New Blog, New Beginnings

Hello there, faithful followers! I began a new blog where I will be updating everyone about the married life. However, that means I will be focussing significantly less attention on this blog. I hope you all will follow me and enjoy the new style as much, if not more than you did this one. 

simplymattandalyssa.blogspot.com 

God bless!

I'm Getting Married....WHAT.

I'm going to be someone's wife. Not just anyone. Matthew Bell's wife. THE Matthew Bell.

It usually doesn't hit me. But when it does...FFEJILFDJ. 

I get the whole: sleeping in the same bed, eating grilled cheese, seeing each other all the stinking time, thing. 

But the other dynamics; the "unspoken" dynamics of marriage and of being a godly wife. Not so much.

The: continuously exercising patience and self-control, always ready to forgive and believe the best in Matt, always encouraging and supporting even when I don't agree 100%, his family becoming my family and trying to figure out how to split holidays between the two, learning how to cook, pay bills, and manage my time effectively, being a family: just the two of us, making every decision together, trusting him when he gets home late, agreeing on finances, family issues, number of kids, and apartment colors, thing. 

In 50 days I will be a 20 year old wife. Nothing gets you started on the fast-road to adulthood like a marriage. 

I'm essentially going to be supporting a 27 year old man who worked in the corporate world for five years and has been on his own for about seven. How can I possibly be what he needs?

I eat cold leftovers and egg burritos on a regular basis. I fall asleep at 8pm on the couch every. single. night. I get worked up over just about anything that incites passion, and I can't manage to keep a clean room...much less house. 

But then I have to take a step back. Breathe. And remind myself:

I am exactly what Matt needs.

I will love him to the end of time because I know love is a choice, and one I have already made. I am funny (which I suppose is slightly debatable), but laughter is essential in a healthy marriage. I will stay up all night to work out even the smallest kink in our relationship. But most of all, God is my Helper and my Rock. Through Him, I can be the best wife for Matt. And that's really what it comes down to. It's no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me. And through His grace, I have something to offer this tremendous man of God, who I will, in 50 days, call husband. 

Praise God...I'm getting married! 

Blank Canvas

Thinking how CCM was much harder than life now, but in some ways much, much easier. Where I was handed outlines, and paint by numbers, I now am handed crisp white pages. For the first time I am faced head on with my future, without a full schedule to distract me. I suppose I live in a world where busy-ness and a full schedule equates purpose. Which brings me to every human's most asked and feared question: what is my purpose? CCM wasn't my purpose. It was there that I learned the medium and the message to voice my purpose. But still intact whether I am home, at CCM ,in Belize, married, single, rich, or poor, my purpose is and will always be my relationship with my Savior. 

Twenty years old and my life is a blank canvas. I no longer have school to hide behind. I am at the embryonic stages of beginning my own company with Amber. I contemplate going back to school-like food in the oven that's been taken out pre-maturely, how easy it would be to stick it back in a few more minutes, or in this case, years. 

Realizing that I am not on a summer break, that this "vacation", so to speak, is now my life and indefinite, is a very, very strange feeling. For once in my entire life I feel like I've been handed the canvas, or the clay, or the pen and paper, as I scramble to catch the words of the Author and copy them as accurately as I can onto the pages. 

Is this too big of a responsibility for a 20 year old? I guess being king at the same age was David's call, and a Prophet of God Jeremiah's call, and a mother of the Messiah, Mary's call. Perhaps my only real set back is society in this culture's day and age and the immensely low expectations they have on "kids." But I can't help but think, what if just because little Johnny doesn't have to stay home at ten years old to run the farm, and little Martha isn't being a stay at home wife at 13, society still expected a boy to become a man when he got his license, or graduated high school, or moved out of the house? I understand, well, the necessity of the season of trying to figure life out, where the shaky transition takes place. What I fear to excuse is the generationally impending age that we expect a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. What used to be 13 is now 27. And you still hear of 27 year old "boys" addicted to video games, still mooching off of mom and dad.

But anyway, I am getting off the point. 

Here I am: 20, on the brink of adult independence. For the most part, the Author tells me what to write. But sometimes His whisper gets choked out in a world of noise and I'm forced to seek Him more diligently. And other times He lets me make the choice on my own. 

