And the World Spins On

Summer is gone. Vanished.

Last I remember, there was a rush of swimming and sleepovers and trips to the beach, of scrambling to complete that ever-elusive summer to-do list. Amidst all the confusion, vacation slipped from my grasp. School was upon me.



Art filing: one of those to-do list items that didn't actually get done until last weekend.

Sending some short stories into a magazine was one of the first things on my summer to-do list, and I actually did it. Sort of. I mailed them all without stamps, so...this is take 2. :P

 My mind is a blur of biology definitions and character development and Euclid's postulates right now. It's easy to look wistfully at my summer photo albums and feel trapped in a world I certainly never wished for. But I can't let myself forget-life doesn't end after summer vacation.

God can use me just as well now as He could when I didn't have the constraints of school. He even understands geometry, for crying out loud! So, until Jesus returns and saves us from the world that feels especially imperfect right now, I'm going to try to "be diligent to be found by Him without spot or blemish and at peace" (2nd Peter 3:14). At peace, not anxious or discontent. Knowing I've run the race to the best my ability and given Him all glory.

Pray for me :)

 



Finished! :)

Now I just I need to send a copy to my favorite twins!

A Musical Monologue in the Third Person

(how's THAT for an exciting title?!)

Words are and always will be Aubrey's first love. Music has quietly crept up on her over the years. Both of them together? Rather wonderful, she thinks. (And she seriously has no idea why she is talking about herself in the third person.)

Aubrey is doing choir for the first time this year, and thus has already imagined herself as a world-famous singer/songwriter. The realistic half of her mind constantly reminds Aubrey that it won't happen, but the other half, being irrational by nature, blissfully ignores it.

And so, Aubrey turns her head to songwriting-in the noun's most singular form. Literally, Aubrey has written ONE SONG (almost). Here are the first verse and chorus she has come up with so far:

We seek to know ourselves and to change who we will be

But we easily forget who we are

What we will be is a mystery

Still we forget eternity

As we search for identity on earth

We know that when he appears

We'll be like Him

For we will see Him as He is

The confusion melts away like the mist when the sun is rising

Finally I can see through the glass

It's still blurred, like a vision

But the dream is soon to pass

And I'll look upon Your lovely face at last.

Love,

Me

The Eternal Farewell

We awoke that morning, not gently. Not to singing birds or warm sunlight, like in the stories, but to Truth. Its icy tendrils wrapped around us, digging into our skin, seeping into our blood, weaving its way through our bodies until it pierced our hearts.

The mirror had lost its deceptive sheen. Looking into it, we saw what we really were: hideous, disfigured, unspeakably vile. I watched you cry through the curtain of my own tears. The droplets froze on your mutilated face.

I felt Truth begin to wrap around my throat, strangling me. Breath came out from my twisted lips in broken gasps. I pleaded with you to cry for help, because you were still standing. You would not. A sneer transformed your face from wretched and pitiful to evil. It was watching you harden that gave me the strength I needed. With the last of my air, I croaked out the Name.

I had been taught the Name, heard it from many who had called on it before. So had you. Indeed, we both had even said we believed in the Name’s power. But not until that morning when Truth came had either of us called it.

The ice inside of me transformed into a raging fire, burning in my very soul. Warmth and life spread through my limbs. The mirror rippled, and the face in it-my own-transformed into a thing of beauty. Not pure, but a shadow of what it could be and someday would be. I had seen that face before. It belonged to the Name. No one alive had seen the Name, but I knew it well enough to recognize without seeing. It was inside of me-Truth, the Name, whatever one calls Him. Yes, Him.

I turned to you. Your face was contorted with inward pain, but no scream escaped your lips. You were not breathing at all. Truth had frozen within you because you refused to call the Name. Your heart was stone, you were a monster. Not yet complete Suffering, but a shadow of it, as I became a shadow of Him. You turned and began to run, straight towards an endless black pit. I ran after you, crying out your name, begging you to call for Him. You would not listen until you were over the pit’s edge. Then, it was too late.

I could not follow you. Because He is within me, there is another place I run to in the end, a place of joy. It could have been your home. But you were too proud.

You counted surrender as too high a cost for the salvation of your soul.

There and Back Again {Camp Regen 2012}

I'd been anticipating it for a whole year, building up images in my mind of what it would be like. The images grew in quantity and magnitude as camp got closer and closer. I was warned by my parents to reel in my expectations, lest I be bitterly disappointed.

