Member preview

What’s Real.

*I wrote this piece five months ago, needing a release. I was feeling heavy with hurt in this world and questioning where I stood with God. Deciding to post it now because I am coming out of that season of grief and uncertainty about my future. My life is still chaotic and unknown, but I am understanding more and more that God has brought me into a chapter of rest and restoration here in LA and has always been carrying me under his wing. This piece is a testament to God’s workings in my life and on my heart. There is no shame in questioning, mourning, fighting, and learning about the Lord. He is still there with you through it all. If you want to talk more or ask questions, feel free to contact me:

December 19, 2016 at 00:39

I’ve been scared of writing. Not just songwriting, but article writing and journal writing too. I used to journal almost every day.

I’ve been avoiding writing. Definitely songwriting. Somewhere hidden away I know that songwriting is one of the realest things I know, and I just can’t write what’s real right now.

Maybe because I’m having trouble with reality and it scares me to write because I don’t know where to start. I had this thought tonight, “Well, if I don’t have anything to write because I’m scared of writing, maybe I should write about that.” Okay.

Here I am, the avoidant, scaredy cat. Writing now, because I’ve avoided things long enough. And I can’t go on like this. With so much inside me that it boils over even when I don’t turn the kettle on.

My reality has been warped this year.

United Kingdom

Terrorism. Homelessness. Student issues at work. Oxford sexual assault cases. Friends’ problems with cancer. Friends’ problems with losing parents and grandparents. Family with cancer. Brexit disruption.


Election. Riots. Homelessness. Racism. Refugees. Peer pressure. Unemployment. Healthcare. Cultural stigmatism. Mental illness. Addictions. Shootings. Forest fires. School bus crashes. Friends dying.

You know, it was last year that I took a class on the problem of evil. It was last year that I studied how messed up the world is.

Last year had enough hurt to dry up all the oceans, or double them with our tears. But this year has seen its own horrors. The hurt never goes away.

2015- a year of pain.

2016- a year of pain.


I’ve been scared of writing. But I’ve also been scared of God. Not the, “Oh, he’s so mighty and powerful and I’m shivering in a corner.” But the, “Golly, God, who even are you?” And the, “I don’t know what I think about you anymore…” That’s scary stuff. That’s a new reality. That’s a perspective change on how I see the world.

How do I see the world? I know, I’m rambling. But do you think about these things too? Do you stop and think about what life is about? Why we are here? Why is there hurt? What is my purpose? What is your purpose?

These matters SERIOUSLY get me down sometimes. I will spend nights crying after realizing I can’t change the world by myself.

After trying so hard to please everybody, like my parents or professors or the social media world, but can’t get it right.

After reading an email from Neema House about the baby girl who died of starvation because they were too late getting her to the hospital.

After my friend died instantly in a car crash.

After my homeless friend told me the girl who stole his begging spot died and no one really cared because she had no family, no one to love her.

After finding a lump in my breast and discovering just how much I value the life I am living.

After my friend killed himself.

I have taken on people’s pain to try to help. I have listened to friends tell me about how they were sexually assaulted as kids. I have sat with friends who had just tried to commit suicide. I have talked with friends about their eating disorders. I have hugged friends who are being persecuted because of their sexual affiliation. I have shed tears with friends who have been raped. I have comforted friends who struggle with depression, lying, hate.

There is so much brokenness in this world. And as much as I want to, try to, fix it — I can’t.

That is a harsh reality if there ever was one.

This can get someone like me down, because well, I like being proactive, and I like loving people.

But hurt has its own healing timeline.

And people have their own demons to recognize.

So brokenness is real. Which I’m sure I’ve known before now, but it’s a lesson I have to keep learning. Why do we block brokenness? Why do we shield ourselves from others’ pain? Why do we ignore our own?

You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.

Oh, Augustine. This is what I keep coming back to after those long nights of crying. There must be something more. There must be redemption. There must be a release from this pain we all feel deep in our bones.

There is something in us that tells us to keep going. There is something in us that births hope.

When we are stuck in our grieving, what else but hope can pull us out?

And who put that “something” there? Who put that hope growing seed in us?

God, the triune. The divine being I’m scared of.

What’s real?

God is very real.

I can start with that when I don’t know where to start.

I can try to understand God when I don’t understand the world.

I can cry to God when my 2017 year brings pain.

I can write about God when I’m losing my grip so maybe I’ll remember who this all starts with and how the story ends.





Oxford → Los Angeles || portrait by Seiji Inouye in Nashville, TN