Adventurously Expectant

I never asked for an easy life. I asked for one that honors the One who made me.

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Anxiety and the Extrovert

I was at WalMart when I thought I was going to die.

It was Christmas time. 

I just needed lights, ornament hooks, gift tags and Clorox wipes.

It was raining, and I couldn’t find a parking space. I almost ran over a lady in a polka dot rain coat.

My chest began to tighten. 

And my heart began to race.

I felt like I was both going to throw up, and explode.

“I am going to die. I am going to die in a  Walmart parking lot.”

I called for my sister, even if she wasn’t with me. Its what I do when I’m scared.

“I can’t, I can’t do this.”

I was sure I was dying.

I drove away crying.

And I pulled into an alcove, and began to cry some more. What is happening?

Even if I am not dying. I want to die. This can’t be my life.

I was having a full blown panic attack.

Then I began to cry again. And hyperventilate.

In my car. In an alcove. Outside a WalMart. 

I had visions of agoraphobics and how they never left their house. I replayed scenes from “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” and how their mom just stayed in the house, and ate her way to a crazy death. (Yes my brain went there).

Then I whispered, “God, I don’t know what’s going on. Help.”

Then this song came on (the one at the top of this blog :)). I don’t remember even turning my iPod on. At the time, I felt like it was a mockery of the moment.

“Its not over….”

Over time, it has become my anthem.

“Its not finished…”

And the thing I truly believe for myself.

“When God is in it.”

It has not been a Damascus Road I did not have an encounter and was transformed immediately.  With the help of my amazing Christian therapist and my beautiful Jesus, I have been walking the path of healing. I am learning to fight against thoughts that are not God’s towards me. Thoughts that are not God’s best for myself. I choose to accept peace. I choose to trust God when I don’t know and really mean that when I say it.

I war for God’s best for my life.

Everyday.

This week, I am ready to tell you about some of the journey. As with most of the stories of my life- Some of it is funny, awkward, revealing, amazing, revealing, and weird. But all of it is mine.

I am praying for you today. And if you struggle with anxiety, depression, insecurity, rejection or with anything that seems like it will eat you alive, please know I am specifically shouting to the heavenlies for you. I am asking the Lord reveal His Son to you in a new way, so that you would know that there is Another in the fire with you, and He keeps you in the midst of feeling like you will be consumed. 

Love you,

Renee 

Filed under panicattacks healing anxiety WalMart Jesus God HolySpirit

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On the mountain top. In the valley.

I have decided. To follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back.

These are the things that they won’t tell you.

Following Jesus. Its hard.

Sometimes, the easy way is tempting. Even when you know the narrow way is rewarding.

Hold fast, brethren. (doesn’t that sound just so Christian?)

The temp in temptation stands for temporary.

The feeling will fade.

But then what will remain?

So hold tight. To the hand of the One who doesn’t change.

Even if you have to hold so hard, your knuckles whiten.

Hold.

Tight.

Hold. 

Fast.

Hold on.

The mountain top is on the other side of the valley.

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The awakening

I have not written in a while.

Mainly because, I have felt too busy to write.

Then too overwhelmed.

Then too, just TOO.

But those are excuses to say- I don’t write when I don’t understand.

I get so caught up in circumstances that I forget to just

BREATHE.

BE.

LIVE.

So I am at the beginning again. 

Which if I’m going to be honest, I don’t think we ever leave the beginning.

If we are smart. 

We will grow. 

But it will do us well to keep ourselves close to the beginning.

It is in the beginning where all that mattered was Love.

Not knowledge.

Reputation.

Friendships.

Just Love that saves.

Rescues.

Comforts.

Redeems.

This is the awakening of the beginning.

 

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My morning…

Class got out early this morning.

I tried to go to Starbucks. They were closed due to a sanitary issue (ewe)

So I tried to go to the office (it was still closed)

So I ended up at Panera Bread. Eating cheese and bread.

Heavenly.

I’ve been working for 2 hours.

And forced myself to take a break.

