#goodbye 2016

So, this is something special I put together for the end of 2016 at the blog (sorry it’s a couple days late!). In case I never do say it enough, how thankful I am for all the support, just so beyond grateful, you can never truly know. Each and every single one of you mean the world to me. 

Without any of you, I would not be here, I would not be able to also indulge myself in what makes me happy, which is Sneaky and Jensen. But because of all of you, I can.

I hope that you all can feel my sincere and heartfelt thank you as you watch this, and I hope you all enjoy some of the best Sneaksen moments we were given in 2016! 

Here’s to a Sneaksen filled 2017 year! <3

Look Ma, we did it! We survived the hardest year ever. While 2016 threw at us death, loss, heartbreak, and uncertainty, it also left us with truths that far outweigh the lies we had to fight. Truths that will not only shape us, but will also bear amazing fruit for generations after us. Here are a few that I’m taking away myself:

God is not mean. I know that God is good, but to be honest, why did it sometimes feel like He was being mean? You know, those moments when you need Him to speak, but He remains silent. Or when you need Him to show up, but He hides. Or when He gives you a dream, but teases you by making you wait. Because I knew God was all-powerful and all-knowing, I never dared to question Him. Maybe part of faith was being left in the dark of all that God was doing. How faithless of me to even ask? So I’d just hold my breath, cling onto hope, and pray it would all eventually work out somehow. It wasn’t until one night when I sat on my bed and finally cried aloud, “God, that was really mean.” God wasn’t defensive. God wasn’t offended. He just simply began to unfold the secret of His hiddenness: that while I felt like He was mean for being distant, His silence was actually ushering me into the glory of deeper intimacy, understanding and joy with the Father. Maybe “God is good” and “God is not mean” is the same thing to some, but this small distinction was a big revelation for me. When I realized that God is good, I could trust who He is in the midst of hardship. When I realized that God is not mean, I began to trust His intentions in the midst of hardship, too.

Passion over perfection. I made an intentional decision this year to join the worship band. I tell people, “I can’t play and sing, but I can worship.” This isn’t one of those humble-brag things. Haha. There’s a reality in that I barely know the guitar and rarely sing on-key, but anyone who knows me knows that my ideal hangout is and will always be a jam session. I joined band because I desire the gift of prophecy. I love that prophecy puts language to the passion and love that God has for His people, but what I realized quickly about it is that you have to let go of getting it perfect, every single time. For a perfectionist like me, just thinking about this was terrifying. So I made a commitment to put myself in an environment where my passion superseded my ability, hence joining worship band. To be honest, to this day I dread the weeks I have to go on stage because I’m so concerned with not getting the chord or pitch right. But more so, I’m committed to being okay with not being perfect. What I love most about this has been the moments when I sing off-key and the Lord celebrates how in-tune my heart was, or when I’m discouraged after giving a word that doesn’t make sense and the Lord celebrates my courage to love. I’m learning that (1) the Lord values our passion, not our perfection and (2) the more we pursue God’s passions, the less we seek out our perfection.

Let the enemy confirm who you are. This was a phrase I repeated to myself over and over and over again. The trials this year persistently attacked my identity: Was I loved? Do I matter? Did God even see me? I remember driving to work one morning and telling God how hard things were. Then God said to me, “You could let the enemy’s plans destroy you, or you could let the enemy’s plans work for you.” In that moment, I realized that all authority had been given to me, which also meant the Devil had no authority. So instead of giving trials the power to define me as broken, unlovable, or disposable, I had the power to let trials confirm the truth that I am a daughter, I am loved, and I am worthy. After God spoke this to me, I stopped running away from hardship in fear that it would rob me of my identity, and I started to walk through valleys actively looking out for moments where my identity would be confirmed by the enemy’s schemes. Heartbreak led to knowing how much God loved me as a daughter. Death led to knowing the fullness of new life Jesus gives me as a friend. Loneliness led to knowing the companionship I have in the Holy Spirit as a co-heir. No trial is ever fun to walk through. But a major shift happens when you realize that by the blood of Jesus, you’re the one in charge, not the enemy.

Vulnerability is required for healing. When this year began, the Lord challenged me to write about the journey He was going to take me on. I cringed at His request because brokenness was already hard enough to face; having to share the journey with others felt like hell. Writing in hindsight was always fun because it guaranteed a polished post. Writing in the moment was painful because I could never guarantee whether the next post was going to be a breakthrough or a breakdown. But when I look back on this year, I’m incredibly thankful that God nudged me to write. The fear of vulnerability doesn’t even come close to the reward of transparency. Being vulnerable has led to incredible testimonies and new friendships this year alone. I can’t even count the number of times I received a message from someone going through a similar season, random friends request from strangers who followed my journey, facetiming people I’ve never met to talk about brokenness and healing, text messages from individuals who were forwarded a blog post, emails from individuals I’ve lost contact with who were encouraged, coffee meet ups with sisters who were processing their own beautiful story, etc. Through writing, I’ve met amazing people this year alone who have been so willing to be vulnerable with me in the journey the Lord is taking them on, and it has been the most healing thing for me to receive from their stories. It moves me to see the fight that lies within every single child of God to know Him more, and the beauty that God can really make from ashes. Seeing people fight and cling onto Jesus in the face of hopelessness empowered me to do the same. Were it not for their vulnerability and willingness to share their fight with me, I don’t think I would have received the incredible amount of healing that I did. Thank you to those of you who joined my journey and invited me into yours. Many of you have been part of one of the most difficult and beautiful years of my life, and I’m so thankful that brokenness was only the beginning of a path to meeting you.