His Grace Alone

A year and a half ago, anxiety controlled my life.

Crippling fear and panic attacks were a part of life. I was shy, reserved, and didn't have enough self-confidence to initiate friendships. I was scared of everything and everyone to some point, terrified that I would make a bad impression and that someone wouldn't like me or would be disappointed in me.

Something changed that. And that something is God.

When I went to Peru for the first time last summer, I was pushed out of my comfort zone more than I ever had been before. I was forced to see children like my brother and sister in awful, heartbreaking circumstances. I had to speak in front of hundreds of people and give my testimony. I had to teach a Bible class to girls who were my age or older.

And the speaking. The speaking was the worst. Being in front of people terrified me. It triggered my anxiety like nothing else. I wouldn't be able to eat for hours beforehand because my stomach was already churning. My breathing would be heavy and my heartbeat rapid. Often my mind would go completely blank.

But something changed in me. Some part of me realized that when I spoke to people, it didn't have to be me doing the talking. If I allowed God to speak through me, I had nothing to worry about.

Since then, I have spoken so many times, it has almost lost its effect on me. It hardly makes me nervous anymore. You need a speech about orphans? I can pull it together in less than five minutes. Talk about how God changed me in Peru? I could do it on the spot.

But tonight challenged me. I've been memorizing the book of Philippians. On Monday morning, I had the first two chapters down. I was about six verses into the third. And, truth be told, I had kind of slacked off on it. I hadn't really worked to memorize the verses in weeks. But that changed with one single text from my youth pastor.

He wanted to know if I could recite the third chapter of Philippians at youth church on Wednesday night.

My heart froze up. Recite the third chapter? I wasn't done with that one yet! My first impulse was to say no. But I paused. I could do it. I knew I could. I could have the rest of the chapter by Wednesday, no problem. And quickly, before I could have the chance to change my mind, I texted back a "yes".

All day Monday and Tuesday and today, I recited the verses as often as possible. Over and over and over again. In my room by myself. Every moment I was in the car. Say them over and over and over. As many times as I could. But I was still a little shaky. In my heart, I knew the verses.

By myself, I could say them fine. But something about being in front of other people makes my mind disappear. And verses were different than just speaking. If I was just talking about something on stage, I could wing it. If I didn't say exactly what I had thought before, nobody cared. Because nobody knew what it was intended to be.

But every single person in that audience had a Bible or had one close and could look and see if I was doing it right. You can't wing Bible verses.

It was with great fear that I walked up on that stage tonight. My friends all cheered loud for me, and had encouraged me beforehand. But I was nervous. So, so nervous that I would mess it up.

My youth pastor gave me the microphone. I took a deep breath, and I was off. My mind was frantic and scattered, but most of it my mouth knew. I had said it so many times that I simply knew what to say on impulse. But I got to a part in the middle, and my mind went completely blank.

I had no idea what was next. I was mortified. But someone in the audience gave me the next word and I was back on track. After getting through the rest of the chapter and shakily completing the last verse, I exhaled.

My entire body slumped and I felt cold relief and exhaustion rush over me. I thrust the microphone into my youth pastor's hand and was off the stage before he could say another word. I barely noticed the standing ovation. My one and only thought was to get to my seat and not collapse.

The crazy part was all the people that came up to me afterward, though.

"That was amazing!"

"How did you do that?"

"I could never do that!"

"You were incredible!"

While I was thankful for the support and the encouragement, the comment I hated most was the, "I could never do that."

Because you could. There was nothing special about me memorizing Philippians. I don't have special memorization powers. I'm not exceptionally good at speaking. In fact, anyone could have done what I did, and probably would do it better.

What people don't understand is that the only reason I was able to stand up there and recite Philippians 3 is that God allowed it. God allowed me to soak in His word and know it, and then share it with others. What I did, I did by the grace of God and the grace of God alone.

Can you see how He uses our weaknesses to showcase His glory? He chose a girl who has an anxiety disorder, who a year and a half ago would have had a panic attack doing this, who was so insecure that she couldn't ask people to hang out - He used that girl to show His people that they too can know His word and have it in their hearts!

There is no power in me. No glory. No honor. All honor, glory, and power is to God. The God who gives us strength to do things we never could have dreamed of.

