We have all these thoughts about God.

There’s the Old Testament Wrathful-God and the New Testament Servant-God and the God we imagine when we pray. There’s the Father-God we seek to please, and the Friend-God we search out in tough times, and the Creator-God we imagine as we watch the sun set or notice the way birds fly in a V.

For many years, I tried to fit God in a box. Like trying to slip on a pair of shoes a few sizes too small. Like attempting to wriggle in a pair of jeans from fifth grade. I was trying to bottle the sun.

I don’t know—I guess I had put certain labels on God and I thought I had figured Him out. A stranger or friend would say something about my God and I would argue or agree, thinking I knew Him pretty well because of all of the time we had spent together.

And I do know Him, but at the same time—I don’t.

He’s so much bigger and better and holier than my imagination can handle. He’s too perfect to fit into the English language, too good to be described. He has too much love for us to bear.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m a word person, through and through. I love that we can compare the Lord to a Father and Shepherd and Teacher. I love that we can imagine His love as being wider than the heavens and deeper than the sea. I could write about His characteristics and mercies for hours in analogies and metaphors and lists.

But I don’t ever want to believe that’s all there is to our Savior. I think there’s so much more to Him than we will ever understand this side of heaven. When I really meditate on this God, I am completely blown away. To me, the only appropriate response is awe and surrender—even in the little I know about Him.

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There are a lot of people who try to completely understand this God before they agree to serve Him, and I think they will forever be emptying the sea with an eyedropper. They will go in circles a thousand times—trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. 

They will continue to ask, “Why would a good God allow bad things to happen?” or “How could a loving God send people to hell?”

These are big, weighty thoughts. These tough questions keep them up at night, tossing and turning and pacing. People bear these questions as burdens and point to them as reasons to turn away from Jesus.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think these questions need to be answered in clear and systematic lists. I used to try to answer this way—in cohesive arguments and reasoning. I would point to the glory of God and His righteousness; I was trying to will the blind to see, little by little. And maybe there’s a time and place to respond in this manner, but I don’t do it anymore.

Now I just simply say,

“I don’t know. But He is so good.”

“I don’t know, but He has so much love for us.”

“I have seen His goodness, I have felt His love, and I have experienced His grace.”

At some point I stopped trying to give all the answers and started trusting that He has all of the answers.

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There’s no math equation that will equal God (Thank heavens because I can't solve a math problem TO SAVE MY LIFE). There’s no picture that will sum up His attributes, no word vast enough to describe His goodness. No amount of earthly intelligence can comprehend the infiniteness of the Almighty. No one can explain Him away or put Him in a box.

All I know is that this mighty, holy, dangerous, and incomprehensible God is real and alive and good. I’m okay with not understanding all of His ways, because He is perfect and I am not. He is omniscient and I am not. He exists beyond the boundaries of time and space and I, most definitely, do not. 

At first I thought my inability to completely understand God and all of His plans was incredibly frustrating. But then I saw the peace and hope in this. This shouldn’t stop us from seeking to know Him, but encourage us all the more.

To me, it’s a soothing fact—we don’t have to understand everything about Him; we just have to trust Him. It takes the pressure off, loosens the chains, and continuously brings us to our knees in worship. We are compelled to a childlike faith and dependency in its truest and purest form.

We don’t have all of the answers, but our Father does. 

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“‘Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion.’ ‘Ooh’ said Susan. ‘I’d thought he was a man. Is he- quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.’

’Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver… ‘Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.’”

— C.S. Lewis (The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe)

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WANT MORE JESUS TALK AND A LITTLE EXTRA ENCOURAGEMENT STRAIGHT TO YOUR INBOX? 

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Quote Source // Lettering by Alex Fly

“The way she talked about the things she loved made the whole room turn to see what shone.”

— Atticus

I came across this quote a few weeks ago and it immediately struck a chord with me, a way-down-to-the-core kind of impact. I hand-lettered the words over and over and thought about the girl in the quote and the girl I want to be.

There are a lot of things I love: calligraphy and coffee, photography and writing and my dog. I love marriage and Instagram and the start of a new day. I could talk about books for hours on end or sit in a coffee shop to watch stories unfold.

I think a lot of my loves come from God, and a lot of them from myself.

But at the end of the day, I hope I radiate His love, to the depths of my being.

I hope my loves reflect His

like a daughter imitating her Father,

like a student imitating the great Instructor,

like a musician playing the Composer’s song.

After sadly parting ways with our travel buddies as they headed to Scotland, Kevin and I dragged our suitcases to the airport once again, this time toward our last European destination: Rome.

Our first day there was spent wandering her graffiti-filled streets, walking by the Roman Forum, past the statues of famous Caesars and stopping for espresso and spaghetti. We ate gelato by the Trevi Fountain, watching people throw coins and make wishes while our gelato melted in the hot sun.

