Thursday, July 5, 2012

Wednesday, June 27, 2012


“But we ought always to give thanks to God for you.” 2 Thessalonians 2:13

It hits you, stopping you in mid thought as you allow the smile to come across your face. The moment takes you by surprise as you realize just how thankful you are. The feeling usually hits you the most random of times: Driving in the car, coming back from a girl’s weekend. Sitting on the couch watching old reruns of “Friends.”. Or simply at the table on a Sunday afternoon, eating lunch, surrounded by laughter, inappropriate humor and the knowledge that this is how it’s supposed to be. We take those moments for granted. those moments when we realize how blessed we are to have people surrounding us that genuinely make our lives sweet.

I am a big advocate of the simple things. The single post-it note on the mirror in the morning reminding someone the day is new. The simple coffee cup on the front porch mixed with conversation that colored our day. Or simply a note letting them know that they are being thought of. It’s the simple things that cultivate these precious relationships. They bring encouragement, enlightenment and acknowledgement of the gratitude for the people around us.

Encouragement is powerful. A pat on the back can change someone’s perspective. A simple “thank you” can make someone stand a little bit taller. To simply allow someone to know just how much they mean to you—that changes everything. You don't need to spend your life savings or days planning an extravagant flash mob that goes viral. All you need is to be aware.

It’s simple really. It’s not complicated or intricate. It’s being transparent, taking your outlook off of you. Recognizing that you have a fantastic life not because of material gain, but due to the precious souls that make you belly laugh.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Christian Life Support

Jesus didn't have a Church. Jesus didn't have an organization. He wasn't hooked up to life support, with some organization providing a pamphlet telling him how to do ministry. He had his community of disciples and He lived His life with the command God had given Him.

My community is weird. When I say weird I mean the majority of us are involved heavily in what the Christian world has deemed “ministry.” They are parts of amazing organizations that are being drenched in blessing and the fruit is abundant. But what I have been hit with lately is a question that seems to transcend some of our deeds.

What would happen if all the churches, organizations, names and leader meetings disappeared? Would I still do what I do?

I was met with that challenge not too long ago. I realized I was at a place in my life where I wasn't attached to an IV of steadily streamed Christendom. I was no longer in the bubble of Bible College, working at the church or involved in full time “ministry.” If I didn't feel like going to church one morning, I didn't. If I wanted to drop my Jesus life all together, join the world and disappear, I could. There was no obligation, no meetings, no title holding me accountable. I had never felt so free yet so lost in my entire life.

The humility came when I realized how much I clung to my associations. So much pride was laced in my title or where I was on staff. But the beauty of fruit comes when the seeds are sown in purity. When there isn't association or a brand attached to what you’re doing. Nothing more than Jesus Himself.

When all the churches, organizations, names and leader meetings disappeared I was left with the simple realization that it was me and Jesus. No other person or group— nothing else. I was left with the life He had placed me in and what I was commanded to do: Love Him. Love Folks.

I had to realize that my ministry, our ministry, is not based on our association. It helps to have that support, to have that team. After all, Jesus had his disciples. Yet it’s knowing that I can do for one what I wish to do for everyone.

Inspired by 1 Corinthians 3

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Jesus didnt have a Twitter

I had an epiphany the other day. It might seem petty or slightly dumb, but it was a light bulb nonetheless.

Jesus didn’t have a Twitter account.
The apostles didn’t have a blog.
And when the children of Israel marched around the walls of Jericho, they weren’t posting pictures on Instagram.

Sometimes we, (okay, I) get caught up in the hoopla. The hoopla of other people's approval, the need to know that what you’re doing or saying is good enough. That you are good enough and people are listening.

