Stickiness and the Upper Room



Sticky strings attached to the bottom of my feet cruelly connect me to the dirty ground. I take steps, but it’s a strained motion like I can’t quite pick up my own feet. These ties stick to my mind too. Selfishly twisting and twirling my thoughts into an anxious tizzy. They lurch for anything with life and attempt to subdue light reducing their agility to false and stunted movement. Freedom is coerced by bonds so tiny.

I wonder if I’m enough or if I’ll ever measure up to my own far reaching expectations. Sticky strings run rampant all around me. Will I ever be free?

I wonder if I can be fully me and if others will like that. Then I chide myself for caring too much. More strings reach out with their sultry grasps as if my doubt birthed the tethers.

I panic when people, conversations or things don’t fit into my carefully crafted boxes. Boxes I hate, but that hover around me like pesky flies. They are greedy and desperate for attention.

More strings. More stickiness. Suffocation of thought and emotion. Why is this happening again?

This is what I feel as I walk dusty streets at dusk and climb stone stairs to join the others in the upper room. Tonight I feast to celebrate God’s people freed from slavery, while I hold myself hostage and my soul starves. I laugh in quiet desperation.


I enter a simple loft with a long table low to the ground decorated only with the evening’s Passover meal.

Immediately, his eyes find mine.

He already knows I’m in round three of a boxing match. Me against me. I’m ready to throw in the towel, but I can’t admit defeat either. What kind of fight is this?

We eat dinner. The others are laughing and lounging. Me? I’m smiling, but I can’t feel it. I’m so distracted by my inner battle I can barely hear the conversation around me. This should be my happy place; a lovely dinner with those I love and care about, yet I feel bruised from beating myself up.

Will I be able to breathe normally again?

I take a piece of bread and bite into its warmth. Softness and toughness breaks in my mouth. I wash it down with some wine. Crimson, cool, and complete.

He gets up. That’s not like Him. He’s usually the last to leave the table.

I watch as he gets out a bowl and a towel from the corner I hadn’t noticed. Then he kneels before one friend at the table with the towel and basin, and begins to gently wash his feet. My friend is surprised, but compliant. He seems intrigued.

He moves on to another friend who begins to quietly weep at his touch. I don’t understand, but it is as if more than her feet are being tended to. He moves on to the next person, and suddenly I realize his intent.


Our teacher is going to wash each and every one of our grimy feet. How could he do a servant’s lowly task?

But there’s more to it than water and dirty feet. I can see it in each person’s eyes. While some are decidedly confused, others are clearly touched with tears streaming down their faces.

I’m far less afraid of the dirt on my feet than I am the filth of my heart. I can’t bear for him to touch such impurity.

He moves to the next person with a kind smile and eyes so warm and open you could get lost in his gaze. I should find this comforting, instead I dread my turn.

I’m frozen. I want to bolt. I glance at the door. He glances at me. His eyes, dark in color, yet full of light, are tender, inviting and welcoming. His presence even from a distance commands me. It’s tangible. I can almost feel him surrounding me. For a moment my heart stills to a quiet calm.

Then he moves on to the next person and my heart begins a vicious thrum. I wonder if the person next to me can hear its skittish beats.

My fingers flutter and my hands look for a distraction. I rest my fingers on the solid wood of the table. I feel the grit and grain under my fingertips. A sliver of wood slices into my finger and I quickly pull my hand away. For a split second, he looks to my hand and at the wooden table with a sad look. But only for a moment, as he tenderly continues washing my friend’s feet, drying them and moving on to the next person who is sitting beside me.


Now he’s kneeling so close I can feel his warmth.


A firm thought rises from my sticky swirling mental game. He cannot wash my feet. I won’t let Him.

He looks over at me with an expression that is both tender and markedly determined. It was the same look I saw when he wanted the children to come to him. It was the look I saw when a bleeding woman was healed with a touch and he wanted to know who she was. It was the look he gave the boy with the five fish and a few loaves of bread.

Now he is looking at me.

Panic slowly fills me starting at my feet and working its way up swirling and expanding like inky darkness in thick pure olive oil.

Something else is fighting back, something calmer, but I’m too afraid and distracted to see it. My breath shortens to quick breaths in and out, in and out. I close my eyes hoping to calm myself and slow my breathing. Maybe no one will notice?

