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Hello Bravehearted Beauties! I’ve missed you! Happy second week of December! Good LORD! Help us slow this train down! I feel like Thanksgiving crashed right into Christmas, and I wasn’t ready. Anyone else feeling the holiday whiplash? I’ve joked that my house is suffering from a seasonal identity crisis {pumpkins and poinsettias on the porch}. And if I’m honest, my spirit is suffering a bit, too.
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But that’s okay. We weren’t meant to rush from one significant season to another with no time to process or recover in between. We weren’t meant to pull off a great Thanksgiving {or struggle our way through a difficult one} and then perk right up for Christmas. So leave your pumpkins on the porch if you’d like. No need to give into the pressure of Christmas if you’re not feeling it.
Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I loved stretching the joy of the season out for as long as possible, hence a decade of designing Christmas cards from September through December! But this year, I just wasn’t ready to embrace the season. Until…I spent the day cleaning a dirty, dusty, stinky, poopy barn.
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Note: I’m pretty sure this will be an unconventional Christmas post. It’s not often that you find Jesus and poop in the same sentence! Truth be told, I didn’t call it “poop” while cleaning the barn. When it smells that bad, and you’re all up in it, you call it what it is! Shocking, I know. But so is the birth of a king in manger.
Have you ever cleaned a barn? Mucked a stall? Refreshed a coop? Shoveled through layers of poop? Me neither…until we chased a God-sized dream and moved to a small farm in Franklin. Our dream always included chickens, which turned into dogs to guard them, ducks for the pond, barn cats to control the mice, sheep for the pasture, turkeys for my husband, and a puppy for the girls. Do you know what all those animals mean? LOTS of poop. And a very messy barn! Gone are the days of family barn worship. The smell of sheep urine alone makes it hard to sing praise!
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Last week, on a dreary winter day, my husband and I decided it was time to clean the barn. {With so much to tend to here on the farm, we’re always behind. Whoever demands our attention gets it, and last week, it was the chickens.} So we braved the cold drizzle and spent half a day shoveling you know what. {I know my husband is dying for me to say it! He gets a kick out of my occasional free farmgirl barn language.}
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And the whole time I worked, barely able to breathe because of the stench of sheep urine and every kind of animal poop, I thought of Jesus. Yes, I thought of poop and Jesus at the very same time.
Because this is where Emmanuel, God with us, made His arrival. Of all places, the King of Kings chose a dirty, dusty, stinky, poopy place where animals sleep, eat and go to the bathroom. Really God?!?! As if being born weren’t humble enough, the High King of Heaven chose to be born in a mess of stinky hay and animal poop. How’s that for a disruptive view of Christmas?
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With every stinky scoop I shoveled, I couldn’t help but wonder why God came this way. Why would the King of Kings leave heaven’s glory and splendor for a poop-filled place? Why would the Savior of the world make His fleshly debut in a rough and dirty feed trough? Why would anyone leave a throne and all the majesty of heaven for the lowliest kind of birth? Why, God? Why did You choose to come to us this way?
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As I broke open a fresh hay bale and scattered it around the sheep pen, I thought of the night Jesus was born. Did the sheep peer over the manger adoringly? Did they snuggle in close to keep the baby who was born a king nice and warm? I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong: there were definitely some sheep in the scene. And probably some precious little lambs, too. How do I know? Because on the night Jesus was born, the angels delivered the most glorious birth announcement the world has ever seen to the shepherds…and sheep follow their shepherds. {You should see our two sheep with our Anatolian Shepherds.}
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And why, God? Why did You choose to give shepherds the very fist glimpse of Your glory? Why did you announce Your arrival to such ragamuffins? Didn’t You know they’d bring all their dirty, stinky mess into your sweet little manger scene? And You know how sheep are: they don’t care if you’re a king or a ragamuffin; they pee where they want to, and it stinks to high heaven! You didn’t have to choose that place or those people. You could’ve made room at the inn. You could’ve chosen a palace for that matter! You’re a KING! Even I know a barn is no place for a king to be born!
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But You, Emmanuel, You still come like this. You come into this place for this kind of person. I’m every bit as messy and unlikely to give You the glory you deserve as those ragamuffin shepherds were, and yet here You are. With me. For me.
And in that moment, I don’t know whether to wipe the sweat or wipe the tears. I don’t know whether to gasp for fresh air from the stink, or gasp in humility because You still come like this. My spirit yields and my heart wants to kneel down, right there in the mess of the barn. Because of the way You came.
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Because this is still the way You come.