We walked up the Spanish Steps and into the Church of Monti, marveling at the beauty and history and crowds of people.

Eventually we made our way to a pizzeria for dinner, walking through the park by the Colosseum in the golden light. There were dark-skinned Italian boys playing soccer on pavement and couples making out on park benches, tall trees and ancient ruins littered between them.

We ate fried mozzarella and crispy, delicious pizza while the sun was setting. I alternated between exclaiming, “Ciao!” and “Grazie!” which seemed sufficient communication when said with a smile.

Our mornings were spent slowly at the pasticerrias, sipping cappuccinos and eating croissants, watching men with names like Lucca Fasoli and Rafaeli Bordoni have conversations in Italian. They all smoked cigarettes while sipping their cappuccinos and talked animatedly with their hands and rode vespas while wearing suits.

We took the bus tour to Vatican City and walked on the bridge over Tiber River, following crowds through the museums. I was amazed at the detail and marble, the magnificent ceilings and grandiosity of the Sistine Chapel. There was not a single corner of the Vatican that wasn’t beautiful.

At St. Peter’s Basilica, the same grounds where Peter was crucified upside down and believed to be buried deep underneath, we walked the narrow, curvy stairs to the top and looked out over Rome, winded and relieved.

After a tour of the Roman Colosseum where we learned about the hunting games, executions, nautical wars, and the gladiator battles that took place there, we saw Mamertine Prison. We walked the same steps of Paul and prayed to the same God. We walked through the Pantheon and Roman Crypts, strolled past parks filled with beautiful white flowers and people playing with dogs. 

Our last day in Italy we had a late flight but an early checkout. Being just young and dumb enough, we decided last minute to rent a smartcar and drive down the Italian coast. We stopped at Ostia Antica, glimpsing a castle and exploring the ancient city. We stopped for café lattes and snacks, sitting in the midst of the tall trees and ruins.

We ate ravioli overlooking the ocean and watched Italian boys windsurf before jumping back in our tiny car and heading back to the airport.

I learned that Rome is ancient and captivating, like a beautiful great-grandmother with a radiant smile. Her wrinkles and ruins tell her stories and sing her songs—of great legends and loves and lunatics, Caesars and saviors and civil wars. Rome stands like a testament to time and history and civilization, but most importantly to the God who has ruled over it all. 

Kevin's favorite spots: St. Peter's Basilica, every café

Alex's favorite spots: The Colosseum, Vatican Museums (THE CEILINGS!)

Places we ate (which were all delicious): 

• Breakfast: Panella, Bar Fondi (all of the cafés are called bars)
• Lunch: La Base (touristy but still yummy), Ristorante Mamafló (on the coast)
• Dinner: Li Rioni, Ristorante Alessio, Il Tettarello

Read Part One of our Europe trip here (London). 

Read Part Two of our Europe trip here (Southern Ireland).

See Brittany's awesome video of our trip here.

We welcomed the slower pace of Ireland, driving the narrow roads carefully and stopping often. We circled the Ring of Kerry through Killarney National Park and wandered through the gardens & grounds of Muckross House, then pulled off at Ladies View to admire the scenery. We drove the rental car down Inch beach and hid from the strong winds, amazed and cold.

After arriving at our airbnb in the cutest little town of Dingle, we walked past the rows of colorful shops and pubs to the end of town for firewood and chocolate and gathered at the pub for a typical Irish dinner.

I slept in late and woke up to the sounds of sheep in our backyard. We lingered by the fire, sipping french press coffee before heading out through the blue door with overgrown ivy to the field behind our flat. The cows and the sheep immediately scattered upon our arrival, while the most beautiful white horse trotted our way. We called her a unicorn and fed her Nutri-Grain bars. 

Once again we loaded in the car, this time for a drive around the Dingle Peninsula, following signs for Slea Head Drive. We stopped more times than I can count, walking around the Beehive Huts and roadsides for incredible views of the dark cliffs and teal water. We saw one of the oldest Christian churches at Gallarus Oratory and climbed rocks by a random boat dock. We stopped at hole-in-the-wall cafés to sip coffee and eat potatoes and buy postcards. 

After learning about the current filming of Star Wars (Episode 8) on the Dingle Peninsula, we researched and followed google maps up to the set location. We got as close as possible, driving through the recently constructed houses for the cast and crew, while noticing the big cranes and metal ramps and village huts used for the set. We asked the security guard if anyone had ever tried sneaking up there in a cow suit, not that we were considering it or anything.