About a month ago I spoke at a women's conference down south. It was a big deal for me. I had prayed, cried and studied my heart out to prepare. I was nervous, and the night before I drove down there I was scheming how I could get out of it. Fake a migraine, head injury, cancer. I was scared but I knew I had to do it. My prayer the whole time was that I would be so passionate, so convicted by what God had shown me, that I wouldn’t need my notes. I would be so moved to tell what I had learned.  I was excited, but petrified. The racing questions of doubt that never seem to cease were there in force. What do I have to say that is so dadgum important? Why do they want to listen to me? I am 24, never married (or dated, for that matter), I don't have kids and, quite frankly, have never been through much of a traumatic experience. So why am I here, microphone tapped to my cheek, about to go in front of 150 plus women, the majority of them years wiser than me, and tell them I know something they don’t.

Then I stepped up, opened my mouth and didn't need my notes. Why? Cause I am not Jesus but He is in me.

All of those questions of self doubt could be answered with one simple truth that would have to be said over and over and over and over.

It’s not you.

After that weekend, I was feeling fantastic. I loved every second of it. It felt natural, comfortable and, dare I say, I think I did a good job.  I was feeling confident that God had answered my prayers and wanted honest feedback. My mom was in the audience and videotaped a snippet or two of one of my sessions, so I sent the videos to a few people that I trusted. People whose opinion I value and I knew would be honest. I wanted feedback: was this where God had gifted me?

A few weeks before the conference I had submitted an article to an organization called The Good Women Project. It was on a whim and I had forgotten I even sent it to them. But late one night as I was trying to go to sleep, I got an email informing me they thought it was "fabulous. We are publishing it tomorrow!" I was giddy. I did the whole kicking and squealing girly thing. I texted people who I knew would be awake and would share my excitement. The next few days were a cluster of Tweets, Facebook likes, comments and positive feedback. I was getting random twitter followers and my personal blog (the one you are reading) was getting up to 200 hits per day. I even got an inquiry about helping with a book!

I felt like I was on a roll and God was finally saying "it’s your turn."

Today, the hoopla has died. Those videos I sent to the people that I wanted honest feedback from? Not one of them responded to me. The article is now a few weeks old and therefore old news. My blog is back to roughly 20 views and that person who wanted my help on their book never got back to me.

It’s days like today that I question what I am doing. Why do I write? No one reads it. Why did I get to experience the feeling of "this is where I belong" only to have it die down?

The questions of doubt resurface daily as I look ay myself and think, "What do I have to say, anyhow?"

Then I remember:
Jesus didn’t have a Twitter account.
The apostles didn’t have a blog.
And when the children of Israel marched around the walls of Jericho, they weren’t posting pictures on Instagram.

They didn't know how many "likes," re-tweets or comments they piled up.  They loved God, therefore they loved people and therefore God's name was being glorified. Do I write for people to read it? Do I desire to speak so people can hear me? No. I write no matter what, published on here or not. I speak even if no one is listening (believe me, I'm a talker). The fact of the matter is, the Holy Spirit is not dead and He uses a variety of vessels to speak to us and, when we are that vessel, He speaks through us. I listen to other people, I read dozens of blogs and what other people are sharing  when God has shown them something. I am no different.

We love Jesus. He speaks to us. So read, write, speak, tweet. You might surprise yourself.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Moments of the Unexplained

The noise gets to be too much. You stand there, in the middle of everyone else and you can’t seem to move as you’re paralyzed by the dizziness that seems to be circling around you. Everyone is running yet you can’t seem to simply take a deep breath. There is no guidance, no map, no clues, not even some pieces so you could puzzle them together. No explanation of why, who and what to do next. The hurt, pain and unsettled emotion of slight abandonment is lingering, no matter how many times you force it to leave. Yet the power in the healing that comes from these moments of lost direction cant be explained.  Reminding yourself that all you have is this moment. The moment to get past the nonsense that seems to set a fog over reality. The moment to set aside and relinquish the current season.

People have tried to comfort you with the ideal cliché that “this is just a season.”  You have even heard yourself saying those words. But it’s in these moment of the unexplained that you realize it’s always going to be that season. That season to learn and to truly love.