Am I mature enough to uphold these lofty responsibilities? Society might say no- that I need more schooling, or a plaque on my wall to prove my ability and credibility. 
But obviously God has spoken otherwise.

So, forward I walk, unapologetically and unwavering, abiding in the shadow of the Faithful Guide, letting my lack of knowledge and numerous inabilities be my strength as dependence on Him takes over. I'm excited to see what is next for a God that delights in doing the impossible. 
For at His side, I too can partake in life at it's fullest. 

Psalm 24:3

I think admiration and pure indulgence of God's design is an act of worship.

This world was created to be explored, discovered, and admired. 

In the pieces of nature we find not only fragments of ourselves, but we uncover attributes of the Creator. 

I believe He leaves His footprints on all of His handiwork--

A water-splash, as if to say, "this is Mine. Enjoy it."

To be a Warrior Bride

to experience loss, deceit, and shame

and keep your heart pure all the same.

to uproot bitterness before it spreads-

and in labor and toil till sweat is shed.

to escape in riches man's tempting greed

to trust one man and let him lead

to raise a child in the way he should go

to give to watch another grow.

to make, and plant, and build, and teach

to give and welcome those called to reach.

to speak with boldness, a truth that dwells

with a heart of grace, and love that compels

to offer grace when it's been abused

to forgive again when it's been refused.

to hold the power to destroy man's strength

yet use it to empower, to go the length 

to be secure in whose she is 

despite the lies others hurl and hiss

to battle in prayer when no one sees

to battle for souls down on her knees. 

to wait patiently for season pass

to remain rooted like the trees

and in the storm that scares the mass

she holds an inner peace.

to love and loss and love again

and refrain from losing zeal

to fail, to hurt, to give in to sin

to repent and learn to heal.

to conquer giants in Jesus' name

to serve by washing feet

to lower herself to Him proclaim

for her Lover she'll one day meet.

to search the Word and all it says

and live a life that shows

to learn to love and offer life

without flaunting what she knows.

to dwell in the House where glory's shower

early to rise and reside

to be a woman of gentle and power

is to be a Warrior Bride.

Dedicated to three beautiful women I am blessed to know.

Elena Giordano

Emily Walden

and Nicky Pilkerton

inspired by Scripture and "If" by Rupyard Kipling. 

Grace Abounds

as the sun slips beneath the earth

a fiery sphere too bold to see

i'm reminded if the Father's Grace

could possibly be enough for me.

eternity spans in the length of His arms

a Truth I dare not question its power

perhaps this heart, so wretched, so sick

doth know the sacred, golden hour.

Rebel

Got a Canon Rebel t3i for my 20th birthday.

I think we suit each other pretty well.

Hebrews 10:23

Blessed.

Marriage of the Lamb

"Child, I cannot put my ring on your finger until you have taken the world's ring off of yours. You are holding on to promises of this life. Promises of beauty, of being known, of being loved, of your dreams. There is no room for Me."

When our love for the Lord is mad passionate extraordinary, as strong as death, nothing else in this world matters. Because when you love something so completely that you have put everything, every hope you have in this man, trusting that He will catch you when you fall  and if He doesn't, man you are done for, everything else is just peripheral. Every thing else fades in the background of the altar when you are staring into the eyes of the Man of your Dreams.

When He looks you in the eyes on that Wedding day, where will your eyes be? At the car y'all are taking, at the men of your past in the pews, at the ocean behind you, or into His eyes? Because when you look someone dead center in the eyes, you get lost. That's the love Christ died for-- Not some, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength" prayer we lift up when we need Him to come through, so we can keep living in our comfortable lives blending in with the rest of the World. If the world cannot tell that you are Spoken for by the way you live your life, then what does your Husband have to say about that on your Wedding day? You say Beloved can I trust you with these dreams of mine? His response, "My dear, can I trust you with Mine?" Can He trust you with His life? Because that's what He gave for your hand. 

Are the things you are living for worth what Christ died for? 