I didn't.

And for once, I wasn't let down.



"Nomad to Ghost Rider. Do you read me, Ghost Rider? We were just wondering how our dust tastes. Apply cold water to burn and await further instructions. Over and out."



 Very possibly, the van ride was the best part of the entire trip. Not only were the coolest people ever in mine (or probably because they were), we sang and danced for the vast majority of the time. I never before realized it was possible to dance in a van. There were great conversations about struggles and the hope of Heaven, several gripping games of Mafia, and a lot of stupidly hilarious inside jokes. ("Look! There's a Tuscan Raider riding an Al Qaeda!")

CrossLife!

We pulled into the Glorieta campus at 4:00 PM, our van rocking (literally) with the combined energy of 14 sugar-high, underslept teenagers who'd been crammed in a van together for 20 hours. Awesome.

Andrew Guiterrez and Austin Duncan who is, by the way, my new favorite speaker.

The first session, taught by Austin Duncan, was on the Lordship of Christ.

Pre-session reaction: "Oh boy, I've heard this a million times already. Guess this one is for the unbelievers who were dragged here."

Post-session reaction: [insert bawling here]

I was in tears. Never before did I fully grasp the completely implications of Christ being Lord of the Universe, and of my life. I am His posession. He is not only the purpose and master of my existence, but the essence of it. I owe everything to Him; my sole goal is to glorify Him and preach His Word.

Small group was full of tears and testimonies. Pledges to keep eachother accountable. Prayers.

Wow. 2 hours into camp, and already God is working in wonderful ways.



^Morning devotions and just chilling with my Meir <3^

HOO, HA, YELLOW JACKETS! HOO, HA, YELLOW JACKETS! RICKA RACKA FIRECRACKER SIS BOOM BAH! YELLOW JACKET YELLOW JACKETS RAH RAH RAH!

(rally session)

The games were fun, and messy, and loud, and...messy. Yeah.

Apparently, the game crew's idea of fun for highschoolers is feeding eachother disgusting foods and getting muddy. And actually, it was pretty fun. xD

The legendary Kajavikankan, which is supposed to be played around a trash can with a pig's head on it. We kinda got off-center :P Our pig was named Wilbur.

 Night game #2-Ultimate Steal the Bacon Tournament, played in 50 degree weather while being sprayed by fire trucks. If I hadn't gotten hypothermia, it would've been almost as fun as Mission Impossible, the first night game. That one made you feel like a secret agent. This, more like a gladiator.

Love these girls <3

Highlights: every single small group, but especially the first and last. Van ride. Being Simeon's sister. Talking with Meir and Flo in the canoe. Stealing Arob's soccer ball. Meeting Austin Duncan in the Chuckwagon. Emma flat ironing my hair (nobody recognized me :D). Flash mobbing. Mission Impossible. Our team owning Neb's Head. Brazilian Joe. "Hello, how ya durin', how ya durin', hello." Hearing Pastor John MacArthur, who is practically a celebrity ;)

With John MacArthur

 It was  time of raw honesty, intense Spiritual growth, and pure, immature fun. I walked away bursting with meaningful conversations and love for every single person in CrossLife.

God has blessed me so much here.

I can honestly say I'm ecstatic to share the Gospel and live a life on fire for Christ alongside so many other faithful Believers. Camp changed me, not just on the emotional level, but forever.

And, hopefully, I'll be back next year.

(Mrs. Langenberg gets all photo credit.)

I'm still alive, I promise!

Hello!

I realize that I’ve abandoned my blog for over two weeks now, with absolutely no explanation. To the very [very] few who read it, I’m sorry. I have nothing important to say right now, but just to reassure you that I am, in fact, living and breathing, here is a lovely little bullet list I compiled this morning:

·         I went on vacation! To Arizona! To visit my wonderful Grandparents! (Ask me about their story some time; it’s truly a testimony to God’s faithfulness, even in light of human faithlessness.) Proof:

We stopped at Carlsbad Caverns on the way up. On our last visit, some five or six years ago, I spent most of my time being terrified. Now I LOVE it! It's seriously one of the most incredible places on earth, a testimony to God's creative design. Walking through the caverns, you can't doubt that a Designer's hand was in it all. None of the pictures did justice to the cave's majesty, but they were all stunning anyways...I couldn't decide which to post, so you'll just have to settle for me in "Fairyland". It's not exactly what I expected :P

Arizona Skyline

Dessert! (Ursula is a fabulous cook, as Ryan's smile testifies.)

