The Devil's Favorite Tool

"Just because it scares us or we don't understand it doesn't mean it isn't real."
This seems a little obvious. I mean, you may be scared of outer space, rottweilers , or taxes, but no matter how much you do not understand or are scared of these things, they are still there and no amount of pretending they aren't will make you not run into them or something regarding them from time to time. Obvious, right?
So, so then, how come we live much of the rest of our lives this way in regards to truth and beauty?

That quote is a line that stood out among all other profound thoughts expressed in my Partner in Crime's newest blog post, entitled The Ache of Beauty. In it she describes how we all experience this longing when it comes to beauty, because we were designed for ultimate beauty. But this longing scares us because we cannot understand it, so we put up walls around our hearts and hide, just like we do with many other things that scare us and threaten our minimal understanding of things.

I have talked a lot about walls over the last couple months. I've talked about how we build walls and masks around ourselves to hide who we really are, why we do these things, and how we should tear town these barriers so we can embrace who we are meant to be. I have talked about beauty and how we are scared to show our beauty to others for fear of being judged. But something I didn't realize until now was it's not just our own beauty we put a mask over but beauty in general. As Miss McCall said in her post, we turn away from beauty and put walls around our hearts so as not to feel the ache.
How many times have you read in the Bible that someone "hardened their heart" and wondered what it looked like? I think it looks a lot like this. Because the ache stems from a longing for more, a longing that we have to leave our comfortable places to pursue. And we, as humans, are oh so scared of leaving the known and the comfortable for the unknown and potentially uncomfortable. We are scared that our actions would not be worth it and that we will make a disastrous mess and fools of ourselves. We are scared because we have bought into the lie that we cannot walk on water. I mean, surely I can't be the only one who has a hard time believing that story sometimes.

But the devil works on this fear. We think he's been getting more and more creative with how he personally attacks us and tears us down, but his tactics haven't changed. Since the beginning of time, his methods have always been fear and lies, fear and lies. So why do so many people seem much more hopeless, lost, and longing for more than ever before?
It's because in the busy, who has time to seek truth?  And who would want to, really? I mean, truth disrupts our busy lives with our meetings, soccer practices, dinners, and even relaxation time planned to a T. You don't even have to look at a working adult to see this. Look at a grade schooler. From school to piano lessons to baseball games to play dates, it's no wonder kids are more stressed than ever and more and more people are growing up to never know how to appreciate beauty at all.

Jesus said we must become like a child to be able to enter His Kingdom. But with kids being scheduled more and more like adults, where has the wonder and inspiration gone? We are being introduced at younger and younger ages to lie that says you aren't important unless you are doing everything. Lies that tell us that the truth is a lie.

But this isn't the first time the devil has used our fear of the unknown to keep us from pursuing beauty and instead keep us pursuing things much less worth our hearts and souls.
In Exodus 5, Moses follows God's leading and goes to Pharaoh to ask if the Israelites can go into the desert to worship God for three days. In response to Moses' request, Pharaoh orders the slave drivers to make the work harder for the Isrealites so that "they keep working and pay no attention to lies." In the same way, our society has told us that busy is better. "Pay no attention to the truth," it says. "You must work, work, work so you can be the best."

With so many people saying this and living this way all around, it is very easy for us to slip into the same rhythm and have trouble believing truth and seeing beauty altogether.

But we must not let our fear of the unknown and the judgement of others keep us from living the lives full of wonder and beauty that we were designed to live. We must start a revolution and start breaking free from the molds we've been put in.
I challenge each of you personally to slow down and embrace beauty when you see it. Let it make your mind run wild, even if that takes you into parts of yourself you haven't explored in a while. Let yourself dream again, but don't stop there. Pursue the dreams and longing for a deeper meaning of Beauty, Love, and Truth that can only be found in the One we cannot fully comprehend.

Sticks and Stones

If you've been reading my blog from the beginning, or even just a few once in a while, you've probably heard me talk about a writer's conference called Re:Write and how things I learned there and the people I met changed me so much for the better. Well, what I haven't mentioned in my blog is the steps that came before that. The things that lead me to the huge weekend of self discovery that happened to me at this conference. Part of why I never mentioned these things is because until recently I wasn't even sure what started this chain reaction. It's hard sometimes, even once you've reached the end of a road, to look back and see the journey. The road snakes back on itself, sometimes parts of it are hidden. But sometimes it's good to revisit parts of your journey just so you can see how far you've come and learn new things from old situations.

