It’s in your blood, your very core, pushing you out of comfort zones and into a new, breathtakingly scary but exciting world. Having a compulsion to create, to make something out of nothing, to think outside of the box—it runs through you like electricity, coursing energy to your fingertips, bringing sparks and light and fireworks.

Maybe you walk into an empty room and see its potential. Maybe you see blank pages filled with words and script and meaningful artwork, or you walk around seeing the possibility of photographs everywhere so you finally pick up a camera and start clicking. Maybe you hear music in everyday sounds and songs waiting to be written. Maybe you see beauty where others don’t and stories where others just see an old, dilapidated barn.

Being a creative is waking up in the middle of the night full of ideas and getting out of bed to write them all down, because when inspiration strikes, you have to listen. Being a creative is being given options A or B and choosing C. Being a creative is listening to that voice inside your head, the one with the crazy, dream-chasing ideas, and shoving aside the voice that says you don’t have what it takes.

Because your creative work? Yeah, it matters. Your art and music and photographs and small businesses with passion—they matter. So dance and design and dare to adventure, darling, because you were created by the Ultimate Creator, the best Artist of all time, the most magnificent Maker. And that matters.

_________________________

I never thought I would be here, with a small business and large dreams, in this stage of my life. It is terrifying and wonderful, constantly evolving and changing along with me. And I couldn’t do it without each and every person that has been supporting me, cheering me on, through whispers and shouts of encouragement and thoughtful text messages. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. There will be some exciting announcements and changes coming soon, so check back and join in the fun because you won’t want to miss it!

TEXT: With what shall I come before the Lord and bow down before the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of olive oil? Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. –Micah 6:6-8

MEMORY VERSE: And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. –Micah 6:8

For as long as I can remember, I have been a rule follower. I grew up telling my parents to buckle their seatbelts and turned in elementary school classmates for cheating on tests. In high school I avoided alcohol like the plague, and I have never met a “Do Not Enter Sign” I didn’t abide by. The sheer possibility of watching someone break the rules sends me to a new stress level. Being a rule follower is both my downfall and my blessing; it has both kept me out of trouble and out of fun—probably equally so.

I am well aware that my innate need to follow the rules can be a big problem, especially when it comes to the Gospel. Jesus speaks most harshly not to the rebellious law-breakers, but to the Pharisees—the biggest rule sticklers around. And I understand the predicament in Micah Chapter 6 because I too often have the same kind of thoughts.

With what shall I come before the Lord

and bow down before the exalted God?

Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,

with calves a year old?

Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,

with ten thousand rivers of olive oil?

Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression,

the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? (6:6-7)

If we keep escalating the sacrifices, if we do enough good deeds, if we follow every rule…can we come into the presence of the Messiah then?

But, oh yeah, He has told us already: it’s not about the works. It’s about the heart.

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.

And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

and to walk humbly with your God.(6:8)

The thing is… I know my sins. I know I don’t deserve grace or forgiveness or mercy. I don’t deserve to spend eternity praising Jesus throughout the heavens. And my brain wants to try and make up for it through trying and toiling. But I also have experienced the glory of the cross, the cross that both destroys me and makes me whole. The cross that overwhelms and agonizes me, while leaving me with a peace even in my distraught state over its magnificence. This is the glory of the cross that leads us from a place of obligation to a place of restoration.  

And this verse right here? It tells us what He wants from us: to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with Him. When we look at this passage in light of the bigger story, we might just see it. We cannot have true justice without Jesus, and to dwell on the past in a state of guilt is to not fully accept His mercy. The Lord urges us not to hang onto guilt or rules or our own works, but to faithfully hold onto and walk humbly with Him. 

I recently spent a few days traveling around Texas with my mom and sister. My sister is looking at colleges so we explored the college towns and went on campus tours while I made non-subtle remarks about Auburn's superiority. We shopped like queens and dined like kings and fell a little bit more in love with Texas and its quirkiness each day. 

Here's a short list of the cities and some of the wonderful stops we were able to make...

Fort Worth: TCU, Stockyards // Food: Joe T. Garcia's 

Waco: Baylor, Magnolia Market, Roots Boutique, Spice Village // Food: Common Grounds Coffee, Cafe Homestead, The Olive Branch

College Station: Texas A&M // Food: Grub Burger Bar

Austin: University of Texas, South Congress Street, 2nd Street District, Austin City Limits Live // Food: Magnolia Cafe, Austin Java, Kerbey Lane Cafe

“I have said that Texas is a state of mind, but I think it is more than that. It is a mystique closely approximating a religion. And this is true to the extent that people either passionately love Texas or passionately hate it and, as in other religions, few people dare to inspect it for fear of losing their bearings in mystery or paradox. But I think there will be little quarrel with my feeling that Texas is one thing. For all its enormous range of space, climate, and physical appearance, and for all the internal squabbles, contentions, and strivings, Texas has a tight cohesiveness perhaps stronger than any other section of America. Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study, and the passionate possession of all Texans.”

— John Steinbeck

The wreaths are hung and the tree trimmings have been turned into garland, which were then carefully placed throughout the house. The tree was bought and strung with the just-right amount of white lights. The stockings dangle from the mantle, Bing Crosby Holiday Radio is playing, and the air is filled with cinnamon & berry scented candles. The nativity scene lies atop the bookshelf, where all eyes are on baby Jesus. All signs point to Christmas.

O come, let us adore HIm. 