Ringtoss aftermath. I just love this picture of Sean; for some reason, it seems to describe him perfectly.

Ursula also has wonderful wall decor, including this sword.

Ethan FINALLY got his Porsche ride! This is a moment he's been waiting for since...whenver he became obsessed with cars. In honor of the occasion, he went to Wal Mart with the SPECIFIC purpose of finding a blue Porsche Hot Wheels car thingy.

·         I learned to sew, sort of. Charity taught me. I feel that the venture was a success, because my black-and-white scraps of cloth mysteriously transformed into a purse. Also, it was wonderful spending time with Charity and the other girls. I received several encouraging compliments from Bethany which will probably carry me through the week, including “Aubrey, if we all woke up this morning and you were dead, it’d be kind of sad.” (Thanks, Bethany.)

·         Last time I babysat at the Franklin’s house, the kids and I made up stories. How it works: they all pick characters, and I build stories around those characters. Micah is always a lion, Hannah usually settles for nothing less than Queen, and with the other four, you never can tell. Bethel likes wise old _____ (insert some obscure fantasy creature here) and Laurel adores unicorns. David picks the most interesting characters I’ve ever heard of, including “stairs”. Trust me, he regretted that choice. Did I mention you have to act your character out? Anyways, I’m thinking some of these stories might turn into picture books in the near future. ;)

·         I finished the Mistborn series on vacation, and promptly ran into the bathroom sobbing. I’ll say nothing more about the ending, I swear. But I highly recommend them, if you’re over 13. I also ended Count of Monte Cristo and an assortment of books from Mrs. Brock. Now I’ve begun Mockingjay and Manalive…I think I’m going to like Manalive much better…

Thank you if you are still reading my blog. It means a great deal to me. :)

Dialogue with a Dragon

(From The Hat Lady, by me)

I turned again to the beast, and then I realized just what he was.

          “Y-y-you…you…you’re a dragon!”

          “How observant,” Said the dragon, with a sarcastic eye-roll.

          The dragon was certainly going to eat me. After all, isn’t that what dragons do? But I was surprised to find that I wasn’t scared at all. Maybe it’s because I knew I couldn’t get away, that trying was hopeless. Anyways, I just wanted the awful beast to get it over with as quickly as possible.

          “What are you going to do to me?” I asked.

I tried to move, but my hands were tied behind my back. Not even this scared me. I felt brave, like Nell.

          “Do to you?” The dragon snorted, sending a puff of smoke into the air. “What would I do to you?”

          “You’re going to eat me,” I said flatly, scooting back so I could lean against the cave wall.

A diamond stabbed me in the leg, and I leapt into the air with a yelp. The dragon kindly swept it out of the way with his spiked tail.

The dragon just sat there and looked down on me. It’s hard to read a dragon’s face because they don’t have eyebrows or lips or anything like people do. But I think, inside his scaly head, he was calling me stupid.

“Are you going to eat me?” I asked.

Suddenly, the dragon erupted into that weird growling that might’ve been a laugh. I jumped, again.

“Eat you?” He wheezed. “Eat you?! I suppose you buy into those silly bedtime stories as well as any other child, but I had expected more from a princess.”

Like a tidal wave, fear crashed over me. The dragon wasn’t going to eat me? Then what would he do? What awful torture did he have planned?

“How do I know you’re not lying?” I said, trying to sound brave again. But I could hear my own voice trembling.

The dragon snorted scornfully.

“A dragon’s word,” He said, “Is his most prized possession. And upon my word, I have not the slightest intention of eating you. Humans have a terrible aftertaste; I much prefer beef. In fact, it is not the tradition of dragons to eat people. Because of our size and flaming breath, we have been unjustly stereotyped as cruel beasts.”

“Then what are you going to do to me?” I asked, frightened tears blurring my vision.

“Don’t cry, now,” The dragon sighed, puffing out a cloud of smoke that made my eyes water even more. “I don’t plan to hurt you in the least.”

“Then wh-why did y-you k-k-kidnap me?” I sniffled.

“A dragon’s life is terribly dull,” Said he, lying down on his belly and crossing his front legs like a dog. His face was only two feet away from me. “People are afraid of us, and common animals are too stupid to converse with.”