God, change my heart to beat with yours! My desires do not reflect yours! Make them the same! I refuse to spend my days desensitizing my heart to the Father's love with the mindless media I take in, the idle chatter I partake in, and the worry I allow to consume my mind! I will spend my days cultivating the garden you planted in my heart, mending our broken relationship, and filling myself with Truth of my Beloved's faint but ever-present whisper. 

References:

Song of Solomon 8:5-8

Revelation 2:4-5

The Dance

I'm sitting in a garden, and I am wearing a red vintage dress, pearls, white gloves, and my hair is in a beautiful up-do with makeup suitable for a ball (in my mind resembling the enchanting Audrey Hepburn). I am sitting at an outdoor breakfast nook, and across from me is Jesus. Strong, inviting, handsome; he is everything I ever hoped He would be and more. We are enjoying each others presence, mostly in silence, because those are some of our most precious times together. He knows what I am feeling. We are drinking cold milk from fine china and enjoying freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The garden is lovely.

But our direction is not faced towards each other, rather side by side, scoping the horizon. For on the other side of the garden lies a vast expansive field. I can see movement in the distance of a girl in a white dress. She is dancing.

The peculiar thing about this girl is that though the atmosphere around her is in constant changing motion, her motions remain unaltared.

The sun rise kisses the earth, embracing the girl with the light of day. But almost as if caught in a time lapse of the impending seasons, she is greeted with every variation of atmosphere beneath the horizon. Piercing rain and stark lightning slice the sky, swiftly transitioning to a cold, blistering wind violently sweeping across the field. I quickly look to the girls face, who to my utter disbelief, has remained wholly untainted by the weather changes. In fact, as the death of winter sweeps over and the new life of spring emerges, she opens her eyes for only a moment to pick a freshly bloomed dandelion, smell it, and continue her dance without missing a step of her inimitably choreographed performance.

I stretched to take a closer glance at this girl, astounded by her grace and perseverance, only to be welcomed by an all too familiar face. That girl was me. And I was watching her on the other side of eternity. 

I looked beside me to see Jesus with a huge grin on his face. His eyes were closed and hands out, as if He was leading someone in a waltz of some sort. 

It was me He was dancing with.

The reason I had gone forth unfazed by life's storms was because I held the assurance that I had not been dancing alone.

In fact, not a second had gone by: rain, snow, sunshine, wind, that I had ever danced alone.

The House of God

The Lord is my shepherd. I lack nothing. 

So once again, time has slipped inevitably and swiftly through my fingers without my consent. 2012. Twenty years ago I was brought mercifully into this world--to bring more than a name, more than a number to the earth's population. And here I sit, twenty years later, wondering, dreaming up my next steps. Time is fleeting. A year and a half ago I took my first step onto the Teen Mania campus, fresh out of high school, scared and unexpectant of what the next two years would hold. 

 
He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. 

  

Four days ago, last thursday we got a phone call that my great grandmother had a heart attack. Several hours later we received word that she had passed. I have known her for 20 years. Five generations. Now, we move up the line to honorably take our place in the hierarchy of generations. So many thoughts left untended. 

 
He guides me along the right paths for His name sake. 

Where has the time gone? A cliche even I cannot escape. But more importantly, what's next? A year ago Belize wasn't even a word in our vocabulary. Now we are taking our second trip there to visit my brother who has made it his temporary residence. It only confirms the vastness of possibility for this coming year. Aside from the "confirmed" end of the world via Jesus' Second Return or the Apocalypse, I am anxious to see how God chooses to mold this lump of time. This time next year--will I be living at home in Celina? Living at home in Belize? Touring the world as a Missionary? There is no telling at this point, and that truth can either terrify me to a point of paralyzation or excite me to no end.  

 
For though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.  

I choose trust. I choose excitement. I choose to live. I choose to thrive. I choose

contentment. I choose to love. 

For You are with me, Your rod and your staff they comfort me. 

I choose peace. I choose surrender. I choose courage.

 
For surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life. 

I choose His will--not my own.

 
And I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Mrs. Christ

Mrs. Christ. Sounds almost blasphemous doesn't it? Sort of has a ring to it, oh but it comes with too high a cost, too much responsibility, too many thoughts left for tending.