Now, I'm not saying you should revisit everything, because there are certainly things that should remain only in the past, but there are still some things that you may appreciate more or learn more from now than you did when you first discovered them.

A few weeks before Re:Write, my sister shared a very impacting spoken word video on facebook.

I'm not sure if this began the domino effect of seeking myself and God in a deeper way, but I do .know it was an important domino somewhere in the chain. Emotional after watching the video and truly appreciating the idea that I recently realized would later evolve into the quote I shared in my last post about beauty, I decided to bare my soul to my large group of friends and acquaintances on facebook.

So, without further explanation, here is the video and the post that followed:

Growing up I was called obsessive, freak, crazy. Why? Because I was passionate and my mind moved a million miles a minute, causing me to have difficulty expressing myself and things that I loved in a "normal" way. Because of these names, I felt less than normal. At first that was okay. I retreated into my book, my fantasies, and my mind because I didn't even really understand myself.

Seventh and eight grade I saw people had friends, people shared what they were interested in and found people with common ground. I had been quiet and to myself for so long, I forgot. I forgot the labels they had given me. I spoke up. But still, I didn't understand me, not even to share who I was easily. So it came out in messy bursts of extreme emotions: excitement, anxiety, and passion. These things aren't normal. Or at least they aren't in middle school, where if you aren't painted in shades of the same boring gray as everyone else, you're abnormal.

Freak and crazy, some called me. But these didn't bother me as much as obsessed. I love words, I always have. And as a thirteen year old, I looked up the definition. "To think about something unceasingly or persistently; to dominate or preoccupy the thoughts or haunt persistently or abnormally"

There was that word again. Abnormal. So who was I then? I didn't belong to any bigger puzzle. I was not a masterpiece. I was abnormal. Broken. A discarded extra piece that didn't make sense.

Wanting to be loved and understood desperately, I put on a mask of shades of gray, hoping it would hide my crazy. But I found that I still couldn't relate to people, because I wasn't giving them me.I shut down emotionally to avoid the pain that came with the severe isolation I felt. I was lost in in a sea on shades of gray. I needed help. I was crying out for acceptance, but my mask had become so good at hiding who I was, that those around me couldn't even see I was in pain. Finally, through much pain, I threw the mask away, and exposed the deep emotional wound to the harsh air. Grace and love pored in. For the first time I had hope.

I was sixteen.

Since then, I've come to learn more about myself and how my mind works. It's a mess, and it doesn't make sense to even me sometimes, but I have found a way to harness that mess and turn it into something beautiful. I am writing a book. I do what some still call obsessive research and reading so I can improve my skills as much as possible. I'm still excessively loud, overly passionate, and into some things that aren't classified as "normal."

Although I'm not called these names that frequently any more, to this day, they still make me flinch. The way I thought no one understood me, or really saw who I was for so long affects how I think about my relationships. It still makes me second guess the genuineness of some of my friendships from time to time. I have to remind myself that those lies I once believed are not true.

What were your names?

I wrote this post six months ago. No longer do I flinch at these names. But watching this video and reading six months ago me's thoughts, I understand a little more about what I've been learning about myself, God, and beauty now.
After rewatching that video for the first time in six months, I was hit especially hard when the speaker said the line, "She's raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word Mom."
And yet she still doesn't see her beauty because of the names she was called and the masks she wore to hide her pain. How many of us does this describe?
From the twenty years of life I've lived, it looks like too many. More than it should be, anyway.
I was one of these, I tried to cover myself up, because the names they called hurt too much and I couldn't bare to let the people see that my heart was nothing more than an unwanted flower trampled in the street.

And when I think about where I was, and where I still see people today, I can't help but identify with the last line of this poem, "Our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty," because if you think about it, that's what we were and are doing, isn't it?
We put on masks to draw attention away from the pain in our eyes at the cruel words spoken. We put make up on our scars and build walls around our hearts, because if someone saw our stories, lives, beauty, then maybe they would disapprove and call us names to make themselves feel less broken.

