UPDATE -- We have moved!!

I want to thank you all so much for being committed to this blog, subscribing and supporting me! I've decided to make Confessions of Adulthood bigger, better, broader -- by moving URLs and creating somewhat of a lifestyle blog.

Introducing... Pour + Overflow!

Pour + Overflow is new for me and still very much "in the process." I will be posting Confessions on that site from here on out, so click on the graphic above to check it out! All of the posts from this blog have been transferred to that site as well -- but if you are a "member" of this site, you'll need to rejoin Pour + Overflow as your subscription did not transfer over.

Your support means the world to me. Let's see where Pour + Overflow will take us!

Confession #19: What are you waiting for?

This post scares me. I was nervous to write it, to say the wrong thing and incorrectly convey my true meaning. I was hesitant to publish something so controversial but it's been stirring in my mind for a week now and it's time to let it out.

My favorite way of learning about my Lord is through the wonderful community I've built here in Missouri. Watching my brothers and sisters grow in their own faith, seeing their struggles and learning from their successes and failures. Learning about God's commitment to our happiness, His sovereignty and abundant grace through the wisdom of those I love most. What an awesome God He is for allowing me to be a part of each of these precious lives.

Over the past few weeks, I've heard about people "waiting on the Lord" -- a phrase I've heard many times before. Waiting for an answer, waiting for affirmation, waiting for a green light. Practical, right? After all, He is our Father and He has plans for us that exceed anything we could ever have for ourselves. But I think there's a bit of a grey area in this concept that is often ignored.

There is a fine line between waiting on the Lord to move and waiting on the Lord to move for you.

There's no doubt in my mind that the Lord moves various components of our lives around on a regular basis. As I've said before, He knows us better than anyone else. He wove our hearts together Himself and knew us by name before we were even a thought on this Earth. To move ahead in life before consulting the One who makes all things work together for your good is a silly concept. Proverbs 3:5 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding."

But I do believe that there is such thing as too much of a good thing.

There is a fine line between waiting on an answer and waiting for the job to be done for you.

Imagine you're in a relationship with someone. The two of you have been dating for a while but things are starting to get complicated and you aren't sure you want to continue the relationship. You decide to talk to your father about how to handle the situation. He provides some great advice and explains his reasoning, but gives you the free will to handle the situation accordingly.

After that conversation with your father, you have two options. You can get out of that chair and take action in the situation yourself, keeping your father's advice in mind. Or you can remain stagnant in that empty room of confusion, waiting for your father to break up with your boy/girlfriend for you.

It's so easy to fall into the trap of a standstill. To sit in a wooden chair in the spacious room of your faith and wait for God to walk to you. To say, "Alright, God. I'm here waiting. Just let me know when you figure out what to do next and then I'll start to move again." To be still to the point of stagnant and static complacency and little growth.

One of the most beautiful parts of Christianity, in my opinion, is the gift of free will. The fact that THE Creator of this universe wanted me to have the ability to make decisions -- both right and wrong. He knew that I would slip up and take a heap of missteps and end up on some path in the middle of nowhere because I thought my plan was greater than His. He knew that struggles would come and go, yet God trusted me with free will anyway. He doesn't want us to be mindless robots, sitting in a chair, waiting for an answer on a silver platter before we even think to make a step in any direction.

Our Daddy has given us commandments. He's given us parables, Old and New testaments, and an abundance of resources through Him and His people for advice and guidance in this world. We are equipped with the resources to act on the free will we are given and live life. It's a massive jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing and torn edges and who knows where the original box went. But God isn't going to put that puzzle together for you. That's your job -- but He is always there to help.

There are a lot of "character roles" that God fits into in my life, but one of the biggest and most prominent is the role of a mentor and teacher. God teaches me about morality, about purity and selflessness and grace and love. He gives me books to read and homework passages and little life quizzes here and there with a decent amount of huge tests thrown in. I'm entrusted with these resources so that I can learn about His magnificence and love Him even more. Sure, I'm bound to make mistakes in the curriculum. I get questions wrong and misinterpret scripture and forget important commands and end up straying from His plan for my life. But that's life. That's free will. That's what we're given through the grace of God because He loves us that much. He lets us make mistakes and stumble and fall so that He can pick us right back up again and point us in the right direction. But no matter how much pointing God's hand does in your life, YOU are the one that has to put one foot in front of the other and move.

