope in Him.

That’s what I want people to know about me.  That’s how I want to be remembered.  I’m the girl who was willing.  I’m the girl who realized I could do nothing without Jesus.  I’m the girl who cried out for forgiveness and asked for help.  I’m the girl who trusted Jesus and I’m the girl who trusts Him still.  

Don’t trust me.  Trust Him.

Oaks of Righteousness

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
   because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;[a]
   he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
   and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;[b]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
   and the day of vengeance of our God;
   to comfort all who mourn;
3 to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
   to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
   the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
   the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.[c]::
Isaiah 61:1-3

There is good news for those who follow Christ: life, gladness, praise and righteousness.  But to so many in the Church, the only Good News that is ever received is salvation and that is where they stay.  Now don’t get me wrong. I’m so thankful for the salvation that comes through Christ!

Just don’t stop there!

To stop at salvation is to stop before our healing can be revealed, before our hearts can be liberated, before our mourning can become gladness.  All of those things are offered immediately by the Spirit of God through Christ, but if we stop at forgiveness, if we stop at that golden ticket to Heaven, we deny ourselves the fullness of Christ’s salvation.  

17 Now the Lord[d] is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.18 And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord,[e] are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.[f] For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:17-18

We are in the process of being transformed!  By God’s power we go from dead acorns to mighty oaks, so that we can proclaim the Good News!  How else can we bind up the broken hearted? How else can we praise God in the midst of trial and persecution?

The Spirit is with us, but it is not an instantaneous transformation.  It is learned and honed through practice and experience. Why else would we still suffer trials of many kinds?  A mighty oak doesn’t grow up in a day! It takes years and years to be made strong.

As we grow, nurtured and refined by the furnace of affliction, we testify to the power of God within us.  Our constant growth and transformation make us perfect ambassadors of God’s power and glory. Only then is God glorified.

The justice of God becomes Good News for all who know Christ.  It is the Good News of recompense for the wicked and the freedom from those consequences that we have received through Jesus.  Jesus paid the price for our wickedness as the wrath of God was poured out on Him for our sake. Justice became Good News.

Proclaim the year of God’s favor!  It is time to have our broken hearts bound up.  It is time to praise God with singing and laughter, instead of mourning our broken condition. We who were dead are no alive!

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins 2 in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— 3 among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body[a] and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.[b] 4 But[c] God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, 5 even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— 6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7 so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, 9 not a result of works, so that no one may boast. 10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
Ephesians 2:1-10

Is this the news of Heaven alone, after years of suffering and torment in an evil world? Or is the news of freedom from sin, freedom from death, freedom from the temporal and perishable in order to walk in life and celebration!?

Will suffering still happen? Yes.  Will sorrow afflict us? Yes. Will death mock us? Yes. Will we be broken and tormented and depressed at times? Yes.  But we do not need to lose heart in these things. In fact we can rejoice in these momentary afflictions!  The rejoicing sheds light on what Jesus has made us: the oak of righteousness that is our body. And that is so God may be glorified through us.

16 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self[d] is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

The unseen can be seen through us!  God’s glory will shine through His people to bring Good News to the poor!  Oh, mighty Oaks of Righteousness, glorify the Risen Lord that all may know His rich love and mercy!

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
   my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
   he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,
   and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
11 For as the earth brings forth its sprouts,
   and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
   to sprout up before all the nations.
Isaiah 61:10-11