“Don’t you talk with other dragons?”

“Frankly, we don’t get along,” He replied, twitching his tail. The firelight glowed in his red-and-gold scales, and I thought for a moment how beautiful he was, in spite of his knifelike teeth and frightful spikes.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

And I really meant it. I couldn’t imagine living without Nell or my parents or anybody to talk to. Just thinking about it gave me a hollow, lonely ache-the exact sort of ache I’d felt when Marina was telling Nell and me about her husband.

“’Tis a lonely lot,” The dragon said dramatically. “Stealing cattle is rather entertaining for a little while; it makes such a stir in the villages. It’s quite charming to watch those panicked little peasants run about like ants when their mound is stepped on.”

The dragon laughed his throaty laugh. I stopped feeling quite so sorry for him.

“That’s mean!” I said.

Shrugging, the dragon went on with his speech.

“Alas, the cattle game does grow tiresome. And something must be done with those noisy cows. I personally prefer the taste of venison and other wild game; it’s much fresher. Peasants only cry and tremble when one kidnaps them, and it’s not often anyone takes much trouble to get them back. It seems the only way to get a fair bit of attention is to borrow a princess.”

“So you’ve just taken me to…to entertain you?”

          “No, no, no,” The dragon yawned. I could see red-hot embers glowing in the back of his cavernous mouth. “In a matter of days, knights will be coming to challenge me. I’ll fight them off and-”

          “You mean you’ll kill them?!” I gasped.

          The dragon glared at me with his glowing yellow eyes.

          “Would you mind terribly if I finished a sentence? Most knights are blubbering cowards when it comes to dragons. They’ll run away after a few fire blasts and a little wing-beating, perhaps a tail slash or two. Most of them I never touch, you see. They all go limping back to the castle with pretend injuries, lying about how I wounded them in order to defend their ‘honor’. It’s rather fun, and frightening those arrogant knaves does break up the daily grind. When I get tired of it, I’ll pretend a knight has defeated me and let him carry you home.”

          “Oh,” I said, not sure of what else to answer.

Alone, Yet Not Alone

Hind's Feet on High Places has never been my favorite book, but I love the part when Much-Afraid finds herself in a place called Loneliness. She wanders desolate beaches alone with the moon. Ocean waves lap the shore in a drumming, eternal rhythm, echoing the solitary throbbing of Much-Afraid's heart. Yet it is here, in Loneliness, that Much-Afraid draws the closest to her beloved Shepherd.

    Sometimes, I feel an enormous emptiness, one I try to fill with friends, writing, music, books, shoping, or an odd obsession with fairies-something, anything, to close that gaping hole. It greedily sucks in everything I feed it, but never stops asking for more. Then I do what I should have done first.

    I turn to God.

    When I am at a high point in my relationship with Christ, I am bursting with joy. I think that monstrous hole is gone for good. But it is only hiding, waiting for a chance to pounce.

    My eyes sting and my heart aches. But I think I am beginning to be at peace with this hunger, this passion, this longing-even to be thankful for it. It is a constant reminder that while I am here on earth, I will never be satisfied. As Phillippians says, my citizenship is in Heaven. I love how Buildling 429's song puts it:

"All I know is I'm not home yet

This is not where I belong.

Take this world and give me Jesus,

This is not where I belong."

    Part of my soul will always be wandering Loneliness, until I am called home. Only in the presence of my Father will my searching spirit find rest.

I Met this Amazing Guy!

His name is Ivanhoe. (Yes, after the book.)

Aren't we cute together?

But, seriously-after several years of playing on a cheap, mass-produced 3/4 violin, I am ecstatic! Ivanhoe's sound is very rich and mellow. It's like I place Guinivere (the bow) on a string, and muisc flows out. No more bow-sawing for me; playing is so much more enjoyable now.

I'm excited to play my new violin, and super grateful to the amazing parents who paid for it, along with years of lessons. Of course, I didn't always show my gratitude. Sometimes (here's a shocker) I might have displayed the exact opposite. But I'm so glad they made me stick with it.

Ultimately, everything is God's, including Ivanhoe and on a broader scale, all music. I want to glorify Him with the violin. Question is, how?

Besides playing in church and at nursing homes, I haven't come up with too many ideas. Suggestions, anyone?

They say you never know what you've got 'til it's gone...

Sorry this post is so long-delayed...