Fear, doubt, rage, insecurity, blame, shame, and guilt vie for my attention like waves competing to capsize a fishing boat on a stormy night. I’d rather face the waves again than the push and pull of this inner tension.

I don’t need to open my eyes to know he kneels before me waiting. Waiting. Here is the man I have followed, listened to, and playfully teased like a little sister.

If what he said to us was true, then God himself kneels before me waiting to wash my feet. Open, vulnerable, patient. Would he wait for me all night?


Yes. Yes, I think he would. I fight back tears, which threaten to break me. I feel the sticky shrouds loosen their mean grip.

My heart pounds hard against my chest. I’m not worthy of such treatment. What should I do?

A wave of heat and uncertainty sweep over. I want to give up and give in, but would that be defeat?


He didn’t say it, but I hear his voice penetrate the tangled web.

I’d made a habit of coddling my insecurities, sorting through sticky thoughts, and scrambling to do it all right, but I didn’t want to any more. I longed to be free from the restraints I constructed and maintained like a little garden of poison.

How could I let him touch the dirt and grime that clogged my heart, scattered my mind, and twisted my soul?

Why me? Why my dirt?

Because you’re enough. His words echo in my soul and gently snip a few sordid strings.

Enough. The word I longed to hear, but feared to believe.

Believe it. His soul whispers to mine. Believe and be free.

How can I be enough? If only he knew all about me.

I do know you, and that is why I love you. You are enough because I am enough.

Hot tears spill out of my eyes betraying my composed facade.

I nod yes. I can’t speak, but I open watery eyes and brave looking into His. There I run smack into affection. I’m enveloped with an overwhelming depth of generosity and acceptance. I’m soaked in the presence of him. For a moment, I forget to breathe.


In his eyes and tenderness, I stumble upon love and more love. I find home.

I recognize his expression. I had caught glimpses of it before. It was the look he gave Lazarus after pulling him out of the grave. It was the same look he gave me when he hauled my silly self from the waves. It was the expression I saw when he first said, “Come. Follow me.”

I extend my dirty feet. He smiles as if he’s been given the best gift. He hums softly as he washes my feet. I see my muck muddy his strong hands, but only for a moment. Fresh, clean water pours over my feet. I feel a rush of mercy surge within and flood over me. Cleansed from the inside out. Dirt is but a temporary hindrance.

Water splashing my feet.

Water soaking my soul.

My foot is cradled in the Savior’s hand. Dirt scatters in a deep cleanse. With a final anointing he looks into my eyes.

“Enough,” He says.

“Enough” to the waves that crash and churn within your soul. “Enough” with the thoughts that blow here and there. I am in you and I love you as myself with a never ending love. I would die for you. You need not question my love or where you stand with me.

Enough, Dear Heart, you are mine.

With my name on his lips, I feel those sticky ties snip away like they were nothing but delicate spider’s web wriggling in the breeze. My breathing slows and deepens. Warmth and ease melts away the inner turmoil and quietly defeats the battle at hand. My heart, mind and soul feel light like they could float away with the clouds.


I look into his eyes once more. It’s as if I’m seeing love for the first time. I realize all along his intent was my freedom.

A snippet of color pops into my mind’s eye. A picture. I grasp at the surprise vision and look into the window of his purpose for me. To be a rock that love is built upon. To serve, laugh, work and play with open arms. It’s both a mystery to be discovered and an intuition to rest in. I can’t fully discern the meaning. I don’t think I’m supposed to. But in this calling, I awaken to live untethered and to freely delight. I’m not sure what this will look like. Sometimes messy, sometimes solid, but always free.

He dries my feet and sets aside the basin. In the dim light, the swirling sand and water appear scarlet. It looks strangely of death and of life at the same time. I look down at my clean feet it, amazed and undone by the simple, clear feeling of hope.

“By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us – set us right with him, make us fit for him – we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand – out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.” (Romans 5:1-2)

The In-Betweens

IMG_3605Not knowing is awful. Transition is draining. Walking without vision is dangerous. Being unsure of your next step is depleting. This is what I feel in this season I will call the in-between. I feel like I should give this season a name or write a children’s book about it. Esther and the ordinary, predictable, simply mediocre, very unsexy day. That sounds like a best seller just waiting to happen!

In all seriousness, mountaintop experiences are amazing! They are glorious, fulfilling, they cast vision and give you insane energy for the days ahead. These are the mission trips where you literally see God move, the youth ministry events where everyone cries and hugs like there’s no tomorrow, it’s the finished book, the breakthroughs, the new babies and the graduations.

