A glimpse into my faith, my dream of writing, and reaching people for Christ through my words.
“He understood more about her than she had ever thought someone could. Maybe one day she would be able to tell him the truth, tell him her own story. And maybe one day, he’d be able to help her believe again.”
Do you need more of Caroline and Connor’s story? If so, Caroline’s Purpose is available now!
Can a ransom be beautiful?
When the enemy takes you,
And keeps you, setting the price
So high, that you wonder who will pay,
Or if you’re worth the payment at all.
The enemy holds you down in your own
Regret, replaying mistake after mistake,
Drowning you in pain, and self-doubt.
Convincing you his way is better, maybe
Even easier, or freer. To live as the world,
To do what you want. Only to realize it
Becomes a wage you can never earn,
And a price you will never pay back.
Can a ransom be beautiful?
When the Son Himself steps down,
Becoming a little lower than the angels,
Leaving the throne to become human,
Suffering when He didn’t do anything wrong.
When nail pierced hands cast sin
As far as the east is from the west.
When a thorn crushed brow bled without
Complaint, against a splintering wood cross.
When death made it look like the enemy
Had won, just before the stone rolled away.
The Son paying the price, covering the wage,
Loving us, caring enough, to set us free.
Can a ransom be beautiful?
Yes,
When perfect love pays it all.
You paint seas of purple skies,
designing every sunrise, sunset.
You place every sparkle in the starlit night,
yet, You made one of me.
You take each snow flake and crystal,
Structuring each one just so.
No two are alike, each are crafted,
Unique, yet, You made one of me.
You imagined the horse,
giving it strength, power, and beauty,
Fragility and grace in one being,
yet, You made one of me.
You filled the depths of the ocean,
With colors and creatures beyond
What can be seen, or believed,
yet, You made one of me.
You decorated the forests and plains,
With birds and their songs,
With beasts and their roars,
yet, You made one of me.
It’s so humbling, looking at creation,
looking at Your creativity at work,
to know the same God made me,
to know that You included me in Your plan.
You wrote my story, my purpose,
You crafted me, and shaped me.
And when I don’t feel good enough,
I look around, and remember,
You made one of me.
Your tears slide in silence,
Screaming for the words
Unsaid,
Streaming down a path
Unknown,
Struggling through what’s
Unseen.
You hide behind a mask,
Waiting for Someone to
See,
Hoping for Someone to
Search,
Longing for Someone to
Save—
To look through the
Unsaid, the unknown,
The unseen.
To love beyond what is
Seen, or what is found,
Or what is unworthy.
Please, believe me,
When I say,
There is a Love this sweet,
There is a Hope this pure,
There is a Salvation this free.
Nail pierced Hands,
A thorn cut Brow,
A Love that knows no bounds.
A Love that sees,
A Love that knows,
A Love that still loves,
Unconditionally.
You just need to,
Simply,
Believe.
Something out of place
May seem pretty in the
Right light, or from a
Certain angle.
But a feather on a fence
Will never fly, will never
Soar, or reach the heights
It was made to see.
So even when it hurts,
Even when questions are
Unanswered, even when confusion
Swirls- try to remember this:
God’s plan is so much better.
And He’s just relocating you,
Shaping you, focusing you,
For where you’re meant to be.
Even if you can’t see it,
Even if you can’t believe it,
From where You’re standing
Today.
She collected her bag and water bottle from the bench and climbed up the steps onto the field. She paused, taking everything in one last time. The way the grass was the perfect shade of green. The snow-white chalk that drew the batters’ boxes and the pitching circle. The red clay dirt that had stained hundreds of pairs of her socks throughout the years. The bullpen.
Her eyes settled on the crates of balls, and she remembered the weight of the ball in her hand. The burn of the seam over her fingers as she spun each pitch with precision. The slide of her back foot as she dragged it behind her. The snap of the ball in the catcher’s mitt as the batter swung and missed.
She tore herself away and walked down the narrow one-way street that took her to the mall. Ducking her head, one tear slid down her cheek as she jogged towards the setting sun, working to avoid eye contact with anyone she met. The purple and navy shades of dusk settled in around her as she found her car. Her keys slipped through her fingers and clattered to the concrete. Bending over, she collected her keys, and herself, before opening her door and sitting down. She made eye contact with herself in the review mirror. Her blue eyes were clouded with unshed tears and sadness, and a small ache had settled in around her heart. The pain didn’t surprise her as she thought about the decision she had just made, everything she had just walked away from, or the life she had just left behind.
What shocked her, was the small sense of relief.
Tears blur your vision,
Making it hard to see,
Emphasizing the confusion,
And the pain that caused them.
You blink and try to clear your eyes,
But more and more just flow,
Streaming down your cheeks,
Leaving a salty trail on your face.
The pain swallows you whole,
Seeping into each crack of your
Heart. Your breathing turns to gasps,
Until you can’t hear anything else.
So slow down, hit pause,
Pull over if you have to.
Let them fall until there’s
Nothing left, ‘til you’re dry.
Then blink.
And find your clarity.
Same place, but
A different day,
A different time.
Even two minutes,
Even two degrees,
Can change almost
Everything.
Even tumbleweeds,
Filled with thorns,
Reminders of past
Mistakes,
Can be seen as
Beautiful, can have
A purpose, in Redemption’s
Perfect light.
Someone like me—
deals with anxiety.
Caring too much for
what doesn’t matter.
And not enough for
what truly does.
Someone like me—
falls short over and over.
Never enough, never
brave, never perfect.
Failing, flailing,
hurting myself, and others.
Someone like me—
stutters and stumbles.
Struggling with the same
things, every single time.
Wondering if there will ever
be change. Or hope.
Someone like me—
is never understood by
those who surround me.
My thoughts, my dreams,
never match theirs,
dividing my heart in half.
Someone like me—
is unworthy, alone to
face the giants and fears.
Trembling, shaking, shattering,
instead of taking hold of the
stones in my hand.
Someone like me—
is hopeless, a lost cause.
Getting left behind in this life.
Deserving nothing but darkness,
shame, and guilt. The
results of my stupidity.
But Someone like Him—
Redefined my future, redefined
every lie I believe about
myself. With one display
of incomprehensible love—
His death on the cross.
Someone like Him,
has plans for me,
using my failures, my falls,
my anxiety— to create a
masterpiece I can’t see.
Or even start to understand.
Someone like Him,
loves even the most unlovable
pieces of my heart and soul.
Tearing down the walls,
the barrier of sin and hell,
so I can have a forever with Him.
Someone like Him,
With unending mercy and
relentless love, takes my
unworthiness, my guilt, my shame,
and all of the other lies I hold,
and breathes truth into my darkness—
Reaching me with unshakable kindness.
Holding me with unchanging patience.
Freeing me with unfailing grace.
And loving me, when no one should.
One Word at a Time 