Over the weekend I was able to represent Circle of Friends and WEEC (100.7 FM) at a table at the Women of Faith conference in Indianapolis.
And if there was one thing I learned, it was that with eleven thousand women there, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Edy’s ice cream stand near our table would be by far the most popular place in the concourse! The line was constantly packed at every break, so much so that it was hard to get through.
I wasn’t able to attend any sessions, but it was quite obvious that the women were really enjoying it. I was pretty content to peek in on Mandisa’s and then Steven Curtis Chapman’s sound checks, and also to make friends with the ushers who were working our section. (By the way, if you’re ever at an Indiana Pacers game at Conseco in Indianapolis, swing by section 16 with some candy for Jimmy!)
But we had a great time interacting with the women who came up to our table. If you happened to be there and saw us, thank you so much for coming by and saying hi! We wished we had more time to tell you about ourselves, but with the noise and activity we’re grateful for the few minutes you gave us and also for stopping by our website.
Hopefully you’ve been able to read the great blogs and check out the daily devotionals. We also hope you look under our ministries tab, and among other things click on “Radio.” There are several links there where you can stream online to our radio programs at 10 am. We have an online radio with great contemporary Christian music you can listen to with internet access any time of day. If you’re on Facebook, add Circle of Friends Ministries and you’ll see verses and uplifting thoughts in your news feed.
We hope you take a few moments to get to know us and to see that we truly desire to minister to women. Because that’s simply what Circle of Friends is about – Women encouraging women to follow Christ. We also would love to pray for you in any way we can. Send your requests to prayer@circleoffriends.fm and it would be our honor to lift your requests up in prayer.
Even if you live in Indiana (which is where I happen to live as well) or wherever you might live, we still hope that you can find a place to belong here in the Circle of Friends.
When I was in Junior High I was in a writing competition club. Yes, you read that right. My husband loves this. When he found out this fun little fact about me he couldn’t believe that he had fallen for such a nerd. I didn’t really play sports, or at least I stopped trying when I realized that I was a hopeless case. But when I discovered Power of the Pen I knew that was right up my alley.
If you’ve got creative writing kids that have been or are in a junior high in Ohio (or maybe you’re a nerd like me and were once in it!) then you might be familiar with Power of the Pen. All the clubs from the different schools in the state get together and have a day of competition at district, regional and state levels. You’re given a prompt and 40 minutes to write for three different sessions. Anything from “K is for..” to “Begin a story with ‘They had nothing left to say to each other.’” Spelling and grammar don’t matter, just creativity.
So if you’ve ever wondered how I start a blog with one idea and end with something completely different, I’ve been trained that way! And if you’re wondering why my blogs aren’t better, well, let’s just blame that on my eighth grade coach, shall we?
But if you love to write and would like to share something, please please please email missy@circleoffriends.fm. We would love to hear from you!!!
God has gifted the women of Circle of Friends in so many different ways. One of course being the great devotionals you find here on the website, and now you can find in them in the newly published devotional book Shared Blessings from Barbour Publishing.
Everyday women from Circle of Friends along with the great authors you know and love like Sheila Walsh, Beth Moore, and Sharon Jaynes are all found in this new compilation devotional. You can purchase it online at Amazon, Christian Book, or find more information at Barbour Books. Shared Blessings is the first in a series of four devotionals from COF to be released from Barbour.
I needed gas so I went a different way to work then I normally do so I could fill up before it was too late. I got a giant Diet Coke and went on my way, only to be quickly stopped in traffic.
I never get stopped in traffic on my way to work. That’s why I love my way to work.
But this way takes me past the on ramp for the interstate, and of course during rush hour it’s a nightmare.
And for some reason, it’s worse than usual. Then I remember. It’s the first day of school.
Summer is so nice. My drive takes me through 3 different school zones and not having to slow down to a crawling 25 miles per hour is so nice. Not having to do deal with even more drivers on the road is so nice. And all of that is over for the next ten months.
I have a forty minute commute. These things matter.
And here I sit backed up for miles before the interstate. No idea why. Not moving. At all. This is not good. I usually get to work at least 15 minutes early every morning but it’s quickly getting eaten away.
Finally, after getting past the interstate I think I’m going to start moving. Nope. Still in turtle mode. And then finally I see it. Some giant piece of farm equipment. Which is what’s been backing up traffic for miles and miles.
Now, I understand that they gotta get those things wherever they need to get them. But do they need to get them there during the height of rush hour traffic on the first day of school using the road that goes by the interstate? Seriously? Not cool.
And then suddenly the car in front of me stops quickly, so I slam on my brakes, and there goes my giant Diet Coke.
Forty-four ounces of sticky liquid now covers the entire floorboard. Thankfully, just the bottom of my pants have gotten wet and not my entire lap, but in order to avoid further messiness or sticky shoes I have to drive the remainder of my commute keeping my feet off the floor.
Not only does this make for a very awkward position and uncomfortable drive, it also makes operating the pedals more difficult. This is not good. I’m not such a good driver to begin with.
Somehow I managed to make it to work safely but I am late. This is not good. Our phones come on at 8:00 AM sharp, and the other girl who is always on time is not here today. Which leaves me as the only one who is guaranteed to show up on time, and now I am late. Our front desk doesn’t like it when patients call in and they have no one to give the call to. I hate being late.
I am late, I have wet pants, and I am without my giant Diet Coke to help me survive the day. Oh yeah, and I totally parked on a curb.
And as I’m walking in a verse comes to my mind. Of course God won’t let me go into work grumpy and grouchy like I want to be. I can’t wallow in my own self-pity for an inconvenient morning. Instead, He allows the Holy Spirit to remind me that this is the day that He has made, and I need to choose to rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24).
So I’m going to let my pants dry, drink water, re-park my car at lunch, and rejoice in another day that the Lord has given me.
It seems as though lately as I’ve been introducing myself and people figure out whose daughter I am they have just one thing to say, “You look just like your Mom!” And who wouldn’t want to hear that they look just like the most beautiful woman in the world? Actually, I wish I looked more like her – I’ve always wanted her legs!
It’s not surprising to hear that I resemble her. There’s a picture of us at the same age, both sitting on a tree stump, and you could swear it was the same girl.
And the little girl who always loved the fact that she looked like her mom is now the woman wishing she really looked like her mom.
Let me tell you exactly what my mom looks like.
She is beautiful. She has a gentle wisdom – she is so wise and it never ceases to amaze me. She is full of knowledge about the Lord and about His Word and uses that to encourage and inspire and guide those around her towards Him. She is not proud or arrogant in that wisdom but offers it with such grace. And it never fails that when I’m in a situation or struggling she has just the right words, she knows God’s truth, and she shows me how to deal with whatever I’m going through by relying on Him, never making me feel like a failure for messing up or discouraged for not getting it right, but feeling empowered knowing that God is bigger than anything I might be facing.
She is beautiful. She has this quiet strength that has given me hope that no matter what I go through I am not going through it alone, and that God will take me through whatever has been placed in front of me. She has experienced such pain and hardship throughout her life and yet shines with the joy of the Lord. Never blaming Him for difficulties but yet embracing them in order that she might grow and use whatever has happened in her life to bring Him glory. She has shown me what it is to truly count it all joy when we face trials of many kinds, and she has shown me what it is to develop perseverance through those trials.
She is beautiful. She has such humility. She gives and gives of herself and doesn’t want acknowledgment. She is so gifted in her words, in speaking and in writing, and yet gives all honor to God. She has done so many things, touched so many lives, spent her life serving God in every way He has called her, and she would never take credit for it.
She is beautiful. And I want to look just like her.
I mean, the littlest of decisions rock my world. I can’t handle it. Take the conversation I had this morning with my husband.
Eric: Hey, I’m making eggs, you want any?
Me: Hmm. I don’t know. I think I’ll just have a bagel or something.
Eric: Are you sure, honey? It’s not a problem, I’ll make you some.
Me: Okay, yeah, eggs sound good.
Eric: How do you want them?
Me: Oh. I don’t know. You know what? Just forget it.
Eric: Alright. Can I toast you a bagel or an English muffin?
Me: Yeah, bagel. No, English muffin. No, wait..no, yeah, I want an English muffin.
So in goes the English muffin and a few minutes later…
Me: Now I’m thinking scrambled eggs sound really good. Yep, that’s what I want. I think I’ll make some.
And after eating my eggs and English muffin for breakfast? Yeah, I decided that it really wasn’t what I wanted after all.
So what in the world does a woman do when she can’t even figure out what it is she wants to eat? What about the big decisions? The ones that really matter?
I mean, if I don’t even know what I want, how can I possibly know what God wants?
Often in my life that has been something I have agonized over. Knowing the will of God. Knowing what He wants me to do iwith my life. And the not knowing is probably one of the things that has caused me the most frustration. I don’t know about you, but so far, God hasn’t given me a vision, spoke through a burning bush, or sent me an angel. I’d settle for a billboard, or one of those airplanes you see at the beach with a sign floating in the air behind. If He’d designate someone in my life to be my official decision-maker, that would be awesome.
And I don’t think I’ll ever have it completely figured out, but I am learning. For one thing, I’m learning that it’s not something God would have me worry about, after all, Jesus told us not to worry about anything. It doesn’t do us any good. Should I try to make decisions that honor and please Him? Without a doubt. But should I be anxious about it? That’s not the way He would have me live my life!
I’m also learning that it comes back to the basics. I get so caught up knowing His will that I forget to stop and take time to evaluate how well I know Him. Because if I spend my time getting to know Him, learning more about Him, I can’t help but think that knowing what He wants me to do in my life would be so much easier. And isn’t that what He really wants for me? A relationship with Him? Focusing on reading His Word and time in prayer instead of focusing on all the what ifs and questions I’ll probably never have answers to. Knowing Him, knowing His heart, can only show me His will.
Then maybe I can just worry about what’s for breakfast.
Nothing too spiritual or profound today. Just some random thoughts for your amusement.
Someone gave me one of those Dove candies, you know, with the message on the foil? I opened mine up and read, “Soil yourself.” Taking a closer look I realized that I hadn’t opened it up all the way. When I did I saw clearly that it was “Spoil yourself.” Kind of ironic that the missing letter was “p”, don’t you think?
I got up for work the other morning. Did my normal routine, took a shower, brushed my teeth, put on my makeup and dried my hair. While getting dressed I realized I was putting my pajamas back on. I think I’m overdue for a vacation.
The other night seven lightning bugs lost their lives to my windshield. Normally, knowing there are fewer bugs in the world is something that brings me a lot of joy. But no one wants to see lightning bugs die. Especially on your windshield, watching that little glow fade and fade ’til it’s nothing but goo on the glass. That’s kind of depressing, especially watching the rest of their friends continue to flicker on.
A couple nights ago we went out to dinner. The restaurant itself is fine, atmosphere is good, food is acceptable. But the main reason to go to this place is their cookie. They bring out this under-baked but yet baked enough cookie in what appears to be a small pie pan. Gooey, warm, deliciousness topped with ice cream. We ordered it for dessert, waiting anxiously, when our waitress came back and told us that someone had gotten the last one. How is it possible to run out of cookies? Make some more!!! And to make matters worse, we saw another server take the last one to her table as she walked right past us, the smell and sight making our mouths water even more. A few minutes later she came to our table and told us that the other people who had gotten the last one offered to split it with us. Isn’t that the sweetest thing? Complete strangers offering up half of their dessert! I want to be the kind of people that would sacrifice something so amazing to people I don’t know out of the goodness of my heart. I also want to be the kind of people who accept that offer instead of politely declining.
My brother and sister-in-law took their four-month old boating for the first time. She did great (her daddy is convinced she’s hooked already to one of his favorite pastimes), but having a four-month old on a boat went exactly how you’d expect it would go having a four month old on a boat. Not exactly the easiest thing to do. But seriously, isn’t this the most adorable boatin’ baby you’ve ever seen?
Okay, honestly, I’m not sure I’m an any time of day person. Definitely not a night person. Maybe a mid-afternoon person?
But without a doubt, not a morning person.
I hit my snooze this morning eight times. I’m pretty sure that’s a record for me. Eight times! The sad thing is, I have gotten so bad about hitting my snooze that I do it unconsciously. Seriously. When I got up today I honestly thought it was only the second time my alarm when off. I only remembered hitting it once. But somehow I managed to do it seven more times.
I hate waking up to an alarm. I feel so much better waking up if it’s another human being doing the waking. Well, I guess that isn’t always the case. As a kid I always liked my mom waking me up as opposed to the annoying alarm clock. My husband on the other hand is sometimes the best person to wake me up and sometimes he’s the worst.
I have this habit of falling asleep at night when we’re watching a movie or a TV show. And it drives my husband nuts. He doesn’t understand why when I’m tired I don’t just go upstairs and go to bed. Of course it’s never my intention to fall asleep. I really do want to know how it ends! But it’s dark, I’m laying down, I have a blanket covering me, and it’s late. I’m gonna fall asleep. So sue me.
I’ve tried to explain to him exactly how it is that he should wake me up. Kiss me tenderly on the forehead, stroke my hair, and speak gently, which he sometimes will do. More often then not, though, he just can’t get it right. Instead of being gently lulled out of my slumber, he sort of just yells at me to startle me awake. I really don’t know why he does this. (And if you’re reading this sweetie, come on already!! Just be a good husband and wake me up nicely all the time!!) It only results in making me quite mad. No one deserves that. I’m obviously tired, which means I’ll already be grumpy. And instead of dissolving that by waking me up sweetly he opts to infer the wrath of Sleepy Emily, who will usually mutter something only slightly coherent but always mean in return to the rude awakening.
There are some people I know that I would just like to give a rude awakening to. I mean, seriously. There are just some people who need a wake up call. People that I would love to walk up to, shake them fiercely, and tell them to “Snap out of it already!” It can be so frustrating to watch those around us – especially those we love and care about – continue in actions and behaviors that we know are not God-honoring and therefore end up being self-destructive.
And we do have a responsibility in those situations. Jesus tells us in Luke 17 that if our brother sins we are to correct him. You don’t let someone continue in their sin without confrontation. But there’s more than one way to wake someone up. We are also to “speak the truth in love.” Kindly, gently, lovingly guide them in the right direction.
We can either bang on the bedroom door and yell or we can walk in and speak softly. We can be harsh, unkind, and judgmental, or we can be compassionate and caring.
Remember that little song – “Oh Be Careful Little Eyes”? Maybe you learned it as a child, or maybe you’ve taught it to your own children. Oh be careful little eyes what you see, oh be careful little ears what you hear, oh be careful little hands what you do, oh be careful little feet where you go, oh be careful little mouth what you say. For the Father up above is looking down in love.so be careful.
I think there should be an adult version. You know, Oh be careful grown-up eyes what you see. Too often I want to believe that message is just for kids. Because when I stop and think about the things I let my body do I realize that I am not too careful.
My eyes – how much media and other things that portray world views and not God’s views do I watch and let sink into my brain without even realizing it? Am I letting too much of that in? And am I countering it with God’s Word instead and spending more time in the Bible to point me back to His truth?
My ears – what am I listening to exactly? Or who am I listening to? Am I tuning into the gossip when the coworkers start chatting or listen to complaints that tend to sway me towards the same type of attitude? Or am I listening to encouragement from people who know and love God?
My hands – are they serving others? Or are they serving myself? Am I reaching out to others? Am I tight-fisted when it comes to giving?
My feet – where am I going? Do I seek to head in the direction God would have me go or am I sprinting so fast the opposite way there’s smoke coming off my heels?
My mouth – are the words I’m saying pointing to God? Are they kind? Are they loving? Or am I spouting off whatever comes to mind instead of being slow to speak?
1 Cor 6:20 says – You were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your body.
Every decision we make throughout the day involves these bodies. What we see, what we hear, how we speak, where we go, what we do. Everything we do with this body, everywhere we take it, everything we put into it, everything we expose it to should serve one purpose – to honor God. Why? Because we are not our own – we are His because of the sacrifice He made. The amplified version puts it this way – “purchased with a preciousness and paid for, made His own.”
And the price the Father paid was so great, wasn’t it? Sending His own Son for us, watching Him suffer and die and take upon all our sin. It’s incomprehensible. We can’t grasp that kind of sacrifice. We will never truly understand that price that we were bought at.
And because of that we have a responsibility. Not to live for ourselves, doing the things that please us and gratify ourselves but to do the things that please Him. As the Message translates the verse – “Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.
And God can only be seen in and through are bodies if we are careful.careful with these bodies that He’s given with us – our hands, our feet, our mouths – all of it.
Ever have a moment when you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt God was real?
I mean, I know He is. I believe He is. I can only make sense of every day because He’s real and He’s here and He’s with me.
But there have been certain times when it’s just given me goosebumps. The thought, the realization, the complete clarity of everything in that moment when there is nothing more certain then the certainty of God’s existence and His presence in my life.
I remember when I was on my 8th grade class trip to Washington D.C. I had gotten out my Bible and devotional to read before bed, and before I knew it the other three girls rooming with me were sitting with me and we were doing my devotional together! I was blown away that God had given me friends that not only shared my faith but were also active in that faith. As we were reading through the devotional it used the example of the reverse beep on large vehicles and construction equipment. The exact moment we read aloud about the reverse alarm we heard it plain as day right outside our hotel window. When that happened it felt like God was telling us that He was there, He was involved in our lives, and He knows where and what we are doing every second of every day.
My wedding day was another moment that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was real. None of it made any sense without Him. Marriage, love, commitment. As I looked into my husband’s eyes and said my vows I knew the only way I could say those words and truly mean them was because of Him. The joy of that day, the confidence we had knowing that there is no fear in love, there’s no fear in marriage, was simply because we had God in our lives and that His strength, not ours, could see us through whatever we faced.
This past weekend while driving home after a storm we got to see the most incredible light show in the sky I think I have ever witnessed. The rain had passed and all that was left was lightning filling up the sky. So we parked the car and just watched. I mean, this was lightning like I had never, ever, seen before. More than a simple bolt or two heading down to earth. It was multiple streaks in every direction – almost like a spider web of lightning that filled the entire sky every couple of minutes. Just beautiful and amazing.
Now, you can tell me all about electricity and science and electrons causing something or other resulting in lightning. But I won’t buy it. That lightning comes straight from His hands. Job 36:32 says, “He fills His hands with lightning and commands it to strike its mark.” Watching that lightning was seeing a miracle. Like it was just me and God, and He was showing me how awesome He is.
There is something about seeing lightning fill the sky that screams God. You know that it can’t just happen all by itself. It’s such an undeniable display of His power, His might. Psalm 97:4 says, “His lightning lights up the world, the earth sees and trembles.” There is nothing else that can explain such a thing as lightning other than my God.
I love that He gives me those moments. I love that He lets me experience Him, that He lets me see evidence of Him, that He lets me feel Him in new and different ways. That He allows it to be more than just a head knowledge or a belief, but something I can feel to the depths of my soul.