I don't mean to say that every decision you make through free will is going to end up in catastrophe. There are some amazing things that have happened in my life that have been a product of both God's wisdom and my choices. My free will is a reflection of His teaching, of His presence in my life and my own ability to trust in Him. It's a combination of all sides that ends up working together for our good because the Alpha and Omega is in control.

On the other hand, remaining seated in the chair of indecision and fear will paralyze you in the end. In my mind, that stagnant state of being is a sign of avoiding struggle. When I'm scared to make a mistake, when I'm scared to do the wrong thing and end up moving the wrong direction, I often put my faith on pause and wait on the Lord -- but in the wrong way. I sit in that same empty room of confusion and wait for God to come make the move for me.

I know that He can do it better than I ever could, so why should I even try?

Romans 5:3-5 says, "More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured onto our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

Free will provides us an opportunity of growth and learning in order to dive deeper in our relationship with Christ. By failing, we succeed. It seems backward at first, but think about it. If our free will always worked out perfectly 100% of the time, what would be the point of this faith? What would happen to God's role in our lives if we never struggled, never stumbled, never fell short?

Stop waiting for the Lord to get the job done for you. Stop sitting stagnant in that chair, in that big empty room. It's empty. There's nothing there for you. Take action, seek the Lord. You will fail Him, I can promise you that -- but He is prepared for your shortcomings. That's one of the reasons He loves you so much! He knows that, through those struggles, you will grow closer to Him and trust Him even more.

Confession #18: I need to see Your blueprint.

If you've ever seen the "Shoot Christians Say" YouTube video by Tripp and Tyler, you recognize the cliche phrase, "I'm just such a words guy." Well I'm definitely a words girl. I don't know if it's my journalist coming out, or if it's part of being such a right brain. Regardless, it's been that way for years now. And when I get into emotional ruts, and I can't seem to put my own thoughts into words, I look for someone else to do the job for me. I google quotes. Lame, I know, but it's my "thing" -- it's my go-to.

Sunday night, I attended small group with a few of my friends from Veritas. We're studying Don't Waste Your Life by John Piper (which has introduced even more stress into my life as I question what the heck I'm doing when I graduate in three years -- but that's a topic for another day). One of the study questions our leaders asked was whether we considered ourselves logical or emotional. Everyone in the room unanimously agreed that I fit into the emotional category. I couldn't complain, though, because they were right. I am an emotional person. On a deeper level, the how's and why's of that character feature are confusing and complex. But, simply put, I am emotionally-driven, and it's obvious to anyone who spends any amount of time in my presence.

After that question, I started wondering whether me being emotional is a good or bad thing. That sounds like an awful thing to question, and I don't mean that I'm looking to change that quality. I don't think I ever could, even if I wanted to. But there are pros and cons that go along with being emotional. My inability to cope with disappointment is a con, while the tangible love I have for the people in my life is a plus. I could go on and on with this list. But over the past 48 hours, I've been hammering my brain with negatives. How being emotional has caused me more stress than necessary, especially recently. How being emotional has caused me heartbreak in an instant. How being emotional drives me to dive into relationships with people quickly and heavily and I'm left feeling empty when that leap of faith isn't returned.

Today, I am in one of those emotional ruts where I need someone else's words to explain my thoughts. So, like many times before, C.S. Lewis was there to untangle my mess of a mind.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

According to C.S. Lewis, God is building His home in my heart. He's restructuring the floor plan and knocking down some walls and painting a ceiling or two. He's deep-cleaning the dirty kitchen and tearing up the stained carpet. He's taking out all of that filth, all of that rust, all of that sin, and He's replacing it with beautiful color palettes and modern fixtures. I can't imagine anything else making my heart so homey besides the presence of the Holy Spirit. And that's a beautiful revelation.

But I don't understand why each of these individual changes are happening. When does he want to knock down that wall? Why does he want to replace that window? What's he going to do with the new flooring? What's the purpose for all of this?