Your arrival even this day is gloriously disruptive. You come in the middle of the mess. You come where we wish we had poinsettias instead of pumpkins on the porch. You come where we wish we were better, faster, smarter, skinnier. You come where we have failed a hundred times and will fail a thousand more. You come into the aches and pains of this world, the mess of relationships, and the deep longings of our hearts. You come into every broken, messy place, never once demanding that we clean this place up before You enter. Our mess is where You choose to come and be with us.
Emmanuel, God With Us. This Christmas…and always.
Treasuring all of these things in my heart,
P.S. I’m reminded of a song I quoted on my Christmas card years ago…long before I knew a thing about barns. It still speaks to me today. Manger Throne by Third Day:
What kind of King would leave His throne
In Heaven to make this earth His home?
While men seek fame and great renown
In lowliness our King comes down
CHORUS: Jesus, Jesus, precious one
How we thank You that You’ve come
Jesus, Jesus, precious one
A manger throne for God’s own son
You left the sound of angels’ praise
To come for men with unkind ways
And by this Baby’s helplessness
The power of nations is laid to rest
What kind of King would come so small
From glory to a humble stall?
That dirty manger is my heart too
I’ll make it a royal throne for You
Hello Bravehearted Beauties! With a name like that, I’m thinking we all need to find a sword! Wouldn’t that be awesome? Maybe a French antique one with exquisite engraving and a monogram! We’ll raise our swords as a declaration of life and freedom while riding white horses in long flowing gowns and wearing crowns upon our heads!
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Does that sound like a fairytale or what?!?! Well, I’ve been thinking lately…about the sword I raise to fight for life. Have you ever thought about the ways you fight for life? The ways you choose to see beauty in brokenness? The ways you cling to hope in the midst of struggle? The ways you bravely move toward the light in dark places? Could it be that these are the ways you wield your sword?
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Last week, I was talking to this deep hearted blog friend about why we do what we do on our blogs. She’s an incredible writer, inspired by the heart of God, so her affirmations of my writing carried the weight of gold. But then she spoke of the breathtaking beauty she finds here. And I shared my frustration and fear. I’ve been told by more than a handful of people that the beauty I share is intimidating…that I am intimidating. What’s a bravehearted beauty hunter to do with that? Stop sharing beauty? I’ve been tempted to quit more than a handful of times. But as I voiced the heart behind my love of beauty to my new friend, a fire began to rise in me…a conviction about why I must share beauty.
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Beauty hunting is the way I wield my sword. Every time I pick up my camera, it feels like a defiant act. Why? Because we live in a broken world where beauty is often veiled by layers of heartache, struggle, exhaustion and hopelessness. It takes a brave heart to trust that you’ll find beauty no matter where you look, and no matter what the circumstances. For me, beauty hunting in unexpected places or amidst unlikely circumstances has become a life giving, life saving act. Beauty hunting is more about the LIFE beauty brings than the beauty itself.
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If you knew all the stories behind my fight for life and beauty, you’d know what a defiant act it really is. And I’m betting the same is true for you. That’s why I like to share beauty and story…to encourage you to wield your sword and fight for life and light in the darkness. It doesn’t matter whether you wield your sword with a camera, with a song, with a phone call to a friend, or by simply getting out of bed and choosing to look out the window instead of shutting down and shutting everything out. However you wield your sword is infinitely significant.
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There’s always a backstory behind the beauty I share here. And the backstory is rarely as pretty as the pictures. That’s the point, my friends: to see beauty in the brokenness. The photos I’m sharing with you today were taken when my eyes were blurry from months of tears. It was hard to see that day. My heart was hurting {redemption and healing is happening, and I look forward to sharing in time}. But today, what I want you to know is that hunting for beauty in brokenness brings LIFE.
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There’s something else you need to know: hunting for beauty when your life is hurting isn’t faking it. It’s actually one of the most courageous, defiant things you can do in the face of brokenness. I’ve tried all sorts of cover-ups, performance methods and avoidance tactics to numb, control or avoid pain and brokenness, but the bravest thing I’ve done is let the hurting places break wide open. Who knew I’d find beauty there? And friends, when you lean to find beauty in brokenness, you can find beauty anywhere. You won’t be able to not see beauty! {I’m pretty sure that last sentence defies all of my English major training and perfectionism! All the more reason to leave it!}
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I know not all of you are photographers, but we all have a sword…a way of fighting for life and defying the darkness. Can you think of a way you wield your sword? Can you picture what your sword might be? Are you willing to believe that you have a sword at all? I know…it’s hard to believe you could be a daughter of the King who’s been given a sword when you feel anything but royal, valiant and created for a purpose. But would you dare to believe with me today? I’ll take the lead on my horse and raise my sword on your behalf. Come along, and we’ll find your sword, too!