For isn't that all they are? The same as us. Broken souls in a never ending struggle with beauty.

So, just as I asked six months ago, what were the jabs made at your beauty?
What were your names?

My God is Limitless - How Big Is Your God? (Part 3)

In the second part of this three part post, I talked about how the wounds and scars from our past can prevent us from really seeing God. This time, I want to share a bit of my own story with emotional scars.
As I said in the last post, everyone has their scars, the lies they believe that prevent them from seeing the Truth. Because I am human, I have them too. One in particular plagued me for a long time. I believed that I wasn't important, that I didn't have anything to offer the world. This lie was more harmful than it seemed, like a poison that slowly eats away at self-esteem and plants not only seeds of self-doubt, but seeds of God doubt. It caused me to reach the point that I described in Doubting Your Doubts, where I couldn't even believe God intellectually any more, I just said and did things to keep up the show for people who I thought would reject me if they knew I didn't really believe what I said.
Thankfully, God is patient and persistent. He pursued me when I didn't even know he was. Then he grabbed my attention and spoke straight to my heart (for more of that story, check out my first post ever here). It was then I was able to start seeing the intellect in it all. But this lie, along with many others I believed then, and some I still believe today, created those deep scars I spoke of. Scars I didn't even know existed. Scars that I'm still discovering today.

I briefly mentioned in the last post that if you want to truly heal, you must identify the scars and the lies attached to them and bring them to God. But how do you do that?
The first thing to do is find the scars. How I've gone about doing that is just by paying attention to who I am and how I am. How do I react to things? What's something I don't like about myself, or something I'd like to fix? When you find a scar, ask yourself, "Why do I think this way?"
For example, I'm insecure. Sure everyone is insecure in someway, but I am specifically insecure about my creations. I have a very hard time expressing myself and my understanding of things, so I like to do it in the most creative way possible. I turn my frustrations into art. I draw, paint, write, sing, spin stories, etc. Some of these things I'm better at than others. But all of them are a deep expression of my thoughts and emotions that I am too scatter brained to articulate to another human being in the form of verbal communication.
It's my artist brain, and I love it, but for a long time I did not love it.
In fact, I hated it! I hated not being able to express myself. I hated the blank stares or confused misunderstandings I got from others when I tried. I hated feeling constantly judged and worthless.
So, I created nonstop. I created worlds, characters, stories, ideas, pictures. I even created masks to hide behind. And I was so, so insecure about my creations because they felt like part of me. Because, they really kind of were. They were the only way I knew how to express myself, but even then, I was scared to show my creations to others because I was scared they would say something less than positive about it and not realize that this wasn't just some little thing I made for fun, but this thing was me.

Those insecurities are the manifestations of a scar of a wound I received when I was young. A wound fed by the lie that I wasn't good enough, I wasn't lovable, I wasn't wanted.
But realizing that lie took time. First I had to identify the scar. I had to look at my insecurities and say, "I don't like you. You are not me, you are my chains. You don't define me, you just keep me tangled in fear." Then I had to search. I had to pay attention every time I felt insecure and ask myself, "What am I afraid of?" Through several months of asking that question, I discovered the lie I had come to believe.
The process isn't a fast one. It took me months to identify my scar, and more after that to identify my fear and the lie that fear was rooted in. But that was almost two years ago. It wasn't until this spring did I start to dispel the lie by finding out I was not alone. By meeting many other creatives who thought the same way I did and had the same doubts that God was using to do glorious and magnificent things! And not just things in other's lives, but some had even had impacts on my life before I ever met them.
But I almost didn't meet these people. My fear almost told me not to go to the Re:Write conference. "What if you don't get anything out of it? What if it's a waste of time and money? What if something bad happens on your long drive down there?" And many more what ifs that scared me. But I knew one thing.
I have a dream. A dream that I'm more scared to lose the opportunity to reach than I am scared or other's opinions of me or falling into crippling debt or even dying in a freak car accident. So, while all of the "what ifs" my fear whispered to me were very valid "ifs," I had one, single quiet "if" whispering to me, "But what if you can reach your dream?"
And that single, small, truthful whisper got me shaking with such anticipation that I no longer cared about the big, scary "ifs" my fear screamed to me.