I think I’ve admitted once or twice in previous blogs that I’m not the best driver in the world. I’ve had a couple accidents and seen those flashing red and blue lights a few more times than I would have liked..including this past Sunday.
In what is probably the shortest drive I make of anywhere I go, I got pulled over. It is literally a three minute drive from my house to church, and there is nothing that makes you feel worse than having to tell a police officer that he just pulled over a church-goer when he asks where you were heading.
I actually didn’t even realize it was me he was after, I was in the left lane and his sirens weren’t even on. I thought he was simply trying to get through traffic. But as he followed me over to the right lane I started freaking out. I was going to show up late to church with a ticket.
Obviously, I was in trouble, although I wasn’t sure why. I had just looked at my speedometer and had been going about 60 in a 55. But thanks to the officer, I now know that apparently I had rolled right through a stop sign out of my neighborhood onto the main road, yielding as opposed to stopping. I was so thankful when he gave me a simple verbal warning and I was able to go on my way without being slapped with a huge fine.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled away. The reason I hadn’t been paying attention wasn’t that I was in a hurry, it was that I was jamming to the radio playing one of my current favorite songs, “Oh Happiness” by David Crowder Band. (If you’ve not heard it you can check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTcThVJhDuM)
The lyrics to the chorus that I had just been belting out were, “Oh happiness! There’s grace enough for us and the whole human race!”
And just like it strikes me every time I hear that song, I was struck Sunday morning with that thought. The knowledge that there is grace enough for me, grace enough for you, grace enough for everyone that has been and will ever be really is the essence of pure joy. Because if there wasn’t grace, how could we be joyful? How could we experience happiness? It’s God’s grace that gives us the ability to even feel joy and happiness!
And the God we serve has offered that grace to everyone. 2 Peter 3:9 says, “God is patient, because he wants everyone to turn from sin and no one to be lost.” He sent His Son for the entire world, not just a select few. What incredible, amazing, phenomenal grace! Grace that is given to all! When I fail everyday to extend grace to my husband, or my coworkers, or the guy behind the register, God continues to extend His grace to me over and over and over, despite my shortcomings.
And here I had been given His grace yet again – in the middle of my rejoicing over His grace He proved Himself yet again to be a faithful, compassionate, giving, loving God who showed me once again that even though I don’t deserve it He is a gracious and good God.
And that’s grace I can’t help but sing about.even while rolling through a stop sign.
My dogs have found a new friend. There’s some German Shepherd mix that just about every other morning makes his rounds through the neighborhood. And there’s usually someone chasing after him helplessly as he runs further and further away.
The last time he was loose, the person chasing after him was a little boy, probably eight or nine years old. It was right before we had to go to work, but my husband and I tried to do everything we could to help him catch his dog.
When he finally got a hold of him, the poor little guy was going to attempt to drag this dog that was at least his size all the way home, and the dog seemed to be winning the battle of strength. I offered one of our leashes to him and he took it gratefully. Seeing that things had been settled we went back to quickly getting everything together for our work day, but it was just a few minutes later that I saw the boy walking through our back yard with an empty leash. So out I went again to try to help him wrangle his dog. The dog was laying in the neighbor’s yard, staying as I walked up to him, head down, seeming like he knew it was finally time to give it up, when some birds flew overhead and off he took.
I went inside and got the little boy a different leash and some dog treats to try to entice him. When I came out he was standing at the edge of our yard, looking as sad as anyone could possibly look. I asked him if he knew where the dog was, and he pointed to a field across the way where I could see something black running through the tall grass. I asked him if his parents knew the dog was missing and he nodded. I handed him what I had to try to help him out, told him I wish I could do more but I had to go. He nodded again and walked slowly towards the field. I backed my car out of the driveway and made the mistake of glancing his way once more as I pulled onto the street. He was giving me a sad, longing look over his shoulder and I couldn’t help but feel as though I completely deserted him, even though I knew I had to go and that I had done just about everything I could.
But I had so been there before. I was the little girl chasing a little white dog throughout our neighborhood so many times as a kid, and I knew exactly how hopeless and helpless that neighbor boy felt.
And even at ten years old I remember thinking, “Why in the world would you possibly run away??!!!” I think it every time I see that German Shepherd or one of my own dogs take off. What is it about these creatures that they would sprint as far as they could from their Master with no foreseeable intention of coming back? Why would they run from the one who provides for them, takes care of them, and loves them? Is it possible that they really think there’s something better out there in that big wide world? Sure, there may be freedom in exchange for some boundaries, rules and expectations, but it’s so much better at home where they belong. Are they really so foolish that they can’t they see how much they give up in order to gain whatever it is that they think they’re gaining?
Hmm… Seems as though I may have more in common with a foolish dog than I ever thought before.
Granted, not a very good one. But I like pulling out the camera and snapping photos whenever the occasion calls for it. Which often means it’s a time when it’s just my husband and me, and we have to take the picture ourselves. So we smush our faces together, hold out the camera, and click.
Needless to say, this results in a lot of pictures.
Actually, a ton of pictures, because I insist on taking them until I get one I like.
My husband’s patience runs thin, so we wind up with a few shots like this.
Now, because he knows that me asking for a picture means asking for a hundred pictures, he groans and grumbles as I get the camera out. And I have to remind him that I want these moments remembered. I want to be able to look back and think about where we were and what we were doing and have that memory captured forever. Apparently, he has a better memory than me because he doesn’t think all these pictures are necessary. But I don’t want to forget. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking pictures my whole life. When we’re old and gray and living in a nursing home, I hope I have a camera cause you can bet your life that if I’m still with it, I’ll be chasing him down with my walker trying to smush our faces together for pictures. Hopefully I’ll be with it enough to be chasing down the right man!
I’ve been hearing the word “remember” quite a bit lately in regards to remembering what the Lord has done. In Deuteronomy, Moses is constantly telling the children of Israel to remember. Remember that they were slaves and God freed them, remember that they faced the Red Sea and God separated it, remember that they were hungry and God provided manna. They constantly questioned Moses, and more importantly, they constantly questioned God. How easily they had forgotten His provision and His protection. Each time they were faced with a new challenge or a scary circumstance, they assumed that God would fail them, when He had already proven Himself to be faithful.
In Exodus 17, after God had helped the Israelites defeat another nation in battle, He told Moses to write it down so it would be remembered. In Matthew 16, the disciples got worried that they had forgotten food, and Jesus asked them how they had so quickly forgotten how He fed the thousands with a couple fish and loaves of bread.
It seems that when something happens in my life I immediately start to worry. I worry, I fret, and I fail to trust. I fail to remember the countless times when I saw Him work, when I saw Him use the worst things in my life for good, when I saw Him come through when I felt there was no hope.
I don’t want to forget the things He’s done for me. I don’t want to forget His faithfulness or His unfailing love. I want to look back on the mental snapshots of those moments in my life and remember that He is still the same God and His promises haven’t changed.
Okay, arguably, it wasn’t my best blog. But it was a blog, and I had it. And now I don’t. I somehow deleted it and now I am stuck writing one all over again.
And there’s nothing more terrifying then that blank page, that blinking cursor.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
What to write? Where to start? How do I even begin?
That’s the scary part. That first step. Venturing out. Turning that white page into something with words.
I have never been good at the new, or the unknown, or the challenging. When I was in junior high I was in a writing club. We had competitions, and I managed to place at districts and qualify for state at regionals. But going to state meant that I would have to go to Dennison University and spend a night in a dorm room with girls I didn’t know. By myself. No one else from my team had made it. So, despite multiple conversations with my coach, English teacher, and parents encouraging me, I refused to go.
In high school, I was in show choir. But only for my freshman year. My sophomore year my older brother, who had been in it with me the year before, decided to go to a small Christian school. I was left alone, and decided I couldn’t do it by myself. I dropped the class.
Even when I went to college I decided to go with two of my friends and had to room with one of them.
Anything new was too much for me to handle. And there was no way I was doing anything like that on my own.
In Matthew, after Jesus had risen, He met with His disciples and asked them to do a very scary thing. Matthew 28:19-20 says, “Go to the people of all nations and make them my disciples. Baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teach them to do everything I have told you.” I can’t help but wonder what they thought about those words. Go to the people of all nations? They didn’t even know all the nations out there. And they were supposed to spread the gospel to all of them? Who knew what kind of people were out there, if they would have a way to even communicate with them. Let alone the fear they must have felt knowing they were going to have to tell people about a Man they’d never heard of, that He performed miracles and rose from the dead, not knowing how they would respond. They already knew the type of persecution they could face, and the fact that they would be risking their lives by speaking His name.
And Jesus could have left them with that. He could have just left them with His final instructions. He could have said whatever He wanted, He was God after all.
But you see, He’s a good God.
He didn’t just end it there. He gave them a promise. The rest of verse 20 says, “I will be with you always, even to the end of the earth.”
Whatever scary thing He was asking them to do, He wasn’t asking them to do alone. He was asking them to do with Him.
Just like He’s asking me. The new, the scary, the unknown. I don’t have to do it alone. I just have to do it and know that He’s with me.
I am scrounging every corner of my brain for something funny, or deep, or well, pretty much anything at this point. Thinking about every thing that happened to me in the past week or so and trying to draw some spiritual insight from it.
And I got nothing.
What comes to mind instead is that I’m really hungry. Pizza sounds good. Pretty much anything I don’t have to cook would be nice. Going home and letting my parents feed me sounds pretty divine (which hopefully they’ll do when I visit this upcoming weekend *hint hint*) I kind of have a headache and am considering if I should take something or just ride it out. Wondering who might win American Idol and how Lost (best show ever by the way!) is going to end. You know. Pondering the really, really important stuff.
I usually approach these blogs with a plan. I know where I’m going, how I’m going to end it, and pretty much the gist in the middle. But this one.this one so far has been completely random without a clue of what it’s even about.
And I don’t like it. I like my neat, well planned out blogs. I like knowing where I’m going. I like seeing the picture on the box and watching the puzzle pieces fit snugly together to match. This unknown thing just is not nearly as comfortable. The wondering if it will all come together, the how and the when, is pretty much torture. I like knowing all the minute details.
And so it is with life. I just want to know. I have an idea of what my life’s going to look like in the next several years. Or at least, what I would like it to look like. And I want to know that A will lead to B which will lead to C and eventually get me to Z. I don’t want any curveballs, I want something nice and predictable. I want to know everything that’s going to happen. And if I never got to that fork in the yellow wood that would be great, because I’m not sure I want to take the road less traveled.
Basically, if God could give me the story of my life written down with a hardback cover that would pretty much be amazing.
You see, I have this plan. This plan that I hold so tightly to, depend on, and worry and fret that it might not come to be. But He is continually showing me that He is unpredictable. Sometimes M comes before G and sometimes there is no W. And there is no way for me to know how it’s all gonna end up. But He knows, and that needs to be enough.
It’s not about the knowing, it’s about the living and walking with Him every day. Taking it one step at a time as He leads. Typing one word at a time as He moves my fingers.
Because what He comes up with is far better than anything I can do on my own.
Last fall I shared the story of how I won an electric guitar off of a radio station. My husband was ecstatic, as he is the one who actually knows how to play guitar (although I am learning now!). At the time, we were “between” churches and finding a place to settle, and unsure if where we wound up would present an opportunity for him to even use it in worship.
But God knew.
Beginning in April we started attending a small church where Eric has begun lead worship on a volunteer basis. The pastor was all about him breaking out the electric guitar when appropriate, and so this past Sunday there was a song where he switched from his acoustic to the electric one God had provided to us free of charge.
After the service an older woman came up to tell Eric how much she appreciated him being there and leading the music. She told him, “I liked how you changed from your acoustic guitar to the other one. You know, it’s like my sewing; I have to use one machine for one thing and another for a different thing.”
He was so blessed by her encouragement and the knowledge that someone from a different generation recognized that the use of different types of instruments can be used to enhance worship and not to distract from it.
And isn’t that just what we are in God’s hands? His instruments? His sewing machines? We are the tools He uses to accomplish whatever it is that He needs to accomplish, one person for one purpose, and another person for another purpose.
I look at so many other people, how God uses them, how they impact others around them for His glory. Their gifts, their abilities, far surpass mine. There are times I feel like I am completely and totally ineffective and inadequate when it comes to serving God.
But big or small, I have my place in all of this. He’s not just made me for fun, He’s made me with a purpose. I’m a piece of it all. And when He uses someone in one way, He’ll use me in an entirely different way that He’s designed me for.
Even if I’m not sure whether I’m a guitar or a sewing machine.
This past weekend I went perusing through the clearance section in a local used bookstore and found an anthology of love letters. Actual letters written by people to their spouses, fiances, and so on. Some even a couple hundred of years old.
I had to pick it up and buy it. And after reading through the last couple days I have been amazed at the way people used to articulate their feelings. I lamented to my husband that he’d never written me a “love letter” and he reminded me that we’ve never been apart for more than a couple days in all the time we’ve been together! In the age of the internet, letters have nearly become obsolete. But emails, tweets, text messages, and facebook posts don’t come close to the kind of passion and beauty in the words written long ago.
I mean, who wouldn’t want something like this written to them?
“I cannot behold you without emotion; my heart still answers to your voice, my blood in my veins to your footsteps.”
“All will pass, except for my passion for you.”
“For me, to love is to love you.”
“Don’t you know everything I do is always done with you in mind. When I have proof of success this is simply my homage to you.”
“I should like to live at your feet and die in your arms.”
Think those words are pretty amazing? That they convey some kind of love that’s indescribable? How about these words?
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen (Ephesians 3:16-21).
But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions-it is by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2:4-5
The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness” (Jeremiah 31:3).
As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love (John 15:9).
Hmm. Seems to me I already have the greatest love letter ever written
Over the weekend I had what has become one of my most favorite experiences every year, attending a worship service with Hillsong United as the leaders. In fact, it’s so worth attending their once a year U.S. tour that we’ve driven to Nashville and Chicago just to be there.
Technically, it’s classified as a concert, and you have to have a ticket to get in, but trust me, if you’ve ever been you know that there is no performance, just people singing their lungs and hearts out to the only One who is worth singing to and about.
I think one of the most amazing things about worshipping the God we serve is that He gives us joy in doing so. He’s relational, He’s given us emotions, and when we worship Him, He blesses us in return. How incredible is that? We don’t have to worship out of duty or a ritual that has to be performed, but we can worship Him out of love.
The arena was sold out – at least 12,000 people engaged in worship for two and a half hours. And as I looked around and saw these thousands of people pouring out their hearts, singing words such as “Hosanna in the highest” or “All I need is You Lord” or “Our hearts they cry be glorified, be lifted high above all things” all I could think was that it simply wasn’t enough. It didn’t even come close to what He deserves, of what He is so worthy of.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
So as I thought about that I started getting really excited about heaven. I don’t know if we’ll be singing in English or a language I’ve never heard before. I don’t know if we’ll be singing treasured hymns or rocking out with Hillsong or humming with David and his harp. I don’t know what it will look like or sound like, but I know it will be praise and adoration for our God. Forever. One day we will be able to attempt to bring Him all the glory He is due for all of eternity. The music won’t stop, the lights won’t go down, the crowds won’t disperse. Does it excite you? Does it give you goosebumps? Because as I’m sitting here I just keep thinking how I can’t wait to get there.
So that I can stand, as Hillsong sings, with arms high and heart abandoned, in awe of the One who gave it all.
I came into work this morning and found that my headphones had been taken off my desk. Stolen, likely by the cleaning crew. I mean, they’re only ten bucks, and easily replaced, but it means a day without my IPod, and that can make for a long day.
So I started plotting.
What can I leave behind for them as revenge? Chewed gum for them to pick up? Poke holes in my trash bag and dump liquid in there before I leave? Nasty notes?
They stole from me!! The nerve!!
A couple years ago as I was moving from my brother’s home to an apartment I had all my CDs loaded up in plastic bags in my back seat. No air conditioning in my car meant the windows got rolled down. I took a load up to my third story apartment and when I came back down all my CDs were missing. Every last one of them.
The only solace I had was that whoever took them was probably disappointed by my collection and probably had no clue who Steven Curtis Chapman or Point of Grace was. Which also meant they probably sold them online or something. Or threw them away.
I had so much money invested in those.
But seriously, who are these people that steal stuff? My stuff? What kind of person is it that takes things that belong to someone else?
A person just like me. You see, the only difference between me and someone like that is that I have Jesus. My heart is just as evil. But I’ve allowed Christ to come in and make it clean. And He’s the only one who can make it clean. It’s His saving grace, His amazing love, that prompts me to give instead of take. It’s nothing within myself.
Paul explains it so well in 1 Timothy 1:12-17.
I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that He considered me faithful, appointing me to His service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display His unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.
If Christ can show unlimited patience on those who act in ignorance and unbelief, I think I can handle buying a new set of headphones.
I have to apologize because I’m pretty sure I’m the reason there are stereotypes about women drivers. I don’t even avoid admitting it anymore. It’s a pretty well known fact that I am not the most trustworthy person behind a wheel.
I used to be a lead foot, but thankfully driving in a city where there’s a cop on every road has fixed that problem. Now it’s just that I get extremely bored while driving and it doesn’t take a whole lot to distract me. That, and I think I have a perception problem, which is probably also why I walk into things.
Two years ago we let a couple from our church borrow my husband’s car. While using it, they ended up backing into it with their other car and it got a little banged up. So my husband and I went to drop off his car to get it repaired. And where we took it was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere I had definitely never been before. I was following Eric, and I didn’t have my cell phone, and he was going a lot faster than what I felt comfortable with. He apparently didn’t know where he was going either, because he turned around in a gravel road and took off again. So I did the same, and as I was pulling forward I heard that horrific crunching and scraping sound that only a car can make when it hits something. I caught a glimpse of a half broken off wooden post in the rear view mirror and watched as my husband got further out of view. Without my phone I had no choice but to follow.
Not only did we arrive at the repair shop with two dented cars, my husband didn’t even know about it! And when I told him, he pointed out that it probably wasn’t a random wooden post by a field and a gravel road, it was probably someone’s mailbox.
We’ve all heard the metaphors of life being a road and being in the driver’s seat. The road takes twists and turns and ups and downs, and there’s construction, traffic jams, speed limits and so on. But no one ever mentions the mailboxes.
No one ever mentions the damage you can do to others when you’re too focused on what you need to accomplish that you can’t slow down enough to pay attention to what’s around you.
Because I know I’ve definitely gotten too caught up in where I was going, worried if I knew the way and if I would make it there on time that it’s caused me to be a little careless when it comes to other people.
Now I know typically your birthday is only a day, but for me it gets to be a week. This has become a pretty well known fact with my friends and family. In fact I was talking to my friend the other day, and I sort of had an off day, and she sweetly reminded me that it would get better because the next day started my birthday week! (I’ve trained them well.)
I mean, there are 365 days a year. Why should I only get one?
It seems much more reasonable that I get one of the 52 weeks out of the year.
I don’t really know where this started, I wasn’t spoiled as a child. I had wonderful birthdays and I was very well loved but I was not raised to demand a whole week. I think I just decided as an adult that one solitary day was not good enough.