I look at the blueprint for my Heart House as an illustration of my inner-most traits. But there's a disconnect between where I see the plan going and what God intends to do with it -- which is expected! Ephesians 3:20 tells us that God "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." After all, who are we to assume that God's plan doesn't amount to our happiness? He knows us better than anyone else. He's got this.

But as I type these words, as I reassure all of you that God's plan is perfect in His grace, I have trouble believing it myself. I have trouble believing that my fragile right brain and frail emotional state could possibly work out to glorify the Lord. How the heck am I going to make my Daddy proud with a heart that can't even hold itself together for more than a few hours?

I don't doubt God's plan. I believe that the finish line is going to be indescribably righteous -- pun intended. But I just can't see the steps lining up. I can't see this heart doing great things. It's weak and unsustainable and it carries every little event as a couple of pounds on the scale. The deep connections with friends and family are wonderful -- but sometimes I feel like all of this passion and all of this love just weighs me down. There aren't enough outlets in this world to alleviate the burden of my emotions.

I'm sitting here trying to lay this out plainly for you, but I can't. I can't fully explain what's happening in my head and how ridiculously heavy my heart has felt over the past 48 hours. Is that even possible? Can your heart feel like it's actually gained some sort of weight simply due to emotional distress? Because it's happening. It's happening to me right now and I can't get it to stop. 

My passion for life is great for other people. I have friends who remind me on a regular basis that they always feel loved and cherished through our friendship, and I'm so incredibly glad that that's the case. I love that my love is obvious and honest and there.

But why can't I see this character trait, this reliance on emotion, as a positive? When I give this topic any thought, there's a grey cloud of doubt and hatred and worry lingering in my mind.

I do need to clarify something, though: I love opening my heart. I love that I have absolutely no problem letting people in. There are certain people in my life that hold a special place in my heart. My family, friends, mentors, Granny's House kiddos...they're my lifeline. My passion for those people surpasses anything else.

I've done Granny's House for over a year now, but these past four weeks have been much more intense. The kids remember me; they call me by my name. They genuinely do not want me to leave. They want me to go to school with them. They want me to love on them. And I do. I love on them a lot, as much as I possibly can in that two-hour period, because who knows what happens when they step foot into their homes again after Granny's House ends for the day. It's a connection that I can't get with any other age group. It's incomparable, unique, unmatched. I wouldn't trade it for the world and I am insanely grateful that God placed Granny's House in my life. Columbia is home to me because of that ministry.

I always enjoy bringing new people into the environment, opening my heart and letting them in. It's great for both the new volunteers and the kiddos, but it weighs heavily on my heart as an observer.

When someone comes into that space, onto that playground, into such a vulnerable and tender part of my life, and when they passionately and selflessly devote their heart and soul to these kids, and fall in love with these precious faces, I mean it when I say that my heart is overcome with emotion. Once they're running around the playground with all of my little ones, I feel like our connection intensifies as they move into a new space in my heart, a space that is dark and quiet and personal. It's vulnerable.

Kids see people and life and experiences in a different light than adults. I mean, we all have our own eyes, our own lenses. But when I witness these young souls see my friends in their own shade of light, it's unexplainable. It's an out of body experience. I get to watch someone else fall in love with these kids. I get to watch someone else fall in love with Jenny, with Beatrice and Joshua, with Giselle and Eli and Draeden. I get to observe someone else's connection with such a precious individual.

Children love unconditionally. They love without judgment, without malice, without bitterness. They love like Jesus loves. So, naturally, when I witness these young ones loving on my friends like Jesus does, I want nothing more than to mimic that love, to see my friends in the eyes of a child. I want to love them without judgment, without malice, without bitterness. I want to love my friends in the ways of the Father and His Son.

It's an experience that is unmatched. It's an intense adoration and I enjoy growing in that friendship because of that experience. Sometimes, though, the intensity is overwhelming. It's too much for my tender heart to handle. There's too much joy and elation and gratefulness and pride and excitement and love for such a small space. My heart is overwhelmed.

It's not negative or positive. It doesn't fall on one specific side of the spectrum -- it's just intense. There really isn't another word for it. And maybe I'm not making sense, maybe none of this is logical or easily understood for you as a reader. But maybe, by reading this and seeing the complexity of it all, you can begin to understand what my heart is going through on a daily basis.