Perhaps then, we see it better if we call it something else entirely. Something less. For the connotations of Mrs. Christ dare not digress in time, to anything less than all the name initially implied.

So we reduce responsibility, lose the name, develop some form of routine, one that requires a mere weekly attendance, one that promises not to spill into the rest of our lives, leaving room for Sunday afternoon football, and every where in between to fill with as much as we can squeeze. Because in America, busyness equals success, does it not? Between driving kids to soccer practice, keeping the house in order, cramming for exams, applying for med school, babysitting the little brother, working 9-5, and a little bit of down time, we are doing good to add to the attendance of Sunday morning's service. Oh, but the preacher tried to cram two sermons into one this week, and the person to the right of me keeps staring at the time and I can't help but take a peek for myself and shake my head as my day off ticks away. Not to mention the praise team has had noticeably less rehearsal time this morning, and the bass guitarist is yawning about four minutes into the "slow" song of the morning. I'm dozing off but somehow miraculously gain back any depleted energy as soon as the ending prayer is tied together with an amen.


Please don't get me wrong, I love church. In fact, I would have to be self-destructive if I didn't. I am the church. WE are the church. The above paragraphs were not written to destruct the heart or even structure of the way the general American church is operated. It was a simple attempt to shed some light on what an outside perspective looking in might deem as utterly ridiculous.

What if we as the church began calling ourselves Mrs. Christ? Bear with me for a second as I take you on a hypothetical journey.

What if instead of waiting for the worship leader to lead us into worship, we went willingly and ready, because we already had a week to prepare ourselves to enter the Presence of God? What if instead of the worship leader focusing on a performance and a strategy that will hopefully lead the church into worship, the worship leader just focused on worshiping himself?

What if instead of waiting to be fed by the pastor, grasping for something sustaining, for the weeks are long and the Bread he offers only takes us so far, leaving us Spiritually dry by about Monday afternoon, we fed ourselves and were simply edified and encouraged by the truths the preacher confirms Sunday morning?

What if instead of holding fast to old tradition, clinging possessively to our elite small groups, asking ourselves what the kid with the tattoos that smelled like pot was doing in the back row, instead approached him with open arms and an extended invite to bring all of his friends?

What if the church was not just the building, or the band, or the preacher.  

What if the church was the people? 

And what if those people really were the Bride of Christ? 

What if Jesus was serious when He said He was coming back for a Pure Bride; that He really was preparing for us a room?

What if we weighed the costs and low and behold discovered the cost was worth it. 

What then?

Could we, as one Body, by the grace, and for the glory of our Savior, rise up essentially as Mrs. Christ?

What then? 

 Revelation 19:7-8, “For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and His Bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean was given her to wear." 

”I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name's sake and have not become weary.

Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love.

Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lamp-stand from its place — unless you repent.” 

Revelation 2:2-5

Yesterday's Manna

A thought came to me this morning during my time with the Lord: I cannot feed today on yesterday's manna. I realize that I am often guilty of this concept. When I am doing well, when I have prayed a good prayer, read some good verses, did a good deed, I tend to coast on my "Christian successes" and cut myself slack in other areas. But this, in effect, is somehow in someway an attempt to justify or earn my right standing with Christ. I am trying to deserve my salvation or grace with my own feeble efforts. As if what I have to offer is really enough to justify anything more than hell itself.

When I get to the place where I begin relying on my own strength, I will be fine for a while.

I need God's grace like I need air. Without it, I will be under the false pretenses that I am actually okay, until my deficiency kicks in. I can coast on my self-dependancy until my own strength eventually runs-out. But once it does, I am once again grasping for something sustaining, because my ability to escape sin was merely reliant on my own capabilities. 

I had another thought the other day that may have been a bench mark to putting my doubts into perspective. Either God is real or He isn't. There is no floating around in some obscure space. If I am going to believe He is real, then I better start living like He is real. That includes not just taking His Promises at face value. 