Maybe it’s just me, but fixing my eyes on Jesus seems more difficult over the holidays. Am I looking to Jesus in the midst of the days leading to Christmas, the time of year dedicated to his birth? Or do the twinkling lights and the rampant consumerism and the Santa Clauses on top of cars and the oh-so-delicious peppermint mochas mesmerize me into ignoring the one story that really matters? How ironic it is that a holiday originally about Jesus has turned into chaos of distractions from Jesus. At least, it seems that way sometimes. Particularly so when I look at another yard covered by 52 blowups of snow globes, penguins in scarves, and various Santa Clauses (It wouldn't be the South if you didn’t see Santa dressed as an avid college football fan). But you know the really beautiful thing? God shows up, no matter what. Just like his humble arrival in a manger so many years ago, He is here. And He is glorified.

Joyful and triumphant.

Just as in the nativity scene, I want my eyes to be fixed on Jesus. Not because He needs us to, but because we have the chance for this time of year to be filled with joy and love and never-ending celebrations of the Greatest Story ever told.

O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem. 

It’s a story I know well, but one I never grow tired of hearing.

The Greatest Story ever told is not one of success or power or great wealth. It is one of tears and agony and holiness. It is the kind of story that brings about total surrenders of hearts, in churches and on mountaintops and in Wendy’s parking lots.

The Greatest Story ever told is a story of incredible juxtapositions. Of a newborn babe in a dirty manger, of a carpenter-King, of life made possible through death. The Greatest Story ever told is one of a virgin birth, of Christ becoming both fully man and fully God, of blood pouring from perfect hands, of pure glory emerging from a broken body. It is a story filled with light breaking through darkness and the last becoming first and hope for the hopeless. It is a story of amazing grace.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David,  to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

-Luke 2:4-7

There was no room for Him then, but He still came. His beginnings were in a manger, in a small town, in pure humility and perfection. And then everyone made their way to the King. Because from the beginning, He was accessible. He was not born in a castle with guards and gates and servants, but He came next to a field of shepherds, He came to us. The shepherds and the angels and the wise men, they showed up because they knew. They knew about this babe born in Bethlehem. And they wanted to be in the presence of the Messiah. 

O come, all ye faithful.

To say I'm excited about this new addition to the shop would be a great understatement. This project has been a long time in the making, and I am thrilled to finally share it with you! While I always try to create things that matter, no products fall under this category more than the new Scripture Memory Set.

Most of us memorized verses in Sunday school at a young age, but somewhere along the line we usually stop learning Scripture, and we become content with being taught about Jesus and His Word every Sunday. I fell into this category until college, where I was urged to continually memorize and keep God's Word on my heart at all times. I learned an effective way of memorizing Scripture, a way where you could remember verses long term (A "How To" card will be included in the starter kit, which explains the method in detail).  Having all of these verses in the back of your mind changes the way you think throughout the day, the way you pray, and the way you share the Gospel.

Memorizing Scripture does not make us "better" Christians, but treasuring these verses changes the way we live and walk with Christ.  I believe that meditating on the Word of God is not something to check off a list, but a significant part of the pursuit of Jesus. 

Also, a portion of our proceeds from the Scripture Memory Set will be donated to Wycliffe Bible Translators, a great organization making Scripture available and understandable all over the globe. 

So, join in this adventure with me? Or maybe give as a gift to remember the real meaning of Christmas? Let's be sowers of gospel.

For more product details/ purchasing, head over to the shop. 

I recently attended a Catholic funeral for a man I did not know, which was held in a beautiful cathedral with unbelievably high ceilings and ornate artwork and magnificent stained glass windows. It was my first funeral mass and I found it full of symbolism and tears and beauty. When the priest stood up and talked about the recently deceased man who bravely fought cancer in the last year of his life, he said something casually that struck me as profound. The Catholic priest uttered the phrase “suffering evokes love” in the middle of his sermon, and I could no longer concentrate because I found myself going back to all of the truth hidden in those words.

Suffering evokes love. In the midst of cancer and heartache and funerals, love is there. In the throes of storms and trials and crucifixions, love rises up from ashes and presents itself like a warm blanket. Love waits in notes and hugs and bouquets of flowers. Love shows up in phone calls and shared tears and little gifts in hospital waiting rooms. It may not cause the pain to go away, but love is there, pointing to the bigger picture and leading us back to Jesus.

Yes, suffering evokes love, and love—the kind of agape love that surpasses worldly understanding—sometimes means suffering. Like childbirth or broken hearts, love often leads to pain. Because love and suffering, they are intertwined in the most beautiful way. The kind of way that leads us back to the cross. The kind of way that leads us to the gospel. Jesus bore the suffering on the cross because He so loved the world. The Messiah allowed nails to be driven into His hands and feet, and endured shouts of humiliation and anger, and cried out in hurt but followed through with the suffering-laced prophecy because He so loved us. Not because it was easy, but because suffering evokes love, and sometimes love evokes suffering. Do you mind if I sit and cry awhile over this truth?

But the greatest story doesn't end at the cross. It begins there. Suffering and love are connected in the magnificent way that leads to mercy and redemption, and "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). The sacred tree that held the tears of Jesus was always part of His plan for salvation, and God does indeed work all things--even the messiest, hardest things--for the good of those who love Him. 

Let us remember the ultimate price which was paid on that old wooden cross. Let us be people who bring love to someone else in hurt, and let us look for it in our own seasons of suffering. Let us sing Hallelujah in the most broken of times. Let us always be seekers of Jesus. 

Because love and suffering, they are intertwined in the most beautiful way. The kind of way that leads us back to the cross. 

Not only that, but 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 into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. -Romans 5:3-5