Now I don’t ask a lot. I don’t need presents (or a lot of them!) or dinners at fancy restaurants. I simply need attention.and lots of it. Rub my head, my feet, refill my drink, let me pick what’s on TV, and of course the most important thing, dote on me. Yes, I require lots of doting during my birthday week.
And, if I don’t make a big deal of my birthday, who will?
Every year I ask my husband what he wants for his birthday, and what he wants to do, and his response is always the same, “I don’t care.” Well honey, if you don’t care I’m not sure I do! (Although every year I struggle to get him the perfect gift and make the day special nonetheless.) But it’s a whole lot more fun if he gets excited about it.
I have very little expectations. I just like my birthday and want everyone else to like it too.
And I figure, if I keep this attitude it will make all the birthdays that are to come that no one looks forward to (pretty much every one after 29, right?) bearable and fun even! I don’t ever want to be sad about my birthday, no matter what the number is.
No, I think I’m going to be thankful for every one.
Psalm 39:4
O LORD, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am!
About a month or two ago, while climbing into the car, I whacked the car door into my forehead. Yep. I hit myself in the face with a car door. I actually cut my forehead and earned a pretty decent bump for a few days due to the incident, and if it wasn’t for Mederma I’m pretty sure I would have earned a scar! All because I couldn’t open a door.
A couple weeks ago my husband and I were shopping in a department store. On my way over to find him in the men’s area I passed through the fragrances. I’m quite content with inexpensive body sprays and whatever winds up with my stocking at Christmas, but I decided it would be fun to try out a few expensive ones. There were no tester strips, and I didn’t want to smell like a bouquet of perfume, so I was spraying them in the air and sniffing them out. I picked up another pretty bottle, sprayed, and got myself right in the eye. My reflexes weren’t too good, and my eyelid didn’t close quickly enough. I must have been staring straight at that thing when I sprayed it. My eye burned for the rest of the evening, and as we snuggled into bed that night, my husband said sweetly to me, “Honey, I can still smell your eye.” A sentence that I’m pretty sure had never been said before.
And yesterday, on my lunch break, I walked into the gas station and well, got about two steps before I slipped on the wet floor, my feet flew out in front of me, and I landed with several thuds. The contents of my purse went spilling, and heads turned to see what the commotion was. Yeah, there’s a reason they put those yellow signs out for you.
I have stubbed my toe on my dog, I can’t drink a glass of anything without missing my mouth at least once, and I am terrified of when I have children and have to carry a baby up and down the steps in my house because I have fallen up and down them a lot.
I am a mess.
I am klutzy, awkward, accident-prone, and sometimes clueless and ditzy.
I have no grace and not a lot of dignity left at this point.
I’m sure I would have flunked out of charm school if I had ever gone.
I have done so many stupid things that I hardly even blush anymore when I do something utterly humiliating.
And I am delighted in.
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17
In case you haven’t picked up on this before, my name is Emily. Has been for the last 24 years. So you could say that I knew if I was a boy or a girl, and before they even officially decided to name me Emily if I turned out to be a girl. But he has a clear memory of praying for his sister, “Emily Megan Koepf Horsfall,” (Koepf, my mother’s maiden name, is actually my brother’s middle name and didn’t find it’s way to becoming part of mine). He was certain that God was giving him a little sister named Emily, even though my parents weren’t.
Emily is a pretty easy name to remember. After all, out of the last 13 years, it spent 12 as the number one most popular girl’s name. The year I was born it was number 24 on the list. So needless to say it’s a name I’ve heard once or twice before.
So how is it that the other day at work when I picked up the phone I answered, “This is Amy.” What? Where did that come from? How do you not call yourself by the right name? I’m still not sure if it suddenly slipped my mind or I was stressed and confused or if it can just be chalked up to another stupid thing I’ve done, but I referred to myself by the wrong name.
I mean, it’s hilarious right? At least, my coworkers thought so. I’ve talked about how I have a nickname at work that I’m not too proud of, Helen, but I just came up with a brand new name for myself. I actually called myself the wrong name. And the confusion on the other end of the phone, from someone who had thought for sure they dialed Emily, and that this Amy sounded an awful lot like the Emily they thought they had called, was truly priceless.
There’s a lot of people who don’t know my name. Who don’t bother to remember it. Or people who don’t treat it with the same affection as my mom and dad who gave it to me. There’s a lot of people out there who couldn’t care less if my name was Emily or Amy. And apparently, my name isn’t even important enough to me to get it right!
But my Father knows my name. Isaiah 49:15-16 says, “Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.”
There’s a song by Tommy Walker, and the lyrics are below.
He Knows My Name
I have a Maker He formed my heart Before even time began My life was in his hands I have a Father He calls me His own He’ll never leave me No matter where I go He knows my name He knows my every thought He sees each tear that falls And He hears me when I call
Yes, He most certainly knows my name. It is carved into His hands. And even if I forget it, He never will.
I had so many people just unbelievably rude to me for no reason, speaking to me the way no human being should speak to another human being, making me feel about an inch tall. I had a problem that I couldn’t resolve right away, but did within ten minutes, and within those ten minutes an email of complaint about me made it’s way thru several channels and into my boss’s inbox. When in the end, after ten minutes, there was no problem!
Just a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
So finally, late in the afternoon when I finally got away for my lunch break I went to the grocery store. I bought chocolate chips. I bought brownie mix. I bought cake mix and icing. Still not feeling quite better and knowing I could not enjoy any of these things til I got home, I went to the gas station and got a fountain Diet Coke. (The irony, huh?) Surely a wonderfully carbonated fountain soda would do the trick. And then I saw them, there at the cash register. Giant Smarties. Have you had these giant Smarties? I just discovered them recently, and I am in love. I have always loved Smarties, when I was a little girl there was a wonderful lady who always handed out Smarties and other candy after church, and every time I eat them it’s a sweet (ha – I didn’t even realize that I made a pun!) memory of childhood – but that’s a story for another day.
So I grab three of these amazing treats and go to check out. After multiple attempts, the cashier could not get them to scan. With a line of people behind me and no hope of getting them to scan, the cashier just told me to take them. Just take them! For free!
And suddenly, my day has brightened. The light drizzle that leads to my frizzy hair? No biggie. All those people who were so hateful? Completely forgotten. I have just received three rolls of Giant Smarties for free. I am now invincible. My spirits lifted.
Then I realized just how completely silly that all is. Free Smarties made my day better? A total savings of 75 cents? How is it that free Smarties have changed my day when I failed to even think about the free gift that has changed not only my life, but my death? How is it that immediately I seek pointless, worthless things to fill the need for love and reassurance and joy and completely ignore my Savior who loved me enough to bear the cross for me? Maybe I should have gotten some Dum-Dums, because that is seriously what I am.
How does realization that I have a loving Father and a gracious Savior not do enough to put me in focus? That the worst of days are just blinks of an eye that I will one day have no memory of when I see His face and hold His hand?
Because I’m an emotional, short-sighted human I want to say that just knowing Him doesn’t make it all go away. But it so does. He’s the kiss on the boo-boo that makes it all better. He’s the tight hug from my husband that makes me feel safe and warm. He is all of that and so much more.
And without Him, I would know what it’s like to truly have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
In a zoo in California, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs. Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born prematurely and due to their tiny size they died shortly after birth.
The mother tiger, after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine. The veterinarians felt that the loss of her litter had caused the tigress to fall into a depression. The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother’s cubs perhaps she would improve.
After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce to the mourning mother. The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species will take on the care of a different species. The only ‘orphans’ that could be found quickly were a litter of weanling pigs. the zoo keepers and vets wrapped the piglets in tiger skin and placed the babies around the mother tiger.
Would they become pork chops?
As much as I like to think that I’m so much further advanced than any animal, maybe I’m not. What kind of love do I display to those around me? I hate to admit it, but I can think of several relationships, even with brothers and sisters in Christ, where I have been anything but loving.
Even if we’re different, even if there are where we disagree, even if they seem like the last person on earth that I could get along with, God’s Word has a thing or two to say about loving others.
John 13:34-35 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples. If you love one another.”
Romans 12:10 “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.”
Ephesians 4:12 “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”
1 Peter 1:33 “Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart.”
After all, if a tiger can love a pig, shouldn’t I be able to love a child of God?
I work for a homecare company, so I spend most of my day on the phone talking to hospitals, physician’s offices, and elderly patients. There are several of us in a small area, and it’s not too hard to overhear my coworkers on the phone, like the conversation (or one side of it) I heard the other day.
“You can’t hear me? Well, the volume on my phone is all the way up.” (Speaks louder) “You still can’t hear me?” (Now, practically shouting) “I’m sorry ma’am, I can’t talk any louder. Do you think you could turn your TV down?”
We all couldn’t help but crack up. I’ve been there too. Having to speak as loud as you possibly can to someone who has kids screaming or the TV blaring in the background as they continue to ask, “What? What did you say?” All the while I’m thinking, Why in the world did you call me if you’re too distracted to talk?
How many times have I done that to God? Called on His name, asked Him for wisdom or guidance or help, at the same time having a thousand other things going on in the background and wondering why I can’t get an answer from Him.
Maybe He’s talking and I’m just drowning Him out by so much other noise in my life that He can’t be heard.
Because I know the truth. I know what His Word promises, that if anyone asks for wisdom He gives freely. That He hears every word I say, He knows what’s on my heart. That He answers prayer. That He loves me so much that He wants to be a part of and the center of everything I do and say and everything I am.
So why is it that when I don’t hear from Him I blame Him? Is God, after gazillions of years of being faithful and true and perfect, suddenly going to mess it up when it comes to answering me? Do I somehow really believe that God answers every other person but me? Maybe I need to use the old breakup clich�, “It’s not You, it’s me.” It’s not You, God, who’s not paying attention, it’s me. It’s not You God who’s got so much else going on that You’re ignoring me, it’s me who’s ignoring You. It’s me who’s not quieting down the distractions enough to focus on You.
And if I turn down the TV I might just realize that He’s been speaking the whole time.
I read this story and it touched me so much I had to share it. Jenny Simmons is the lead singer of Addison Road, whose songs include “Hope Now” and “What Do I Know of Holy.” You can check out her blog atwww.jennysimmons.com. Her story reminded me that I need to live outside of my comfortable little box, look around me, and show God’s love to others even when it doesn’t seem safe. It’s a little long, but definitely worth the read.
“A month ago I saw a homeless man in the busy, business-professional, restaurant laden area of my town. Since I am not actually in Dallas, it is a rare occasion that you see someone who is truly desolate just sitting in the parking lot of our suburban oasis. But there he was. Ryan and I thought he was dead. And honestly, we drove right past him at first. Along with all the other cars and people. There were men in suits and ties, soccer moms with minivans full of children, and groups of girlfriends who were shopping the strip mall behind us, and we all drove right by him.
He had the darkest black skin I have ever seen. He was slumped over in a wheelchair with his head flung over to the side. He was right in the middle of the Chick-Fil-A parking lot at the height of the busy lunch hour.
It didn’t even occur to me to stop, we just did what everyone else did, we swerved around him.
And he did not move. To the world, this man was invisible. And by all appearances, he may have very well been in dead.
STOP
It only took a few seconds for God to speak sternly to me. “Open your eyes Jenny. What is wrong with you? He is a human. He is my child. Will you not even stop to check on him? How can you swerve around him like that? As if he is a fire hydrant or a dead animal in the road. Turn around. Take care of him. He is mine.”
But God… Ryan and I have to meet the band in ten minutes at the church. We have a flight to catch. We have gear to take out of the trailer and merchandise to pack. We have a concert. Plus, seriously, he looks dead. He looks scary. He’s right in the middle of the freaking parking lot… I might get hit by a car. And Annie is in the car. What if he has a gun? What if he jumps into the car? My stomach is churning just thinking about him sitting there. I can’t turn around. He shouldn’t be in the parking lot anyways.
My excuses were impressive. Legitimate. Numerous.
But God’s voice was clear. Go back. Not optional. I shouldn’t even have to tell you. STOP.
I told Ryan we needed to turn around. He said he knew. I got out of the car and for the first time in a very long time I was scared of a person. This man scared me.
“Sir? Sir? Are you OK? Sir, are you trying to get somewhere? Can I help you?”
He looked up. His eyes were drowning in a pool of tears and yellow poison. I have never seen a man as sick as this.
“I’m trying to get to the bus stop. I’m sick, I must have passed out. I’m sorry.”
I could hear the shame in his very tired voice. I asked him if I could push him out of the road and asked where he’d like to go. He pointed to a parking spot away from people in the Blockbuster parking lot. I asked what he needed. Food? A ride? I kneeled down so I could look into his sick eyes. He did not scare me anymore. I felt a deep love for him.
He said he simply needed me to pray for him. “Just pray for me, that’s all.”
I can pray for you, but what about food? Do you need some food? Water? In my mind, prayer was not enough.
I went and got our Chick-Fil-A out of the car and he began to devour it. He told me he was homeless and on dialysis. He lost his job when his kidney’s stopped working. Shortly after, he couldn’t afford rent anymore and before he knew it, he was out on the streets. He spoke with simplicity. He was kind. Tender. Well spoken. Straight-forward and honest. He made me laugh when he said that downtown Dallas was too ghetto for he and his two best homeless buddies. So they bus out to the suburbs and spend their days in the parking lots of Starbucks and Barnes and Noble. That is, the days he is not in the hospital. He tells me his bus route and exactly how he gets to the hospital from where we are standing. He tells me the homeless shelters that he prefers. He has no family in town. They do not know he is sick and he says they can’t help him anyways, they have all wasted their lives away.
“Just remember me and pray for me when you think about it. My name is Dexter.”
“I’m Jenny.”
You are my Friend Now
I grab both of his dirty hands. His fingernails are long and curled backwards. His hands are surprisingly soft. I tell Dexter that I live nearby and my church is nearby and that I will pray for him, remember him, and check on him. I hold his hands the entire time that I tell Jesus how I don’t understand suffering, but that I know we never walk through it alone. I tell him I thankful for my new friend. I beg for healing, provision, and a chance to start over again. I feel Dexter’s tears hit my hands. Ryan honks and motions for me to come on, we are going to miss our flight. I tell Dexter I am going to be gone for four weeks but that I will look for him as soon as I get home. He says thank you. And I leave.
I do not stop thinking about him for days. I ask Ryan if we can bring him home if we ever see him again. If we can drop Annie off with a friend, have some men from the church come over, and let him shower and rest in our house. Ryan says he thinks that would be OK. This is not the answer I expected from him. I am blown away at his compassion and conviction. We leave and spend weeks on the road and I ask my friends to please keep an eye out for him. No one sees him though.
I am only home three days throughout the entire month and search for him each time I am back. But I never find him. My prayers become fervent. God please let him be OK. Please let me see him again. I put a blanket in my car and hope that I will be able to give it to him next time. But next time comes and I don’t find him. The month gets more intense and I forget about him.
Yesterday
We are running errands. Annie is fussy in the backseat. Ryan is exhausted and has to go get a rental van and trailer. I am trying to thaw out after a horrifically cold photo shoot the day before that left me feeling like I had pneumonia. We are driving by the bank and out of nowhere, in his spot behind the dumpster, there he is. Dexter.
I had forgotten about him. I forgot to be looking. I forgot to pray for him. My heart drops to my stomach. I feel sick. For so long I prayed for him and hoped to find him… but not today.
Seriously, this guy pops up at all the wrong times.
But I am his friend. I cannot drive by and pretend I don’t see him (though I really want to) There he is, in his wheelchair, in the Chick-Fil-A parking lot.
Dangit, I am not in the mood to help. To befriend. To love. To give. Neither is Ryan this time. But we have to stop, we know we do.
And deep down I want to stop, but mainly I am afraid. What do I do with him now? Do I bring him to a shelter? Do I rescue him from the streets? What would Jesus do? What is best for him? A million questions rush my mind. I am really not sure what’s next in our relationship. Do I simple say, “Yo Dexter! What’s up my friend? Need food?” Or, “Hey, Dexter, you’re still homeless. Awesome. I still have plenty of money.” Do I take him home and give him Annie’s bedroom or pretend that he doesn’t have needs?
There is no handbook for this. There is just the command to love and take care of the poor. The orphaned. The widowed. And though I’m not sure if he is a widow, he is for sure poor and orphaned. Still, I have no idea what I am supposed to do. I just know I have to do something.
We stop
“Hey, do you remember me?”
“I’m sure I do.”
“My name is Jenny. You’re Dexter, right?”
His eyes well up with tears. “Yeah, that’s my name. You know my name so I am sure that I know you.” And he smiled.
I handed him the blanket that had been in the car for him and he wrapped it around his shoulders. I told him that the last time I had seen him he was very sick and I was so worried about him. I told him that I had been praying for him and looking for him. I told him he was a tricky little booger to find. And he laughed. I asked how he was feeling and how his treatments were going. “Dexter, what do you need today? Right now, what do you need?” He said the blanket that I brought him was perfect and that he could use some chicken nuggets. And of course, I can just pray for him, he says.
God gave me that question, it just came out. What do you need today? Because really, today is all I can really handle.
Ryan and I went through McDonald’s and Ryan insisted we buy him a gift card. This makes Dexter smile. “Thank you so much, so much. Now I don’t have to worry about meals right after dialysis. There’s a MickeyD’s right across the street.” He tells me the shelters he’s been staying in this week since it has been very cold. Last night he spent the night at the public hospital hoping to get some pain medication. He never got it, but at least it was warm inside. I asked him if Tylenol would help. He says he can only take one if he is in a lot of pain, but that it might be nice to have just in case.
I tell him I will be back. Ryan said we could give him our home phone number. “Dexter, if you need somebody you call us. Deal? If you need help, need a ride, if something happens, you call us. We will come if we are home. Understand? Deal?” He says deal and smiles his beautiful smile. In my mother voice I reiterate, “I’m not kidding, you will call me if you need anything, right? If we can be there for you?”
I get in the car and my heart aches.
Who holds his hand when he goes in for dialysis? Who remembers his birthday? Who brings him soup and puts him to bed when his stomach hurts so bad that he collapses in his wheelchair in the parking lot? Who tells him they love him and tells him to keep fighting? Who does he call friend?
Oh God be near to the lonely. To the broken hearted. Be the father to the fatherless. Whisper into my friend’s ear when he walks through hell without a single person knowing his name.
A Small Move
Ryan and I left. I went home, left Annie in the car, and stocked up as much stuff as I could find for him at the apartment. Some of Ryan’s socks. A pair of ski gloves (yeah, um, whoever we borrowed them from… you won’t be getting those back). Tylenol. And three instant heat packs that my mom puts in our stockings for Christmas. And I wondered what on earth I would do with those things!?! I got a big sweater and a sleeping bag and a hat. I drove back to the McDonald’s and he was gone. My heart sunk. This man is toying with my emotions. And my schedule. I feel annoyed at myself for caring, for getting so involved. Am I doing the wrong thing?
