katie rose writes

I love advent. Just within the past year, thanks to a friend who was with me 24/7 in our first holiday season away from home on this side of the globe, I was reminded of the holy-days afresh—especially how to celebrate Advent, this season of eager waiting and longing, looking forward to Jesus’ birth: Emmanuel’s advent , or coming, to us. And so this year, I’ve slowly taken that mantle back up, to really press into this holy season that teaches me to wait again, to long again, to hope again—for something greater than a day off, something better than a Netflix binge session, something more than anything life can give me, someone so much more . I’m a few days behind already, but catching up thanks to a slow morning where I’m allowed to do just that. I’ve been behind because of a week hosting a friend in my country, in my city, and it was a hard week—but we got to see the faithfulness of God so clearly, so transcending our circumstances and our emotions and our ability. But still, ...

reflections in Ezekiel 33-34. The last time the Lord called Ezekiel a watchman over the house of Israel was when He called him: when the Lord set him on his feet, set His Spirit in his bones, and said, “Speak what I say to you, no matter what they hear or refuse to hear.” He says the same things here, as the sword (unbeknownst to those in exile with Ezekiel) advances upon Jerusalem. Ezekiel has warned them, yet even still he must keep warning them, because they are still so blinded by their sin—as we are—and are asking—as we are— “How then shall we live?” The way we ask it is more nuanced, more direct: “Why do I still sin?”   We know the answers, yet we struggle, inaudibly whispering, “How then shall I live?” Not thinking that we are worthy, valuable to God, forgiven by Him, but that we are still so sin-sick, sin-stained, sin-stuck. But the answer for Israel—the answer for us—the trumpet from the watchtower sounds, saying, “Turn and live.” Turn, and find your life abundant in...

this is not who I am this old sin-song I sing a lingering melody I did not pen and it did not pin me against myself in Christ—I am free in Christ—I am me a whole creation from the start I was living with a broken heart in a world with a imperfect melody its sin-sick song sang over me a lullaby that kept me free from the true freedom to be found in the silence of a hushed crowd straining to hear a new sound of a freedom song, sung by Grace herself a melody to truly set me free a freedom found apart from me the shattered self I thought I had to be made whole by a new song forever being sung over me by the God who made me whole from the start broken by the sin of man’s first heart set ablaze a wildfire of destruction descending into every generation made whole, again, by a fountain of blood an elixir of life found in one man’s death and again in mine dying to the brokenness I’d resigned to function as everyone else alike ma...