I'm just not good enough.

Can I be honest for a moment?

I am really sick of feeling like I'm not good enough.

I'm sick of my employer(s) treating me that way. I'm sick of the enemy trying to convince me it's true every time I don't perform exactly perfectly. But mostly, I'm sick of allowing what other people say (or sometimes more damagingly, don't say) determine whether or not I think I'm good enough.

I am a worship leader. That is something God has done in me - it's not just a career path or a degree I hold. Years ago, God created this calling within me, and I have been trying ever since to do the right things to stay on that road. I left my parents and brother to move to Nashville so that I could finish my bachelor's degree with a major in Worship Arts. My life has revolved around chasing after this calling.

And then, four years ago, God put me and Josh at a church with the opposite problem that most churches deal with - our church has an overabundance of worship leaders, and there's no way for everyone in the congregation designated as such to serve all the time.

Oh, and here's the best part - He's keeping me there.

For years, I've battled inner turmoil, trying to convince myself that I'm a good, capable worship leader, even when my opportunities were slim or non-existent to lead worship. I've had some great experiences and opportunities, but they were interwoven into many more church services where I sat in the congregation. Last fall, I was asked to coordinate the people running media at our church on Sundays, which has given me a chance to be close to the 'action,' but still not in the way my heart wants.

Last year was the pinnacle of my frustration. At one point, I allowed myself to get so angry about being 'ignored' that God convicted me and I had to send several messages to close friends, apologizing for blaming other people and complaining about my situation. Talk about humbling - the basis of my argument in the whole situation had always been that I, Rebekah, was in the right, and everyone else was either disorganized or simply didn't care about me. In a day, I was basically forced to admit that the problem only lay within me.

And the problem wasn't ever that I was a 'bad' worship leader.

The problem was that, after years of consistent opportunities, churches telling me to contact them after graduation for a job leading worship, leading at our young adults gatherings at church, and feeling like I knew what was going on, I suddenly lost all my outlets for leading worship in a group. So, instead of spending time with Jesus on my own, drawing nearer to Him without the necessity of an audience or a microphone, I decided that other people had seen that I wasn't good enough and chose to be mad about it.

But people shouldn't determine the truth of what I know God has said. Someone's words (or lack thereof) should never change my passion for worshipping Jesus, whether it's in front of thousands or in my own living room.

Therein lies the solution: like my amazing pastor, Lindell Cooley, said just a few weeks ago. I sum it up here:

Don't let your emotions tell you what to do. You need to talk to yourself and tell yourself how to feel. Emotions are fleeting - truth is unchanging.

So what did I do? First, I surrendered to God and told Him that it was never going to be 'my' ministry in the first place, so if He wanted me to be the most passionate worshipper sitting in the second row of the congregation, that's what I'd do.

And wouldn't you know - within a week of truly surrendering that desire, I got one of the things I'd been waiting for so long: affirmation from one of my pastors that I was a capable worship leader. However, God knew better than to give it to me before I was fully ready to accept wherever He put me.

The next thing I did was to start spending time with Jesus regularly. I still have to work hard on discipline, because it's easy to get busy and watch time just pass by, but my heart is so much more happy on those days where I take time to spend time in His presence.

The last thing I have done was to start thanking Jesus for the opportunities I have had when my brain starts telling me that I'm inadequate and people don't want me to lead worship. Just last night, the enemy pretty much just told me that I'm a "Holy Spirit buzzkill." The lie was something along the lines of, 'any time you get on a platform, the Holy Spirit doesn't really move.... it might be an okay time of worship, but you stop the Holy Spirit from truly transforming people when you're around.'

Well, that's silly. I started reminding my atmosphere of all the times God has worked through me and thanking Him for those moments. And I woke up this morning feeling as if I could conquer the world!

If you've taken the time to read this post, bravo! And thank you. My overall thought would be to leave you with this...