Annie and I went grocery shopping and on the way back, there he was, waiting for the bus. here we go again. He told me he was in the bathroom earlier and that my trip to the grocery store must have been perfectly planned so that I could meet him at the right moment. I showed him what I brought from the house and asked what he wanted and what he didn’t want. His answer was anything that could fit in his backpack, otherwise, it would get stolen. He asked me if I had a few minutes so I could help him put the things in his backpack. This is a very small move, I realize, but it was a move. And right now I feel like God keeps asking me to take these baby steps into other people’s lives.
His Story
I felt guilty, but I rejoiced in seeing a bag full of prescriptions with his name on them.
In my cynical world I was still conducting my own background search and trying to fish out the truth about this man and his life. Why? He is not a beggar. He has never asked me for any money. I am the one that stopped and asked him to talk to me in the first place. And he barely took my food the first time I offered it to him. He has only asked for prayer and chicken nuggets. He is not holding a sign, panhandling, doing anything illegal, or taking advantage of anyone. He is just trying to stay alive. Why is it any of my business to try and figure out if his name is really Dexter? Or if he really is on dialysis? Why do I not trust him? Why do I think it is important to make sure he is not lying to me? What is it about us that we feel like people somehow have to deserve our compassion and live up to our litmus test of poverty before we give them the help they need? I was disappointed at my skepticism.
Healthy caution is the result of living in a broken world. But sometimes we have to throw caution to the wind and just love. So what if his name wasn’t really Dexter? What if he did something bad or made poor choices and that’s why he is here? Would I withhold the socks and Tylenol and chicken nuggets? I am ashamed at the judgment I pour onto people.
I crammed the socks, hat, heat pads, and medicine into his backpack. We chatted for a few minutes like normal adults. As if I was not driving away to a warm house and he to a homeless shelter. I looked deep into his eyes and told him that I was so happy I got to see him today. He shook his head. I felt weird about leaving him like that, homeless and all. But I felt at peace.
Ryan and I cannot rescue Dexter.
Dexter is a grown man who must figure things out and make those huge decisions for himself. But Ryan and I have learned from Dexter that we can be a part of his story even if we aren’t playing a huge role. We can just be there. Be his friend. Bring chicken nuggets. Find him in his posh parking lot watching the people pass him by. Hold his hands and pray with him. Get the Tylenol out of the drawer at home and meet a few of his small needs. We can do that much…
And for now, when I least expect it, God is asking me to open my eyes, stop being so consumed with my own world, follow his quiet promptings, and just do something. He is asking me to jump into other people’s stories. And he is teaching me how to do that through a man named Dexter.” (Jenny Simmons www.jennysimmons.com)
When I was in high school my family made what seemed like an everyday, ordinary trip to our little grocery store. My dad and brother hopped out to run in and get whatever it was that we needed. My mom and I were waiting in the backseat, chatting, when suddenly she screamed, flailed around trying to unbuckle, and dove head first into the front seat. The only intelligible words I could understand were “WE”RE MOVING!!!!” as I stared bewildered at her behind and feet in the air, hand desperately reaching for the brake pedal.
It is truly a sight I will never forget, and every time I do remember it I can’t help but chuckle. When the laughter died down I realized that the car beside us had slowly pulled forward, but what she had seen was our car moving backwards, causing her insane behavior.
Sometimes we see things that just simply aren’t there. We perceive things wrong. We believe that what we believe is reality instead of focusing on the one thing that really matters – truth.
If you’ve spent any time in this culture and speaking to the people who are soaked in it you may have heard this statement before, “That may be true for you, but it’s not for me.” The world today is living as if truth is relative and that you can make your own truth. What they see or what they believe is what they define as truth.
But we know better, don’t we? We have the truth – Jesus Christ. He is the way, the truth and the life as He says He is in John 14:6. We know the words of our God are truth. “I, the Lord, speak the truth. I declare what is right.” Isaiah 45:19. He is truth, He defines what is truth. And what we may think or believe can’t change that.
Living that way, speaking God’s truth and standing up for His Word, is not an easy thing to do. God’s truth can be harsh, it can be offensive, it can make people mad. It’s much more tempting to agree with the world when faced with situations where speaking the truth makes you unpopular or not very well liked. But it’s not our words, it’s God’s words, which are the only ones that really matter.
So when facing a culture that believes truth is determined by what they believe and not what God says, we have to remember that there’s a reason that we’re told to “stand firm with the belt of truth buckled around your waist” in Ephesians 6:14. It’s part of our spiritual armor because we are in a battle.
I beg to differ. Actually this morning, I was literally crying over spilled milk. Not just milk, the most perfectly made glass of chocolate milk. That is like gold, people. Chocolatey enough, but not so sweet you can’t drink it. Not an easy thing to do. And there it was, all over my counter, running down my cabinets, and puddled on my kitchen floor. Not only that, but the heavy glass managed to find its way smack dab onto my big toe.
And yes, there were tears. My toe was throbbing, I was fighting off two very eager to help dogs licking at my feet, my toast was getting cold, and I was running late for work.
But here I am, two hours later. The milk is cleaned up, my toe is perfectly fine, and I discovered that toast can be microwaved and still be tasty.
I really, really want to cry over spilled milk when it happens. Take my husband’s car for instance. The summer we were married, two and a half years ago, the transmission went out. So we charged, we borrowed, we scraped, and pulled together a ton of money to get it up and running. And it breaks down this week. The transmission is shot.
So here we are looking at putting another significant chunk of change into a car that shouldn’t have broken down in the first place.and now in the second place. Debating whether that’s the wise thing to do, considering buying a new car while trying to get out of debt. Looking at all those zeros and wondering how long it will take to pay them all down if we proceed. And hating that for the third time in our less than three year marriage we have to shell out big bucks to get our cars running.
But you know what? It’s spilled milk. It’s life. It happens. Milk spills, cars break down, things don’t quite work out how you plan. And I can either spend my time drying off my tears or I can thank God that now is the time that Uncle Sam decides to give me back some of my money and that He’s providing the means to fix the car. That He’s given my husband and I jobs that provide stable income to continue to pay down the other debts that we still have. That we have people who love us and are helping us out with transportation while we wait to get our car back.
Because in the end it’s just a car. It’s just money. It’s just spilled milk. It doesn’t really matter in the big picture. When Paul tells us in Colossians to set our mind on things above and not on earthly things it means exactly that. Don’t worry about the car or the money. It’s earthly. It’s not going to last. It’s temporal. It’s fleeting. As big and huge of a deal that it feels like in my own life right now, it’s simply spilled milk and it simply doesn’t matter.
After all, when you serve the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, why would you ever cry over spilled milk?
Okay, okay, I’ll say it. I’ll muster up the courage and announce those three little words that are the hardest ones to say.
I was wrong.
Ouch. Now it’s out there, it’s official. The whole world now knows that Emily Megan Smith did not get it right. But just the one time. It’s not like this occurs on a regular basis or anything…
A couple weeks ago I said that I was sure that my sister-in-law was pregnant with a little boy. And so now I’m sure you’ve figured out that IT”S A GIRL!!!!
A beautiful, gorgeous little girl with lots of dark hair and the sweetest little coos you’ve ever heard.
Of course, it’s easy to admit you’re wrong when you wind up with an adorable new niece. But admitting I’m wrong at work? Or admitting I’m wrong to my husband? Not so much.
The difficulty in uttering those three words comes down to one thing: pride. I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t struggle with it in one way or another. It’s that human nature within us. The desire to ultimately put ourselves first. To think better of ourselves then we really are. To forget that the only good thing in us is Christ.
The Bible has some pretty harsh things to say about pride, and rightly so, as it is one of the things God hates. Proverbs 16:5 says, “The LORD detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished.”
If there’s one thing I don’t want the Lord to feel towards me, it is certainly detest! But my pride comes when I fail to look at God as I should, the Creator of the Universe, the only One who is Holy and Righteous, and fail to look at myself as I should, the one who is created by Him and for Him, and who doesn’t live like it.
But the Bible doesn’t simply tell us to not be proud or God will hate us. It tells us what to put on instead of pride – humility. Proverbs 22:4 says, “Humility and the fear of the LORD bring wealth and honor and life.” Psalm 25:9 says, “He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them His way.” Other Scriptures teach that God sustains the humble, He gives grace to the humble, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.
What amazing promises God gives to those who are humble! When we are humble we show a right view of God and a right view of ourselves, an understanding of who He is and what He is worthy of, and a desire for Him to be above us and everything else there is in our lives. And when that all happens in our lives good things happen as a result!
I don’t know about you, but reading those verses gives me a whole lot more motivation to admit that I was wrong. In fact, I’m pretty sure I probably have someone I need to go say it to now.
The saying that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone is painfully true.
We’ve been having problems with our water heater. Most days a very quick shower would spare us from a very cold shower, but on Sunday we had no hot water whatsoever, and not a lot of hope in fixing it that day. Despite troubleshooting, manual reading, replacing the heating elements, and consulting with others my husband hadn’t quite figured what the problem was.
And I was flipping out.
How could we not have hot water? How would I bathe? Do laundry? Do dishes? Survive??!!
And quickly my thoughts turned to the country of Haiti. I have the inconvenience of spending a day or two without hot water, while an entire nation is suffering. Total devastation and destruction. People buried in rubble. And the fact that I can’t take a nice warm bubble bath is a big deal to me?
Here I am, blessed beyond measure with every luxury and convenience imaginable, and one’s taken away for the day and I think the worst has happened. But what if I was in Haiti? What if I didn’t have any water, or any food, or a place to live? What if I’d lost everything I owned, lost everyone I loved, and I was left with nothing?
Nothing except Christ.
Would He be enough?
Oh, I say He is. I even sing in church that He is more than enough for me. But do I really mean it? If everything was stripped away and all I had was my Savior, could I like Paul say in Philippians 4:11-13 “I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.”
I’m not there. Yet. And that’s the hope I have. That He will continue to work in me and teach me how to be fully content in Him. How to find everything I need in Him alone.
Whether I have hot water, cold water, or no water at all.
He had wanted one for a while, especially when he saw his mother-in-law (thanks to a generous son) and his little sister (thanks to a generous boyfriend) both carrying theirs around.
We had gotten a check from his grandparents for Christmas and had just paid off a credit card and other miscellaneous debts, so I didn’t feel too bad splurging a bit.
My husband’s reaction when I told him what I wanted to do with the money was priceless. “Really??!!! Seriously??!!” We’re usually very practical with any extra money that he couldn’t believe that I wanted to use our Christmas money for something for him. Multiple times during our trip to Best Buy he looked over and told me that I was the Best. Wife. Ever.
I couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so surprised by it. I’m his wife after all. I want to give him good things. I want him to have not only the things he needs but also the things he wants. I love to be a part of that. I’d seen him over the last 8 months as he struggled to find a full-time job. Watched him humbly walk into his old boss’s office and ask if he could pick up any shifts. Saw him as he tiredly went off to work a night shift, or when he came home exhausted from working a double. I knew the sacrifices he had made, things he didn’t get to do and things he didn’t get to have. Why wouldn’t I want to do something like this for him?
It made me think of Matthew 7, when Jesus tells us to ask, seek, and knock. He goes on to say that a parent wouldn’t give their child a stone if he had asked for bread, or a snake if he asked for fish. Verse 11 says, “If you, then, though you are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!”
Sometimes I don’t ask God for things. I know that I have so much, that He’s blessed me in so many ways, and that even trials and struggles are a blessing and that I shouldn’t ask Him for anything more than He’s already given me. But I so often forget that He’s my Father and He’s told me to ask. He’s the giver of every good and perfect gift according to James 1:17. As much as a parent wants to give to their children, or as much as I as wife want to give to my husband, God wants to give to me.
Granted, what He gives and when He gives often differ from what I want, but in the end I never cease to be amazed at what He does. And when I have asked and He answers, I am reminded that the God I serve is not detached or removed from me. He is my Father, my Provider, and the One who loves me more than anyone else.
I don’t remember the exact statistic or survey, but on the radio this morning I heard that the majority of people are not all that impressed with how far technology has come within the last 10 years.
Seriously?
Ten years ago I do remember having a DVD player, but I also remember being one of the few to have one. After getting it, we had mentioned something to a friend about watching a DVD and she said, “What? A VDO?” thinking we had come up with a cool new way to say “video.” Now the new thing is having a blue ray player and finding a VCR is a rarity.
Ten years ago we didn’t have a cell phone. We had a phone connected to a wall in the kitchen, and the cord was just long enough to sit on the steps when the conversation got too long to stand for. When we got a cell phone, we had to plug it in to a cord that attached to an antenna on top of our roof. Now there’s the IPhone and some new phone that even has a projector. Why a cell phone needs a projector, I’m not sure, but there is one out there now.
Ten years ago we were still using our computer that had come in three huge cow-spotted Gateway boxes. We didn’t have a laptop. The internet had to be shut off for someone to make a phone call. In fact, ten years ago, I was stranded at my school after coming back from my Washington DC trip because my family forgot to come get me and the line kept ringing busy because someone was online. I called from a pay phone. Today, if that would happen, I could use my cell phone to call anyone in my family, because they all have a cell phone, and if someone was on the laptop checking their email there would be no problem. (By the way, someone else who lived near me did take me home that night, and only my dad was awake, using the computer of course, and his response to seeing me was, “Oh honey! You’re home! We thought you were coming home tomorrow!” Even though I had left my itinerary on the fridge for them before I left. Don’t worry, I obviously don’t hold any grudges over that anymore.)
All of this and so much more has changed, but the reason the people surveyed didn’t feel like we’d come very far is because 10 years ago they had thought by now we’d have flying cars.
As ridiculous as that sounds, I think I’ve done that when I’ve looked at my own spiritual life. I’m disappointed because I’m not flying cars yet like I thought I would be at this point in my life. I was sure I would be Super Christian: Always trusts God, acts on faith alone, and master of guarding her tongue!
And because I’m not there yet, it feels like where I’ve come from is no big deal. But the thing is, God is much more interested in there being a continual, growing process, and He’s the one doing the growing anyway.
Philipians 1:6 says, “Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Progress on our spiritual journey takes time, patience, and hard work. It doesn’t just happen overnight. The point is that we’re always growing and moving closer to Him, whether we’re in a wagon or in a sports car.
I don’t know about you, but I may never even see a flying car ’til I reach eternity!
Okay, so technically, we don’t know yet. As crazy as it is driving all of us, my brother and sister-in-law refuse to find out just to ease our curiosity. Rather selfish, don’t you think? But seriously, look at this face, is this not the face of the cutest little baby boy you’ve ever seen?
This child will hate me if it turns out to be a girl.
I have the benefit of currently working in the same office as my sister (in-law, technically, but really, she’s a sister!) and thus get the updates when she comes back from visiting her doctor. And today she came back with a little teddy bear that holds the recording of my nephew’s heartbeat (I’m not kidding, I am set on this being a boy!).
And it is simply the most beautiful sound there is.
As I listened to it, I couldn’t help but be in wonder that I serve the God that beats that little heart. The God that designed tiny little fingers and tiny little toes, and skin so soft there’s nothing else that compares to it. The God who created button noses and little giggles and squeals.
I serve the God who is so good He gave us babies.
Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank you, High God-you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration-what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. Your thoughts-how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them! I couldn’t even begin to count them- any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
As I’ve been thinking about what to write today, I’ve come to a realization. I have nothing profound or new to say about Christmas that hasn’t been said before. Sorry to disappoint you! Really, I tried. I thought long and hard about it and got nowhere.
So instead of great words of wisdom, I decided to opt for honesty and what I’m learning this Christmas season. I’ve realized that my attitude about this holiday the past couple years has stunk. Seriously. I’ve pretty much thought the last few years, “Christmas isn’t going to be special this year because.” and fill in the blank. Because my parents were 14 hours away and I wasn’t spending it with them, because I had to work, because my husband had to work, because we were celebrating on a day other than Christmas so Christmas day didn’t feel like Christmas day, because we’re poor and can’t buy presents for anyone else or for each other, because I have to split time between my family and my in-laws, because we haven’t really established our own traditions so Christmas feels different every year, and so on and so on.
Wait a minute, Christmas isn’t going to be special???!!
How could I possibly think that? Have I somehow forgotten that the God of the universe, the Creator of all things, the Alpha and Omega, the Almighty, came to earth and took on our flesh? That He humbled Himself and walked among us? That He was born to die so that He might live again and save this girl who thinks that the day we celebrate His birth isn’t that special?
Wow. Now I feel pretty humbled.
Unfortunately in this country we are soaked in a culture that sees this day as one that is all about material things. This season becomes one where most everyone is self-absorbed and concerned about money and presents. Did you know that every year we spend 450 billion dollars on Christmas and it would take only 10 billion to solve the world’s clean water problem? Obviously, priorities are a little off. And it’s so hard for us not to let that kind of thinking seep into our own lives. The call to be in and not of this world is not an easy thing.
But when I step back and look at this day as it should be looked at, as one that changed my life and my eternity forever, everything else just fades away. The tree, the lights, the gifts, the events of the day, really mean nothing at all when I think about Jesus being born so that one day He could die, and that by His sacrifice of living and dying I have hope and security and life through Him.
And the most amazing part of it all is that He thought I was special enough to do it all for.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might remember me talking about my husband losing his job a while ago. April 23rd, to be exact. I’ll never forget that day, and I’ll never forget that phone call.
The day my husband lost his job he found himself in the office of his former boss, hoping he could pick up shifts. He was still considered a PRN (as needed) employee although he hadn’t actually worked there in over a year. That morning, she had received notification from HR that she needed to officially terminate his PRN status since he hadn’t been there in so long. As she was working on the paperwork she noticed she had a voicemail. It was my husband, and she desperately needed extra help at the hospital at that time. It meant a huge pay cut, night shifts, evening shifts, and weekends, and a lot of time alone at home by myself when I didn’t want to be, but it was work. On the same day we got that terrible news God had provided for us. His perfect timing. Amazing. There was no doubt from day one that His hand was in it all.
Since that time we’ve struggled to put together enough shifts to pay the bills, had a thousand dollar car repair, had three promising jobs fall through, a lot of disappointment, a lot of frustration, and a lot of stress. But somehow, we’ve also managed to make every payment on time, found cash stuffed in our pockets and checks in the mail, and had a free stay at the beach and another in the mountains. God hasn’t prevented hard things from happening, but at the same time He’s provided for us in ways that only He can.
A couple months ago my husband was approached by an acquaintance about a potential job. He had a good first interview, an even better second interview, and heard from someone who knew someone that things were looking very promising and that a job offer from HR should be coming. After an eight week process, we found out that he hadn’t gotten the job. Meanwhile, my brother had been pursuing a job opportunity for Eric at the place where he worked. We were both disheartened at that point, but he applied for it nonetheless. Last Monday, he had his first interview, Thursday he had his second, and Friday he got a job offer!