I realize now that I am the way I am for a reason, although sometimes I forget that. It's still something I only understand in my mind, but don't quite know in my heart. Because of this, I try to do things on my own. Don't get me wrong, it's good to work towards your dream, but when you forget that your ultimate purpose is to bring glory to God's kingdom, you can shoot for the stars all you want and have a real hard time getting off the ground.
God has been challenging me with the question I shared in part 1: "Is there a limit to my power?"
I already know that God is bigger than my biggest fear. But I have a hard time learning that He is also bigger than my biggest dream.
So recently I have been circling this dream in prayer on many different levels. I'm circling that I'll be able to get the book I've already written out there where it can impact people in the unique way that only story can. I'm circling that He would guide me on my next novel, which is centered around escaping the lies of the devil to see God's Truth. And I've recently added a new prayer to the list of things I'm circling.
The book I'm working on now is set in the desert, yet I have never been to the desert. I, however, have a standing offer to get a chance to see the desert this summer with my Grandparents in New Mexico. All I must do is raise the money for plane tickets down there. The day I decided this was something I needed to do, I began circling New Mexico in prayer.With 10% of all I make going towards travel I knew I would only be able to make it there with God's provision.
In the three days since, I have made almost twice at much money as I usually do on these days.
Such an immediate answer to prayer is something I'm not used to. I was excited, stunned, grateful. But most of all, I was overwhelmed. After just a few hours, He had already provided, and it instantly brought to mind a song by Big Daddy Weave

So, how big is my God?
He is bigger than my biggest doubts, darkest fears, and most unattainable dreams.
Is there a limit to His power?
Never! He is limitless, and in Him we, too, can be limitless.



He is eternal. He is infinite. He will provide.
Do you trust Him?
I'm learning to.

God vs Scars - How Big Is Your God? (Part 2)

Last week I addressed the common phenomenon of doubts and how they can destroy our prayer lives if left unattended to. Many of us have these problems, or have had these problems. Other times, the situation is very different. We can honestly say our God is infinite and his power has no limit, yet something still feels void. We can't seem to pray for very long, because we honestly don't know what it's like to pray with the absolute certain belief that God is bigger than our problems and wants us to prosper, or we don't read our bibles very much, because we don't usually get anything out of it. If you've never experienced this, it will sound like I've just contradicted myself. I mean, I basically just said that sometimes we believe, but don't believe. How does that make sense?

Well, if you're like me, this makes perfect sense. You see, there's two different forms of belief. There's the belief where you accept in your head that something is true based on firm logic and understanding and sometimes even a strong explanation from a trusted source. Then there's core belief. Minds can be changed, opinions can be swayed, but when you know something to be truth with the very core of your being, nothing can change that.

So many of us, though, know something to be true in our heads, but haven't quite fully grasped it in our hearts and spirits. Why is that?
I think it comes down to scars.

Everyone has scars, both emotional and physical. Scars have this funny habit of fading, which is fine and dandy when they're physical (unless, like me, you think scars are kind of cool). I have a scar on my left knee that I got when I was twelve. I crashed my scooter and landed on my face, having to get stitches in my chin (that scar is gone now). I left with a scar on my knee, a little bigger than a nickle. It was pink and weird looking, and when the weather got cold, it turned purple. Now, eight years later, its faded to about the size of a penny and is no longer pink, but a shade just paler than my fair skin. If I didn't point out the slight discoloration, you wouldn't even notice it. It looks like just a part of my skin.
Like physical scars, emotional scars can fade as well, changing to look like who we are, when they were never meant to be there. They can be caused by anything. A falsehood you came to believe about yourself as a child, a poor relationship with a family member or friend, a bad breakup, or any other form of heartbreak. These wounds, like any wound, will scar if they don't heal properly. Like any scar, emotional scars may fade to look like you, but they don't work like you, at least, not how you worked before you were hurt.