As For Me

I love going to church on Wednesdays. I love it that a group of high school students can come together and worship and learn about God. I love the relationships that are built through it.

Wednesday nights are my weekly pep rally. My one thing that gets me through the week. My reminder that I am not the only one struggling, and I am not the only one who leans on God. My time to be encouraged in the Lord, and filled with His Spirit.

Tonight we were singing one of my favorite songs - "As For Me".

The chorus says,

"As for me, I will raise Your banner high.
I will shout aloud Your name; I won't deny.
Jesus, You have given all, so I give You my life.
I will raise Your banner high."

As I was singing and raising my hands and shouting these words to God, though, I found myself convicted.

"I will shout aloud Your name."

Was I doing that? Sure, I talk a good game about orphan care. At church. With my friends who feel the same way I do.

But, when I'm at school, I don't bring up how excited I am about what we're learning in Philippians. I don't talk about what God's doing in my life. I don't gossip much, but I listen to it. I participate in it. I don't stop it.

The truth is that at school, I try and blend. I don't compromise what I believe, but neither do I proclaim it. If someone asked me if I was a Christian, I would reply with an emphatic yes. But I wouldn't just tell someone.

When people in my classes go outside and smoke or talk about sleeping with their boyfriends, I don't object. I remain silent. I choose to say nothing, not out of sympathy or concern for them, but out of fear of what they'll think of me.

When they ask me about my life, my family, my extracurricular activities, I find myself responding like any normal teenager. And as I replay my responses in my mind, I realize that there is no way to tell the difference between me and a normal teenager.

There is no way that the people in my classes would be able to tell that I was a Christian.

And it makes me ashamed. How dare I raise my hands in worship? How dare I sing the words, "As for me, I will raise Your banner high"?

I sing those things in church, but I don't live them.  And I'm tired of it. As a follower of Christ, I am commanded to proclaim Him to a fallen world. I am told that people should see that I am different from the way I talk and act and walk with Christ.

If people can't tell that I'm different, am I really different? Can a Christian be a Christian and not tell the world about Jesus?

The way I act to the world, regardless of what they believe, should reflect what I believe.

And as a transformed daughter of a risen God, I am ready for my life to mirror that.

He's Coming For Me

Do you ever have those days when you just lose hope?

You feel like you have no purpose, no motive. What are you working toward, really? You feel so beaten down, so stuck in a rut, so sick and tired of the mundane that you just don't want to go on.

That was my day today.

It was cloudy and humid. I'd just watched a horribly depressing video about death in anatomy class. I felt swamped with school and, though I needed to do the work, I didn't want to. Everything felt pointless. Meaningless. I felt like I had lost my hope.

During study hall, I left campus, feeling desperate. I pulled into Sonic, turned off my car, and moved my sit back as far as it would go. And, searching for something, some answer, some message of hope, I opened my Bible to a random page, praying that God would lead me somewhere in His Word.

I opened up to John 14, and skimmed a few verses before finding one that seemed to stick out to me.

"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." - John 14:18

I could feel in my spirit that it was important. It was something I needed to know. But, I couldn't quite tell what it meant yet. I still felt dejected. I still yearned for that hope.

Praying again that God would somehow make clear what He was trying to show me, I opened my Bible randomly once more.

"For who is our hope or joy or crown of exultation? Is it not even you, in the presence of our Lord Jesus at His coming?" - 1 Thessalonians 2:19

A sudden thought hit me like a plank of wood.

He's coming for me.

Jesus is coming for me.

My God is not going to leave me here, without hope, without cause, without purpose. He is coming for me.

What is my hope? My joy? My crown of exultation? He is coming for me!

Can you feel it!? The insurmountable joy that comes from this? Every day of our lives we have something to look forward to. We have a reason to live. We have a purpose.

It is the rock we build our lives on. The truth that we can stand on. The one thing in this world that was, is, and always will be certain.

Jesus is coming for us.

He will not leave us on this earth as orphans. He's coming.

I went back to school, having to reign in my spirit, because I wanted to shout it at the top of my lungs. I wanted to tell everyone I saw:

Do you know!? Have you heard!?

He's coming for me.

And He can come for you too.