I went camping this weekend! With my J-Hi group, for the very last time. This camping trip is an annual tradition; my year won't feel the same without it.

I'm going to miss staying up 'til four o'clock, talking about everything from shoes to guys to the Rapture to insecurities. I'm going to miss playing Mafia everywhere-midnight on the rocks, aroudn the campfire, during youth group, cramped inside those big white vans. Some of the best j-hi memories center around this violent card game. Occasionally, I wonder what people think when they see a group of teenagers with Bibles on their laps screaming "HANG ____! He's the mafia! Hang him!".

I'll miss Stef a lot. She's 100% the best. I've learned so much from her, and had so much fun, too.

(see Annaleah's eyes in the background?)

Of course, I'm not going to stop pestering her, even though I won't be in J-Hi anymore ;)

I'm going to miss Mr. Troyer's drawings of the end times, and singing solos because I forget that Mr. Robinson likes to add new pauses to old worship songs. I'll miss my prayer group and harmonizing with Megan and laughing at Cat and rapping Lecrae with Annaleah and learning Spanish from Juan.

There's a lot I'll miss.

Junior High has been truly amazing. But I can't help but feel that I wasted so much of my eighth grade year. See, seventh grade was absolutely phenomenal. Kalvin was [is] on fire for God and got the rest of us inspired. We were constantly evangelizing, having amazing discussions, praying, and encouraging eachother. And Flo was with me! That makes everything awesome.



Then the eighth graders moved to high school. Suddenly, I was one of the oldest. I felt so deserted. And I moped. I moped all summer and all year long. Not in front of anyone (excpet Flo and my parents and Stef), but inside I was wallowing in a sticky pool of self-pity.

I waited for high school, and it felt like it would never come. I cried when my closest friends and Ryan went to a week-long summer camp, leaving me at home. I pouted because the high schoolers had more fellowships and activities.

I didn't build the relationships I could have. I didn't take the opportunities to encourage the struggling, or to be encouraged. I didn't enjoy what I had because I didn't realize I had it. Until now.

Nothing is perfect. Youth group wasn't, and neither was the camping trip. But they came pretty darn close.

Thankfully, those people aren't going away just because I made a mistake. God is so good! I still have high school, and my eighth grade class. The 6th and 7th graders will be moving up soon. I'm pumped for summer camp! And, we'll all be together at winter camp every year.

We look kinda like this:

Through a Rose-Colored Lens

The title of this post isn't really applicable; I just like the way it sounds.

Mom got a new professional quality camera! At Costco, of course. I've adopted it (although I'm not sure if Mom knows yet), but it still needs a name. Comment if you have any suggestions.

Anyways, I'm loving the camera, mostly for the close-ups and action shots :)



(I'm not about to hit my knee on the diving board, by the way.)
(P. S.-featured in this photo is my cousin, Hannah, of lets-talk-golf.blogspot com. You should check it out!)

(This is another cousin of mine, Kayleigh, of horsezrok2me.blogspot.com. Read it and give her a little encouragement! Just tell her I sent you so you don't look like some random creeper :P)

(Meir was taking this picture. When I landed, I slammed my knee on her heeled sandals and it HURT! She laughed.)

What is the moral of this post? Go home, get a cool camera, and take pictures of yourself jumping on your bed.

Bye for now :)

The Challenge

My friend Elisa gave me a challenge.

First, let me tell you a little bit about Elisa. Her dad, Shannon Hurley, is the founder of S. O. S. (Sufficiency of Scripture) Ministries. The Hurley family is preaching the Word in Uganda. Since my church supports the Hurleys, they came to visit this past winter and I got to meet Elisa. Ever since then, we've kept up via email.

Elisa is a rare type of friend. She's not afraid to talk about her struggles, or to ask about mine. She has a way of encouraging you to do something without being pushy.

Her challenge was to share the Gospel with one person every day.

(Evangelism @ the Alamo, 2011)

It doesn't necessarily mean telling someone the Gospel story. Lots of the people I'm with have already heard it hundreds of times! It could be...

-Biblically [in love] confronting somebody on their sin, showing how it seperates them from God

-Evangelism at a public place

-Encouraging a fellow Believer to read their Bible or...SHARE THE GOSPEL!

...among other things. And don't forget, as I often do, that siblings have eternal souls too :) (Hey, that rhymes!)