Just a couple hours after typing that last sentence, I found out that this company is now offering Eric 10% less than what he was told a few days ago. Not exactly what we wanted to hear. Yes, it’s an answer to the employment problem, but it’s not an answer to the debt problem or to the desire to start a family. Once again we find ourselves in a place where we feel like we’ll be spinning our wheels, just like we’ve been doing for the last two and a half years.
The thing I have to remind myself is even if we feel like we’re spinning our wheels, God’s still got a hold of the car and He’s moving it along just the way He wants to. Is it easy? Absolutely not. I feel like I’ve faced more disappointments this last year then was my fair share. So much that was within our grasp has been snatched away.
But when James says to “Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds” he means it. Because when it’s all said and done, it’s not about having comfort or an easy life or leftover money at the end of every month, it’s about how I live this life, and how I serve my Savior.
He hasn’t let go of us yet, and I know that He won’t. Even when things don’t go exactly the way I want or how I plan them, He still hasn’t failed me.
Lamentations 3:22
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
I would just like to take this opportunity to announce to the world that I have the cutest niece. Ever.
I got to spend a week with this adorable little thing and my heart is stolen. Gone. Don’t bother to call the cops, they will have no luck in getting it back. I’m not sure I would take it back. She can keep it. She can have whatever of mine she wants.
She can even keep my shoes that she loves so much.
This child is brilliant. Just shy of eighteen months, and she is learning colors! Colors!!! I remember having color signs hung up in my first grade classroom to help us out when we got stuck. And this kid already knows green, red, blue and purple?? She is on the pathway to great invention and discovery, I tell you. The Albert Einstein of her generation. And, she knows what every animal alive says! (Okay, so we stumped her on zebra and giraffe)
You can teach her anything.and I mean anything. She is sponge. And believe you me, as her favorite aunt (okay, so maybe not – I’ve got tough competition with there being 5 others!!) I have no problem taking advantage of that little brain that soaks up everything. With those adorable little curls, somebody had to teach her about the fro, right?
I would just like to take this opportunity to announce to the world that I have the cutest niece. Ever.
I got to spend a week with this adorable little thing and my heart is stolen. Gone. Don’t bother to call the cops, they will have no luck in getting it back. I’m not sure I would take it back. She can keep it. She can have whatever of mine she wants.
She can even keep my shoes that she loves so much.
This child is brilliant. Just shy of eighteen months, and she is learning colors! Colors!!! I remember having color signs hung up in my first grade classroom to help us out when we got stuck. And this kid already knows green, red, blue and purple?? She is on the pathway to great invention and discovery, I tell you. The Albert Einstein of her generation. And, she knows what every animal alive says! (Okay, so we stumped her on zebra and giraffe)
You can teach her anything.and I mean anything. She is sponge. And believe you me, as her favorite aunt (okay, so maybe not – I’ve got tough competition with there being 5 others!!) I have no problem taking advantage of that little brain that soaks up everything. With those adorable little curls, somebody had to teach her about the fro, right?
It is therefore recommended… to set apart Thursday the eighteenth day of December next, for solemn thanksgiving and praise, that with one heart and one voice the good people may express the grateful feelings of their hearts and consecrate themselves to the service of their divine benefactor.
Samuel Adams,October 14, 1789
Oh,give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever. 1 Chronicles 16:34
It is good togive thanks to the LORD, And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High; Psalm 92:1
I guess if I’m being honest, it’s probably because I am no where near being even the tiniest bit athletic, and I am a walking definition of clumsy, klutzy, and accident-prone. In the last two weeks alone, I have pinched my pinky between the refrigerator and freezer doors, burned another finger on my straightener (in the past I’ve also burned my foot and stomach with that thing), stubbed my on my dog (no joke, seriously, it hurt), and fell into a wall (while walking – no one was near me, and I didn’t trip.walking in a straight line is not a talent of mine). So giving me a ball, any sort of other sports equipment, and surrounding me with other people running at me or near me spells nothing but disaster.
My dad has always been an avid sports fan. I have some female friends who love watching sports because it was always on at their house. Not me, I went in the opposite direction. He had no problem taking the remote out of my hand and flipping it to whatever game that was on. What was even worse was having to listen to it on the radio in the car. Oh my goodness, that is just painful. Watching it is bad enough. Listening? Having to just listen? At least if it’s on TV I can pick apart their uniforms and decide which team I want to win based on their colors!
I was bound and determined to marry a man who didn’t like sports, or at least didn’t like watching them on TV. I knew they existed – my brother was one. But when you’re all starry-eyed and in love and getting to go on fun dates you tend to live in a world where sports don’t even exist. At least, that was the case for me, until I went over to his house and spent time with his family. I knew I was in big trouble when a game was on and his mom yelled more at the TV then his dad. He actually knew there were women who liked this stuff! And he probably expected to find one!
I quickly realized that his family time was sports time, which equaled nap time for me. I slept at a lot at his parent’s home, which didn’t score me any points! (Ha ha! Get it? Score me any points?! C’mon, that was good!) But at least I was learning to cope with it. Then one day he popped the big question and I said yes. Funny how you can’t picture a Sunday afternoon of football when there’s all these sparkly diamonds and a cute guy on his knee professing his undying love for you.
Then there was all the wedding planning and excitement and house hunting and walking down the aisle in a pretty white dress on a summer day. Football was furthest thing from my mind in those blissful first months of married life. Then September rolled around and reality set in. He still liked football. One game a week – I figured I handle that for my new husband. But I soon learned it’s not one game a week. It’s a whole day. An entire day dedicated to airing game after game after game. And there’s not just professional. There’s college. And apparently, college football is important too. Important enough to take up all of Saturday. I could really loathe something that ruined every weekend for months. Would that qualify as grounds for an annulment?
But somehow, two and a half years later, I found myself this past Sunday night watching anxiously as “our” team played their biggest rival. I actually sacrificed sleep and stayed up until midnight, not caring that I had to get up at six the next morning. My hands even went up in the air in excitement when they scored. Never, ever, in a million years would I have guessed that one day I’d find myself enjoying a football game.
I guess it’s true what they say. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are! beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent. You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever. You blanketed earth with ocean, covered the mountains with deep waters; Then you roared and the water ran away- your thunder crash put it to flight. Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out in the places you assigned them. You set boundaries between earth and sea; never again will earth be flooded. You started the springs and rivers, sent them flowing among the hills…
Meanwhile, men and women go out to work, busy at their jobs until evening. What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations. Oh, look-the deep, wide sea, brimming with fish past counting, sardines and sharks and salmon. Ships plow those waters, and Leviathan, your pet dragon, romps in them. All the creatures look expectantly to you to give them their meals on time…
The glory of God-let it last forever! Let God enjoy his creation! He takes one look at earth and triggers an earthquake, points a finger at the mountains, and volcanoes erupt. Oh, let me sing to God all my life long, sing hymns to my God as long as I live! Oh, let my song please him; I’m so pleased to be singing to God. But clear the ground of sinners- no more godless men and women!
I am a small town girl. I grew up in Baltic. We never locked our doors, I walked to school, and a four-way flashing light was the closest thing we had to an actual stoplight. So when I moved to Indianapolis I was in a bit of culture shock. My first trip downtown I was incessantly teased by my friends – “What is this, Farmer Ted goes to the big city?” Big buildings! People begging for money! One way streets with multiple lanes! I was a bit overwhelmed.
So the other night when my car got towed and I wound up at an impound lot in the heart of downtown, I could have sworn I was dreaming. Ten o’clock on a Friday night is not the time I want to be on the streets. I was fine, I was with my husband and 4 other people (we had a grand total of three cars towed!!), and yet I was freaking out. The last place I ever pictured myself was downtown Indianapolis, on the other side of a locked gate from my car, watching helplessly as they broke into it to read the VIN number.
We had all decided to meet downtown, left our cars in a place that we thought we’d be fine to park at for a few hours (although we really should have known better -it was an Arby’s parking lot and only 2 people had eaten there), and came back to see that they had indeed been towed. So we headed over to the scary impound lot, waited for an hour for someone to get back to get us taken care of, and heard the doomed grand total of what it would cost us to get them out. $182 a piece. Yep. One hundred and eighty-two dollars. For towing my car about 2 blocks and keeping it there for all of 30 minutes before I discovered it was there.
We did not have $182 to get our car out. I mean, we had it, but then we wouldn’t have had money for gas or groceries for the next two weeks. There’s no backup savings account right now for emergencies such as being stupid and parking where you shouldn’t. While Eric and I were silently freaking out, shooting each other, “Now what do we do???!!!” looks, my friend walked up to the counter and told them that he would paying for all three cars.
We parked our car in a place it shouldn’t have been. Knowing it was wrong and yet hoping to get away with it. Law enforcement does their job, takes it to where it should be – and the last place we want to be – and we’re forced to pay a fine to get it out. Only problem is, we really can’t pay for it. Someone else comes in, selflessly makes the sacrifice, and takes the penalty for us.
Do I really need to explain the illustration?
I was so amazed at my friend’s sacrifice for us. But it made me think so much of my Savior’s sacrifice. Salvation is something I take for granted daily, and yet He still bears the scars for what He did for me. It wasn’t money, it was His life. It was taking on all my sin, bearing the weight of all my shame.
And if getting towed helps me reminds me of the amazing gift I’ve been given, maybe I should park illegally more often.
A few weeks ago Eric and I made a trip to a local apple orchard. We live only a few miles a way and had been talking about it the last couple years and decided it was finally time to go. So we got there, loaded up a wagon with baskets, and headed down the rows of trees.
It didn’t take long for us to find just the right ones
And boy were they tasty!
I had kind of forgotten that apples grow on trees. I know, that sounds ridiculous. But when you go to the store and see them on a shelf it doesn’t really matter where exactly they come from. So it was pretty amazing to look around and see dozens and dozens of trees with apples just growing on them! Fruit, ready to eat, waiting to be picked.
It made me think of how often Scripture compares our lives to trees and producing fruit. What immediately came to mind was Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.” These are verses I remember being taught at a young age, but they’re not really verses I pull out often enough to judge my life and look at what I’m producing.
So what am I “growing”? What’s hanging off my branches for everyone else to see and take? Whatever it is will show what I’m rooted in. And those things – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control – do not come from any part of me or of my own doing. They only come from living in the Spirit and letting Him develop those things within me. If I’m living out those things, it will point straight to God.
Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. (Psalm 1:1-3)
Saturday afternoon we headed over to my in-laws to spend the rest of the day hanging out and watching college football (or at least, that was the plan for everyone else. My plan – a nice, loooooooooong nap with the sound of commentators lulling me to sleep!) On my way over I checked the messages on my phone and heard Kurt Wallace, a local radio personality from a new Christian station saying he had tickets to the Newsboys concert that night he could give me. I thought it was a little odd, but I had called in a month earlier and had won tickets to a different concert that we had just attended the week before, so I figured that they had my information on file and must have had a ton of extra tickets to give out. My husband really wanted to spend the day with his family, so I called my sister-in-law to see if she and my brother could use them, but they had other plans.
A couple hours later, my phone rings and I could see that it was the radio station again. I answered, wanting to at least let them know that they could give the tickets to someone else. It was once again Kurt Wallace, offering me the tickets. He was really trying to get me to take them, and I looked at Eric and could tell that he was still not interested. When I tried to decline, Kurt informed me that I really ought to take the tickets, go, and claim my prize of a $700 electric guitar autographed by the Newsboys. I had completely forgotten that while on their website looking up the information to the concert I had previously won tickets for, I had registered me and my husband for that guitar on a whim, with the thought, How cool would it be to give Eric a guitar??!!!
You have to understand, my husband plays and loves guitars. He gets some free guitar catalog in the mail and lusts over it every month. We often have to stop in when we pass Guitar Center so he can walk around, look at them, play them, smell them. He’s been talking for at least a year now how much he’d like to get an electric guitar (he has an acoustic one), but with our situation it’s just a dream that’s added to everything else on that list of “Wouldn’t it be nice someday if we could buy…” (which includes everything from curtains to “nice” razors that actually work to a video camera to steak for dinner). And now I have won him an electric Fender Strat.
Here it is!!!
Isn’t she beautiful?
And how cute is my husband???
They look like they’ve always belonged together.
We got to go to a great concert, I got to go running down the aisle screaming and “Wooooo!!!!”-ing like they just told me to come on down on the Price is Right, and now I get to sit and listen to my husband tinkering on his new guitar.
Life is good.
I mean, it’s been hard lately, and we’ve struggled a lot, but God is always full of surprises. I can’t tell you about the theology of God’s sovereignty and if He controlled the hand that drew my name, but I’ll tell you one thing, He knew it was gonna be me and He definitely let it happen. Why? I don’t know. I only know that God is good and He gives good things.
And now I’m beginning to think He’s a lot more fun than I had ever thought Him to be.
I feel like I have nothing left. I just want to curl up and get some much needed rest from life.
It seems like most of the time when I’m asked how I am my response is “Tired.” Everyone I know is burned out on something – life, work, running around with kids, responsibilities at church. We are just busy, exhausted people in desperate need of a break.
But isn’t it amazing that our Heavenly Father knows we need rest? That He’s not called us to run around 24/7 til we can no longer stand it? He created us, He knows us. He knows the limitations we have and doesn’t demand that we exceed them. His Word offers some amazing promises to us when we feel like we’ve got nothing left to give. Isaiah 40:29 says, He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Jeremiah 31:25, “I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.” And in Matthew 11:28, Jesus tells us, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
So if you’re like me, and the circumstances and business of life have taken every bit of strength and energy from you, if your heart is heavy and burdened, and you can’t find peace, come to the One who offers rest like no other.
It’s officially fall! This is my favorite time of year. I love the weather, I love the leaves, I love everything about it. My husband and I have established more “traditions” during fall then during Christmas. We have frequent bonfires outside, eat lots of chili while watching Colts games (sorry Browns/Bengals fans! I’m an Indiana girl now!), dress up the dogs on October 31st (Charlie is Batman and Lucy is a bumblebee) and hand out candy to the neighborhood kids while sitting on our decorated porch, complete with corn stalks, hay bales, and pumpkins. And the pumpkins we pick out at Piney Acres farm.
Piney Acres, a Christmas tree farm, offers a corn maze, hay rides, and a pumpkin patch this time of year which we now make a yearly visit to. Last year I was brave enough to try the corn maze “haunted.” We had gone during the daylight before, and I thought it would be fun to try at night. Armed with flashlights, we set out for the maze on a Friday night. I was literally shaking as we walked toward the maze, not knowing what to expect, or what things would jump out at me as I wondered thru the narrow paths.
We entered the opening of the maze, a large group of teenagers in front of us. I was shining the flashlight all over the place, trying to figure out the first thing it was that would try to scare me. My flashlight caught a glimpse of a mummy hiding in the corn. “I see you! I see you! Don’t come after me! Don’t you move!” I yelled at the poor person in costume as Eric tried to calm me down and keep me moving. I turned, and in front of me was a hay bale with two beings on it. I froze. I knew one was a person and one was stuffed, but I couldn’t figure out which one was which fast enough. Suddenly, one of them stood up and started walking towards me. I screamed uncontrollably and caught the attention of every one of the teens ahead of me, and every person behind me. This wasn’t a simple startled yell, this was continuous screams of absolute terror. We were in there no more than five minutes, and the scene I had just made over a ten year old in a mask, whom I had clearly seen, was enough to let my husband know that an hour of this was more than I could physically handle.
He should have known better then to let me even try it. When we were dating, we went into the fun house on Navy Pier in Chicago, and I screamed more than the five-year-old girl ahead of us. Fun house, mind you, not haunted house.
Fear is no fun. Real fear is debilitating; it’s consuming. But it doesn’t come from God. 2 Timothy 1:7 says, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” It’s that sound mind part that I seem to forget. Whenever I’m wrapped up in my fears, whether it be the creepy noises I hear when I’m at home by myself while Eric’s working a night shift, or the worry about losing him and becoming a young widow, or the endless ‘what ifs’ I think might happen in our future, my sound mind is gone. It’s long gone. And if I’m using that sound mind God has given me, and remembering His promises I know to be true, I realize that the fears I have are irrational, illogical, and a lack of faith on my part.
So while I’m still learning to use this sound mind, I think I’ll avoid any and all things haunted.
Crying really isn’t the appropriate response when hearing someone’s pregnant, is it? I don’t mean the tears of joy kind, I mean the real, sobbing kind. The “poor-me-I’m-so-sad-and-feel-so-bad” kind.
Well, that’s exactly what I did when I heard the news that my sister-in-law was pregnant. Two? She gets two? Married only 6 weeks before me, and she gets two before I get one? While I’m what may be light-years away one? Not that I’m not happy to have nieces and nephews, but both of my sisters-in-law pregnant at the same time may be more than I can emotionally handle.
I just for the life of me can not figure out what God is thinking. I swear my uterus is going to be shriveled up and no good by the time we are in a place where we can start our family. Our parents will be too old and frail to enjoy their grandkids, and my children will have no cousins their age. None. They’ll be the only ones at the “kids” table at Thanksgiving, everyone else having moved up to the adults table. I will probably even be on Medicare by the time they graduate high school.
God is totally messing up on this one.
He just is not moving things according to plan. This is not how my life is supposed to go. Did I wind up on the naughty list somehow? Does He somehow manage to run out of blessings by the time He gets down to my name? Why isn’t He doing things the way we’ve discussed?
For I know the plans I have for You, Emily.
Oh no. These are not Your plans, God…these are OUR plans. Mutual. I get some say in all of this.
For I know the plans I have for You, Emily.
Okay, God. They’re Your plans. You are God after all. I have to at least acknowledge that.
For I know the plans I have for You, Emily.
You have plans? Actual plans for my life? You, God, have a plan and purpose for this crazy life of mine? Thought out, specifically designed plans just for me?
For I know the plans I have for You, Emily.
Did you hear that? God has plans for me. For me, Emily Megan Smith. Custom, unique, plans for me. So maybe they’re not my plans, but they’re my Father’s plans.
My brother and I weren’t always “buddy-buddy” growing up. For the most part we had a pretty good relationship, but as the little sister I’m sure I tended to get on his nerves, and I know I was a terrible tattletale. We definitely had periods of time where we didn’t get along so well. I remember asking him once why he didn’t like me, and he told me, “Because you’re you.” You can’t blame a 12 year old boy too much for making a quip like that to his annoying sister, and now we are very close (we even lived together for a while during our college years). Although I can joke about it now, that comment stuck with me for quite a while.
We so desperately look for love and approval, don’t we? From siblings, parents, boyfriends, husbands, friends, or wherever we can get it. Often feeling like we have to earn it, we have to be something or do something worthy of it. But the truth is we don’t have to look very far, that love is there all along for us, and that it exceeds any earthly love we could find.
Psalm 36:7 How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of Your wings.
Psalm 136:26 Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever.
Lamentations 3:22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.
Zephaniah 3:17 The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.
1 John 4:16 And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.
1 John 3:1 How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!
Psalm 86:15 But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
Romans 8:38-39 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Ephesians 2:4-5 But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions–it is by grace you have been saved.