For you were taught to love by none other than the Author Himself. The urgency overwhelms you as you notice that there is always someone to love, to lead with ambition. To walk in a way that leaves no footprint of your own sole, but of the one who took your hand.  To recognize the potent potential that is left when you lead the quiet life. 

There is a stage for you to conquer; A victory that is already won.

Inspired by 1 Thessalonians 4:9-12

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Take My Hand

“we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, 
but also our own lives” 1 Thessalonians 2:8

It’s official. I am 24 years old and I am a cynic. To a certain degree, it’s my own fault. I get caught up in the discussions, blogs, tweets, books and all the hoopla that surrounds me. Sometimes I think I know too much and long for ignorance.  My mom swears the rock she lives under is cool in the summer and warm in the winter so it is tempting. But I won’t because I have this dream that everyone gathers under one roof and worships Jesus, learns from the Word and loves people. I like to call it church. It’s a dream because, until Jesus is actually here, that will never happen. My dream may be naive, but I will hold on to how it could be.

I find such freedom in keeping it simple. To read your Bible, love others and be transparent. The honesty that comes with that brings respect and integrity. To get back to the authenticity of the gospel and what it’s called us to do and be. Simply to impart the gospel and our lives into others. That is true discipleship. No need for a title or to be attached to some organization. Just simply share your life.

That is what I’m praying for. I recently realized I often pray for God to supply all my needs. But I know He will do that. So I have been praying for my wants. Maybe that is wrong, I don't know. But that is where I find myself. I am on my knees praying that He answers my wants for this life.

Take my hand. Speak comfort in my ear as I am listening to Your historic voice.
Take my hand and reveal Your glory.
Take my hand and I’ll return to you.
Your voice is unmistakable as I am overtaken by the need to move closer in.

Friday, June 8, 2012

White Noise

Millers Landing. Tallahassee.
I used to think God guides you gently, swinging open the doors and holding them like the gentleman He is. He would make it so evident that it (whatever it may be) is of Him that I couldn't ignore it. I prayed for that kind of confirmation with almost every decision I had to make. I awaited the affirmation that had no question of doubt. I have been in a state of waiting for what seems like a a while, walking through open doors as they come and willing to do anything He pointed towards.  I continued to be open and pray for opportunities. As time passed, the prayers became laced with frustration and I grew anxious. Yet over and over I heard Him ask me to wait. To actively be present in my life, realizing my days were already filled with opportunity.

Yet sometimes—especially recently—God calls us to break down the door. His obedience calls for you to fight. That you try all your resources, get past all your fears, take a step forward without His hand on your back. Being obedient in the pursuit of fighting for what He has for you. To cut through the white noise of what comes at you, and to push through the walls of anticipation.

Actively waiting on Him to guide you, or pushing your way through, it comes down to obedience. Am I diligently seeking, being open and willing? The reminder that blessing comes from flexibility—for when we are willing to be molded, we are not easily broken. That we can't go off what we feel (for our emotions are fleeting) but go off what we know. What do we know? God is God and we are not and He will never leave us. I get caught up in the present and think that I have to figure it all out. I end up causing more harm than good (even if its just confined to my own brain.) The first step of being obedient is getting your butt off the couch even if that means just to get on your knees. So often our prayers are consumed with our own needs and wants. Yet how often did Jesus pray for others? Odds are your prayers wont, and shouldn’t be about you.  There is such humility found in physically getting on your knees, allowing the power of intercessory prayer to be used through you. Stand in the gap. We are called to fight for those around us, to fight for what our heart desires. 