Either God is fully alive or He is nothing at all. There are too many self-proclaimed agnostics in this world. As if not knowing anything would somehow equate knowing something. As if teetering between two concepts or straddling two roads would somehow end in the same destination. I do this with myself. I question one aspect of God but claim to believe another. Either His Word is All powerful and all Truth or it is a complete and useless lies. To claim portions of God's Word and reject the rest is to spit in the face of God's sovereignty and credibility. 

May His Truth be presented unperverted and uncompromised in the hands it was carefully selected for, the church. May Christ return to a pure and untampered bride, proclaiming forth an uncorrupted and sharpened sword. 

Good Things Come

It had been a long, hard season. 

The crops were fickle and needed a lot of tending. Aside from that, the lands were vast this year, and we had been in a drought for months. Sometimes, when doubt overwhelmed me, I would question if my meager efforts would really pay off, or if the seed was incapable of producing fruit with such unfavorable conditions.

But today was unlike any other.I was awakened by the pitter patter of wet substance slapping the window pane. 

Sure enough, the dry and barren soil was submerged in a layer of "fertilizer." 

I was so engaged in the miracle, I didn't hear Papa come up behind me.

 "What do we do now?" I asked still staring in disbelief.

His answer was unsatisfying and reassuring all together, like the cool, piercing breeze that just swept over.  He smiled the smile of a proud farmer, who had finally smelt the harvest he had been sewing for a long season…

"We wait."

I believe the life of a Christ follower parallels the life of a devout farmer. There are three seasons that take place, continuously and devotedly.

1. The working season

2. The waiting season

3. Partaking of the harvest

I think many expect immediate reward after hard work. What they don't realize is it takes a lot more than our feeble hands to produce something worthy of a harvest. Like a farmer after months of intense labor, we are often called to a season of waiting before we are able to see the fruit of our efforts. It's through time, rain, and intense heat that produces the lasting crop.

During the waiting season it tends to rain a lot, but if you have been a farmer for long, you know this is a good thing, because it is grounds for producing the greatest growth. 

I am nearing the end of an arduous and labor-some season, and Papa's words keep ringing in my ears,

"Good things come to those who wait."

Simplicity

I found a cozy field near a cow pasture just outside CCM. I have been sneaking off to have my quiet times there. Dates with my Maker.

 The other day I brought paints and a canvas. Sometimes I journal; other times I just watch the cows graze and find peace in the simplicity of their life style. 

 

 I am learning about a joy not circumstance based,

a love unconditional,

an inner strength that thrives in outward weakness,

and a peace amidst the raging storm.

He is shaping me into the woman He created me to be.

"God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the hearts of man." 

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Deep Cries Out To Deep

"Who Is this who comes up from the Wilderness leaning upon her Beloved?" 

Song of Solomon 8:5

"Come away with me," the whisper was faint and overpowered by the noises around me, but so deep I felt it nudge the core of my spirit. "Why would I want to go away? Everything is fine where we are."  A thousand voices flooded my ears in that moment. I quickly became angry. "My family is here. My friends are here. My LIFE is here. No, I won't come away with you." The thoughts were half my own, the other half almost delivered to me like a baby being spoon fed its mashed carrots. Reluctant at first, I eventually gave in to the impending pressure of emotion rushing over me. First confusion, then frustration. "Who does He think He is? Requiring such an imposition on my behalf? What happened to 'I have plans to prosper you?' and 'I will give you the desires of your heart?'"

The thoughts were foreign to me at first. Absurd sounding in my own ears. The second voice came quieter than before, like a vapor that had faded into the vast expanse of atmosphere, creating but a wind chime ringing in my ears. "Come. I have something to show you."  Fear overwhelmed me in that moment as I considered the costs of his request. "NO." An eerie shriek rung violently in my head, much louder than the voices before. "You can't be trusted." Ah, were those words really my own? Even I felt the sting of the harsh exchange. I thought about it for a moment then resolved that it was all my imagination. Questions such as those would be reserved for the stronger leaders; those like Moses, David, Paul, Winston Churchill, Elizabeth Elliot, Francis Chan. Not me. An average, modern, American girl.