Simple experiences aren't simple for me. They're light in weight when you're looking from the outside in. But as my heart looks outward, it feels heavy. Simple experiences are more complex, longer-lasting. There's more time involved, more emotion, more joy and more pain.

Alix being emotionally driven is great for everyone else. But for Alix, it's exhausting.

Last night, I laid in bed and wept. I tried to speak to the Lord and form words with my clouded mind, but it was incredibly difficult. At one point I felt like I was just yelling at Him due to a lack of patience.

Why did You make me like this?
Why am I not strong enough?
Why do things affect me so heavily?
Why do I develop passions so quickly?
What is the purpose of this heart and why does it hurt me so much?
Lord, what are You going to do with me?

I don't want to yell at God. I don't like snapping at Him. But I reached a wall last night where I truly did not know how else to express my brokenness and alleviate my heavy heart. If I'm being honest here, I'm angry with God. I'm angry with my Daddy because I feel like I've been let down. I feel I'm completely in the dark here. I'm asking questions and getting absolutely nowhere.

I just want some clarity. I want to see the blueprint of this Heart House that God is constructing. I want to know that my heart is the way it is for a reason. I want to know that God sees me laying here, helpless and confused and hurting, and has an answer. I want to know that this tenderness and sensitivity resides in my soul for a purpose.

I'm not sure how much more this heart can handle.

Confession #17: I am blessed to be stressed.

I've been back at school for almost three weeks now, and I've already experienced the "ups and downs" of Fall 2012 all over again. If I had to sum it up in one word, it would be stress. I've just been stressed -- overwhelmed by all aspects of moving back here, getting readjusted in a new apartment, figuring out work and transportation schedules, meeting new professors, making art for a new audience. Though I've lived here for nine months before, it all feels so new. And I've never been too good with new.

By now, we all know that I have a delicate heart. I've mentioned that detail of my make-up in basically every blog I've posted on the site, so there's no reason to get into that explanation again. But I have noticed one key difference lately in the way my heart handles pressure and deadlines and other people's expectations.

It seems as though the span of time that occurs before I shut down completely and am too overwhelmed to function has gotten shorter...which scares me a bit, considering how tender-hearted I've always been and how that part of me really shouldn't become more sensitive. But for some reason, since August 14, I've noticed a lack of stamina in that area. A lack of an ability to work through stress in my mind and balance more than one responsibility at a time. A lack of trust in the Lord's guidance, my own strengths, and an understanding of the love that comes from those closest to me.

Now that I've become more independent, the responsibilities of adulthood have really kicked in. I'm in 12 credit hours, I work 20+ hours a week, I'm heavily involved in our college ministry, I volunteer for an after-school program for inner-city children, I serve with the church's preschool ministry for Sunday service, I sell handmade art at a consignment store on campus, I have some sort of a social life and I enjoy whatever sleep I can get. It may not sound like much to some people, but I spent my summer enjoying time with Texas friends and starting up a small business. My schedule was 100% flexible and I had more lazy days than I can count.

That laid-back schedule disappeared the day I returned to the Midwest. The chaotic life I'd left behind in May resumed again, and I wasn't mentally or emotionally ready for it. 

When the mountain of emotion began to block my view of any future serenity, I broke down. Like any college student, I called my mom and cried. I cried like a baby for two hours. I was only two weeks in, but I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't handle the seven hour shifts or the numerous class deadlines or the pile of blank canvases or the busy schedule of Veritas socials or the demands of a classroom of 30 four-year-olds or anything else.

I was stressed too heavily, stretched too thin. I was unable to handle the changes on my own, and I needed God to let me breathe, even if just for a minute. I remember legitimately asking God, "Why am I so stressed? Why do I have to do all of this stuff? Why do I have so many responsibilities? Why me?"

I'm going to go ahead and admit to something important here: I am a wallower. I wallow in self pity on a regular basis. I get down about various things and feel bad for myself and sit in that sadness for far too long. I complain and run my mouth instead of actually making an effort to turn things around and take a step forward. I've tried to become an optimistic person, but more often than not, the pessimism wins out and I'm left feeling broken and alone.

Typically, in times of wallowing, I attempt to drown out my own thoughts with music. That oh-so-hipster-indie-pop-mellow-sad vibe usually does the trick, but recently I've been looking to tracks that are more upbeat.