*Gasp* Share the Gospel every day?! Isn't that a little radical?

No. In fact, it's the least we could be doing. The Gospel isn't just a feel good message. It's a matter of life and death.

I accepted Elisa's challenge. I know I won't be perfect, but God knows it too, and He won't let that limit Him. So I'm extending this challenge to you.

Therefore go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

~Matthew 28:19

A Fairy Tale

This is my latest art project :)

I experimented with a more whimsical pen and watercolor style, and I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out.

When I showed this to my parents, the conversation was as follows:

Dad: Wow! That's impressive! I love how you did the colors on the dragons' wings-the one in the front.

Mom: Yeah, it makes them look iradescent.

Me: That's a pegasus. [headbang]

If you think my pretty purple pegasus looks like a dragon, please pretend you don't. (Notice the alliteration!)

Masks

[DISCLAIMER: This is a longer first post than I intended to write. But it's really what's been on my heart lately, so buckle down!]

My friend Flo pointed out to me that Until We Have Faces is not only a book, but also a song. I should probably look that one up. I also realized by my own brilliant self that C. S. Lewis’s book is called TIl We Have Faces, not Until We Have Faces. Go figure. I can’t quote the title of my own favorite book.

That aside, I’ve pondered of late what “until we have faces” really means. The first thing that came to mind was the scene when Red Skull tears off his mask in Captain America. Did I ever mention that I used Captain America in two impromptu speeches this year? And in one of them I contrasted him with Iron Man. Yup J

Actually, that scene wouldn’t be a bad example if it weren’t such a negative one.

It seems like nobody has a face anymore. We all wear masks, and they can get pretty elaborate. Superficial conversations seem to be the limit; deep discussions with people about Spiritual struggles and God’s instruction are, at least for me, very rare. (This is largely my fault. I often fail to initiate these conversations.) Getting close to someone’s heart is touching their personal space. It’s not politically correct. So we have these fun, fluffy little chats where we portray ourselves has happy or-if we’re just that spiritual-blessed.

I have nothing against blogs, Facebook, twitter, or anything like that (obviously). But so often they only aid and abet this worldwide masquerade. We post pictures of us lookin’ snazzy, hanging with our buddies, and going on vacation. Our statuses are cute little quotes or blurbs about what we’ve been up to lately. Nobody sees the real us, the one that struggles and thinks and yearns for more than what this world has to offer. In fact, we’re encouraged to hide this true self and become a cultural cookie cutter.

Some unique individuals *cough* homeschoolers *cough cough* refuse to become cookie cutters but pride themselves in nerdy science fiction books, old TV shows, music, debate, art, poetry or whatever it may be. Those things become our identity. It’s still mask wearing. The masks are just special, or weird, depending on how you look at it.

Worst of all, even Christians are wearing masks. When we become believers, we are not only identified with Christ, but His spirit moves into our bodies and begins transforming our souls into his image. Galatians 1 says “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.” We are dead! Gone! We’ve been remade into something better, something that will someday be perfected and glorified. Christ is alive in us. But we try to hide it. We’re ashamed of our transformation. That shame is apparent because we refrain from telling people, even the people we care most for, about our change. It’s ridiculous when you really think about it.

When God commissioned us for His army, He didn’t call us to be spies. We’re soldiers. And there shouldn’t be any doubt about which side a soldier is fighting for.

Remember in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, when Eustace is turned into a dragon? The real Eustace is buried under layer upon layer of tough scales. This cover keeps him from living as the person he was created to be. Aslan has to help him tear of the scales, layer upon embedded layer. And it hurts. Oh, it burns more fiercely than anything Eustace has ever felt. The scales fall away, and Eustace is left raw and exposed. But he has been changed, and the real him, the part changed by Aslan, is shining through.

We wear masks for years and years, without taking them off for even a breath of fresh air. They grow into our faces. Tearing them away hurts-it means self-sacrifice. It means risking being hurt and misunderstood. But when we are willing to let our transformation shine unmasked, to be a real, deep person who’s not ashamed of their calling, God can really use us. Mom has a kitchen knife with a plastic cover. While trying to cut a tomato the other day, I made the astute observation that you have to take the cover off before the knife can be used.

As I write this, I am convicted. I’m still a mask wearer. But I want to change that. I want to stop the superficial conversations, and start living for what matters. I’m excited to see the face God is going to give me-and the one He’ll give you.