Be open to where ever He might take you. Cut through the noise.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Dust Mites

I woke up to the smell of bleach and the sound of a vacuum cleaner. I could hear my mom yelling for my dad outside my window. I plopped back down as I covered my head with the covers, groaning with the knowledge of what was coming. It was Saturday. I should be excited about this. I had plans that day—okay, as much as a 13 year old can considering I was land locked until the parents could take me somewhere. And from the sound of things, they had made plans for me. I crawled out of bed knowing the inevitable. I adjusted my wrinkled PJs, pushed my hair out of my face and made my way to the kitchen. Walking through the living room I was blinded by the sun as my parents had already opened all the windows and pushed the furniture to the middle of room, apparently preparing to wash windows. Ugh. I needed coffee. Yes, I was 13 and a coffee addict. Making my way to the breakfast bar I saw three plates with warm pancakes and a hot mug waiting for me.  My brothers were still snoozing through the hustle and bustle that woke me up. I was reminded how much I hate being a light sleeper. As I took my seat and settled in I saw it. Staring at me, mocking me. My dad had even written my name fancy on the top to try and add some excitement. Or maybe he was being sarcastic. Either was likely. The daunting list stared at me, watching me as I ate my pancakes. I prolonged the eating, slowly enjoying every bite, knowing I had to accomplish that list soon after. To be honest, the list of chores wasn’t that terrible. The pain came from knowing my mother had to approve my work. What most people deemed clean, she believed could use a bit of improvement. Every drawer pushed in, every sheet washed and even the baseboards deserved a good wipe down.

Later in life, I would silently thank my parents for teaching me the importance of chores and learning how to clean properly. Being taught how to vacuum and dust is a skill I would soon find out many were lacking. Unbeknownst to my 13 year old self I would go through over 20 roommates in my lifetime (so far!) and being a clean person is a perk to everyone you live with. (I knew I was slowly morphing into my mother when I caught myself thinking in my southern twang, "were you raised in a barn?") Yet growing up in the “list, correction and ‘that's not good enough go back and fix it’" years, I was miserable. But the ends justified the means it took to get me here.

In the end, wiping away the clutter, grime, dirt and filth makes things new. The smell of a fresh, clean and awakened room is something that helps you realize how dirty it was to begin with.

My life is no different. I can see Him looking at me, gracefully handing me my list. He asks me to push in the drawers, reminding me that somethings need to be left to the imagination. He tells me to go get some bleach and I might need to get on my knees to get the job done. A little elbow grease and breaking a sweat never hurt anybody. There are some areas that might need to be scrubbed a little harder. He guides me as I clean off the layer of dead filth, the dust that is collecting and covering the truth of what lies underneath. As I pursue, clean and remove the clutter, the sun comes in. The purity of my true wealth comes through and I'm reminded what was there all along. I'll be back, there will be another Saturday morning with a list next to the plate of pancakes. But for right now, I’m going to bask in the Light that has brought me here.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


If you were to open up my computer, go to the folder "musings" on my desktop, you would find a slew of half written ideas, rambling, musings and incomplete thoughts. Some are pages long while others may consist of one word. Nothing is complete and nothing makes sense. There is no eloquence, no color that can contrast with the grey. Combine that with journals that are overtaking my bookshelf and I'm reminded that there are more in a box somewhere which just means that this is old hat.

It all started when I was 13 as my dad handed me my first leather bound book full of blank pages. He told me to write everyday. Everyday, even if it was just a few thoughts and knowing that occasionally I may need to burn it. At the time, I had no idea how life altering that gift would be. No masterpiece comes out of it, no published great American novel will be formed. But those books of handwritten thoughts, dreams, worries and moments are what keeps me from going crazy.

Problem as of late is the apathetic grace of absence. Whenever I need a slight dose of reality I look back at my journals and Quiet Time musings and I realize where my head and heart has been. Lately, its all over the place. My mind, my spirit, my life is a list of stops with no connections.

So now what? I'm in the rut of "blah".  I sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown and I have to ask myself "what are you even saying?!"

Its a good question to ask yourself: What am I saying? The answer may not make sense at the moment or even for a little while. It may be a list of stops with no connections or the lack of color may make your view point rather gray. Yet it's in that moment of stops, that we recognize the miracle of connection. That we fully come to sense the peace that surpasses all understanding.

I'm waiting in anticipation for God to give me that "Holy crap!" moment as He brings all the sporadic thoughts and ideas together. Yet until then I will stay {un}Inspired and focus on the simple things.