Sara Bareilles is one of my favorite musical artists of all time, mainly due to the fact that she understands a heart like mine and writes poetry that is relateable. Her newest song, Brave, has a lyric that really struck a chord with me when I heard it for the first time.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do when they settle beneath your skin.
Kept on the inside, no sunlight -- sometimes the shadow wins."

Words are a unique form of weaponry. Sometimes -- actually, all of the time -- my own thoughts hurt more than the words of others. I'm surrounded by friends who love me and comfort me and support my art, my passions, and my faith. But, despite all of the humbling praise that is given, I tend to live off of this ridiculous pile of doubt I've stashed away in the back of my mind since middle school. Doubt that such love isn't real, isn't authentic, isn't deserved, isn't lasting. The pile has grown into a mountain by now, with every self-doubt I've ever felt rearing its ugly head in my times of weakness. Words that have never actually been spoken, but have a wicked power just the same.

During the heart-to-heart phone call with my mama, I was given some stellar advice (as usual -- don't you just love how moms can do that?). She explained that all of the stress was good stress. She began to list off every worry and complaint that I had expressed over the phone, negating each point with a blessing from God that caused such busyness.

The seven hour shifts come from dedication to teamwork and a desire to lead.

The class deadlines come from hard work in high school that has allowed me to skip basic courses.

The pile of blank canvases come from the encouragement of so many people who support my passion.

The busy schedule of Veritas socials comes from a community of believers whose outpouring of love is unmatched.

The demands of a classroom of 30 four-year-olds come from a maternal heart and an affinity for children's ministry.

Every stress, every time commitment, every pressure point is some sort of manifestation of God's blessings in my life. He gave me a job at Baja Grill. He gave me the opportunity to attend this university. He gave me a steady hand and a passion for art. He gave me a home church filled with amazing people. He gave me a passion for motherhood. He blessed me with opportunities that are incredibly demanding, but also rewarding.

I am able to shine my light through the stress. God doesn't give gifts and talents and experiences to cause sadness, or make us overwhelmed, or create doubt. He gives us blessing upon blessing upon blessing out of love. We're talking about a man who gave His only son so that you could be forgiven. That's a love that I can't even begin to understand. But I trust in that love because it is unmatched by anything else, and it has afforded me so many things I would never have deserved in the first place.

I know that life can be hard. Trust me. I get that. I've been there, I've done it all, I have the book. I've probably painted a canvas about it. But hard times of stress and demanding schedules do not justify ungratefulness or a sense of inadequacy. God never gives you more than you can handle. You may not believe that you can succeed and flourish under His blessings, but you can. And you will.

I can, and I will.

Thank you, Father, for stressing blessing me. I promise to work as hard as I can to make You proud.

Confession #16: I am Zion.

The level of laziness I've encountered in the blogging scene since my last post is just plain embarrassing. I've been reminding myself on a regular basis to post again, to update everyone on my walk with God and rant about the problems and resolutions I've encountered as the school year ended in Missouri and I moved back home for summer, but I always forget or get distracted. Typical. But today is the day!

Fair warning: this post is basically a giant mash-up of various details of this summer that build onto one another. Bear with me. We'll make it to the "golden nugget" at the end together.

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I guess I should back the story up a bit in order for all of this to actually click together and make sense.  School ended in May and I was so ready to get back to Texas and see all of my friends. But within the first two weeks of me being home, I had some boy drama. That actual story is long and pointless and not worth sharing, but the important part of the lesson is this: after struggling with self-doubt for months on end, I finally felt like I had some sort of worth, simply because a boy decided to give me the time of day. That was fun for a while until that boy walked away and I was left feeling worthless and unimportant. Once again, I allowed myself to rely whole-heartedly on a boy to make me happy -- on a person, a human, someone who is flawed and makes mistakes and fails sometimes. He failed to follow through on things and I was put back into the same mindset that had caused a sense of isolation for months before.

At the time, it seemed that I was allowing a pattern to continue, an up-and-down rollercoaster of ignorance and realization. I would fall hard for someone's promises, be let down, pick myself back up, dust off the dirt and pain, put on my best "God is enough for me" face, and forge on. But in reality I've never taken the time to actually understand why and how God IS enough. I parade around with my nose in the air about my life for Christ, but I fail to understand such a fundamental detail of the faith. In reality, there was no pattern, no up and down, no "ah-ha" moments. I had never truly come to a revelation on the upswing -- instead, I remained in the depths and couldn't get myself out.