With all of my brave and beauty loving heart,
P.S. I’m beginning to believe this is true: that to give and share the beauty I find is to live; to withhold it is to perish. I choose LIFE! If I stop sharing beauty here, someone come check my pulse!
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Hello Bravehearted Beauties! Happy, glorious weekend to you! I just have to come right out and tell you that my heart is bursting at the seams today! It was 20 degrees on the farm this morning and fall glory is giving way to winter, so not exactly the kind of day you’d expect my heart to rejoice. {Winters have been hard for me.} But after two hard years and a handful of intensely hard months, I’m finally experiencing a significant shift in my story. I’m finally seeing what God sees in me, and I am leaping at the chance to live out of the name He’s called me.
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At the tail end of a recent winter depression, God called me Bravehearted Beauty. I didn’t ask for that name. And I certainly didn’t believe that name described me. Not then. Not in the midst of depression. Not in the midst of intense pain and loneliness in my marriage. Not in the midst of my struggle to understand my story. But God sees what we can’t see, and when He speaks something over you, it’s because He sees who you really are…who He made you to be. He sees your messy, broken, rebellious and unbelieving self, and He loves you exactly as you are right at this very moment. But He also sees you in your full glory. Right now, right here.
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And in that moment, when He speaks something true and glorious over you {as you pray, journal, cry your heart out, listen to a song, read His word or receive a word from a truth teller}, you can do one of two things: believe it, even if it doesn’t feel true…or reject it, because it doesn’t feel true. And as if believing something that doesn’t look or feel true isn’t hard enough, we have an enemy who will try to steal your identity the second it’s revealed to you. {Spiritual identity theft may be the most dangerous and invisible assault we face.} The enemy attacks with all kinds of lies, and will try to use your own story against you. He’ll even stoop so low as to speak hurtful and untrue things through those who are closest to you. And dear one, it’s not your fault that those lies were spoken over you. You didn’t bring it upon yourself. God’s enemy is dead set on stealing your God-given glory, and he’ll use anyone and anything to do it.
Why is your glory such a threat? Because your particular glory makes God’s glory all the more visible in this world. And that, my friends, is our enemy’s worst nightmare! That God’s glory and goodness would be made known in this dark and difficult world infuriates the enemy. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the glory of God! {In fact, Satan’s intense jealousy of God’s glory is the very thing that caused him to fall from glory. Can you believe that even Satan was created to give God glory…as an angel, and a highly attractive, beautiful one at that? But in an epic story of good vs. evil, Satan becomes the evil one, and plays that role like no other. But our God is a Mighty Warrior, and even when it looks like we’re losing the battle, He’s winning the war!}
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Dear ones, there’s another thing the enemy hates: being exposed. I feel opposed even at this very moment! {I had such clarity and excitement when I started writing this post, but now feel like the walls are closing in. Brain fog, burry eyes, headache, whispers that these words are too much…be gone!} For years, I balked at the idea of a real enemy. Any talk of spiritual warfare either went over my head or was met with outright denial and resistance. I hid behind high-minded theology, not knowing that a theology that doesn’t acknowledge the existence of an enemy isn’t good theology! It isn’t the whole truth. Lord, help us to see. Our lives don’t make sense if we don’t understand the larger story. If we don’t know who we were created to be and why we struggle to live out of that identity, we lose our way in this world.
{Resources for you: 1. Few tell the larger story better than John Eldredge at Ransomed Heart. 2. If you’d like a brilliantly entertaining and insightful look at the enemy’s tactics, read The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. 3. For a dramatic visual representation of the battle between good and evil, watch the Lord of The Rings trilogy.}
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Dear friends, I hate that your glory has been assaulted. I hate that the truth of who you are and who you were created to be has been veiled for so long. I’d love to help you recover your true identity. I’d love to help you see yourself as God sees you. Oh, radiant daughter of the King, if I could reach right through this computer screen and place a crown of glory on your head, I’d do it in a heartbeat! But you know what? God has already placed that crown upon your head; I just get to help you know it’s there! And…He calls you by a new name {Isaiah 62 } ; I get to ask God to speak it to you in a personal way.
Maybe He calls you Bravehearted Beauty…or Sunshine…or Buttercup. Maybe He calls you His Favorite…or Princess…or Pearl. It took me a long time to hear my new name. Over the years, I doubted that I’d ever hear. I feared that He didn’t have one for me…that I was too ordinary {or unworthy} to be called anything special. If you find yourself in that place, I ask God to remove whatever is in the way of receiving and believing your new name. I ask Him to speak it…through beauty, through song, through a friend who sees you, through His living Word, through whatever will speak to your heart.
