her story

she was never
good enough.

she was reaching for something she could never achieve.
the best was only a step in the direction of perfection -
and though it was impossible
even as a little girl

she tried.
                       BUT

she was never
good enough.


jesus only loves the good enough, right?
performance
perfection
performance
perfection

but when a stick got stuck in the bicycle wheel
and the performanceperfection track

*hiccupped*

she felt like a failure.

she didn't just
feel
that way.

she
WAS
that way.

she knew God was holding the
big stick
and on the
big stick
was the word
PERFECT
and if she didn't achieve
PERFECT
she would feel the end of the
big stick.

plaster on the happy and go back to
performance
perfection
performance
perfection
performance
perfection.

because no one REALLY asked
when you plaster on the happy

no one REALLY cared
and didn't REALLY mean

"how are you?"

because people ALL
plaster on the happy
because they are deceived
and think
their own lives
are the only ones with the
plaster.

her life is better.
her life is better.
NO one feels the plaster cracking
we patch it up and keep it there.

her life is better
her life is better

then a friend who was jesus with skin on said

"you know He loves you when you do
NOTHING,
right?"

and her plaster started to soften.

"you know He loves you WITH all your
not good enough-ness,
right?"

her plaster began to melt.

"you know He wants you to come
AS YOU ARE,
right?"

her plaster fell off in pieces.
and the pieces made a

MESS.

but they belonged to
jesus.

and the journey belongs to
jesus.

so get out your hammer.
it's time to break some plaster.

For the honest...

The price is high.

No one
wants to
admit
to being
broken.

That would mean
transparency
reality
vulnerability

the heart beating
in an open chest
raw to
                        everyone.

It's messy being
real.

It's not pretty
or perfect
or put together
or "sitting in the pew and watching" worthy.

Admitting brokenness
means admitting
what we all know
AND NEVER SAY:

                  "I am a sinner."

Just like the thief
and the prostitute
and the drunk
and the addict
and the prisoner
and the gossip
and the lukewarm
and the liar
and the cheater
and the...{fill in awful sin here}.

WE ARE ALL THE SAME.

The level of sin deems
NO ONE
more worthy of His
grace.

Broken is what binds us
together.

Broken is what the cross
bled.

Broken is the honest true reckless dependence on no one but
the one who broke Himself to give us someone on which to depend.

Broken is the wayward tired lost prodigal's answer to too much
trying and heaving and prying and achieving.

Broken is admitting wrongdoing and sinning and horrible humanness
that leaves no one exempt from etermal damnation.

Broken is the promise of a journey that extends beyond the grave to a home
we can worship the one who washes the feet of the

broken.

I am broken.

And it is beautiful.

Remi

She spent her life chasing her father's love.

If she was good
(maybe he wouldn't put me in
      scalding water when I wet the bed).

If she was better
(maybe he wouldn't kick me
      OVER and OVER and OVER
           in the stomach with his boots).

If she was worthy of his love
(he wouldn't bust my lip or
            throw my brother through a wall or
                        hold my baby brother over
                               a burning stove).

If only her mother
            her brother
           
If only she

            could learn.

Her name is Nigerian for
        "God brought  goodwill to her father when she was born."

When she found out
what her name meant
she realized
(God is disappointed in me because
          I am not doing what He put me
                  on this earth to do:  bring goodwill to my
                           father).

She kept trying
tryingtryingtryingtryingtryingtrying
to make him happy.

She was running a crazy
crazycrazycrazycrazycrazycrazycrazy
race.

She isolated.
She allowed him to rule her.
She attempted safe.
(By myself I am safe from all other people in the world
               like my dad who would hurt me).

Then
God
brought
her
Jesus
with
skin
on.

This woman had something she wanted.
(I saw a light in her I didn't posses).

She
found
more
people
like
Jesus.

For the first time in her life
     (I was embraced by people who didn't expect anything
                 in return).

For the first time in her life
     (I was given love freely, I didn't have to work at all).

For the first time in her life
     (I began to allow love to affect me
                                             change me
                                             stretch who I
                 THOUGHT I WAS).

She didn't deserve it.
No one does.
God reached the deepest part of her
brokenness and said,
"This is my love for you.
I give it to you.
Freely embrace me as I embrace you."