And I forced myself to see how beautiful life is.

In the middle of a constructed reprieve.

In the middle of the great inbetween.

In the middle of things not being what I thought they were.

In the middle of having to choose to believe the best in people when I don’t want to, but know I need to.

I could choose to see the congestion of this concrete jungle.

I could choose to see defeated decisions by victorious people.

But I choose beauty.

I choose hope.

I choose love.

I choose transformation, even if its only for myself.

I don’t care how unpopular it is.

I choose Kingdom over environment.

Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness. Psalm 115:1

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10 years- a love story

I have not committed to much in my life.

I don’t live at the same place for longer than 3 years at a time.

My hair never stays the same color.

Or length.

I like fake lashes.

Disposable plates.

But 10 years ago today,

In a Hollywood Hotel Room.

I said yes to Jesus.

It has been the one thing that I have committed to.

And even when I have had days when I have wanted to quit.

On days when I wasn’t doing my best to honor Him.

And days when I asked if He had forgotten me.

I have perfected the art of holding on.

Through storms that I thought might overtake me.

To His promises.

To His Word.

To this life that I got that I never deserved.

It did not fail me then, when I chose to just believe.

It has not failed me since.

I remain eternally changed, and forever- adventurously expectant

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We wear Him

We’ve been having a 3 day revival at my church Jubilee Christian Center.

You may not know this about me but I’m a sucker for a fire tunnel and prayer time. There is seriously no place I would rather be, than in the middle of a move of God. My heart cries  out to not just be a part of a move but of a revolution (moves can be one time things, revolutions happen over and over again- but thats a story for another day).

Yesterday during prayer before service, Pastor Michelle said something that made me feel born again, again.

Imagine, God standing before you. However the way you see Him. And imagine yourself looking at Him. Now have your moment, have Him reveal your heart, what is inside of it. Have a moment with Him. Then. Step into Him. Now open your eyes.

This where you’re standing. This is what we bring there. We bring ourselves clothed in Him. We cannot conjure presence, we bring it with us.

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Oh yes, I should write

While rewarding, working for yourself is also extremely difficult. No work, no eat, no electricity. I haven’t written in a while. I start work at 5am and sometimes don’t get home until 10pm.  When your whole business relies on being on the computer, trust me, logging on after a 17 hour day seems like the worst idea EVER.

When I told a close girlfriend how hard my work schedule was, she said, “I really don’t believe that, you always look like you’re having fun.”

There are days that I have cried in my car the whole way home, sometimes from pure exhaustion, other times, because I am a bit overwhelmed.

Just because I am having fun, doesn’t mean that its easy. As a matter of fact, choosing to have fun is the oil that greases my wheels.

I choose to not complain.

I choose to pray when I have nothing better to say.

I choose that hard work pays off, and on bad days, the Lord is refining me.

Believe me, I could say some things. I could bring up ways I have been treated unfairly, or how people have chosen to speak to me or about me, sometimes without realizing I was standing right there in the hallway. 

But what difference would it make? Would it make my life better? Would it make work easier? Would it make a 17 hour day more bearable?

Nope. It wouldn’t.

So on those days, I choose joy. I choose Jesus. And I decide that if this is going to be the journey, I will stand, even if I have to cry a little to get there.

xoxo,
Renee 

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I am sitting in the bookstore. This used to be one of my favorite things. 
The smell of cut paper and ink that tells stories. The bump and texture of embossing on a front hard cover.
I was literally giddy walking through the aisles, as my hands grazed over bindings and my eyes took in all of the colors.
Today, in the middle of a Barnes and Noble, I remembered- I am a writer.
Before my life changed a month ago. Before I decided to travel the world. I was a frustrated supervisor, wanting to escape reports and deadlines and 5 AM events. One day, something beautiful happened to me on a balcony of a Borders that no longer exists, a dream that my 7 year old self had was resurrected.  I remembered that I wanted to write stories like  Mr.Henshaw I wanted to make people feel things like Sadako,I wanted to experience an evolution like Shirley Temple Wong and Jackie Robinson I wanted to  live a life that tells stories but I also wanted to write them.
In the flurry of life and of chasing a means to fund my need to be a writer, as odd as it sounds, I forgot that I AM a writer.
Today, in the middle of Barnes and Noble, I wanted to put my nose in a book and take a deep breath of its possibility. I wanted to twirl around and giggle, at the wonder of feeling “Home Again.”
I came back to myself. 
I must write.
With grace. 
With intention.
With purpose.
I am a writer.