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Confession: when God called me Bravehearted Beauty back in February, He also called me Freedom Fighter. I laughed out loud. Me?!?! Have you seen me? I don’t look like much of a fighter! They called me “Spaghetti Arms” in high school. And “Speedy” as a joke because I’m so slow. Did God pick the wrong girl for these valiant names? For years, I agreed with the lie that I’m no warrior…that I’m more of a damsel in distress, or a dainty princess locked in a high tower. I believed I was unfit for battle…that fighting wasn’t my thing…or even a good thing. But when you’re born into a world at war, you have two choices: rise up and fight or lay down and die. Rise up, Bravehearted Beauties! Let’s fight for our freedom!
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In my full glory as a Bravehearted Beauty and a Freedom Fighter, I sometimes picture myself riding a horse and wielding a sword. Much like Arwen in The Lord of The Rings when she rides across the river and raises her sword against a fierce enemy…not just to save herself, but to save another. {She’s a Bravehearted Beauty for sure!} I may not have an actual sword, but we all have our weapons…ways we fight for truth and freedom, ways we see who we are, and ways we help others see who God made them to be. I’d love to tell you about a few of my swords and hear about yours, but I’m thinking that may be another post. I’ll be back soon!
For now, I want to invite you to receive and believe in a new name. It feels like a treasure waiting to be discovered. I’m excited for you! In the mean time, I’ll call you Bravehearted Beauty. I know that name wasn’t just meant for me!
With so much love,
P.S. A note about the photos: I took them this morning just after sunrise. At first, I thought they were white chicken feathers. {Not a good sign!} But as I stepped outside with my beauty hunting weapon in hand, I discovered that they were feather-like ice formations clinging to the frozen grass and reeds. Beauty hunting never disappoints…even when it’s crazy cold outside!
I’ve experienced a whole lot of firsts on the farm, and here’s yet another one: a birthday party for a dog. Now, I know for some of you dog lovers out there, this might be normal. But for a girl who never thought she’d have a dog, and certainly not one in the house, the idea of a party with lots of effort just never crossed my mind. But when you have a daughter who loves to bake, loves to make people {and dogs} feel special, and who’s crazy about her puppy, she has a party!
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Laura Finley has a special bond with Aslan. I never saw it coming. When she holds him in her arms, he melts like butter. He can be wild and crazy one minute and melting in her arms the next. Hallie has always been a dog person, so I expected her to love having a dog in the house, but I’m beginning to think Aslan was meant for Laura Finley. He’s seems to be therapeutic for her in a way I never imagined a dog could be.
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When I asked her what she thinks it is that makes her feel so connected to Aslan, her response leveled me inside: “We’re both a mess. We both have things we can’t eat. And we’re both different together. I don’t feel lonely when I’m with Aslan.” Now if that doesn’t make me want to keep a dog despite his heavy shedding in the house, I don’t know what will. She likes having someone to be a mess with in our family. Gosh, don’t we all need to be with someone who loves us in our mess?
I’m just going to have to get over the fact that he sheds so much. I don’t know if it’s possible to overlook all the black hair on the white linen slipcovers and all the white hair on the dark floors, but if it is, I’d like not to notice it as much. I’d like to become less obsessive about vaccuuming, or at the very least, more joyful about vacuuming. It’s pretty funny that my neighbor said Shelties don’t shed, and that I didn’t bother to do my own research. Because when you research…you find out they are one of the top shedding breeds. Ha! God has such a sense of humor!
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On the days when I vent my frustration with all the dog hair in the house, my oldest daughter reminds me that if I give Aslan away, God will find another way to mess up my love of clean. Yep. He’s been doing it ever since we moved here…exposing my addiction to cleanliness and control and giving me grace to embrace the mess. Thank you, Aslan. You’ve taken the mess to a whole new level!
While Laura Finley baked, Hallie played with Aslan on the farm. He was even allowed to “herd” ducks. An impossible task when they fly every which way, but he sure had fun! And Hallie took some great photos:
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This birthday boy knows he’s loved. And while all his shedding, following me everywhere I go in the house, and insatiable desire to play has rocked my peaceful, clean and quiet homebody self, there’s no doubt he’s meant to be in our family. For therapy, for disruption, for love, for play. He may even be meant for me as much as he is for Laura Finley.