Physical scar tissue doesn't stretch and react the way normal skin or muscle tissue is designed to react. I sprained my right knee a few summers ago and didn't let it heal properly. Though I can't see inside my knee, I'm certain all the walking I did on it caused its healing to go too slow and scar tissue to form in my body's attempt to repair itself. Most of the time my knee feels fine, I walk without pain. But once in a while, it hurts, usually when a storm is coming in or seasons are changing or there's any other reason for the atmospheric pressure to change and affect my joints. Nothing else has a problem during those times, just me knee, because my knee doesn't have all it's original tissue, tissue that's designed to expand and flex with the pressure changes. Because scar tissue doesn't stretch, my knee hurts. But until my environment changes to affect my scar, I don't even know it's there, it's become such a part of me.

Emotional scars do the same thing. They block the connection between mind and spirit, but usually we don't notice this block. It's not until we hear or experience something that resonates with us in such a way that we feel the block. We notice that we don't feel the connection while our head is accepting the logic. We understand and agree with what the preacher/teacher/author/artist is saying, but we still have trouble really seeing God in this new understanding, because the scar acts as a dam that blocks the river's flow, a wall that blocks our line of sight, a chain that holds us back.

But what if I told you God sees all your scars and all your deepest wounds and loves you despite the fact that they prevent you from loving Him to your full extent? There is healing for every wound and every scar, no mater how old, deep, or painful. All you must do is identify those scars and the lie that caused them, and lay it at his feet.

Doubting Your Doubts - How Big Is Your God? (Part 1)

How big is your God?

This is a question that's very important to answer, a question that I don't think we can always answer. Mark Batterson reworded the question as one from God to man, "Is there a limit to my power?"
We can easily say God is infinite or that there's no limit to his power, but do we always mean it?
I think lots of times, even as believers, we say things like this just because we know it's the right answer and we can't put to words what our answer really is. What our doubts really are. Or, we know our doubts but we are scared of the implications. Will others judge me? Will I be misunderstood? Will God answer my prayer if I answer this question wrong?
So, we opt to avoid the real implications of the question by giving a safe answer.

At the beginning of the twentieth chapter of Luke, the writer tells of an interaction between the Sanhedrin (an order of high priests and teachers of the law) and Jesus. The men come to Jesus and ask Him where he got the authority to heal the sick and preach to the people. Jesus, knowing the men's hearts, knew they wouldn't accept the truthful answer, even if He gave it to them. So, instead, He asks a question in return, one that will require them to publicly accept or reject Him.
He asks, "John's baptism--was it from heaven, or from men?"
In other words, did the man sent to make the way for Jesus get his authority and understanding of these things from God, or men? Answering this question would require them to think about the one John proclaimed the way of, Jesus.
After discussing among themselves, they decided that they could not answer the question. For if they said, "From heaven," Jesus would ask them why they didn't believe, but if they said, "From man," they risk uprising, because the people believed John to be a prophet.
So they gave the very, very safe answer of, "We don't know."
Then, in verse eight, Jesus say, "Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things."

When we give the safe answer to this all important question of how big our God is and if there's a limit to His power, we risk getting big fat "Nos" in our prayer life.

But the safe
path never brings us fulfillment. We never get the answer we desire or the miracle we need. We must learn to shake this feeling of needing to pray the right thing the right way to get God's attention. We already have His attention, infinitely so. We don't need the right amount of flowery words to appease His holy awesomeness. If we want answered prayers, we need to pray honestly. God already knows your doubts, so why cover them up?
Address them and lay them out before Him so He can begin miraculous healing and open your eyes and heart to His glory.

What if, just maybe, your doubts weren't even legit? What if you just required a slight shift in perspective to see things clearly? What if doubting your doubts could bring you closer to an answer and closer to God?
What if?

The Promised Land Will Come

First thing's first, I would like to apologize to my active followers for the huge delay in getting another post up. Whether you know me or not, you probably don't know that I don't like to try to explain my thoughts on something until I feel like I have a good understanding of it. I've had a blog idea buzzing around in my head for two and a half weeks now, and still don't feel confident in my understanding of the topic.
Regardless, here I am.

Prayer. This is what God's been teaching me about through his Word and the testimony of faithful believers. And if I've learned anything through this, it's that I am not in control. Which I can honestly say is probably for the best, for I get very anxious and high strung when I'm stressed and sometimes I can barely handle the few things I am in control of.