On June 11, I attended a Hillsong concert with my best friend Megan and absolutely fell in love with the Lord all over again. Meg and I were stoked to have pit seats; we spent three awesome hours encountering Jesus and singing at the top of our lungs and enjoying time in the presence of hundreds of other brothers and sisters in the faith. It was a phenomenal experience that I really cannot put into words. I think that my favorite part of the entire evening was when Joel Houston took the time to pray between songs and speak the Word and encourage everyone to fully hand any struggle, any pain, any heartbreak completely over to the Lord and trust that He was in control. You could just tell that Joel was an incredible dude that you'd wanna sit around with for hours, and talk about God with and hear testimonies from and just enjoy the company. Now that it's been a few weeks, I don't remember exactly what Joel said, but at one point he began to explain the meaning behind Zion, the tour and album title, and what it meant to the members of Hillsong United. Ever since that night, I haven't quite been able to get that moment out of my head. I've enjoyed reading about Mount Zion from the Word and researching the historical context online and forming a meaning behind Zion in my own life.

Mount Zion is first seen in 2 Samuel as a reference for the city of Jerusalem. "Zion" is seen more than 150 times throughout the Bible, sometimes in phrases that are used to reference the Jewish people or the church itself. Personally, there has been one specific chapter relating to Zion that has stuck with me since June 11.

Isaiah 51 is titled "The Lord Comforts Zion" in the ESV translation. That detail alone warms my heart. Comfort is such a crucial part of life -- whether it's being comfortable in yourself, finding comfort in the Lord, or working to comfort others.

Throughout the chapter, the Lord speaks a series of promises over His people, who are referred to collectively as Zion. In verse 16, the Lord says to Zion, "you are my people." I love the fact that the Lord takes ownership over his people like a proud parent would. Which makes logical sense because He is our Father and we are His children -- but sometimes the most obvious details are the most overlooked.

Earlier in the chapter, though, is where I find my favorite verse. Isaiah 51:3 states:

For the Lord comforts Zion;

he comforts all her waste places

and makes her wilderness like Eden,

her desert like the garden of the Lord;

joy and gladness will be found in her,

thanksgiving and the voice of song.

There's something about God referring to Zion with female attributes that stirs a sense of adoration in my heart. When I read that chapter, and that verse specifically, I am comforted by the Lord even more as he uses the word "her." I don't really know why that diction affects me the way that it does, but I seem to relate more to Zion as it is described with femininity. I absolutely love that. The Lord comforts her. He makes her wilderness as perfect as the Garden and in her He instills a sense of joy and gladness.

That verse takes away the feeling of separation I often have from the Lord. That verse rips that separation to shreds, stomps on it with the feet of a giant, and throws it into oblivion with hopes that Alix Carruth never finds that uneasiness again. That verse puts me in the shoes of Zion as the Lord speaks promises of love and comfort over me as an individual.

Love is a powerful thing. It's exciting and wonderful and fabulous and I love love -- if you know me at all, you already knew that. But my obsession with this crucial need for confirmation from other people often brings me more pain than joy. Whether it's romantic or friendly, I tend to rely on love from humans over love from the eternal. When I fail to understand why God IS enough, and how His love for me outweighs everything I could ever imagine, I increase my reliance on other people for satisfaction. Which almost always, without a doubt, leaves me feeling insecure and worse than before.

I am not saying that it is wrong to rely on other people for strength and stability. At all. Building a community around every facet of my life has definitely kept me sane and helped mold me into the person I am today. God intends for us to grow spiritually with the help of others through fellowship; He longs for us to worship together and pray together and serve together. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little romance. But when that yearning for adoration becomes an unhealthy craving for validation and worth, there's a problem. Earthly relationships are extremely important, but they simply cannot be your only source of comfort. There is a God in Heaven who loves you and cares for you and wants to comfort you too.

The biggest purpose of friendship and camaraderie on this Earth is to mimic God's unconditional love and sacrificial spirit. The One who created each of us has set the example on how to love as He loves, comfort as He comforts, and accept as He accepts.

