Yes, I know. You are shocked that there is a new post here, finally. You were beginning to think Kaysie had forgotten her Wordpress password or crashed her computer or something terrible like that, weren’t you? Well nothing justifiable like that has happened to me (thank God), but I think I have neglected everyone long enough.

Truth is I’ve been pondering the significance of this little blog, yet again. Sometimes it can feel useless to keep mumbling away about observations and topics that are perhaps only important to myself, assuming others have and can say it better, and really not wanting to put forth enough effort to extract my opinion and spread it out here in a readable fashion. Excuses, excuses. Not really worth much, but it feels better to say all that out loud.

But a friend and I have been discussing significance and failure lately, and I couldn’t help but connect what I was learning through our conversations with my opinion about this blog and my writings. Occasionally during the course of existing in this world, one begins to wonder, “Am I really making any difference? Does my life matter? Am I fulfilling my God-given purpose right now?” All great questions to ask, especially if you discover encouraging answers. But it seems to me that sometimes (oftentimes?) in my quest to find and achieve significance, my motivation gets tangled up in another web of questions and fears, like, “What is holding me back from running after what I believe God is calling me to do? What if I fail miserably? How can I make a difference when the task before me is so insurmountably huge and I am just one person, one voice, one life? And what if I fail miserably (wait, did I already say that?)?”

Again, all good questions that I know you’ve had before too. But for me, I believe it gets back to two things: truth and obedience. I painfully recognize that I am a sinner who fails much more often than I want to, but because of Jesus Christ and His redemption in my life I am moving forward and not backwards (1 Peter 1:18-19, Phil. 3:12-14). His opinion of me is immeasurably beyond what I deserve — He loved me enough to die for me (John 3:16), He chose me as His eternal bride even though I was stained and immoral (Eph. 1:7-9, 5:25-27), He is working in me and through me every day, perfecting what He began until He comes back (Phil. 1:6). All that is truth. And in order to feel the kind of biblical significance that I should, I must believe what He says. This truth sets me free from my twisted opinions about myself and my significance.

Yet even when the truth is burning in my chest — even when I believe what He says and I want to run this course with every ounce of passion I have — there still lies another brick wall I always seem to slam into. Failure. Or rather, the fear of it. What if I did take that jump and go for what I think God wants me to do … and then I failed? You know, hit the ground with a loud, painful thud. And everyone was watching. Suddenly taking that next step seems to be the most illogical, stupid thing I could ever imagine doing. And I’m paralyzed. Again.

Life in Christ really isn’t about failure, however, it is about obedience. That makes a huge difference in my mind. Sometimes I become so fixated on the results (or the desired results) of my efforts that I loose sight of the purpose and motivation behind and beneath whatever I’m doing. God simply wants obedience. And if I follow Him into something and it “fails” or doesn’t look like I wanted it to, if I was obedient, it really isn’t a failure.

So with all that said, if I believe that God has called me to blog or write or speak or walk or share or collect red jelly beans (ok, so that last one was random), by all means I should cast the fear of failure behind me, believe who He is and what He says about me, and live in obedience to His Word. That’s where I find my significance and purpose.

When I was younger, my favorite part of school was the beginning of the semester. Not only was I excited about new classes and books, but Mom and I would always venture to the office supply store to pick out new notebooks, pencils, pens, and other delectable writing materials that I seem to never get enough of.

All this to say, I am going to try my best to continue in my blogging motivation, but if I disappear you’ll know why. Professors demand a little more attention than my creative writing, unfortunately. But I’ll do my best to stick around.

Nothing else on earth should capture my attention or fulfill my desire like Jesus should. My restless soul is a draining oppression that is never satisfied. And if my life is patterned to follow this selfish course, my days are a waste and my heart is still discontent. Life centered on Christ is the path to joy – true, lasting joy – that is not affected by outward circumstances or inward feelings. Joy in Christ is passionate and satisfying.

Instead of praying for desires I think need to be met, I struggle and strive to focus on Him as my one true desire, my Fullness for every emptiness.

My mind goes back to an entry in my journal a few years ago about this same struggle:

As I quietly prayed in my heart this morning, I noticed a repetitive phrase entering my prayers above all else: “Lord, I desire…”

This is not to say that those desires were (are) wrong. Having more patience is a good desire. Strength for a friend is a good desire. A godly future husband is a good desire. But dependence on those desires is unhealthy and unbiblical for my heart. Even in my best attempts to have “focused prayer” on Jesus alone, my mind slowly wanders to the desires I want God to make happen.

I just desire so much…

Each day, my prayers are filled with what I perceive to be my greatest needs. I try to remind God of these needs, but He sees deeper into my heart than I do … and sees the greater need. My greatest needs are not what I think they are. My greatest need is Jesus: to experience Him, to know Him, to feel Him in every day. He is my all in all.

When Jesus becomes my first desire, all the other desires and needs I have fall into their rightful place; cast at the feet of Jesus. He becomes supreme in my heart, which is exactly where He needs to be. Earthy needs and desires dim in the light of His glory and grace. He alone meets my deepest and most desperate needs.

“I have set the Lord continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and and my glory rejoices: my flesh will dwell securely.” Psalms 16:8-9

(repost)

Let’s begin with a question. According to God, what defines a beautiful woman? Out of all the voices and pictures and opinions of what true beauty is, what does our Creator and Savior esteem as beautiful? In so many ways I deeply appreciate God’s definition of beauty because mere physical attractiveness is obviously varying and perishable. Unlike our culture which has a “pattern” of what beauty encompasses, God’s standard is less somatic and much more transcendent. Here it is, straight from His mouth:

Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. (1 Peter 3:3-4)

According to God, beauty shouldn’t have a “best if used by” date on it. Nor should it be explained through external techniques. Beauty revolves around something you can’t really see. It involves your attitude, your presence, your thoughts, and your standards — and the manner in which you present them. In a world where women are respected for being assertive and dominating, God calls for gentleness in a woman. This is not a “pat on the head” kind of nature. It is entirely more than that — and I love this definition.

According to the Greek, “gentleness” is a meekness toward God and a disposition of spirit in which we accept His dealings with us as good, and therefore without disputing or resisting. Gentleness is the opposite to self-assertiveness and self-interest. It stems from trust in God’s goodness and control over the situation. The gentle person isn’t occupied with self at all. This attitude is a work of the Holy Spirit, not of the human will (Gal 5:23).

Beauty is a quiet spirit. It does not demand attention or proclaim it’s presence. It does not depend on a pretty face or skin tone to thrive. But by it’s nature, beauty reflects the presence of God in a soul. If a woman is truly beautiful by God’s standard, there is no denying that something is different about her. When held up to the glossy-faced models on magazine covers, the judge is left speechless because the two are opposites in value. It’s like comparing a piece of paper to the ocean. One can almost be seen through, the other’s depth cannot be calculated.

I want this permanent beauty. I want people to be drawn to what’s behind my eyes instead of the clothes I wear or the structure of my face. Because whatever physical beauty I have, it will fade. If the object of my life is to glorify God (Matt. 5:16), then I pray my attitude, my trust in God, my submission to the Spirit, my disposition and gentleness points clearly to Jesus Christ. I want God and His sanctifying work to define the conclusion of beauty. As God perfects the spirit within me, the more I hope people stop looking at me and behold the beauty of God.