She left her father's grip
and crawled in the hands of her Father.

Her name:
Zainabu OluRemi Adetula.

God will use her to bring goodwill
to the nations.

Emily

She was never
taught
how to pray.

Or if she was
she didn't
pay attention in
catechism.

She wasn't sure
how
to                 put               the                words
together.

She didn't even
really know
what prayer
was or did
or how it was said.

But when
her baby girls
struggled
for life

"She has a 20% chance of survival."

                  She had to dig deep.
                  She dug for the words and the wisdom.
                  But prayer is just a conversation.
                  A conversation she had with the Giver of all things.

Prayer was
WHAT SHE NEEDED.
Prayer was
POWER SHE NEEDED.

It strengthened her family.
It strengthened her soul.
It gave her gratitude.

The story continues
but she has hope,
faith in the little things
and the mysterious beauty
in our broken world.

Antonio

He watched
as his father
fell
several
stories
to save his family
from the fire.

He watched
him
crawl
to the firefighters.

He watched
his father
nurse
those injuries and
suffer.

He watched
as his father
his mother
his brothers
lost
themselves
in
the world.

                       So he lost himself in basketball.
                       So he hid and sheltered himself in the game.

He watched
a grown man
pull his daughter's arm.

"Never let a black boy open the door for you."

Only he didn't say
black boy.

He watched
a world that
judged by
the color of skin.

                       So he lost himself in basketball.
                       So he hid in the comfort of the stereotype.
                       So he gripped the flattery of the fame.
                      
He watched
the expectation
of his skin color
and hid in that
expectation.

For all his watching he did more hiding.

But he could not hide from
Him.

He had been watching him
ALL ALONG.

The Savior knew
                         why he lost himself in basketball.
The Savior understood
                         why he hid in the comfort of the stereotype.
The Savior cried
                         as he was judged by what he couldn't change.


It was undeserved - this love
this knowing, understanding, crying
    from the Savior.

But it is always undeserved - this love
this knowing, understanding, crying
    from the Savior.

That is why its beauty is such a gift to the
broken
undeserving
fallen
judged
hurting
lost.

It was his gift.

And now he gives it back -
to many just like him
                              who lose themselves
                              who hide
                              who are judged
                              who cry

Because those who are undeserving
tell BEST the story of the gift
of grace.

Amy

Once
there was a girl
who thanked God
for her eyes

             He provided surgery for her to see.

Once
there was a girl
who lived many places

             He helped her understand and adapt to change.

Once
there was a girl
who asked God
WHY?
Why my father?

             He restored, healed, renewed her in the midst of darkness and gave her hope.

This girl was
      seeking death and God provided a way out.

This girl needed
       someone to show her unconditional love
       and God gave her a friend.

This girl experienced
        danger with a man
        and God spared her the pain.

This girl desires
         lifetime love
         and God has His timing planned.

All of the ways this girl experienced God -
she was being prepared
to show another girl
or another
as He leads her beyond her wildest dreams
and prepares her home
so they can live
in a loving place where she can show how

                He restores, heals, renews in the midst of darkness and gives hope.

All she experienced
and continues to live and grow
she will pass
to the next generation
to those who need to hear
that

Now
there is a girl
whose broken beauty
will change
another girl's
Once upon a time.

Jeanne

When her daddy
left
she was devastated.

She was
too young
and pregnant
and married
at 17.

Co-dependent
and
learning to cope
it
didn't
work.

She was
too young
and married
again
at 19.

Speed
and
drinking
taught
her how to
fight.

Co-dependent
and
searching for love
it didn't
work.

Again.
and again.
and again.

As an adult
she reconciled
with her
daddy and
begain to
understand
unconditional
Fatherly
love.

But
men and
boats and
meth and
pain
continued.

It
just
didn't
work.

Because she was leaning on the wrong person.
Her dependency on others wouldn't solve
anything.

Her dependency on finding love wouldn't solve
anything.

When she found the Savior -
she found the love that was
everything.

And the Savior pointed her to
the man who loved Him
before her.

Which is the ONLY
way it works.

By
pointing
to
the
Savior.

And now
TOGETHER
they are loving
by pointing to
Him
and not depending on
each other.

When she found her
Daddy
she found
herself.