 I am lucky enough to have a circle of friends around me who love me unconditionally, comfort my tender heart in times of need, and are willing to sacrifice for my well-being. When they love on me, I can tangibly feel God's love through them. It's a spiritual experience that means more to me than anything else. When I'm being stubborn and failing to recognize how the Father loves me, He never hesitates to utilize the people I hold dearest to shine that light for Him.

The Lord knows my heart inside and out. He knows how to get my attention. He knows where my stubbornness is most prominent and where I'm most susceptible to influence. He wants to give me a sense of joy and gladness -- just like Zion. In my head and in my heart, I am Zion.

I am Zion, and the Lord will comfort me.

Confession #15: Green with envy 24/7/365.

So this may sound pretty silly, but sometimes I like to think that the Apostle James wrote the Book of James just for me. I mean virtually every scripture in those short five chapters convicts me on a daily basis. It can be uncomfortable at times, because no one really enjoys having their mistakes neatly lined up in a row, one by one, with specific details. But they're all there: testing of your faith, hearing and doing the word, the sin of partiality, faith without works is dead, and so on.

I've always loved James, since my first "dabbles" into the gospel back in junior high. Its verses are usually the most prominent in my memory bank, and James 4:8 is stitched onto the back of my high school letterman. He keeps it short, simple, and to the point, outlining how we should live authentically and wisely for Christ.

You can just imagine how elated I was this morning at The Crossing, my home church here in Missouri, when Pastor Keith Simon opened the sermon with a verse from James 3.

Before reading from the Word, he looked at the congregation and asked, "Who are you in conflict with today?"

It was a simple question that struck me with an odd answer. The first word that came to mind was "me" -- I am in conflict with myself. I have been facing extreme inner battles lately and cannot seem to stop fighting with Alix.

The rest of the message was geared towards the importance of community and relationships to the faith, and how we handle conflict from a cultural perspective and how this method does not coincide with what the Bible tells us. Overall, the sermon focused on "one another" but my mind was set on "me, myself, and I."

As I've said in my previous blog posts, I tend to struggle with self-image and a lack of confidence. It's gotten a bit more intense over the past few weeks, and I'm confused as to why this insecurity has popped up so suddenly. I haven't experienced it quite like this before, and, in high school especially, I've always walked around with my head held high -- granted, a bit too high. But now, living so far away from my comfort zone of suburban Texas, separated from the friends I've known since childhood, and forced into new situations that test my strength and ability to accept varying lifestyles, I lack confidence at least 90% of the time. I mean, I am a girl. I have the typical girly doubts of most females: I envy blonde hair and blue eyes, I think my thighs are massive, and I wish my frame was more petite. But that's no justification for not loving myself as the woman God created me to be.

Lately my jealous tendencies have escalated, as I constantly compare myself to my peers on very materialistic and surface matters -- which obviously waves a red flag in my mind. I know that I am not of this world. I know that I have a Father who loves me more than I could ever comprehend. And I know that material possessions and the luxuries of this life do not in any way carry over into the next. For these reasons, I'm even more confused as to why my jealousy has intensified as my spirituality has strengthened. I've grown a lot in my walk with God since moving here, but this is one obstacle that I haven't found a way over.

Luckily, my boy James knows just what to say to make me think.

James 3:13-15 states:

"Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic."

It's a correlation that hasn't clicked for me before -- how of this world jealousy is. A paragraph ago, I said I am not of this world. But my jealousy? It is. It's earthly, unspiritual, demonic. So why do I let it take over me in times of weakness? I wish the answer was complex and illogical, but it's actually extremely simple: the devil creeps in. It's satan getting into my head and screaming at me, cursing at my inabilities and guilting me into believing that I am of little worth. When he screams loud enough, I listen. I give up on fighting back and telling myself that I am lovely. Instead, I grovel in self-pity and list off numerous faults and imperfections. I wave a white flag so the screaming will stop. But by letting the devil win, I give him permission to come back in an hour and shout profanities into my mind once again.

And then I question why my life is chaos. Why I can't seem to get a grip on how these emotions take over me and why I am often bitter about life, angry towards other people, and quick to spit poison. Fortunately, James gives it to me straight in verse 16.