Push forward. Fight for it. Get inspired.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

I wonder

I wonder if I have more worship songs memorized than scripture.
So shall My Word be that goes forth from My mouth; it will not return to Me void.  Isaiah 55:11

I wonder if today is going to be better than yesterday
He shall hide me; He shall set me high upon the rock. Psalm 27

I wonder if what is coming in will cover what needs to go out.
My God shall supply all your needs. Philippians 4:19

I wonder if He hears me
and after the fire, a still small voice. 1 Kings 19:12

I wonder if I dream too Big
But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; Because it will surely come. Habakkuk 2:3

I wonder what He has up His sleeve next
His way is blameless. Psalm 18:30

I wonder what they think
For do I now persuade men, or God? Galatians 1:10

I wonder what tomorrow will bring
Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much. Luke 16:10

I wonder if its all worth it
In Your Presence is fulness of Joy. Psalm 16:11

I wonder if I am missing it
Meditate on these things; give yourself entirely to them...for in doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you. 1 Timothy 4 15:16

I wonder if we realize the power of the little things.  
Edify one another. 1 Thessalonians 5:11

I wonder where this is all headed
Therefore, behold, I will allure her.  Hosea 2:14

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Mr. and Mrs.

I love weddings. (I have been a few)
I love instagram.
I love the south.

This past weekend I got to enjoy all three. 

Happy Wedding day Mr. and Mrs. Crosby!

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Guess what?

I wrote a guest blog post for Good Women Project.
If you don't know who they are or what it is- PLEASE check it out. Amazing group of ladies.

Good Women. They do exist.

Read it here: When It Isn't a Skinny Day.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

43 Minutes

For whatever reason, I love trashy teen soap operas. I am not sure what the exact draw is. The unrealistic story lines, the reminder that no matter what is going on in my life, it is not as bad as the pretend people on TV. (Some of that is because vampires don't exist, but we will discuss that another day.) Maybe it started helping my mom fold clothes on her bed when I was five, watching Guiding Light. I love getting caught up in the stories, the lives, the dramatic failures and celebrations of these fictional people. Every episode, every story line involves some dramatic twist that leaves me hanging in the balance at the end of that 43 minutes. (Plus the shows have really good music. I have discovered some great bands watching those shows.)

Why? Maybe its an escape. I love to read and just genuinely love stories. To get lost in someone else's world for a bit is refreshing. I get joy out of discovering other people's lives and the road that got them there.

Yet along with that comes the thief of all joy—comparison. Our lives are not written by Hollywood script writers (and honestly, sometimes I think I could do a better job; end of Dawson's Creek anyone?). Our lives are not going to have a soundtrack playing in the background with perfect lighting. Our love story is not going to be made into a movie or have a song written about it.

We have to be careful not to get so caught up in the emotional porn of the fictional stories of these "people" that our actual lives are disappointing. The Creator of all things is writing every moment so give Him the pen. Give Him the pen and don't try and read the last chapter or watch the season finale.

Now excuse me, I have some One Tree Hill to catch up on.


I was served the Kool-Aid.
I drank the Kool-Aid.
I learned how to mix the Kool-Aid.
I poured the Kool-Aid. 
I taught others how to mix the Kool-Aid.

Then I went home. 

I want more than that out of life. More than just the motions of the Kool-Aid. I want to know Him and He know me.

 “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven.  Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’  And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!’" Matthew 7:21-23

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Congrats! You're a hypocrite!

There comes that moment when you kick yourself in the butt. Shame washes over as you realize you were doing the one thing that you despise the most. That pet-peeve that annoys the stew out of you and makes your blood boil? Yeah you were caught doing just that.

Congrats. You are a hypocrite.

The one thing that becomes your saving grace is the realization of this reality. That you are this Jesus loving person who makes your own skin crawl. You recognize it, cringe in disgust and then change it. Change your thoughts, your emotions and wipe that stank look off your face.

Sometimes you have to grow up and do something.