People can't tell you that you are unworthy. God calls you worthy. He calls you beautiful. He calls you to live in His glorious light. Don't let a person's words define your identity - only what God says about you.

Peace.
-R

Stronger than what I can carry.

I wrote a song yesterday.

With all the beauty of this weekend (a great photo shoot on Saturday, silhouetted by a ridiculously gorgeous sunset), my creative juices seemed to be flowing. I don't write a lot, but when I do, it's generally an emotional and spiritual experience.

The first part of the song I came up with is this bridge:

Your love is better than all I could ever want
Your love is stronger than all I could ever carry

It hit me after I sang out that second line what a miraculous reality that is.

I can't carry being unemployed. It's scary and makes me feel like a failure.
I can't carry the pain of the difficulties my body has conceiving children. I believe God has said we will conceive, but that doesn't make this waiting game any less horrible.
I can't carry the load of being entrusted with the deep stories of an individual, knowing they have trusted me to share it in a way that is respectful and meaningful.

And yet, though all of these burdens are more than I should be able to bear, the love of my Father carries them for me. He has not allowed me to hold onto them by myself.

If you are holding onto something too much for you today, know that God has promised to be the one carrying that load. Even when it seems impossible - no, especially when it seems impossible, He is right there to be your strength.

Look at this sunset. Keep your chin up. And rely on Him to be the One keeping you strong.

She was home for Christmas.

My Christmas Eve was rather unorthodox this year.

As a pastor's kid, I've traveled to the hospital with my dad on many occasions. Sometimes, it was after routine procedures or minor scares that turned into nothing. On other days, I joined him as we said goodbye to a life. Christmas eve was one such day.

Spartanburg 1st Church of the Nazarene, my father's church, plays a large part in their marginalized community by inviting residents of local residence homes for adults who are unable to live completely on their own. These folks are unable to offer much in the way of financial support or leadership, but they offer something much greater - a chance to love without ever expecting anything in return. One such lady was named Brenda.

So many of us complain about the most trivial things. "My phone doesn't work fast enough." "I wish my 2,000 square foot house had 8,000 square feet." "I don't understand why I can't look like a model." Brenda had no traditional legacy to her name, no beach body to claim, no career to speak of; and yet, she loved unashamedly. She was always a sweet, kind soul, ready to offer a hug and a smile to anyone willing to receive.

The above photo is from a Christmas party held at my parents house in 2012. Brenda and the other residents came over to share in some desserts and fellowship. One of them said they'd never been invited to a party before - something that for most of us seems commonplace. 

In 2013, Brenda suffered a massive heart attack the Friday before Christmas. Her family could not be reached to be called in when she would be taken off the life support keeping her body alive - the only communication anyone had recently received was the week before her heart attack, when her son called to say he would be traveling to town to buy her the pair of boots she had wanted for so long. But no one could find him or any of her other children to tell them what had happened.

This brings us to Christmas Eve. The doctors had chosen to remove her life support that day, so she wouldn't have to suffer during Christmas. She had been pronounced brain-dead and would not regain consciousness again.

My family (father, mother, and brother) and I drove to the hospital before lunch. There, we met Travis and Melody, a married couple who have played a large part in the outreach to homes like Brenda's. A few other church members who cared very much for her were regrettably absent due to work schedules.

Right before we walked into the hospital room, my dad looked at me to ask if I would be able to sing something as she took her last breaths. Everyone else had already started to cry, so I was the only one left who would be able to start a song. The nurses turned off all the machines and displays and left us in the room to say goodbye. So we sang It Is Well With My Soul.

We joined together in song, tearfully, sniffling, and a little out of tune. Brenda coded as soon as support was removed, and went peacefully into eternity. My mother commented later that rather than tears, our response could consist of rejoicing - Brenda was the only one of us in that room who would spend Christmas with Jesus. While our song wouldn't earn us a grammy, and the 'performance' was anything but perfect, it was a flawless way to say our farewells to a woman who would remain forever in our hearts.

