Sit Still Look Pretty

I am a passionate soul. I think when God created me and blew life and breath into my bones he might have added a little bit of fire.  My poor parents.  I can imagine that trying to raise a girl with all this fire, passion and emotion felt impossible more than once.  Bless them and all of the grey hairs and sleepless nights I gave them.

Now that I am an adult, doing adult things, I have come to realize that this emotion, this passion, has allowed me to survive.  It has brought me through single parenthood, addictions, dire times, abuse and through extreme depression. Somehow God turned all that into good and fueled the flame that he placed inside me, even when I wasn't seeking him.

There are so many people in my life that do not share my exuberant passion.  They are more of a straight and narrow stay on the safe path of life people.  Bless them all.  We cannot all be the same.  There have to be all kinds of people, otherwise the world would either be very dangerous and wild or very quiet and boring.  We are made unique for a reason.

This week I get to do something that I was made to do.  I get to be free. I get to be me.  I get to stand in front of a room of women and lead them in worship and prayer.  I get to take my passion and infuse it into their sweet souls.  I get to lead them into the throne room, what an incredible honor.  Each week on Sunday mornings I stand before a group of people and play a role in leading them in worship but it is a bit different. I have to stay in a safe box. I can't talk out of turn. I can't sing a praise song at the time there was supposed to be a hymn. I can't raise my hands a certain way or even have a posture of prayer on stage because that would shock the masses.  Everything has to look and feel the same every weekend and that is one tall order for this free spirit.

This morning, after a night of practicing for Imperfectly Brave Worship Night (that's this Thursday) I was overcome by emotion. Last night I was so free.  I was comfortable in my own skin, I was beautifully functioning as the fiery passionate little daughter that my good Father made me to be.  I didn't have to fit into a mold, I raised my hands freely and bowed my head while I sang.  I was overcome with my Fathers love in song.  It was beautiful.

Earlier this week someone who means so much to me used my passion against me and it really hurt.  I closed up immediately and shut down.  Last night I was set free, reminded that I was not made to fit into your mold, her mold, his mold, their mold.  I am not a sit still look pretty girl.  I am filled to the brim with fire and love, mixed in with extreme compassion and grace all granted to me through my relationship with the Savior of my soul.  God will call me to function within his plan for me. I cannot be a robot, I cannot look like you and you should not look like me.  You are called to be you, to chase after Jesus in the way he calls you to.  I am called to love passionately, to go do, to pour into people and bring grace to them in all the ways I can. We are all called to worship, to love well, and to be the hands and feet of Jesus in obedience to his word. I may do that with the passion of 1,000 suns, you may do that in a more reserved way, but let's both decide to do it anyways.

I am learning to embrace my passion, maybe even reign it in at times in order to also appreciate the way others do things too.  Thursday night this Cinderella will break free from the walls of this tower and step out free from the shackles that are placed on her by the world around her. God will fulfill a need in her in that place, that time that only he can.  Then she will go back to her call to obedience trying to bloom where she was planted.

I hope this week you allow someone to bloom in your presence, maybe just maybe, you will catch their fire.

"And let us consider how we many spur one another on toward love and good deeds..."
Hebrews 10:24

Much Love,

Chrystan

PS- This song nails it not in the context of a relationship for me but in the context of being free to be who I am where I am.

"Sure I'm a pretty girl up in a pretty world, but they say pretty hurts and
I don't wanna sit still look pretty..."

Underneath

It is officially winter on Ferrell Farms.  The sky is deary, the days are short, it's cold and there is snow.  Let me peel back a layer of myself and tell you I despise winter.  It is just all the things.  I don't like being cold, I can't drive in winter weather due to a car vs black ice situation that could have ended my life and I have seasonal depression so there's that. WINTER, yuck.  However, I have seen some beautiful things around me this winter that called me outside with the little's this weekend.

There was white snow on the ground around the farm this week and it has been so pretty to look at.  Except that under snow there was mud.  Nasty, dirty icky mud.  The ground was so saturated that my boots were sinking down into the mud.  Which left the snow dirty and my boots (and little boys) filthy.

The last few years I have been all in and committed to transparency.  I don't want any woman to begin talking to me, hear me speak or read my blog and think she just has it all together. I always want you to be reminded that I am a hot mess.  There is no perfection in the lines of these words.  I am 100% washed in the grace and blood of Jesus and that is the only way this hot mess steps one foot in front of the other most days.  So, I have a group of women (my prayer group that is now a part of the Imperfectly Brave movement, you can join in too!) that I am nothing but 100% real with.  This week they literally heard me talk about how I have felt so out of sync with God these last two weeks.  I told them all the yucky places while they all sat around my farmhouse table and nodded their heads.  Their pointing fingers were down, they were judgement free and they let me say all the things.  Then they prayed with me. I cry with them I laugh with them and we are so real.  From that group I have realized we just need to be so very real with each other. If we walk in perfection, there is no room for Jesus.  If I act like I've got this all under control then I can't show you that it is only through Christ that I am even keeping my head a float.

Under the snow, was the mud.  But the mud reminded me that there is life, real true growing life under there.  Snow is the precipitation that keeps our ground watered and prepared for the planting and the harvest.  The mud holds that all together till the harvest comes.  There is beauty in each role, the snow, the mud, the yucky of it all holds a beautiful picture in the end.  I want to present Jesus in a good light, I want to be washed white and I am, but then I get muddy again and there is grace.  Wash, rinse and repeat.  Perfection only takes away from the beauty of grace, and ladies grace is where it's at.  May I always be reminded of the hot mess that Jesus loves so fiercely he gave his life away for all the mess to be washed in the blood and remade into a beautiful daughter of the most high King.

I took my eyes off the prize last week and in my transparency I found it all again. In my weakness he stayed strong, sought me out and brought me back. It's not different for you sweet girl.  You can be real, there are people out there that need you to show the imperfection to see the work that the Lord has done and is doing.  May we all find grace in the muddy places, for the harvest will be plentiful.

Much Love,
Chrystan