Which has me wondering if my response had been different, would I still be here now, having just spent the past months of my life lost in the wilderness, thirsty for water, hungry for food, desperate for some relief? Psalm 42:7 says as deep cries out to deep. I was a deer panting for the water brooks. I guess the only way to make a deer thirsty is to remove its original source of water. Take away the streams it worshiped. You said come to me you who are thirsty, weary, and heavy burdened. But I was reluctant that you could really be enough. 

One day soon I will peer the horizon from the mountaintops, seeing all I just came from, leaving me speechless that I was able to survive it. I was peering over the edge of a high mountain, only this time I was not alone. There was a thick and tangible presence encompassing me. I could not quite pinpoint the exact moment it appeared, but once it had, I could no longer remember or envision life without it.

The walk has been arduous. Painful. Tiresome. The Lord has taken me into the wilderness, away from the world, apart from my friends and family and the life I grew to idolize, to show me His heart. He couldn't do it in the world. No. The voices were too overpowering for His soft whisper. He brought me into the wilderness to make me unshakable. I had just come from slavery and was not yet ready to enter the Promised land. There had to be transition. A season of preparation to my new found freedom. I never dreamed of the heights I would reach, but it was only because of the depths I experienced with him.

So when you ask, "Who is this who comes up from the wilderness, leaning upon her Beloved? There under the apple tree I awakened you,"

You will know.

Disclaimor: Radical

 Today I was shaken by a message from God. The wording is a little messy, and my thoughts are a little scattered, but I felt a sense of urgency in sharing the convictions the Lord has placed so graciously and firmly on my heart. I am posting a disclaimer to anyone who desires to live a comfortable, Christian life. The more God reveals to me, the more I realize how much of a paradox that statement really is.

 God I want to know you.

I want God's plans if God's plans are what I want.
Jesus, I will do what it takes if what it takes is not too much.
I will speak on a stage to thousands of teens.
I will move to Hollywood to reach the lost.
I will write a dozen books about your love.
But what are the lengths I am willing to go?
I will marry a strong Christian man,
and raise two Christian children in church.
I will serve in my community and volunteer for different ministries.
I will adopt a little Chinese girl and even name her Amariah-gift from God.
I will go on Mission trips instead of vacations.
I will buy a meal for the homeless man on the street.
But what are the lengths I am willing to go?
Sure God, I will do your will.
But only if the cost is cheap, the road is easy, and the reward is great.
Of course God, I will follow you.
But only if it veers not far from the path I have already set out for my life.







 His response left me breathless. 


My child,
Will you follow me when the way is tough?
Will you follow me when the load gets heavy?
Will you follow me when the cost is great? Devastating?
Will you follow me if it requires a life of celibacy and a barren womb?
Will you follow me if it leads to persecution?
Will you follow me if your highest calling is the burning steak?
Will you follow me if it means not coming back?


Do you still want to know me?

Luke 9:23,24
Then He said to them all, if anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.

Luke 14:33
Unless you give up everything you own. You cannot become my disciple.

Dear Hollywood

 Somewhere down the line

We bought the devil’s lie

That we are broken beyond repair.

All she wanted was to be known.

But she gave her life up for the throne,

And everything she called her own.

She began pursuit of poise and fame

To bring herself a better name

But somehow ended up alone.

She gave it all for too small a cost

Seeking after all she’d lost

Not knowing how much she’d have to pay

She sacrificed her life her will,

For beauty, men, and dollar bills,

How quickly black does fade to grey.

Lost and broken, torn apart

They covered scars and called it art.

Was this the place of no return?

They took advantage and stripped away

Knowing what she’d have to pay-

As they all watched her burn.

Hollywood-God’s got a plan

Bigger than some one night stand

Or a drug that cannot fill

Forget all that you’ve been told

And trade your glitter for the gold

If you’ll just fight for something real

Hollywood-you hold the key

If you will simply bow your knee

And make known a name for a King

Hollywood-you’ll make it far

On more than just a fancy car

Or an empty diamond ring.

You’ve traded commitment for a fling

And wondered why you felt the sting

Of emptiness and pain

You’ve searched so long for something more

Than what you had to bargain for

And all you had to gain

Were empty bottles and broken dreams

Thinking you could seal the seams

With one enticing plea.

Oh Hollywood-when will you see

What it means to be truly free?