My life has always been far more blessed by those people who were willing to love without expectations. Brenda became our family, not because she wanted us to give her things, and not because we thought there was ever anything tangible she could provide for us, but because we are all children of God, seeking one purpose - to know Jesus more. She had a beautiful soul, and will be missed by those who knew her.

Merry Christmas, Brenda. You gave me a more amazing gift than all the ones wrapped beneath our tree, and I will never forget.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Too Much To Do.

A few weeks ago, a man at church made a comment to me that blew me away.

After explaining to him that Josh and I were simply too busy and had too much to do to add anything else, he said, "You're not supposed to be that busy before you have kids."

I don't know if that's true. I'm not sure how to determine that. I DO know, however, that I have done a poor job of learning how to rest and enjoy time with others. It feels as if there is always something on my mind that I should be working on, writing, photographing, editing, reconciling... you name it, I'm sure it's on my "to-do" list.

This Thanksgiving holiday, I chose to take some time to rest. We are visiting my in-laws in Ohio, and I have read almost half of one book on my Nook, slept in the last two days, and Pinterest-ed until my eyes were tired. Oh, and reclaimed my love for Geometry Wars on the Xbox.

Have I "accomplished" anything? Maybe, maybe not. But one thing is for sure: Jesus Himself said that we need rest. So I'm taking it, and I won't feel guilty. I'm so thankful that He gave us that reminder.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Heaviness and Hope.

I have a project on which I'm working, launching Spring 2014, called "Capture Hope."

[I get that this blog is titled "Capturing Hope." This is my personal storytelling of sorts, while "Capture Hope" will consist of other people's stories.]

I'll tell the story of it later, but first I want to share a small part of the first interview I conducted for the project.

I listened to my friend recount her life story - literally, from before birth until now. And it was one of the most devastating, horrifying stories of child abuse I have ever heard. I don't know that I've ever known someone (or been aware of it) that spent the first 18 years of her life being systematically tortured and abused by the people who brought her into the world - the people who are supposed to care the most. It all happened within less than a mile from where we sat to have dinner.

This is why stories are important.

People can relate to details. They can relate to the pieces of the story so rich in color that it's not hard to close your eyes and see it, taste it, smell it for yourself. And when they are in the story with you, it's much easier for them to understand and sympathize with your cause, or your heart, or your passions.

In 16 hours, I heard that story and two other brief retellings of completely unrelated instances of domestic violence that also ripped apart families. My heart is so heavy with sadness for the children, the innocents in these stories. Children, and their innocence, are one of the most beautiful and pure parts of life... To destroy that innocence and rip away a childhood is abhorrent, even evil.

But it is today that I can gladly announce to you all that, regardless of current circumstances, there is always hope!

God works all things together for our good. I do not necessarily believe that "all things happen for a reason." If all things happened for a reason, that indicates God is the one always making them happen, which points to a very vicious and vindictive deity. However, He does promise that He works all things together for good to those who love Him. Violence, evil, and hatred exist because of the presence of sin in our world. The beautiful part about that is that when we hand it all over to Christ and tell Him to take control, He uses all the dirty, dark, and sad stories for a holy purpose.

The friend I interviewed last night now operates an organization to spread awareness about child abuse and give children opportunities and tools to report abuse and be helped. Throughout her story, the one theme that continued to recur was, "Everyone knew, and no one said a word." Today, she makes sure that people talk about it, and that children are given everything they need to stop the cycles of violence from which no one rescued her.

It was a scary story - but it has a happy ending. We serve a God who loves us SO much that He endured the very worst suffering, the most terrible of fates, all for us to have an opportunity for life abundantly. If you're feeling alone, or perhaps that no one understands, remember that there is always One Who knows every ounce of sorrow, Who feels every drop of pain, and Who is with you in the darkest night. And He shines as bright as day.

- R