Ephesians 3:16-19 I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
The world tells us we’re not good enough, we’re not pretty enough, skinny enough, talented enough, smart enough, worthy enough.
But our Father tells us, “I love you my child, because I am good, because I am God, and because I made you. I love you simply because you’re you.”
I spent last week on the beach. Every time I go to the ocean I have to take a few moments, standing in the sand where the water laps at your feet, looking out and soaking it all in. I just cannot begin to grasp the magnitude of it all. How the ocean never seems to end, how it is bigger and beyond what I could try to imagine. I can’t look out across the water without thinking about God. How He is bigger and beyond anything I could imagine, how He is the creator of things that are beyond my imagination. As I stood on the shore, this song (one of my current favorites) played over and over again in my mind.
“What Do I Know of Holy” by Addison Road
I made You promises a thousand times I tried to hear from Heaven But I talked the whole time I think I made You too small I never feared You at all, No If You touched my face would I know You? Looked into my eyes could I behold You? What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy? I guess I thought that I had figured You out I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about How You were mighty to save Those were only empty words on a page Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy? What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame? And a God who gave life its name? What do I know of Holy? Of the One who the angels praise? All creation knows Your name On earth and heaven above What do I know of this love? What do I know of You Who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood But the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know? What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy?
I am 23 years old, and I am worried about my husband’s cholesterol.
Doesn’t sound right, does it? Not to me at least. Nope, this is something people should have to worry about later on in life. All those Honey Nut Cheerio commercials talking about lowering cholesterol are about middle-aged men! Not 25- year-olds.
We have to have yearly screenings at work to get health benefits, and you get an extra discount if your spouse gets one as well. So Eric had his cholesterol tested and it was sky high. Seeing as how his father and his grandfather are both on medication for their cholesterol, he realized that it was something he had to take care of now.
Which means, unfortunately for us, a lifestyle change. Ugh. Don’t you hate that? Changing your whole life?? I love to cook, I love to cook delicious, fattening meals and desserts. And, more importantly, I love eating all that stuff as well. And now, well, according to my husband, I’m not allowed to.
So here I am, all of 23 years old, reading every label on everything I pick up at the store to see which is better (not cheaper!), buying egg substitute (didn’t know you could actually “replace” eggs!) and wheat germ (are you really supposed to put anything in your body with the name “germ?”), scrounging around for recipes that actually taste good and are good for you (do they even exist?), and sending him to the doctor to make sure he isn’t actually going to keel over any second due to clogged up arteries (thanks to his wonderful wife who has been feeding him nothing but heart-killing food for the last two years!).
And, I’ve had to learn at thing or two about LDLs, HDLs, and triglycerides. Which are bad, which are good, how to lower the bad and raise the good. If you’ve ever seen a picture of cholesterol building up in an artery, it’s not a pretty sight. The more bad food you put into your body, the worse it gets. As amazing as all of that stuff tastes, it leaves behind something that puts your health at major risk. The idea that there is so much cholesterol in your body that it makes it difficult for your blood, essentially your very life, to run through you is a very scary idea.
Paul knew the same was true of our spiritual lives. When we decide to put in junk, it builds up so much it makes it hard for Christ to flow through us. It leaves behind very little room for Him. It may be appealing, and we may excuse it in our minds not to be harmful, but its effects can be devastating. That’s why he writes in Philippians 4:8 –
“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things.”
I hate it when Helen’s here. She just can be so…well…nasty. She yells at her computer when it runs too slow, yells at automated systems when she makes a call, and usually has something bad to say about whoever she just hung up with. She’s nice enough to her coworkers, they usually aren’t a problem for her, but she’s always on edge, always frustrated. Although her voice turns sugary sweet when she picks up a ringing phone, it’s so fake and phony there’s no way she’s fooling the person on the other end of the line.
And the worst part about Helen? Well, it’s me.
You see, when my co-worker Tracey started here about a year ago, she gave us a clear warning that sometimes Tracey would come in, and sometimes it would be Elizabeth, her “alternate personality.” And it wasn’t too long before each of us learned the name of the other side of us. The part of us that is the short-tempered, impatient, rude side that likes to let slip out of their mouth whatever they want to at the time.
When my co-workers asked my husband if he knew about Helen (after explaining exactly who she was), he said, “Oh, I knew about her…I just didn’t know she had a name!”
I told everyone at work that Helen would probably be here until vacation comes next week, because it’s been way too long since she’s had a break. But then again, Helen may come back from vacation since, well, returning from vacation is never fun either.
While it’s fun to joke about at work and we all understand we have bad days, how sad is it that I knowingly have that side of me and simply excuse it away?
Ephesians 4 refers to that part of us as the “old self,” and trust me, that chapter makes Helen want to run far, far, away.
Ephesians 4:1-2 – As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. (Wow, after reading that, how could I ever let Helen weasel her way out of me?) Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.
Eph 4:22-24 – You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self (Helen who???), which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. (Which definitely does not look like Helen!)
Eph 4:29, 31-32 – Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen (are you getting this yet, Helen?? There’s no excuse for the things that come out of that mouth!). Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
So maybe Helen came into work today, but she definitely does not have to stay. In fact, I’m not sure I can even see her anymore. I’m pretty sure it’s Emily sitting in that cubicle now. And hopefully, we’ll be hearing less and less from Helen from now on.
The state fair has to be one of my favorite things to do all year. My husband took me there on our first date and now we absolutely have to go when August rolls around. Corn dogs, funnel cakes, fried everything, even this year’s new featured item – chocolate covered bacon (nooooo thank you!), the world’s fattest pig, 4-H projects, parades, rides, and just about anything else imaginable. I love it all.
One of the cool things about the Indiana State Fair is that they have a free concert stage. No tickets required, just come and hear whoever is playing. One of the cooler things about the Indiana State Fair is that they have Christian music day, which means, awesome Christian artists playing for free. We were able to catch Todd Agnew, and if you haven’t heard him find him on YouTube and check him out – he is great!
Todd Agnew is an artist who doesn’t want to come and play for people staring back at him, he wants to lead people in worship. So there we were, sitting at the state fair, surrounded by people eating turkey legs and corn on the cob, waiting in line to ride the Ferris wheel, or anticipating the sheep shearing contest later that day, and we were worshipping God. Definitely the coolest thing about the Indiana State Fair. And as he was teaching us some of his new songs, he told everyone to sing out, as loud as possible, no matter how terrible or off-key we were because, “Jesus is NOT Simon Cowell.”
Nope, Jesus is not Simon Cowell from American Idol, or Tyra Banks from America’s Next Top Model, or that British guy from America’s Got Talent, or anyone else on any of those shows that judge people for their talent, looks, or abilities. The thing is, you couldn’t impress Him even if you tried, because nothing that we have or are is due to our own efforts.
Sometimes we’re don’t give God anything because we’re afraid what we have isn’t good enough. We don’t sing as well as other people, so we barely mouth the words in worship instead of belting it out. We know other people who are better with kids, so we don’t volunteer to help out in Sunday school classes. We’re not good with people, so we don’t reach out to the new neighbors across the street. Not that we don’t want to do what God wants us to, but because we don’t think we have what it takes to do it.
Remember that story in John 6? One little boy, five loaves of bread, and two fish. That’s all it took for Jesus to feed five thousand people. It would have been so easy for the boy to say, “No, Jesus, this stuff? It’s not good enough. The bread is dried out and the fish have been out in the sun all day. There’s not enough. You need more than what I can give you, you need something better than what I have.”
Jesus doesn’t care what we have to offer, He only cares that we give what we have to Him. The disciples said there wasn’t enough, and Jesus simply said, “Bring it to me. Just give me what you’ve got and wait and see what I do with it.”
Sure, Jesus could have snapped his fingers and everyone would have had a steak dinner in their laps; the miracle still would have been awesome and people still would have been fed. But He used a little boy.
That child was part of what Jesus did that day because he chose to say, “This is all I’ve got, but it’s all Yours.” I wonder what would happen if we did the same thing with what He’s given us…
I wasn’t around in the 70s. In fact, I can safely say I wasn’t even thought of yet in the 70s. Maybe some of you were, and you can let me know if I’m wrong on any of my assumptions. They’re based solely on these pictures I found from a 1977 JC Penney catalogue. (Also – forgive me if my attempt at using the decade’s terminology is a bit off!)
Apparently, in the 70s, blinding bathroom rugs are definitely psychedelic.
Using barrels for furniture? Neato!
)
“Orange jumpsuits.not just for inmates and hunters.” Farout!! (Seriously, where would you wear this to?)
These green suits are totally boss. That’s all I gotta say about that.
Dynomite, ladies. Dy-no-mite!
And this guy, in the 70s, would probably be considered gnarly, tubular, or any other word used for cool that has since gone by the wayside.
But by far, my favorite thing about the 1977 JC Penney Catalogue, is that it was totally acceptable to match your guy. This, I love.
Now, if I’m perfectly honest, if it was 3 decades ago and I saw this catalogue, I probably would have tried really hard to get my husband to put on that matching western shirt or terry jumpsuit. I think it’s awesome when we both pick out striped shirts and khaki pants to wear.and I refuse dress differently.
Picture yourself at a party, with all of these people from the pictures (at a house with neon green bathroom rugs of course!) In those outfits, would you have any trouble figuring out who belonged to who?
I want people to look at me and know exactly who I belong to – to know without a doubt that I am Christ’s. I wanna throw on whatever He’s got on – humility, compassion, grace – so that I look like Him. Let there be no mistake who I go with.
1 John 2:6 “Whoever claims to live in Him must walk as Jesus did.”
I work for a company that provides home medical equipment. I have the dreaded title of “Customer Service Representative,” which really doesn’t quite give justice to what I do, because basically I have to be a walking encyclopedia of any and all knowledge of medical equipment, insurances, diagnoses, etc. But alas, with that comes the joy of dealing with people.
A lot of our equipment is weight-bearing, so obviously we need to know how much a patient weighs to make sure they’re not over the limit for liability reasons. One patient called in requesting a walker, and when I asked the question of her weight she was extremely offended. She angrily told me that she was not going to disclose that information over the phone in front of her coworkers, and that she knew HIPAA (the laws in place to protect our personal health information) and I was asking her to violate that. I did my best to kindly let her know that she could call me back when she had some privacy, and resisted the urge to inform her that 1) It was not my fault she called me from work, 2) It is not a HIPAA violation to disclose your own health information, and 3) the people she worked with probably had a pretty good idea of what that number was anyway.
Now trust me, I can be sensitive about the issue. I hate looking down at the scale. But I began thinking about how funny it is that we women hate to have that number out in the air, and that maybe if no one else knows it then it isn’t actually true. The fact still remains, however, that we look like what we look like and we weigh what we weigh.
When we sin we can kinda try to do the same thing. We carry the proof on us, but we think we can hide it. We refuse say it out loud, refuse to admit it. But we still have sin in our lives. And when we try to cover it up, we never really get around to dealing with it.
As shameful as it is to admit to our struggles, we’re here to help each other. Paul says in Galatians 6:1-2, “Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” We’re not supposed to struggle alone; we’re supposed to share and carry each other’s load.
If there’s a sin in your life you just can’t seem to overcome, quit trying to do it on your own. Several months ago Beth gave some great insight why having an accountability partner is so important, and what kind of questions to ask one another. I’d definitely encourage you to go back and read them – good stuff there! An accountability partner is such a help and encouragement.
Whether it’s someone specific you meet with regularly, or several different people who can help you through different situations, it can be such a help to have someone see you through a struggle with sin. God doesn’t expect us to do it alone. Hebrews 10:24 says, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11 says to, “…encourage one another and build each other up.”
So while having someone in your life ask you tough questions that may not be fun to answer, having someone who cares and prays earnestly for you will be worth the vulnerability. And at least (hopefully), they won’t ask you your weight!
I had shared some time ago how my husband lost his job. Now here we are, three months later, still searching for a full-time position. Piecing together hours from two jobs, hoping they equal at least around 30 hours a week so we can stay on top of our bills. Both positions are considered PRN, so there are no guaranteed shifts. Between the lack of hours he also took a significant pay cut, and we just have to pray that whatever the check ends up being it’s enough to meet our needs.
Along with that comes the disappointment and frustration of having made a step further in his career, only to have the opportunity taken away and now suddenly be three steps back, with very little prospects of any foreseeable jobs in the near future. Of having worked hard to earn a college degree that now seems to mean nothing, or at least, doesn’t mean enough to land a job. Meanwhile it seems everyone around us is getting new jobs, new cars, and new babies. Needless to say we’re a little discouraged.
So I’m sitting here, staring at the calendar, looking at my husband’s shifts and thinking that there just isn’t enough. I’m so tired of holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and our lives to crumble into one big, financial mess, buried under the weight of so much debt and stress we can’t see anything else. Sure, we’re okay today, but what about tomorrow, or next week, or next month? When is it all finally going to end? When are we going to catch a break? Surely we deserve one by now.
And in the middle of my hopelessness, my stress, my anger, my frustration, my worry, and my fear, I catch the verse on the bright orange post-it note stuck to the bottom of my computer screen:
“But those that seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing.” Ps 34:10
Father, how quickly I forget that this life is not about comfort, it’s not about money or security or any other earthly treasure. It is about spending my days seeking You. Earnestly running after You, following hard, dropping everything when You call my name. You are above and beyond everything I need. You are bigger than a job, bigger than a paycheck, and big enough to meet every need that I have. I am lacking nothing when I have You, for in You I find comfort and security and a place to lay my burdens down. I am not missing out on anything, for in You I find every good thing there is that’s worth having.
I was fourteen, and I had found a cute style in a magazine. I cut it out and took it to my hairdresser. The cut I wound up with looked nothing like what I had showed her. In fact, I looked more like Florence Henderson in the Brady Bunch, you know, where she had that crazy thin layer that flipped out under a bob? I don’t have any actual pictures of that horrendous ‘do’, but it was something like this.
I know. Awful, right? As soon as my mom and I were in the car I started bawling, looking in the mirror and hating what I saw. I was absolutely devastated, so my mom figured the best thing she could do was to take me to my best friend’s house, because if I wouldn’t believe her that it wasn’t nearly as terrible as I was making it out to be, then maybe I would believe my best friend.
I tried to convince myself on the drive over that it would be okay, and that surely my friend would offer me some consolation. “Oh Em,” she said when I walked in the door, hand over her mouth. She took me upstairs and dug through her barrettes, ponytail holders, and headbands and said, “There’s gotta be some way we can fix this!”
I love her response. I didn’t at the time, because it really didn’t make me feel better. She didn’t lie to me and tell me that it was alright or that she liked it. The truth still remained that I looked terrible; she didn’t try to hide that fact. But looking back I appreciate it because she let me know she was there to do whatever she could to help fix my problem.
When we come to God with our bad haircuts, He definitely doesn’t lie to us. We bring Him an ugly mess, and He says, “Yep, that’s an ugly mess. But there’s a way we can fix it.” Don’t you love that? God is the ultimate hairdresser! There is nothing He can’t make better. The process may be painful, and it may take a long time, but He can make anything beautiful – even that awful Carol Brady look.
So if you’re walking around with a really terrible, awful haircut, and you’re terrified of letting anyone else near you with a pair of scissors, let me give you the number of the One who ‘does my hair’. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
(*Editor’s Note: For those of you who don’t know, Emily is my daughter and a regular contributor to this blog, so it’s not unusual if we sometimes write/sound the same! Unbeknownst to each other, we both wrote about my husband’s mother . Please forgive any redundancy as we honor one of our favorite women…)
Let me tell you a little bit about Isabel Horsfall. Married to Joe, mother of Joan, Bill, Sharon and Ned, grandmother of twelve, and great-grandmother of eighteen.
I’ve known her as Grandma. The grandma that only lived twenty-five minutes away but the drive always felt like an eternity. With a backyard that could be used for sledding, and a basement that was perfect for roller-skating. The candy dish full of the caramels with the cream in the middle and the freezer stocked with popsicles in the summertime.
She left the knobs on the oven dirty when she cooked – which was all the time! She’d make vegetable soup and have a special pot set aside just for me (no tomatoes or onions, thank you very much). She tried to hide the chocolate peanut butter Buckeyes she made near Christmastime so they wouldn’t get eaten all at once but we could always find them.
She hated watching you bite your nails and made you sit on your hands to keep you from doing it. She insisted you say “rear-end” instead of that awful “b” word. She was a hard-core Canasta player, and it was rare you could beat her at a game. She loved hearing us practice the piano, bad notes and all, and told us we never practiced enough (partly because it was true, and partly because she could never hear us play enough). I never ever once heard her raise her voice or say anything negative about anyone or anything. She was the most pleasant, happy, understanding person I’ve ever known.
I’m full of memories, and yet there was still so much I didn’t know about her. I didn’t know what she was like as a girl, or what made her fall for my Grandpa, how she came to know the Lord or what her favorite verse was. What I do know is that she loved her Lord and she loved her family, and she loved so very well.
We’ll miss you Grandma, but we’ll hold onto your legacy of love and service and do our best to do it half as well as you did.
These are my “babies” (for now at least!) We got Charlie days after we got back from our honeymoon, and Lucy came less than a year later.
Lucy was an impulsive decision; she was the cutest little puppy I had ever seen. She melted my heart and we got her on the spot without too much thought of our dog at home, who was quite content being the only one around.
Charlie was intrigued by this new family member, and for the most part they got along – as long as Lucy understood who was the alpha dog. Though she has now outgrown Charlie, he still knows how to put her in her place. When we’re all cuddled up on the couch, he lets out a little growl if she invades his space too much, and she complies and moves. He usually doesn’t like her being too close, which is why I was completely shocked when my husband was able snap these pictures of Charlie, completely of his own volition, snuggling with Lucy.
It seems as though he’s finally figured out what Solomon was saying in Ecclesiastes 4.
7 Again I saw something meaningless under the sun:
8 There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. “For whom am I toiling,” he asked, “and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?” This too is meaningless- a miserable business!
9 Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:
10 If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!
11 Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?
12 Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
I’m celebrating my two year wedding anniversary today! Woohoo! Marriage honestly has been a whole lot easier than what I expected, no thanks to me or my husband but to the awesome God whose hands we place it in everyday. But I have learned a few things and made a couple of discoveries in these past two years.
-I have never had a fight over the toothpaste tube. Never. Despite what I heard before getting married, we’ve both been able to get toothpaste out and brush our teeth without any problems.
-There is no laundry fairy. She does not exist. One other person does not mean twice the laundry, somehow it means three times the amount I was used to doing just for myself.
-Figuring out what to make for dinner is the hardest part. Well, that and cleaning up afterwards.
-There are times when my husband actually is not thinking about anything. I don’t know how this is humanly possible, but I’m trying to accept it.
-Chinese food on a blanket on the floor in a big empty house because you can’t afford furniture is incredibly romantic.
-Clipping coupons can actually be exciting.
