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Hello! Welcome to Released to Fly.
Is your heart in pain today? Take a peek into our hearts, and know that we understand.
We write with the sincere hope that your heart will feel welcome and safe here. If we can succeed at that, then we write with joy—knowing that our pain will not be without purpose.
We are married, and we are best friends.
We love doing things together, whether it’s running errands, working on a project, or studying the deep truths of God’s Word. So it’s only natural that we decided to write this blog together.
Our hope and intent is that our writing serves as a joint outpouring of the spiritual strength we have gained through our experiences together.
We are Christ followers.
We follow Jesus—not just because He asks that of us, or even because He deserves our devotion—but because we literally don’t know what else to do.
We nod our heads in agreement when we read the words of Peter, “Where else would I go? You have the words of life.”
We just can’t “do” life without Jesus.
We are empty.
We learn to empty our lap of the blessings poured into it, to give to others in physical need. We learn to empty our vessels of what God has poured into us, to give to others in spiritual need.
And, as Jesus emptied Himself of all who He was for us, we learn to empty all of who we are, for Him.
We learn to empty ourselves of our plans, dreams and desires for our lives. We learn that our lives are not our own.
We have learned this through crushing disappointment, broken hopes and dreams, deep regret, and monumental loss. The end of the road, with no more chances. The disillusionment of God’s silence.
The indescribable pain of never knowing “why.”
We are full.
We both can truly say that Jesus is our everything. He completes us, as individuals. He completes our marriage.
His fullness—in ourselves individually, and in our marriage—is our overwhelming joy and strength. His fullness is also our necessity.
He is the air that we breathe.
We are weak.
We are still learning what it means to “glory” in our infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon us (will we ever actually achieve this?) In the meantime, we choose to rest in the knowledge that His strength is made perfect in our weaknesses.
We have learned this through what appears to be life sentences of suffering. Our suffering is not newsworthy—it’s barely noteworthy, compared to others. Yet, it is ours.
It’s the kind of suffering that isn’t apparent to most people, because it’s not often seen. (We’re pretty good at hiding it.) And yet, it is there—it is ever present in our lives.
We learn to find rest in suffering, in feeling powerless—and, at times, hopeless. In times of frustration, lack of direction, identity crises, and low self esteem. In times of feeling misunderstood, or even judged.
And when we want to preserve ourselves, and our dignity—when we pridefully attempt life in our own strength—it is during those times that we especially need to be reminded that we are weak.
And without fail, we are.
We are strong.
We learn that we are strong, because His strength is sufficient for us.
When we are weak—whether physically, emotionally or spiritually—Jesus Christ is strong. And we depend on that.
Oh, how we depend on that—much more often than we actually want to. We cling to it more desperately than we wish we need to.
We walk with a limp, yet somehow manage to run this race. We are determined to finish strong, because He is strong.
We learn how to live.
In Him, for Him, to Him, and through Him.
We learn this by learning how to die: to our desires, and ourselves. We are slowly losing our life, in order to find it.
Sometimes, we panic and gasp for air. And sometimes, we voluntarily go under for more.
We learn to serve.
Each other, others, and the Lord—and it’s not what we imagined it would be.
It’s basically the opposite of what we had planned, and more complete than we had ever intended.
It goes against every fiber of our natural being.
It is rooted and grounded in Love. It is a seed that dies. It grows, as we let go.
We learn how to fly.
“I will mount up with wings like an eagle,” the tiny sparrow declared.
She flapped and flapped, but just could not catch the air. She stopped and took a good look at her wings.
Some feathers were ragged. And some were falling out, as part of the natural molting and growth process.
Some feathers had been plucked out by an enemy, at a time when she had let her guard down.
Some were crushed—still intact, but made useless from injuries inflicted in battle.
Some were singed, when she had to fly through a fire. (She thought she was alone in the fire, but God was right there with her.)
One day, after a long, patient wait, she saw that God had strengthened her wings with brand new feathers.
She spread out her new, beautiful wings—and knew she had been born for such a time as this.
After a deep breath of courage, she let go of her secure branch. She felt the warm air current—and God’s power—underneath her, lifting her up.
We trust. We let go.
And we are released to fly.
Soar high with us!
~Andrea & Ken
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