“Anyone who will not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it…” What would it actually be like to receive from God with a child-like heart—simply having open hands, without a thought of paying back anything you’ve been given? As much as I would like to think that I trust God with that kind of dependence, honestly, most of the time I’m probably more like the rich young ruler…

Somewhere along the lines, in my zeal to live out my calling, I started believing that if I just tried hard enough, if I just gave more of myself, I could save everyone. But if even the best superheroes can’t save everybody, why did I expect that of myself?

Maybe, for the first time in twelve years, as she came forward trembling, this unnamed woman felt seen. Seen not through the eyes of someone who would identify her by her illness, seen not as someone who was simply a burden who had to be taken care of, seen not for her potential or dis-potential, but truly…seen. Being healed of her disease was a beautiful gift, but that alone was not what freed her from being a burden, or being the one who pushes through…

Mary did you know — or even have a thought — about all that would happen to you as a result of saying “yes” to God? Was it worth the shame of others spreading rumors and lies about the core of who you are? Was your “yes” worth all of this?

People often tell me they admire how I’m unashamedly my weird self and don’t care what others think of me. But if you could see into my mind, you’d see that it’s a constant fight. My counselor calls it a people-pleasing addiction.

If you feel surrounded as if arrows are pointed at you from all sides, remember who the enemy is, and who the enemy is not. As followers of Jesus, we are targets of the enemy. But Jesus stands and takes every arrow in our place. Let him.

What if, instead of still trying to pull myself up by my own bootstraps over and over and over again in an attempt to prove who I am to everyone (including myself) — what if I just admitted to Jesus I was powerless, and asked him for help?

It’s crazy how easily I forget that Jesus is in the boat with me - even through the countless times he’s stilled storms and calmed me, I find myself asking him again..

Goal setting (insert eyeroll) : it’s like opportunities become a threatening giant and I feel smaller than David with what seems like even less faith than he had. The risk seems far too high for chasing dreams to actually be worth it.

I had never really considered myself an anxious person before, but one day I went on a walk with Jesus by a mountain stream. He told me he had a gift to give me. Curious, I asked what it was.

We were about to leave the coffeehouse when they came over to the table in front of our couch and asked if they could use it. “What are you guys planning to talk about?” *Looking back and forth at each other* “Witchcraft. We study it.”

Confession: I wasn’t excited about releasing my new EP until last night. My old friend comparison decided to pay a visit the past few weeks. Insecurity joined the party, and soon it was all-out chaos. What if I could return to that place when I was just a child, before comparison and insecurity had stolen my innocence?

I started running into this 60 year old man everywhere I went. It wasn’t just at the same place, or at the same time on the same day...it was random places at random times. And he wasn’t stalking me - he’d already be there, then I’d show up. So if anything, I was stalking him (but I wasn’t, I swear).

I used to think that it was selfish of God to demand our praise. But when my eyes are fixed on him, I forget about myself and my selfish desires, and I recognize him as the highest good and the source of all good. How is it selfish to point others to the source of all good?

I feel like I got hit by an 80,000 pound truck…oh wait. I did. It was 0% my fault, but my immediate reaction was shame. How could I have let this happen? What will people think of me? I felt paralyzed, trying to figure out what had just occurred, unwilling to believe what I didn’t want it to be.

Easter used to be my favorite day of the year. But somewhere along the lines, the magic of the special day lost its luster. The impossibility of the miracle became commonplace, and my awe disappeared.

On the second day of recording vocals, I ran away. I ran away because I kept hearing over and over, “You’re not good enough. No one will actually want to listen to your music. You think God would really call you to do this?”