Two weeks ago, I was reading a chapter in The Circle Maker, by Mark Batterson, about promises. In a specific section called, "Keep Circling Jericho," he encourages us to start praising God for the promises he gives us. If He promises to pull through and give you a miracle, you don't have to wait until the miracle happens to praise Him. Praise Him now. For a promise is a prayer answered.
But all too often, we are given these promises, and continue to plead with God for answers. The promise is your answer! The results may not come immediately, but the Promised Land will come. At this point, it's our job to continue praying blessings around that promise until it comes through.

Now where I've struggled the last two weeks is that my promise lacks definition. Like Abraham, God has made me a promise. He told Abraham that He would bring him to a Promised Land, but He didn't spell out for him what the land looked like, where it was, how big it was, or even how to get there. God simply told Abraham, "I have great things for you. I will provide. All you must do is trust me."

Abraham's my bro in this sense. I've tried asking God to be more specific in His promise, but the answer continues to be "no." Or maybe it's "wait." No and wait sometimes sound an awful lot the same when we want our answers now.

All this time I'm reading the Circle Maker and hearing Batterson share about very specific promises the Lord has laid on his heart, I keep wishing I had specific promises like that to circle in prayer. I have to continually remind myself that I've been given a promise. Just because it's not as case specific as the ones He's given Mark, doesn't mean His answer is any less glorious, and I must trust that His Promised Land will be glorious as well.

I may not know all the answers. I may not fully understand my promise. I may not know what the Promised Land looks like, but I do know a few things: God will provide, the Promised Land will come, and all I must do is continue doing what I know how to do, the thing God has told me to do. Pray, write, and shine His Light.

Help! Bandits!

I ran through the foggy night. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but I kept running. I had to. They were after me.
Foot steps thundered behind me and I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder to see how far away they were. Nearly tripping over my feet, I turned my eyes forward again. It didn't matter how far they were, all that mattered was I couldn't last forever. The thugs goaded and taunted me when they saw me stumble, but I ignored them. Let them waste their breath shouting, that would actually be better for me anyway!
Weaving in and out of trees, I attempted to lose them. Or at least slow them up. Anything would be better than where I was now. But fate had a way of taunting me.
Just then, I was out in the open. The forest had spit me out into a wide glen. I was exposed, with no cover except going back in the trees where my death was charging me down. I had no choice but to plunge into the fog. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding a way out of this situation when I saw something through the fog.
It was a light!
The light burned away the fog around it to reveal a small cottage, resting in the center of the glen. I was saved!
Finding a new energy, I ran full tilt for the little house. I prayed desperately that someone, anyone, would be home. I was going so fast that I was almost unable to slow down before reaching the door. I tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge. Locked.

PAUSE.

We all get into situations like this. Where life seems to be going any way but our own, where we feel trapped, endangered, anxious. It's just a part of life. But there's a right and a wrong way to respond in a situation like this.
My brother and I were talking the other day about where Jesus said, "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."
But specifically we were talking about when life puts us in situations that require us to ask, seek, or knock. Even more specifically, we were talking about a friend of ours. For her confidentiality, we will call her Sabrina.
We talked at length about how Sabrina's faith has been wavering recently and what brought her to that place. We talked about how she has decided to live life on her own, by her own power, proclaiming that God didn't want to help her or could help her. Upon learning of these new convictions Sabrina had, my brother and I were greatly grieved. The girl who was once so on fire for God and ready to worship and share him wherever she went was gone. In her place is but a shadow of who she once was.
Anger, fear, and anxiety have replaced the joy, strength, and peace she once radiated.
My brother, wise as he is, brought up this piece of Scripture, saying, "She thinks God has abandoned her, but he's just waiting for her to trust him to have it under control, instead of fighting for it to go her way."
After several minutes of discussion about the passage, the image of the chase popped into my head.
"It's like being chased by bandits," I said, "and there's a home, a safe haven of sorts in the distance. But you find the door to be locked, and instead of knocking and trusting in the unknown possibility that someone who cares might actually be there to save you, you turn back and try to face the bandits on your own."