And then there are the valleys. Some call this rock bottom. And most would say this is the worst of all seasons. But here’s the weird and twisted thing I sort of don’t mind about the valleys … and that’s I know what to do with them. I pursue God with everything, pray with all my energy, seek out wisdom from others and move forward one day at a time in faith that this is just a season and it too will pass.

God promises that we will walk through the valley of the shadow of death – this is not a surprise. He says he will be with us and not to fear the evil. There is dancing on the mountaintop – this is great! And there is weeping and praying and seeking in the valleys – this too is great (even if it doesn’t feel that way). But where I get stuck are the spaces between the mountaintops and the valleys.

We focus on the mountaintops and the valleys, but most of life (for most people) is lived in the space in-between. If mountaintops are defined by their uplifting, mind-boggling, heart-filling glory, and if valleys are characterized by pain, heartache and uncertainty, then how would we describe the seemingly endless plateau between the two?

I’ll tell you what I think. I would say it’s about trudging. You may want to check out this (slightly inappropriate) clip from one of my favorite movies when I was in high school.  Here’s what Geoffrey Chaucer says in A Knight’s Tale, “To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.”

Trudging has a negative connotation (and apparently includes butts), so I’ll give you another word. It’s my word for the year, but I’ll share it with you. The word is abide. I wrote about it here.

How do we abide not when the going gets rough, but when the going gets ordinary? If we live with intention, grace and courage, step by step by step, then I believe we can be wildly free, wonderfully brave and breathtakingly kind even in the in-betweens. We must keep our eyes to the sky – nothing depletes faster than a case of inward eyeballs. If our attention is on God, we’ll be changed and filled no matter what. So let’s paint a little bit of whimsy on the canvas that is the in-between and fill it with color.

Will you join me?

ESTJs and Life with Joan (of Arc)

How do you fill in your blank? I’m too much. I’m not enough. I’m just too ____________.

So often we fill in the blank with lies. Sometimes we listen so intently to these messages that we eventually embody them and they become a part of us. They are like a little tumor we nickname and grow strangely fond of even though they are the cause of our demise. “Hello failure, so we meet again.” When we do this, we become the enemies of our own stories.

I’m quite fond of personality psychology and enjoy personality tests like Myers-Briggs. Pinterest got wind of people’s interest in personality and iconic movies, so we now have Myers-Briggs profiles for Star Wars characters, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Downton Abbey, Disney and many others.

You can find this and a hundred more on good ol' Pinterest.

You can find this and a hundred more on good ol’ Pinterest.

I’m an ESTJ, which apparently makes me the Darth Vader-Professor McGonagall-George Washington-Judge Judy-type. In a Holy Week version (because Christians want to play the game too), ESTJs are the Joan of Arcs. Even to me this could sound intimidating, except I know the truth about myself.

I am not a heavy breathing villain with a machine for a heart. While I may be a strict, but fiercely loyal Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, I’m not at liberty to say.

Here’s what I can say, for many years I was a scaredy-cat. I learned to carefully tame my President McGonagall of Arc-ness. It became easier and safer to be that sweet, quiet girl. I found my identity in being who I thought others wanted me to be. I had on so many masks it would take years to remove them one at a time. After all, who could really handle the real me?

I was timidly prancing around like a mousy Jane Bennett when a bold Joan of Arc lay restless and dormant inside me. Identity crisis? I think yes. I was no more a Bennett than Joan of Arc was, but I didn’t have the faintest clue how to be the real me – the girl I had toned down and shoved back for so long. (Disclaimer: I think Jane Austen rocks)

'Joan of Arc' Painting by Sir John Everett Millais in 1865

‘Joan of Arc’ Painting by Sir John Everett Millais in 1865

If it was possible, I was even more afraid of my strengths than I was my weaknesses. I knew what to do with weakness – stare it down, overanalyze and “work on it” until it went away. Healthy, right? But my strengths were terrifying and exciting like a rare creature both familiar and exotic – a creature you instinctively knew you weren’t supposed to touch.

When I discovered that I was ardently pursued and fiercely loved by Jesus, that’s when things shifted. A daughter of the King does not live life masked and afraid.   A daughter of the king must wake up and stand up for such a time as this. When I realized that it was me and me alone holding myself back, I knew something had to change.