We walked through a field of sheep and played in the ruins of a castle called Rahinanne, which we quickly renamed Rihanna castle without hesitation. We drove to Conor Pass and lingered at the best views before spending the last night in Dingle by eating delicious homemade ice cream at Murphy's and wandering the cobblestone streets.

Once we made our way to Dublin, the boys dropped off me and Brittany at the beach outside the city for a fun bridal photoshoot. We ran late and asked sweet locals for bus directions (while looking like crazy, lost Americans) and finally met up with the boys for a musical pub crawl, where we listened to traditional Irish music and watched loud Irish dancing, tapping our feet to the music in the crowded pubs.  

I fell in love with Ireland all over again-- with her little yellow flowers and incredible views and farmlands woven together like a patchwork quilt, dotted with sheep and old farmhouses and deteriorating stone walls. Maybe it's the rosy-cheeked locals or the ridiculous, beautiful aspects of God's creation, but I think Ireland has always been the kind of place that welcomes you with open arms-- allowing you to be part of her wonky patchwork, if only for a little while. 

Kevin's favorite spots: Dingle Peninsula, Downtown Dingle & Musical Pub Crawl

Alex's favorite spots: Conor Pass, Exploring Downtown Dingle

Read Part One of our Europe trip here (London). 

Read Part Three of our Europe trip here (Rome).

See Brittany's awesome video of our trip here.

Sleepy and giddy, we landed in London and met up with our friends Robert & Brittany to start our 10 day trip around Europe. In typical London fashion, we were greeted with pouring rain and busy streets. We quickly dropped off bags at the flat off Baker Street and hit the ground running, stopping for warm drinks and a hot meal.

We planned and chatted and wrestled umbrellas, making our way toward the British Museum where we read about mummies and ancient Greece, walked through rooms of marble and circled the Rosetta Stone. 

We navigated the tube system to Arsenal Stadium, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. We walked through the Tower of London and across the London Bridge, taking elevators to the Top of the Shard for spectacular views of the city. We saw center court at Wimbledon and lingered in the pubs to keep warm and dry. We ate tapas and macaroons and fish & chips, drank afternoon tea and americanos. 

I marveled at their architecture and accents and aristocracy. 

Kevin's favorite spots: Arsenal Stadium & Top of the Shard

My favorite spots: Poet's Corner (in Westminster Abbey) & Tower of London

Read Part Two of our Europe trip here (Southern Ireland).

Read Part Three of our Europe trip here (Rome).

Have you ever walked into another room and can’t remember fortheloveofallthatisgoodandholy why you went to that room in the first place? Apparently it’s called "The Doorway Effect" and is a real, actual thing that scientists have studied.

I do it all the time. I have good intentions and open up the door/pantry/computer and I immediately have no idea what I’m doing there. I turn into this robot-like thing, which kind of knows how to act like a human. And when it comes down to it, the robot-pretending-to-be-human is more likely to stare blankly than actually do anything productive.

The point is: we get distracted easily. I quickly lose perspective because of the delicious-looking chocolate Pop Tarts and the mirror I just walked past because “Oh my gosh, I really need to tweeze my eyebrows before I turn into Woody Allen” and the 10 Facebook notifications which leads to a silent, one-sided debate of: “Will Aunt Ida ever stop inviting me to play Farmville; I have never played that stupid game and will never want to play and maybe she is just lonely and I should really call her or send a note or something…”

And don’t even get me started on the distractions of cell phones. My iPhone is this whole other monster in which I will probably spend years of therapy trying to figure out.

But where was I?

Oh yeah, losing perspective.

It’s easy to do.

And it’s especially easy to lose perspective in our walks with the Lord. We proclaim our commitment to serving Him and say we surrender everything, and then we get fired or find out a bad diagnosis or maybe just have a really crappy day where nothing seems to be going right.

And we’re like, “Okay, God. I know I said I surrender everything, but I didn’t mean you had to take away that. And I know I said I would serve you, but there’s this homeless man that keeps getting in my way when I’m driving to my prayer breakfast, and I just don’t have time for that because I’m going to be late and these girls are going to start the Beth Moore study without me.”

I think prayer breakfasts and Beth Moore studies are both great, kingdom-building activities, but sometimes we (myself definitely included) ignore the person on the side of the road because we are busy studying the Good Samaritan instead of being the Good Samaritan. And just like that, we are losing perspective.

We forget that His plans are far beyond anything we could imagine and that this earth is temporary and that our Savior does not waver in His promises. We forget that God has called us to be a people of action and not complacency. We forget that our God is for us and never against us, and sometimes we just can’t see the roses because of the thorns.

And true to His promises, He makes everything new. True to His promises, He turns ashes into beauty. True to His promises, the thorns were helping grow the beautiful roses all along.  

“I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter.”

— Bob Goff