And on the days when I wonder what on earth I was thinking to bring a puppy home without researching, I just go back to this story and watch video of the day we surprised the girls:
Heart melted. Mess accepted.
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Gracia @ Gracious Offering - Linsey, Love your thoughts and first hand insight about the humble birth of Jesus. I’m with you…so amazed that He would choose to come to us in this way. And, so incredibly thankful! Have a joyful Advent season with your family…and the farm animals!
Julie - Beautiful Linsey! We too have lived with a barn for a year now… and wow, does your story ever resonate. So thankful for Jesus and the humble way He came. Love your words as a reminder and an encouragement. His words to me this season have been to make room for Jesus… we can do this as we clean barns, coops, entertain, in quiet prayer, family time. Just as there was no room in the inns of Bethlehem, we can get so busy decorating, shopping, cleaning. But, He is showing me, little by little, that we can invite Him into even those places that don’t seem holy. He is with us. Then, of course, we can honor Him in those places of prayer and worship as well.
Merry early Christmas (don’t worry, you still have time, and yes… it came fast this year!). xo, julie
Julie - Beautiful Linsey! We too have lived with a barn for a year now… and wow, does your story ever resonate.
So thankful for Jesus and the humble way He came. Love your words as a reminder and an encouragement. His words to me this season have been to make room for Jesus… we can do this as we clean barns, coops, entertain, in quiet prayer, family time. Just as there was no room in the inns of Bethlehem, we can get so busy decorating, shopping, cleaning, etc. that we temporarily forget the reason we are doing it all – or maybe we start doing it for other reasons. But, He is showing me, little by little, that we can invite Him into even those places that don’t seem holy, as an act of worship and communion with Him. He is with us!
Merry early Christmas (don’t worry, you still have time, and yes… it came fast this year!). xo, julie
Julie - Sorry Linsey! I think I posted twice… the first time it said it didn’t go through – when I posted again – I noticed my first comment was there! whoops 🙂
Jennifer Camp - Linsey, I so needed to read these words and let my heart be present in this scene. Your last few paragraphs, especially, make my breath catch. Thank you, wise and beautiful sister. Bless you.
Katey - beautiful thoughts about our loving Lord. Thank you.
emi - Beautiful, Linsey, beautiful thought/reminder! You have a gift with words! How thankful I am that God allowed me to privilege to visit your Ten 10 Farm with my niece and meet you. What a special memory was made that day. I will be praying for you through this winter season! Merry Christmas to you & your family!
Amanda - Precious Linsey-girl. Your words have captivated me. You were made for this journey–your humble, honest spirit has the rare ring of TRUTH, and your words spill out with beauty and rawness. You said “YES!” when he called you, and you were willing to share it with us, even when it’s tough–you share. Your words bless me richly, and your journey inspires me. I love you, precious sister, and I am praying EACH DAY of this blessed holiday season for PEACE from Him to flood your soul. Much, much, much love!!!!
sheri - Hey Linsey – I JUST THOUGHT about you today and wondered how I lost “following” your blog. Then I read Paige’s post tonight and there was a comment from you – God is so good! You have such a way with words and I feel so blessed to read your post. Merry Christmas! xoxo
JJ - What a wonderful post! I loved the message. I had thought about the dirt and animals and maybe even a little pooh but never the pee smell! You know if the inn was full then the manger was probably not at its best. (Like my garage at Christmas.)
On another note, I think we are more apt to find contentment when we are doing a hard job when we think of God as we do it! Keep up the good work and the good writing!
Jerri Lynn - Another beautiful blog post….love truly came down at Christmastime. Merry Christmas to you, sweet Linsey. Thank you for sharing your heart and home with us as you so eloquently do.
chrissi - thank you for bringing a bit of “real” to my vision of the first christmas. your words are such a gift. merry christmas.
Come As You Are » Bravehearted Beauty - […] even lingered in the barn a few times this week to ponder his arrival a little more deeply. Oh, the crazy way He came! I still don’t get it. {And that feels […]
zanne dailey - thought you might like this, written by my pastor/writer friend Doug Brendel:
https://dougbrendel.wordpress.com/2013/12/24/dirty-2/
Faith In The Fog » Bravehearted Beauty - […] fog is God himself. He’s a God who draws near. Christmas reminds us that He is God with us. The crazy way He came still astounds me, but I know this: He still comes today. He comes right into the middle of the […]
Christmas Is For Misfits » Bravehearted Beauty - […] know a thing about motherhood, much less mothering the Son of God. And then there’s the crazy way He came…the way He made His entry. The King of Kings was born in a manger…a nice way of saying […]