To dare to be known – to be real and to be known for exactly who I was and not who I was projecting – took practice. It also took someone else saying to me, “I see your beauty. I see your brokenness and I’m not afraid. You are a daughter of the king. Who you are is strong, tender and enough.”

For years I scoffed at who I was without understanding myself fully and without owning my story or my weaknesses and the part I played. I put the blinders on thick and blindly swung my sword around – this is both awkward and dangerous. I thought I was playing a key role in a battle, but really I was swatting at flies. Flies that were pestering me because I was in fact stuck in the muddy pit of comfort, holding tight to fear while sitting in a pile of poo. I was my own prisoner and I was fighting fear with poo. Not awesome. But now I know I must own my own story. And I must become friends with my story to be at peace and to find my strength.

So often we typecast people.  She’s so sweet! He’s such a nice guy. Oh, he’s just being a boy. I had typecast myself as the quiet, sweet, good girl. And then I got stuck there. When Joan of Arc started slashing her sword around, I told her to quiet down. I didn’t know how to do life with Joan. And I definitely didn’t know how to invite others to be their true selves whether that be the Joans, Chewbaccas, Thors or the Mother Theresas around me.

But now I want to dare greatly to be who God made me to be and allow others to do the same. I want to create an environment where people are free to be the best version of themselves. I want to call out the greatness, the beauty, the fire and the tenderness in those around me. I’ve been learning this from others and it’s a beautiful and freeing thing.

This is not a case for ignoring weakness. Instead, it’s a call to press into weakness and lean into brokenness and the darkness so that we may find intense light, love and life. I think the path to heaven is lined with discarded masks. Each step we take deeper into the kingdom of God reveals another characteristic of our Father and we can know a little more intimately who we are in Him and let down our masks.

We can do this because we are not slaves to fear. I have a confession to make – I don’t usually like Christian music. (I know… you can judge me a little). But this song is an exception. I’ve been listening to it over and over. Listen with me until you believe it too.

PS – What’s your Myers-Briggs type?

Light Always Fights

My words, His response.
A tug and pull of Spirit, Father and Friend.
A response to a gift that’s one of a kind
A painting, a story, a promise.

A canvas so innocent.  Truth so striking.

A gift of hope from a true friend
A gift of vision for what is to come
A gift of remembrance for battles past

A girl at a big grey wall once again. Oh how He loves her.


A gift to keep fighting, growing, loving, healing and thanking
To keep pressing forward in gentle days, rugged days and boring days
To maintain a posture of heaven and pause with the sacred

A battle fought, a battle won.  A battle wound surfaces again.

Hope is rising
Hope is waiting
Hope is multiplying
Hope is.

A hesitant brush on a canvas page.


Hope is me and hope is you
Relax into my Presence, He says
Soak your soul in my truth
Let me love you closer to me

I paint determined to break light out of dark.

An expectant gift, but one with no pressure, no strings attached
Just a wish and a promise to love as you find colors dancing in your soul

I paint desperate to see color rush through.


So, awake.
Awaken to color and beauty and rest
Your trust in God is sweet and deep
Trust in yourself is shaky and uncertain

Now.  Paint now.  Paint with your heart and soul until you bleed thanks.

Be brave dear heart and take a chance
Stumble, limp, dance and sing
Be not afraid of the strength in you
Be not afraid of the tenderness in you

Warmth.  Peace floods.

Fear not the waves for they listen to His name
Waves of doubt crash around your soul threaten to pull you under
Peace, be still, He says, She is mine

Transformation, my good old friend.

Piece by piece the wall comes down
Peace by peace until light breaks through

To speak the tongue of heaven.  The language of life.

So dance my soul
Sing out with joy
Heart be brave and take flight

Soul piercing, mind captivating, heart transforming.

Oh to hear you beyond myself
There is a time to rest and a time to be brave
Now be brave in your rest and restful in your brave

Safe, wild and free.  Come to me.

So dare to hope
And may stone wall break
Color is waiting to come rushing through
Color and light dizzy with expectation for you

Come to me and breathe in wide open spaces.

Are you ready?
Be brave.
It’s time to let go

I am hereI am good.


Cheap Chaos & Tantalizing Grace

Trapped.  My mind a cave.
Thoughts like floodwater, rushing in.

Heart racing, body tense, mind ablaze.
Paralyzed by my striving efforts.