"For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice."

When my heart is full of bitter jealousy, it is vulnerable to confusion. I'll be the first to admit that I am not as strong as the facade I put on every day. I have a very weak emotional complex -- which I am working on as well -- yet I believe that I can do everything on my own. I don't want help. I like to be independent. I like to be ambitious. I like to selfishly think that I have every tool I'll ever need to solve any problem that arises in my life.

But let's get real. Out of the 19 years of life that I've had thus far, the past 10 months have been the hardest. And they've especially been a testimony to the need I have for God's guiding hand, comforting arms, and loving spirit. I just can't do it all. If I continue to believe that I can get over this jealousy hurdle on my own, the disorder and vile practice will continue. And the self-loathing, constant doubt and unshakeable insecurity will follow.

Theodore Roosevelt once said, "comparison is the thief of joy." That statement rings with an incredible amount of pertinence and truth. It's written on my mirror and all over my journal. It's a daily reminder of the dangers of my tendencies.

I am a joyful person -- when I am not drowning in envy. I have to learn how to swim.

So this is me, promising myself and my readers and my Lord to try a little bit harder. Not to do it on my own, but to lay it down for Him. I'm too proud and too plagued by selfish ambition to kick the habit of bitter jealousy. This can be a "God thing" if I just let go...but I have to invite Him in first.

Confession #14: I am perfected by You.

Although college has managed to hurl at me an insane amount of uncomfortable change, challenging course work, and never-ending hours, I combat my own inner battles every day. I'm disappointed when I look in mirror. I don't like the way clothes cling to my body. I wish I was shorter, skinner, prettier, nicer, stronger, braver -- more something. I whine and complain and mope, constantly comparing myself to other women who seem more "perfect" and "put together" than I can manage. On most days, I can't seem to be satisfied with who I'm becoming.

But then I remember that I was created by God. By a King. By my rock, my hope, and my salvation. I was thought of such an unfathomably long time ago by someone so magnificent, omnipotent, and unconditionally loving. Sometimes I imagine God, sitting on his throne, planning out His children. I see Him with a notepad, black pen in hand...

"Keller, she's a brave one...I like the name 'Helen.' I hope Arthur and Karen understand...man, that girl's gonna do great things...in her own way."

"Okay, now, we need a leader...he has to be brave. He has to be captivating...to get people's attention. Martin Luther King...Jr. Definitely a junior in title, but a true leader in every way. He's going to make the change."

Then I see Him pause. Pausing to create me.

"What about this one? What should we call her?...with her olive skin, and curly locks...Alix. Alix Carruth. I've got plans for her...plans to give her a hope and a future."

Now, I'm not equating myself to the leader of the Civil Rights Movement on any level. But we come from the same God. We're cut form the same cloth. We're grown from the same seed. MLK and I, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I overlook that detail of the Bible way too often. I neglect the scripture. I ignore the blessings. I am too overwhelmed by self-doubt and a lack of confidence to realize that I come from someone so insanely perfect and powerful and praiseworthy. Someone who took the time to stop, think, and create little old me. A mess of a girl who sins daily and fails to recognize the love bestowed upon her. The creator of this entire universe set aside a time to draw a web for the life of a human so sizably insignificant in the grand scheme of His reign...simply because He loves me. Simply because He loves each of us. We can't even begin to understand the scope of a love that deep, that passionate, that selfless.

Again, in my little imaginative head, I see God sitting there, watching me. I see Him beaming at me like a proud father. I see Him cry when I cry, laugh when I laugh, smile when I smile. But on those days of self-loathing and sadness, I imagine He's a little sad too, like a daddy who knows the true potential of his little girl and watches her fail to notice it all.

"My precious daughter...if only you could understand the adoration I have for you. You are beautiful, my love...there is no flaw in you...Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations...You are mine, Alix. Never forget that."

My Father loves me. He thinks that I am beautiful. He thinks my body is perfect just the way it is. He thinks my hair is unique, even in all of its curly glory. He thinks my smile is captivating and infectious  God knows that I am His, that I am made in the image of His righteous Son with a destiny mapped by His own hand. And He shines approval down onto me every single day -- I just have to look up and soak it in.