I am sitting in the bookstore. This used to be one of my favorite things. 

The smell of cut paper and ink that tells stories. The bump and texture of embossing on a front hard cover.

I was literally giddy walking through the aisles, as my hands grazed over bindings and my eyes took in all of the colors.

Today, in the middle of a Barnes and Noble, I remembered- I am a writer.

Before my life changed a month ago. Before I decided to travel the world. I was a frustrated supervisor, wanting to escape reports and deadlines and 5 AM events. One day, something beautiful happened to me on a balcony of a Borders that no longer exists, a dream that my 7 year old self had was resurrected.  I remembered that I wanted to write stories like  Mr.Henshaw I wanted to make people feel things like Sadako,I wanted to experience an evolution like Shirley Temple Wong and Jackie Robinson I wanted to  live a life that tells stories but I also wanted to write them.

In the flurry of life and of chasing a means to fund my need to be a writer, as odd as it sounds, I forgot that I AM a writer.

Today, in the middle of Barnes and Noble, I wanted to put my nose in a book and take a deep breath of its possibility. I wanted to twirl around and giggle, at the wonder of feeling “Home Again.”

I came back to myself. 

I must write.

With grace. 

With intention.

With purpose.

I am a writer.

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Out of your mouth

I was in a meeting the other day, and the person I was talking to didn’t flinch when they cussed.

It was kind of like “OH SH**, that’s right.” or “OH F*** I’m running late.” There was something about it that bothered me, I think it was the complete callousness to profanity.

So let me confess, I drop a bomb now and again, its a habit I have had a hard time breaking.

But let me also say, I know the moment the word hits the end of my tongue and goes out into the atmosphere, that ugh, I fell short. I know the moment I choose to say something I shouldn’t that I shouldn’t have said that. There had to be a better way to communicate that. Everytime I feel that way. Everytime.

Everytime, I feel like “Man Renee you can do better than this.”

Using profanity, unfortunately is a norm in society. On any given Tuesday, my twitter feed is filled with profane words,and even lewd trending topics. 

Crazy thing? These are from my Christian friends.

Here’s my concern, I am concerned that we have become calloused to it all. We don’t even recognize our iniquity.

There can be a profanity ridden twitter feed with scriptures interrupting prolific profane rants.

We make excuses. We say, “I’m just being real.” 

We say, “Well don’t we all say it?”

Instead of being repentant, instead of saying, “God help me be better.” 

We make excuses.

Most people will say, its too hard to change. Its too steep of a standard. That’s true. It’s been 10 years, and I am still struggling. But I think at the heart of it, God doesn’t necessarily desire our perfect speech. 

I don’t think He sits with Gabriel and Archangel Michael and does a cuss counter on us.The Bible says He looks at the heart. I believe He looks at our hearts, and He sees if we are trying to change or if we have just submitted to defeat of our culture. I believe He is watching to see if in our hearts we are working on “Resisting the enemy.”

More and more I am getting convicted to truly be separate. To take the hard road and not worry about who feels uncomfortable because of the standard I believe I am challenged by God to uphold for His Namesake.

What is your stance on cussing? Are you aware when you utter a curse word, or do you feel the world has calloused you to profanity?

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Blessing Number 6

Praying and declaring blessing number 6 today:

The very people that tried to bring you down will have to stand there and see you promoted. That every weapon formed against you shall turn around and have a boomerang effect in the back of the very people that tried to bring you down in Jesus Name - thanks Bishop Michael Pitts