Friday, May 11, 2012


I am a blessed girl. A “this is ridiculous, is this my life?, no wonder people want my family” kind of blessed. I am reminded of the influence and power one person can have over a family. My family would not be where we are if it wasn't for my grandparents. They set that foundation and we are reaping the benefits. This past weekend I had the privilege of attending a conference that centered around leaving a legacy and making that foundation for Christ. Sometimes we are born into darker legacies, while others can be a bit brighter. What was special about this particular conference more than most, was my Grandma (MawMaw we call her) was speaking. And, get this, she asked me to speak with her. (I know. Weird right?). Over all it was a great weekend with some come-to-Jesus moments myself. Including the realization that it is my own responsibility of choosing to what legacy I will leave. We all have one- whether we change the pattern of desolation or we continue in the glory of Christ- is up to us.

We didn't have to carry on the spiritual inheritance. We could have bucked the system, killed the legacy and done our own thing. But God blessed my siblings and me with good parents that took that legacy and passed it on to us. They are praying, sacrificing, encouraging parents who legitimately just want the best for all their kids (the adopted friends included). They want us to know that, more than anything that this world has to offer, we need to know that God has a better plan that surpasses all that we can imagine. That all of us can own that and do something with it. To discover  that we need to develop our own relationship with Jesus- which takes time and intensity and will ultimately pave the road of my own legacy, ready to be passed to others.

So, as I was sitting in the front pew of the church I was dedicated in as a baby, listening to my MawMaw talk, I was overwhelmed by the legacy I get to carry on. I don't have to, but joy comes from walking in His word and following that obedience. It wont be easy—listening to  her testimony is a reminder of that. I also know I wouldn't want it any other way.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
 Because the Lord has anointed Me
 To preach good tidings to the poor;
 He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
 To proclaim liberty to the captives,
 And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
 To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, 
And the day of vengeance of our God;
 To comfort all who mourn,
 To console those who mourn in Zion, 
To give them beauty for ashes, 
The oil of joy for mourning,
 The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
 That they may be called trees of righteousness,
 The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.
And they shall rebuild the old ruins,
They shall raise up the former desolations,
 And they shall repair the ruined cities,
 The desolations of many generations.” Isaiah 61:1-4

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


I want things. I dream and I have assurance in things that I continue to hope for. Yet with that comes the conviction and wonderment of the unknown. I'm reminded- that is what faith is. Faith is not allowing God to pick up the pen, only to try and read the next page. Faith is allowing yourself to dream, yet knowing one day, you will have the realization that you ended up with exactly with what you prayed for... you just didn't know it.

"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen." Hebrews 11:1

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Just Do Something

"So go marry someone, provided you're equally yoked and you actually like being with each other. Go get a job, provided it's not wicked. Go live somewhere in something with somebody or nobody. But put aside the passivity and the quest for complete fulfillment and the perfectionism and the preoccupation with the future, and for God's sake start making some decisions in your life. Don't wait for the liver-shiver. If you are seeking first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, you will be in God's will, so just go out and do something." 

(Thank you Sarah Tatum Gray for the book recommendation)

Wednesday, March 7, 2012



It was too tight. It was itchy and if I really wanted to, I could open my eyes and see through the blindfold. I was there, squirming in the dark not sure what to do. So I sat in the cold folding chair and just tried to listen. I wasn't the only one in the room with a blindfold on. I was surrounded by over 200 people, lost in the darkness that was everywhere. But as I sat there I tried to quiet my mind and just listen. The worship music had started and one by one I could hear the voices rising. As my chest rose over and over, allowing the deep breaths to fill my lungs, I could feel the tension in my shoulders escaping. I knew why You had me here, why You had every one of us here. Sometimes it takes getting in the darkness to see the power of You and to listen. With this fabric over my eyes I gained the opportunity to block everything out. You wanted my attention, like You have wanted all along.

The deep breathes continue to help me feel. I pull the blindfold a little tighter and took another deep breath. 

See more photos here: CRosSWILD