Blatant silence.
Prayers ricocheting off an invisible ceiling.

Desire to control and to know tantalizes and tempts.
Darkness creeping in quietly beckons and sickly woos.

Questions, dreams, and ‘what ifs’ vie for attention.
Romancing the dark, I stay in a place of cheap chaos.

Running.  Running in my mind.
This way.  That way.  Running into walls on all four sides.

I’m a slave to my thoughts.
Self-obsession the bolt to my self-made prison.

A sinister dead end in every way.
Still I wrestle.

I lie down to rest, but I am awake.
Running, rushing, thinking, grasping.

A pinprick of light.
So small I nearly miss it.

Light.  Focus on the light.
Slowly, as slowly as ice melting in winter’s sun it grows.

My mind begins to clear.  Thoughts still.
I breathe in the light, I breathe out the darkness.

My heart slows to a steady rhythm.  Peace stirs.
I breathe in light, I breathe out darkness.

My body calms.  Striving energy turned to stillness charged with joy.
I breathe in light, I breathe out darkness.

Another light.  Brighter.
I reach out to it.

A feeling of love sweeps through like a warm gust of wind.
Spiraling toward me and into my soul.

It steadily grows.  Stronger and stronger.
Wind so warm and strong. I close my eyes and breathe it in.

Love like a faithful companion, I know I am not alone.
Love that delights in me, I know I am seen and known.

The wind strengthens.  I can feel it stir inside.
I surrender to this wind.  Light now radiates within.

My mind awake with its reality.
My heart at rest in its certainty.

My body resonating in its presence.
My soul pierced with freedom.

Pure, sweet love.

Wrecked by grace through winds of mercy.
Undone by love through purest light.

I am His and He is mine.

From the Depths of the Unknown

5964074Those who have ears to hear, listen to this.  Your Heavenly Father created you for a life of intimacy, joy and freedom.  He created you to live life to the fullest.  You were adopted into a powerful kingdom.  Greatness and love await.  Will you come?

Take a moment to be still and listen.  Are you being called forward from the edge? The past holds only the power you give it.  Lies speak louder when listened to.  Security, power and comfort will eventually suffocate.  Will you jump?

Lean in and listen.  Are you being beckoned to go higher and deeper?  Do you hear your name and a familiar voice calling you from the depths of the unknown?

Will you risk everything?  Will you risk what people think of you?  What you think of you?  Will you let go of your control?  Will you move from a place of playing it safe to a place of risk?  Will you let go of the past that drags you down, the present, which overwhelms and the future that worries you?

No, there are few feelings of magic in the freefall, but there is life.  Great life.  Deep life.

So come with me to a place where you can take deep draughts of unadulterated life.

The free fall can be scary and painful, yes.  Like being thrown into a deep ocean, tossed around, you don’t know which way is up or down.

But once you drink in this ocean, currents of grace flow through your veins and love becomes a never-ending tidal force pulling you deeper and deeper.

Come to this place where you are seen and known on the inside and out.  Where love summons and grace knows your name.

This is where you discover you are His beloved.  Will you come?


7041497You are standing on a cliff.  Not just any cliff, but your cliff.  The cliff you know more intimately than you know yourself.  The cliff made of things that keep you feeling safe, secure, comfortable, and in control.  It is a world of grey, but it’s known-ness keeps you paralyzed in hazy contentment.  You wonder, “Can I leave this all behind?”

You walk to the edge of this cliff.  You hesitate not knowing if it’s worth the risk.  A voice softly calls out your name.  You strain to hear it as you lean into empty space.  You hear your name again and again and again.  You are being called.  Summoned by love into a greater depth.  Beckoned by risk to awaken to a world of freedom.  You shiver in anticipation.  You wonder, “Do I believe enough?”

Freefalling won’t be pretty, but the choice to leap is yours.  You step closer.  Your heart lured by the thought of embracing a truth so real; a freedom so wonderful you must abandon comfort to find it.  You gaze into an unknown land, familiar only by the promises echoing in your heart.  You hear distant laughter.  You sense joy.  You hear Love calling your name.  A daring, relentless freefall awaits.  You step forward and embrace risk.  You wonder, “How much will this hurt?”

You plummet through that place in the sky that lies between your cliff and the abyss somewhere below your downward spiraling body.  Wind everywhere.  You can’t catch your breath.  You’re falling or maybe you’re flying.  You don’t think.  You can’t think.  You hear only the sound of your beating heart.   You are freefalling.