-Lazy Saturday mornings where it takes you an hour to get out of bed are the best.
-Heeding Ephesians 4:26 by not going to bed angry is one of the best things I have done in my marriage.
-The car does and will break down. Repeatedly. And it happens when your bank account is at its lowest.
-Laughing with each other is better than having all the stuff we don’t have money to buy.
-Weird quirks are still endearing at two years. I’ll let you know what happens when you get to three.
-He likes sports. Any and all sports, and whatever sport is on TV is suitable to watch. And somehow, to him, it is way more entertaining than the chick flicks I beg him to watch with me. My divine hatred for watching sports is equal to his hatred for my movies. (Again, I don’t see how this is possible but I’m learning to accept this.)
-He really is the better driver.
-Painting marathons ’til 3am are exhausting, but are totally worth it the next day.
-I will always be cold and he will always be hot, no matter what the temperature in our house is.
-No matter how much you tell yourself you won’t, you will have a junk drawer. This is some inevitable force of nature.
And most importantly:
-Sharing my life with my husband is the greatest gift outside of salvation that God has given me.
I’m not quite addicted.I don’t update my profile a couple times a day like some of my friends, but I do like to hop on at least every other day or so. Amazing how one website connects hundreds of people together, from old friends in elementary schools to distant relatives. You can find out where people are now living, what their current job is, favorite TV shows, hobbies, and quotes, and check out whatever pictures they’ve chosen to post. But probably the easiest thing to do on Facebook is update your status and comment on others.
My current status:
-Emily is celebrating the 4th and Eric’s 25th birthday. Wow my hubby’s getting old! (Okay, it may be time to update that one and get the 25 being old comment off of there before I get in too much trouble!)
After browsing through my friends, I found a few other interesting statuses:
-Danielle just made the worst eggs known to man…ick haha
-Martha: Okay, infants should not have a Facebook. That’s simply awkward and dumb. What does a baby have to update?
-Brandon is excited to take his son home today.
-Krista: If I were a food I would be a cheeseburger, cuz everyone likes ‘em. However, someone will inevitably respond to this saying they don’t. Lame.
-Hannah thinks life is hard – but at least I know He’s drawing me closer to Himself
-Renee just killed a huge spider in her apartment. Creepy!
-Mike: I have soggy shoes.
-Briana’s thinking about how much money Itunes and music stores are making off of Michael Jackson’s death.
-Mark won big.
-Molly: Well apparenty, I sleep like a dork!
-Matt: We’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you’re fired.
It got me thinking about my spiritual status. If I had to post something online for all my friends and family to see about my spiritual status, and if I was honest with it, what would it say? Could I exclaim “Emily is madly in love with her Savior!” or “Emily’s gaining victory over sin issues in her life through the awesome power of God!” Or would I have to say something like, “Emily really needs to get off the computer and into the Word” or “Emily’s heart and attitude are far from pleasing to God”?
It’s easy to fool anyone around me into thinking my spiritual status is something it’s not, but God doesn’t have to check my Facebook to know what’s going on with me. I can’t fool Him, and I need to be concerned with what His comments are on my status, and not my friends’. And it’s not until I can admit where I’m at that I can begin to address it.
You can blame my mom for that one, she got me “Meet Me in St. Louis” with Judy Garland from the library once to watch and I wore that tape out, getting it every chance I could. In fact, when I got old enough to drive and had my own library card, I rented it, kept it, and paid the cost for never returning it! And so I fell in love with Judy Garland, and eventually “The Wizard of Oz” even though I had to shut my eyes anytime that mean old witch or those crazy flying monkeys came across the screen.
So about a year ago when I found out “Wicked” was coming through town with a traveling Broadway cast, I was determined to go see it. I waited ’til tickets went on sale, bought 3rd row seats months in advance, and was able to see with a couple of friends this past weekend. And man was it AMAZING! (By the way – the flying monkeys are even creepier in person!)
The story is of Elphaba (who becomes the Wicked Witch of the West) and Galinda (who becomes Glinda the Good Witch) and what happened in Oz before Dorothy and Toto dropped in.
Here’s a clip of one of the fun songs from the play. Galinda decides to make Elphaba her project and give her a makeover, thus making Elphaba more popular.
The scene also has one of my favorite lines. Galinda attempts to turn Elphaba’s outfit into a ballgown, and fails (she’s still learning her craft, after all!), to which Galinda concludes that Elphaba should “Just wear the frock – it’s pretty!”
The premise of Wicked is that we’ve all assumed something to be true when it isn’t.that the green lady in the pointy hat was actually wicked, when instead she was just often misunderstood. In fact, there really wasn’t anything wicked about her at all.
I have gotten pretty good at the art of assuming – at any time, in any circumstance, I jump to conclusions without knowing the whole story first. In fact, I just did it a few days ago – I got upset over a situation that was quickly resolved when I learned the truth. I assume people’s motives, and I even assume their responses in conversations that have yet to come to pass!
I’ve looked a couple times, and I can’t find “Love always assumes” in 1 Corinthians 13. Nope, definitely not in there. What is in there is that love is patient, it’s not proud or rude, it’s not easily angered, it always trusts, and it always hopes. That’s quite a bit different then what assuming brings out in me, and I definitely want to be known for my love, and not for my assuming.
And I’m pretty sure love would have seen Elphaba as a beautiful girl, who happened to have green skin, rather than an ugly, old, wicked witch.
If you have two big brothers like I do, you’ll know what I’m talking about. My brother can get me to do anything – and I mean anything! Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes, well, it’s not so good.
Somehow he managed to get me to clean his room. Not just once or twice, but on a fairly regular basis! When it came to weekly chores, my brothers always got me to do the bathroom. And I’m sure there are plenty of other things they manipulated me into doing that I just can’t remember.
But on the other hand, I was fourteen when I got a letter in the mail about sponsoring a child. I remember saying how could I possibly sponsor a child? I was too young! To which my brother simply replied, “No you’re not,” and it’s something I’ve continued to do ever since then. And at eighteen, when I couldn’t figure out what to do with my life, my brother told me I should move in with him in Indianapolis, which is where I soon met my husband.
No matter what it was, I never seemed to question their suggestions or instructions. I’m not sure if it was wanting to please my big brothers and get “in” with them since I was the only girl or it was some foolish thinking that they actually knew better than I did! And it’s a habit that’s been hard to break.
So when we went boating last weekend and my brother had gotten a new tube (a big square with a giant basket handle to grab on to) it didn’t take much for him to convince me to go for a ride with him. And it didn’t take much for him to convince me that it would be so much more fun to ride on the back with him up on my knees, despite the fact that there was absolutely no stability and I was much more comfortable lying on my stomach. It wasn’t long before we were thrown off and I hit the water hard and literally got the wind knocked out of me. When I popped up out of the water I was done – I was not getting back on that tube! Scared and unable to catch my breath I just wanted back on that boat.
I told Ryan that was it, I was done. “No you’re not!” he said, and sure enough, he got me back on that tube for a second, much better ride.
It’s a simple picture of what we all know to be true. Life’s a ride, sometimes it’s bumpy and rough and we’re screaming to get off. And sometimes it’s smooth sailing and an absolute blast. But it’s a lot more fun when you go through it with someone else, and it gets a little easier when someone’s there to convince you to hop back on after you fall off.
So maybe I’ll just keep on listening to that big brother of mine after all. He’s not completely steered me wrong yet., and besides – it’s his boat!
Or at least that’s how I felt. It was another rainy, ugly day, where a downpour hit exactly as I was walking to or from my car. With my husband still searching for a job, and every good possibility falling through, and now one of our cars sitting dead in our driveway and the bank account dwindling, I felt worse than the weather. Rain, rain, go away, come again..wait, don’t come again stay away!
It seems that life just goes that way. With one trial comes another one right on top of it. When you think nothing else could possibly go wrong to make your life any more difficult, sure enough something will break down and need fixed, or you’ll have an unexpected bill or more bad news. And just as it seems that the sun is finally peaking out after a long, rough storm, clouds quickly cover it up again.
And yet we are told to rejoice in our suffering (Romans 5:3-6), and to count trials as pure joy (James 1:2-4). This goes way beyond tolerating or surviving whatever it is that we’re going through. It even goes beyond trying not to be bummed or even having a relatively positive attitude about things. We are supposed to be joyful throughout it all, thankful, praising God for bringing us situations and circumstances, because they draw us closer to Him and allow Him more glory by working in our lives.
In thinking about all of this, what’s going on in my life and what God’s Word tells me to do about it, I decided I could either sit inside, staring out through the window, wishing the rain would go away, or I could throw on my poncho, run outside, and go jump in the puddles.
So I’m heading outside. I’m gonna splash around, look up to the sky and catch raindrops in my mouth. Maybe I’ll even do a little singing! But one thing’s for sure, I am definitely going puddle jumping.
Cause I’m pretty sure Jesus already beat me out there and He’s waiting on me to join the fun.
I am so impatient and it drives my husband crazy. I hate waiting on the garage door to open all the way or the pin-resetter-thingie (yes, that is the technical term) at the bowling alley to go back up – I am flying into the garage or whipping my ball down the alley before I really should. So far, no accidents or major mishaps, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before I’m taught the lesson I need to learn.
And today I find myself waiting. Waiting on a phone call, waiting on an answer, waiting to see what God is going to do in my life. Just like I have been the past month or so. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
And I don’t like it.
So I began to think about waiting on the Lord and started looking through Psalms, where I knew the phrase could be found. Wow, does the psalmist have such great confidence in God, even when he is waiting. Ps 130:5 “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope.” Ps 38:15 “I wait for You O Lord, You will answer, O Lord my God.” Ps 33:10 “We wait in hope for the Lord, He is our help and our shield.” Ps 27:14 “Wait for the Lord, be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
There is hope in waiting for the Lord, there are answers, there is help and there is strength. It’s so hard to wait because it means we feel like we’re not doing anything! We want to just fix it, and fix it now. But waiting is not a lazy response, it’s not a desperate response, it’s not a last resort. It’s a Biblical response, it’s a trusting response, and it should be our first instinct. To trust God, to patiently wait on Him to work out whatever it is that He is doing.
So I’m gonna continue to wait. I’m gonna give that whole patience thing a shot, and put my hope in the Lord and in His word. I’m gonna be strong and take heart, knowing He will answer.
A co-worker of mine lost the baby she was carrying yesterday. So very tragic. She’s struggled to conceive and lost a newborn a few years ago, so this must be truly heartbreaking for her. So, so sad.
I don’t work for a Christian organization. I know of several believers here but certainly not everyone shares my faith. So I was amazed when we gathered around to talk about how we support Cheryl, how we help her, how we love her, how we see her through this great loss in her life. What to say, how to be sensitive, who’s bringing her food or doing her laundry, and how we continue to celebrate the other women in the office who are pregnant with their own babies. This isn’t necessarily the body of Christ, but this is what it should look like.
I can’t imagine going through something like that. I’ve known several women who have lost children at different ages and I know that it’s the most heartbreaking thing for a woman to go through. It just isn’t supposed to happen that way. And I have no good thing to say to anyone who has experienced that. There are no good answers to why or how God could let one lose a child.
But God in His goodness has given us something to help in any time of great tragedy or loss or hardships – each other. The precious, precious body of Christ. When we endure trials like these, we wish God was close enough to hold us, to touch us, to comfort us. To literally be able to crawl into His lap and rock us as we cry. He’s not physically here on earth with us, but He’s given us people who are.
So if you’re going through something right now I encourage you to use what God has given you – your sisters in Christ. Let them bring you dinner or drive your kids around or come and clean your bathroom. Let them pray for you, pray with you, cry with you, listen to you, and make you laugh when you need it. Don’t shut people out, lean on them, let them help carry you through whatever you’re going through. And if you know someone who needs those kind of people in their life – be that person! We are not to go through this life alone, we need each other, God has made us that way.
Because as hard as this life is, it gets a little bit easier when you can share the load with someone else.
Okay, I know I’m young, I have plenty of time, and I’ve only been married 2 years, but.I want a baby. I made the decision a long time ago that my “career” choice was to be a stay-at-home mom, so working the 9-5 while waiting ’til we’re financially stable enough for me to quit and stay home is less than satisfying. Add to that the fact that it seems everyone I know is either pregnant, just had a baby, or is chasing around a toddler and I’m even more anxious to start my own family.
So when I attended a banquet for my brother’s college graduation from a very small Bible school you can imagine how I felt when I got a glimpse of an old roommate who had just days before announced she was 12 weeks pregnant on Facebook. Oh please, I thought, Please please please don’t see me. I don’t think I can handle this right now. As I kept my head down and casually shielded my face, it wasn’t too long before I heard that familiar voice exclaim, “Emily! It’s so good to see you!” And of course my brother would ask where they were sitting, and of course they would love to sit at our table, and of course she would sit down next to me. Seriously, God? Seriously? As much as I want a baby right now, with my husband jobless and even when he finds a job, having a baby may be years away, and You’re seriously going to stick a pregnant lady beside me all night? I grimaced and tried to offer the most sincere congratulations I could muster as she shared all the stuff those pregnant women share. Of course there was no morning sickness, no discomfort at all. And of course her boss is arranging it so she can work from home. And oh yeah, did I mention she’s lost weight and looks great?
As the evening progressed and I kept throwing God up a “Seriously?” every so often a verse began to interrupt my thoughts. “Rejoice with those who rejoice.” Nope, my selfish thoughts argued with God. Nope, no way, no how. I cannot be happy for her, I cannot. And now God You are just being mean. You torture me then You expect me to rejoice?! But as I looked at her, admiring that pregnant glow and her beaming smile, and as God kept running that verse thru my head my heart began to soften, and I no longer wished that she’d have an ugly baby. In fact, I hoped that baby would be a healthy, beautiful baby and that motherhood would be wonderful for her.
We are to share life together, all of it, the hard stuff and the good stuff. The weeping and the rejoicing. No matter how difficult it may be to find joy in someone else’s blessings when we feel we could use some of our own, we are to rejoice with one another. I can still praise God for creating life, even if it isn’t one growing inside of me. And how could I dare take one iota of joy from that soon to be mother with my own selfishness? My joy for her only adds to her joy!
So yes, God is definitely serious. He is seriously good, seriously gracious, and seriously showing me that what He’s got for me is uniquely for me. The fact that He blesses others doesn’t make Him any less good to me. He’s got His own timing and own plan for me.
Call it a guilty pleasure, but come January when it premieres to May when the finale airs, my Tuesdays and Wednesdays are booked. I’m glued to my TV. I love watching the journey of a kid with big dreams who gets to see them come true. I love watching individuals realize their talent and potential, take hold of that, and grow each week they perform.
This year, the most humble person to grace that stage won it all and shocked most of those who watch the show. In case you hadn’t tuned in, from the first week of the “Top 13″ the crown was assumed to go to Adam Lambert, a guy with a big voice and who wasn’t afraid to take risks or offend people. Meanwhile, quiet, unassuming, and lacking confidence, Kris Allen slowly and gradually won over the country and was officially named the American Idol for the year. His response when they announced his name? First he said, “Are you serious right now?” and secondly, “Adam deserves this. I’m sorry.”
That’s the kind of guy you like to see splattered with confetti as an audience of 7,000 cheers for him. The kind of guy who when asked at his first audition if he was going to be the next American Idol responded with, “I don’t know, I’m sure there are a lot better singers than me.” Someone who in his moment of glory recognizes someone else’s achievements and is so gracious that he apologizes for winning!
Amazing that a quality I admire so much in a person I don’t even know is one I often don’t work on having in my own life – humility. It’s something that’s all over Scripture, and is something God is so passionate about that He detests the proud! Wow, that is something I definitely don’t want to be.
It’s so easy to be prideful – it’s such a part of our human nature. And it comes out in so many ways that we often don’t recognize it as pride or as a sin. Most of us hate admitting we’re wrong, are quick to judge others, and find ways to justify our sin. Pride often is the gateway to other sin – Proverbs tells us that “Pride comes before the fall.”
But humility – what great words the Bible gives us in regards to those who show humility. Humility and fear of the Lord brings wealth and honor and life. With humility comes wisdom. God guides the humble and teaches them His way. He gives grace to the humble, He lifts them up, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.
God makes it a whole lot easier to be humble when He offers those kinds of promises. And in my everyday life and the days I’m getting covered in confetti, not only do I want to have the attitude of Kris Allen, but more importantly, I want to have the attitude of my Savior, who had the most reasons to be prideful but showed us what humility truly looks like.
Reminisce with me, would you? To a time of hairdos most of us would rather forget.
That’s right, the mullet. And unfortunately, it would sometimes come in families.
Let’s review the anatomy of the mullet, shall we?
Business in the front, party in the back. It’s an interesting concept. That on one head, you could have both a business look, and a party look, as if the two would never meet. It never did quite work, and thankfully, the style has faded into obscurity.mostly. You may catch someone sporting this ‘do every now and then. If you do, you may want to inform them that even Billy Ray has moved on, and so should they. But please, tell them gently, as I’m sure they have an achy breaky heart. (Sorry, I couldn’t help myself!)
You ever try that with God? A business in the front, party in the back kind of approach to your relationship with Him? It’s a new term I’m just now inventing – Mullet Christianity. Yes folks, God is over the mullet too.
It’s so tempting to want to go to God trying to look good (business in the front) but yet “hiding” all the sin and selfish desires we’re not ready to give up (party in the back). Just like mulletheads (another term I’m just now inventing) couldn’t fool anyone into thinking they had anything that resembled a business look, neither can we fool God. He sees past all appearances and right into our hearts. We may be able to put on a shiny exterior to others, but we can’t with God. They may buy our business front, but God knows we’re secretly trying to party.
God wants all of us, He doesn’t want someone who only says the right things or who plays the part of a Christian well. He doesn’t want us to hang on to anything, and everything He has to offer is so much better than whatever we give up.
So go ahead. Take out those scissors, and chop off the party. God has a better one waiting for you anyway.
I started working with the youth group this year, which I’m sure if you’ve worked with kids, you have a slew of stories to tell. My slew is just beginning. I’ve had the pleasure recently of spending time with middle school girls in small group time. The topic of regrets came up and one thirteen-year-old shared about a couple kisses she’s had with boys.
“They were soooo gross! Both were wet and sloppy! I guess I’m just cursed or something.”
Wanting to be the cool, young leader that was real and gave them the honest facts about life, instead of steering the conversation away from kissing I reminded her that you kiss with your mouth, which generally is wet.
To which she looked straight at me and asked ever so sweetly, “Do YOU have wet, sloppy kisses with Eric?”
I struggled unsuccessfully between keeping my laughter in and my face from giving away my embarrassment. I don’t think I ever did answer her. My mind of course knew of moments where I’d had a wet sloppy kiss with my husband but honestly, I couldn’t remember the last one we’d shared.