Imagine if the character in our story, after finding the door locked, decided to do just that. Tired and sore, alone and scared, he turned back to faced the numerous thugs that assailed him, saying to himself, "I have strength! I can do this. Who says I need some God  to save me. I don't need anything but my own will power! And who's to say there's a God anyway? I mean, if there was, why would there be thugs after me? Obviously this house, this offer of peace and joy is just to taunt me! I mean, it's locked after all. Why would a loving God offer this way out, if anyone couldn't just enter? Obviously there either isn't a God, or He isn't loving, because look at that! There's bandits!"

As silly as this argument sounds, these sorts of questions are asked every day by millions of people. Now, obviously, if you were in this situation in real life, you would pound on the door until your fists fell off, which, for the sake of my metaphor, is the exact reaction you should, but don't always, have spiritually.
I can't answer all of the questions posed, but I will debunk one.
The bandits are human.
Did you see that?
They're human! Just like you and me and the old lady in the supermarket and the President of the United States. Human.
Are humans God?
No. Even though we really would like to believe so sometimes.
As humans, we have God granted free will to do whatever we please. Now you could get mad at God for "letting" the bandits come after you, but then, if he were to remove their free will, he would also have to remove yours. Why? God loves all of us equally. He wouldn't give one special favor over the other. This same free will is what gives you the choice to pound your little heart out on the cottage door, or try to face the adversity on your own.

Now, because the bandits are human and they have free will, they are chasing you.
This brings us back to the question, why would a loving God allow us to be chased by bandits? And my honest answer is I don't know.
But I do know two things:
1) By using our free will to choose our own way instead of God's way, we decide to pretend we're God. We say, "I know what's best for me better than any unseen God ever could." We take matters into our own hands, and some of the choices we make lead us to be bandits.
2) God does love us.

Now you may be asking, "But, Miss Blogger-Chick, how can you possibly say that with certainty when you have no absolute facts?"
Oh, but I do.
How do I know? He provides us with an escape. An escape from the bandits that plague our lives, and the decisions we make that make us, too, bandits.
"How does choosing to rely on ourselves and face the bandits make us bandits? I don't get it."
Oh, I'm so glad you asked that! That is a great question.
What do you suppose the person in the story is going to do when he faces the bandits? Is he going to sit down with them and chat over their differences over a nice cup of tea (or coffee, if you prefer)? No, the bandits have already proved to be violent and bloodthirsty. So then the only way to face them by yourself is to sink to their level and also become violent and bloodthirsty.
Something we all have to realize, though, is that while God will always answer, His answer isn't always the answer we want. While we want judgment, God wants retribution. We can be pounding our fists bloody on that door, begging for God to smite the bandits with a thunderbolt, but He's not going to do it. Although you may not see it in the moment, His way is so much better.

Now before I continue our story, I want to bring something cool to your attention.
Remember that passage I brought up at the beginning of the post? Yes, I know I'm long winded and it was awhile ago, but I trust your memory.
Literally the day after my brother brought up that piece of Scripture, my daily bible-prayer time brought me to Matthew 7 where the passage resides. Now we could call this sweet irony or coincidence, but I like to believe it was God. Or better yet, maybe one of God's favorite ways to work are sweet irony and seeming coincidence?
Food for thought.

I tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge. Locked.
Frantically, I knocked on the door, glancing over my shoulder constantly. I looked away for only the briefest of moments when I heard a shout. I looked back to see one of the thugs standing at the edge of the cloud of fog, pointing at me and waving his buddies over. My heart sank.
"I can't do this." I whispered to myself in defeat, tears filling my eyes.
I rest my forehead against the door and my rapid pounding slowed to a rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk. At every third pounding of my fist, I would lift my head from the door and let my forehead thud into it. With each thud, I repeated a silent, simple prayer.
Please, save me. Please, save me. Please, save me.
The third time I brought my head back to the door it didn't connect with solid wood, but something with a give to it. Something like flesh.
I pulled back and opened my eyes to find the chest of a man only inches from my face. I looked up to meet a face and eyes so kind and loving that time seemed to slow for a moment.
"Welcome home, child." He said to me, his voice as deep and gentle as the ocean on a calm day. "I've been waiting for you."