Suddenly you feel it.  Love.  Love in its purest form.  Unadulterated by the world.  You dive deeper and deeper.  It invades every cell in your body.  A warm weightless blanket.  You feel as if you might explode by the depth of His love and pleasure.  Fears do not enslave.  Chains do not bind.  Doubts do not haunt.  You float, fly and fall in a whimsical world of love.  It feels like eternity.  It feels like seconds.  It doesn’t matter.  You have been swallowed up in the chasm of His love.  You wonder, “Can I freefall forever?”

Strong arms effortlessly catch you out of the air and hold you so close.  His tender strength envelops your soul as you lean into His embrace.  Your roaring heart pulses near His steady heartbeat.  The tremors in your hands and legs still.  You realize who is holding you and tremble once again.  You look up into warm eyes; endless pools of love and delight.  You wonder, “How long have you been waiting for me?”

Then, in a moment of sweet silence, He writes His freedom on your heart.  He smiles at you, and in His smile is the pride and affection of a good and gentle Father.  He laughs and in his laughter is the contagious joy of a child.  You feel like you could run and dance and play forever.  You laugh because you know He wants to do the same. Whimsy is your companion.  Freedom is your song.  Over and over your soul cries out, “Jesus is enough.”

To the Rich Young Ruler in You and Me

2091512Picture this.  A young man walks through the dusty streets of a small town.  He stands a little taller than the rest.  His stride is calm and confident as he makes his way through the bustling crowds of people.  He has everything he could ever want.  Power, wealth, position, and good health are his.  He has followed all the rules since boyhood and has done many good things of which he is proud.  There is nothing that can stop him.  Except maybe a conversation with the Teacher.

You see, he wanted eternal life.  This is good.  However, he wanted this on his own terms.  This is where it gets difficult.  To enter the Kingdom of Heaven, you must do what the Father tells you to do.  The man understands this and is willing.

The Teacher speaks.  You must not murder, steal, or lie.  You must love others.  The man thought this all was very good.

Then the Teacher told the man that he must give away everything.  Those words had the effect of ice cold water poured down his spine.  He must give away all his possessions to the poor, so that his wealth would be in heaven.  If he could let go of those things, then he could lay hold of the Kingdom of Heaven.  The young man was deflated.  It was as if all the air just left his body, leaving him depleted and unmoving.  This was the one thing he did not want to hear.  So he left and did not come back.

How often do we hold onto things that keep us from fully living and fully trusting?  It could be good things that are dear to us like family, friends and ministry.  It could be things like money, power, and position.  It could be something simple like eating, reading, or dating. But whether it’s a relationship or an addiction, you must let go of that which has become your captor, things you are holding onto and keep you from embracing the Kingdom. What keeps you stuck, trapped, immobile, fearful, angry or depressed?  This is your mud puddle.  What keeps you from fully trusting because it makes you feel comfortable, safe and secure?   What are you trusting and holding onto more than you are trusting and holding onto Jesus.  This is what keeps you from true freedom.  This is your cliff.  Until Jesus is enough, you will be forced to set up camp here.  This is a dangerous place to dwell.

God is calling you to step forward.  God is saying to you, precious daughter and precious son, to trust Him.  Be brave.  Jump.  Leap off your cliff in belief.  There is only one requirement and that is desperation.  Are you fed up with your mud puddle?  Are you in urgent need of freedom from your cliff?  How much do you need Jesus?  Is He enough for you?  Is your faith reckless enough to dive into the depths of His love?

Then do it.  Believe.  This is your moment.  Today is your day to believe.  Leave behind the chains that hold you captive, the bonds of comfort, the barricade of fear.  Leap for freedom.  He has already set you free.  Embrace your freedom.  Jump for love.  It’s all about love.  That is what the abyss is below the cliff.  It is love.  So free-fall through His chasm of love.

In the exhilaration of free-fall, there is peace, there is wonder, and there is relief.  There is great joy when you leap and find your True Love waiting with outstretched arms.  When you free-fall into your Father’s arms you will land hard in undeniable freedom and uncontained whimsy.   You will find that He is enough.  He will laugh with you, He will cry with you, He will take you by the hand and show you His Kingdom.  You will fall deeply in love and just maybe you will want to free-fall again.