In my less than 2 year marriage, it had already begun. That terrible, awful, horrible disease, “fewer-wet-sloppy-kisses-itis,” that I had heard about. I began to think, what would happen if I had a few more kisses like that with my husband? Maybe the light bulb that still hadn’t been changed or the football game that had to be watched wouldn’t be such a big deal. Because I would be reminded about how crazy I am about this guy. Those wet sloppy kisses do more in the butterfly department then the simple little pecks we seem to have settled for.
I should be able to tell those girls, “Yes! I love wet sloppy kisses with my husband! God gave us a whole book to tell us about how awesome the intimacy is between a husband and a wife and that we are to enjoy those kisses with every fiber of our being!”
Yeah, that book in the Old Testament that I thought was so shocking as a kid and was appalled to find in the pages of my Bible. It’s actually a reminder that it’s okay to be passionate about my husband!
I went home that night and planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on my husband. “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” (Song of Solomon 1:2).
The Washington Post asked its readers to supply alternate meanings for common words. Some of the winners:
-Coffee – The person upon whom one coughs.
-Flabbergasted – Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.
-Gargoyle – Olive-flavored mouthwash
-Balderdash – A rapidly receding hairline
-Oyster – A person who sprinkles conversation with yiddishisms.
-Abdicate – To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
Sometimes our words get twisted around and the person hearing or reading them comes away with a completely different idea than what we intended. People have a way of finding a whole new meaning to something we’ve said that we could never come up with.
I have to admit that I’m guilty of doing that to others as well. They say one thing, but I’m so sure they meant something else I interpret it the way I assume it should be interpreted. Miscommunication seems to be the root of so many arguments, problems, and issues that I’ve had to deal with in my life. And all too often, the communication failure occurs on my end.
James tells us to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. If we could only do that in every situation, think of how many problems with others we could avoid? I’m not always quick to listen, that’s for sure. I’m quick to jump in (my husband hates how often I interrupt him) and I’m even quicker to assume what someone else meant instead of finding out what they actually meant.
Slow to speak.well, I’ve already admitted to interrupting so much that there’s no way that could be true of me! How often do I actually stop and think before I speak? The words fly out of my mouth so quickly and I often regret them once they’re out. Jesus said in Matthew that out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. Not only do I need to be careful when speaking I need check my heart. It won’t come out if it’s not already in me!
And slow to anger.wow, that’s an emotion that flares up pretty quickly. When I get angry, I usually justify feeling it and let my words and actions show that anger. But anger has no room in a Christian’s heart. Again in Matthew Jesus says on the Sermon on the Mount that it had been said not to murder or you would face judgment, but He says if you’re angry with your brother you’re subject to judgment. I like to think that anger isn’t really a big sin because it’s an emotion I can’t control. But Jesus says so clearly that we cannot be angry with one another. And how often am I angry at someone because I’ve misunderstood what they’ve said? Because I’ve not been quick to listen and slow to speak?
It’s such a simple phrase that James give us, but it’s so profound and it’s really the only way to communicate with others. If in every difficult interaction, I would choose to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger, how different my relationships with others would be!
Poor little guy has had it rough. He survived a 40 foot fall from a tree, only because he landed on his sister. She unfortunately didn’t make it, but Finnegan was taken in by an animal lover who decided to nurse him back to health.
Mademoiselle Giselle, a pregnant Papillion was definitely intrigued by Finnegan’s arrival to her home.
And it wasn’t long before she would drag Finnegan’s bed across the house over to her own. Her owner finally gave up the battle and let Finnegan sleep with Giselle.
When Giselle gave birth to her puppies, it became hard to tell Finnegan apart from the others!
She would even let him nurse off of her. Finnegan had truly become her own.
Even the puppies couldn’t tell the difference between themselves and Finnegan. He was just another sibling to them.
So here he was, this little creature who suffered a pretty big trauma and could have died if left out on his own, brought into a completely new environment where he seemingly didn’t belong. How could a dog and a squirrel possibly find a way to bond? How could a dog let what we consider a rodent near her own pups, let alone nurse off of her? And yet here Finnegan is, not only befriended but part of a family.
A beautiful picture of what the family of God should look like, isn’t it? The hurting, the broken, and the wounded can come and find a place to belong, no matter what they look like, who they are, or how different they may seem. They can find a place to heal and people to love them through it. And they can find what we all really long for – a home and their place in a family. How amazing that we can be Giselle in someone else’s life!
Our computer system at work got the latest and greatest update last night, which meant we were seeing a lot of that 6 letter word none of us like…change. “This screen looks funny!” and “They changed the colors?!” and even a big “Uuugggggggghhhh” was muttered as we all logged onto our computers and started the day. (Okay, admittedly, the last one came from me!)
Ask my mom, change has never been something I was ever up for. When she got a new kitchen table, you would not believe the grief I gave her. I was quick to point out that it did not match her cabinets and share that I really did not think it looked good at all in the room – when it really looked perfectly fine. How dare she take away the table I had sat at every night for as long as I could remember, eating her delicious dinners? Sure it was old, wobbly, and beat up from three little kids doing everything imaginable on it…but to get a new table? Well, that was just ridiculous! And when my parents were kind enough to buy me a new bed when I was 15, despite the fact that it was much more comfortable, I slept on the floor that night in rebellion.
I’ve since grown a little in that area. When my parents got me a new bed when I got married I was very thankful this time! But I’m still not one that goes out looking for change.
It would happen that just moments after typing that last sentence a few days ago my life has pretty much turned upside down. My husband called me to let me know the huge change coming our way – he had lost his job.
Now, here I am, faced with the challenge of believing what I was going to say a few days ago, that when the big changes come our way we can trust the God that never changes. With all the questions, doubts, fears, and worries I’m staring at right now, will I look to the One who is constant in my life to hold me steady? Or will I let the uncertainty of the future shake my faith? It’s here where the rubber meets the road as they say.
I hate changes in my life. I hate going through them, I hate the hardship they bring. But every time I look back over what felt like a broken path, I see the beauty God made of the mess I had made it through. As difficult as the situations are that come, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that those changes are the ones God uses to shape me and mold me to make me more like who He wants me to be.
So am I ready for this change? No way. Is my heart where it needs to be? I only wish. I know I will struggle with this in the days and weeks and months to come until our lives are “settled” again. But I can rest in the hope I have that all this lies in my Heavenly Father’s capable hands.
And in the moments when the changes scare me, I’ll curl up in His lap comforted by the knowledge that He is always the same.
Okay, I just had one of those cool, hit me like a bolt of lightning, stopped me dead in my tracks, kind of revelations. It probably won’t seem nearly as profound to anyone else except me, but still I thought I’d share.
It came to me because I was sitting at my desk, looking at my calendar, and realizing that my birthday was exactly one week ago. And it kinda bummed me out, because it means I have 51 more weeks to go. I like my birthday. Well, if I’m being honest, I love my birthday, and it’s really more like a “birth week.” I milk my birthday for everything its worth. I don’t require a big to do or presents so much as attention, and it’s something my husband is unsuccessfully trying to break me of. I really don’t know why it’s surfaced in the last several years, because my parents never overdid it growing up (although I did have nice birthdays Mom!). So here I am thinking about being sad about my birthday being over and I realized how ridiculous that is!
I’m the type of person that gets depressed before vacation because I already am picturing how sad it is to drive home and get back to real life. I spend my time thinking about how I’ll have to be back at work in a week instead of being excited that I get a week at the beach. Or if I’m going to a concert that I’ve been looking forward to for months, I get disappointed that it will only last a few hours and all I’ll be left with is memories that fade too quickly and a ringing in my ears that hangs around too long.
And as I’m sitting here, pondering my problem with the end of things I’ve been looking forward to, a simple thought came to my mind, something that I’ve known to be true for a long time…Heaven is forever. What used to terrify me as a child (you know the thought of a never-ending church service FOR ALL ETERNITY) now is exciting, comforting even. The thought of forever and ever no longer scares me, it thrills me.
“One of these days,” as FFH sings, “I’m gonna see the hands that took the nails for me.” Wow. I’m getting chills sitting here thinking about it. Goosebumps, I honestly have goosebumps right now. One of these days, I am going to stand before the One who suffered and died for me. I am going to spend eternity, forever, an amount of time my mind cannot comprehend, with my Savior, surrounded by countless others praising and worshipping Him. And it will never end, it will never be over, it will never go away. I won’t be searching for the next exciting thing to look forward to, or for something better to do, because it is the end all, be all, ultimate place of complete joy.
I don’t spend much time thinking about heaven, and now I have no idea why I don’t! Life is fleeting; it is a vapor as James says. Why do I spend my time disappointed about the pleasures of life coming and going when I know they will? I should be spending my time looking forward to the eternity that has been promised to me!
One of these days, life will end. And one of these days, I’ll be in a place that never will.
I’ve been hearing these radio ads (I can’t remember what for, so they must not be that effective!) using odd state laws. The one that’s been on recently tells that one Alaskan state law is that waking a sleeping bear for the purpose of taking a picture is strictly prohibited. Why anyone would want to wake a sleeping bear is beyond me, but I have witnessed a woman trying to put her small child on a wild buffalo, so I guess you never know!
I decided to go looking for more of these funny laws and made a few interesting discoveries. In San Francisco you are not allowed to wipe your car with used underwear (which unfortunately means that’s probably been done before.) And don’t even think of making an “ugly” face at a dog in Oklahoma – you could be thrown in jail! If you’re ever in North Dakota, and decide to take a nap, make sure you take your shoes off first, otherwise you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of the law. In Gary, Indiana, anyone who enjoys a piece of garlic bread will have to wait four hours to attend the theater (that one’s not such a bad idea!). Want to go parachuting in Florida on a Sunday? Better be married! Unmarried women who go on a Sunday might find themselves sleeping in a cell that night.
Even Ohio has a few of their own. Check your gas tank before driving through Youngstown, it’s illegal to run out of gas there. And when you’re in Columbus the stores are not allowed to sell you cornflakes.
When hearing these kinds of things, you have to wonder how they ever became a law! Completely ridiculous, right? I have to say; the first time I read through the book of Leviticus I thought the same thing. All the sacrifices – grain offering, burnt offering, fellowship offering and the details that one must follow while presenting an offering completely confused me. I didn’t understand why they could only eat animals with a split hoof and that “chewed the cud” and were not allowed to wear any clothes made of two different materials. And all that stuff about what was clean and what was unclean. Women were unclean after childbirth? That’s a nice “thank you” for the labor they endured!
Even though some of those things seem unfathomable, we know God had a reason for giving that set of laws to those people during that time. The good news for us is that God has chosen a different way for us – grace.
While I may not understand those “crazy” laws in Leviticus, I understand grace. Well, okay, that’s sort of a silly thing to say. I understand a tiny, itty bitty fraction of grace and what it means in my life. It means that nothing I can do is good enough, but a way has been made for me in spite of that. It means I am free from living by a set of rules and free to live my life for my Savior.
Why, oh why was there no disclaimer on the paperwork I filled out when I volunteered to help with the youth group at my church? You know something like:
WARNING: WORKING WITH TEENAGERS MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH
In my naivete, I thought it would be easy. After all, I’m not so far removed from those teenage years myself. I pictured my husband and I as the young cool couple that the kids would just naturally gravitate towards.
Him, maybe. Me, not so much.
Do you know how hard it is to engage a teenage girl in conversation? Or the evil look you get when you didn’t notice the new haircut? I am constantly worrying if my clothes are cool enough. I feel like I’m back in high school again!
I guess maybe now they’re coming around and warming up to me. Slowly. Very slowly.
I have done things as a youth leader that I had never pictured myself doing. I’ve tried to keep track of a group of boys at night on the streets of downtown Indianapolis begging them not to get ahead of the group, terrified what would happen if I lost one. Now I know why my youth leaders were constantly counting heads.
I spent an evening at an event that was four hours of dodgeball. FOUR HOURS! The game that I dreaded every day of my elementary years. Memories of standing in a corner, an easy target that could barely get a ball over to the other side, getting pelted by all the older boys who never hesitated to send me to “jail,” came flooding back through those four hours of a sport I absolutely hate.
I’ve sat through several awkward talks of God’s plan for an intimate physical relationship to be only within marriage that made me blush. And I’ve tried to appropriately answer the questions that follow! (“Ask your parents that one!”)
Most recently, when my husband and I taught a lesson on fear and had our own little “Fear Factor” competition, I cleaned up vomit. I didn’t even know that 14 year old kids still threw up! (I mean, outside of having the flu.) Maybe it was a little of our own fault. Eating Spam out of a dog food can might make my stomach turn too, but I promise, he was a volunteer. And the trash can was just right behind him…
And I’ve only been at this 6 months!
Yep, there have been moments working with the youth group that have been moments where I have felt the most out of place, out of my element, completely unqualified, and clueless about what to do than any other moment in my life.
I have nothing to say today. This is an odd experience for me. Ask anyone I know, and they would definitely tell you I’m usually not at a loss for words. But today…well, today is not a bad day, but it’s not a good day. I just sort of feel “blah” and like there’s nothing I have that’s worth saying, and if there is I just can’t come up with it. I guess we all have speechless moments. Sometimes it’s brought on by extreme joy where no words can express how happy we are. And sometimes it’s times of complete and utter sorrow where nothing we can say or anything anyone else can say to us can touch the depth of the pain we’re drowning in. Words just don’t cut it at times. There’s a song by Point of Grace that talks about those times when we come before our Father and we don’t know what to say. Here are the lyrics of the song written by Brent Wilson: If a picture’s worth a thousand words What are they? And since Your Spirit intercedes for me What do you hear when I pray? ‘Cause I’m finding it hard to find the words to let you know how my heart can hurt so I’ll sing the tune and let you fill in the words (Chorus) La La La La La La La La La.. It’s comforting to know My words aren’t all You hear I can talk to You with laughter And I can talk to you in tears And I don’t have to know just what to say For You to hear me when I pray So I’ll sing a part and let you read my heart How amazing to know that we don’t have to come to God with flowery words. We can simply come. We can come to Him sobbing, without being able to utter a single thing that makes sense, and we can come to Him laughing in joy. We don’t have to think of a beautiful new way to praise Him that could be the next big worship song. Sitting in silence in awe of Him is more than enough! Even if we don’t have words to say doesn’t mean we can’t pray.
God doesn’t need our words when He has our hearts.
I ran into my HR Manager today in the hall and I smiled at her. Her response was not nearly as friendly.
I’m sad to admit this was actually the mini-rant that went through my head…What in the world are you doing in human resources???!!! Okay, so, even if you’re not a “people person”, and that’s the field you wind up in by random events in your life, not necessarily having set out to work with people, the natural assumption would be that you’d work at your people skills enough to smile back at one of the employees you’re supposed to be there to help out. At least, that’s what I would think. Maybe you’re a great manager, and you do everything you’re supposed to do, but really how effective can you be if you don’t even seem nice to me?
Pretty harsh, right? And obviously, the woman only failed to smile at me. She could have easily been in a hurry and had her mind on something else. But, it did get me thinking. If you’re in human resources, you gotta learn how to work with people, and how to do it effectively. No excuses about your personality, or how you’re inclined, or that you’re naturally shy or short with people or that you have a hard time around people you don’t know very well. You just gotta up and do it. It’s your job.
As much as I hate to say it, I’m an HR manager that isn’t good with people, and who isn’t willing to work on it.
I was given this rude awakening the other night when I was challenged by our pastor. We’re about to embark on a church plant whose sole purpose is to reach the unchurched. And I’m all about singing with the worship team or changing diapers in the nursery or even cleaning the bathrooms! Ask me to go out of my comfort zone and serve by trying to reach the unsaved and having a conversation about spiritual things? Count me out. Guess what? I don’t have a choice. I’m in HR. I gotta work with people.
As our pastor said, it’s really easy for us to look at each other and think…Wow, it’s so much easier for you Charlie. You’re a pastor, you do this all the time. Or…It’s so much easier for you Sara. You just have this bubbly personality and people are drawn to you. Oh well. So it’s easier for them. Doesn’t get me off the hook. As important as all the other areas of ministry are, we all have one big one we’re responsible for, and it’s the only one at the end of the day that really, really matters. It’s telling people how Jesus has changed our lives and how He can change theirs. We can’t save anyone, we can’t change their minds, we can only let them in on what we know to be true.
The awesome thing is, there’s nothing in the job description that God can’t and won’t do through us if we give Him the chance. We have to be willing to give it a shot.
After all, do you really want to argue with the Boss?
My friends recently posted this video online to share with friends and family of their beautiful six month old girl. It’s hilarious. Go check it out and then come back to me… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtF63gkkW6g Okay, for those of you too lazy to click on the link, I’ll give you a little synopsis. Basically, every time the camera is off of Lyla, she cries. As soon as the camera points back to her she stops. They also show her on the floor and her dad at the computer. She literally cries until he looks at her. The second he looks away she starts crying again. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while. (You wanna go watch it now, don’t you? Go ahead…I’ll wait…)
My husband often wonders if this is what I was like as a child, because, well…let’s just say I definitely don’t mind being the center of his attention. I’m pretty needy, and just like Lyla, the moment he looks away I cry. It’s now become a little game between us. He’s pretty good at ignoring me no matter how much I pester him, so we see how much poking, prodding, whining, and other random things I can do before he actually responds to me. One time I was so frustrated with how well he was able to ignore me that I yelled (jokingly) “Acknowledge me!!!” to which he broke down laughing.
There are so many people around us that are crying out for attention, but we’ve gotten so good at ignoring them we don’t even notice. Screaming at us, “Acknowlege me!!! I have needs. Can’t you see I’m hurt, I’m hungry, I’m broken?” We simply turn our heads, look away, and let them cry.
I was reminded of the great need around me when I recently helped prepare and serve a meal at a ministry center in the heart of the city. As I looked around those who came my heart was broken. I too often find myself in my comfortable little bubble and forget about those who need the things I never think twice about having – food, clothing, shelter. What am I doing to help these people? Why am I so okay with living my life without giving a second thought to the men, women, and children who are struggling to survive? Matthew 25 talks about Christ sitting on His throne, sorting out people like sheep and goats. It says He will say to those on His right to enter the kingdom. He says, “I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me.” When the sheep reply that they don’t know what He’s talking about, His response is, “I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me – you did it to me.” I no longer want to look away when I see the cries of those needing attention, love, and basic human necessities. I want to acknowledge their needs and do what I can to meet them because when that day comes and I stand before my Lord,
It was the perfect day. If I close my eyes I’m right back there. Laying on the cool grass, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, a gentle breeze kissing my face. Well, the breeze and my two dogs kissing my face.
We spent the day at a local state park over the weekend. Out in the wide open, enjoying a big blue sky and trees just waiting to burst with all the leaves that are budding. Friends, family, and all of our dogs soaking in the beauty of the day, throwing frisbees, playing catch, and doing our best to toss the bean bags in the hole (we call it “cornhole” here in Indiana, otherwise known as “baggo”). An absolutely gorgeous day with some of the people I love the most. “It can’t get any better than this, can it?” I asked my husband multiple times throughout the day, and he couldn’t help but agree.
I love spring. I love waking up to the sun shining, digging out a pair of one of my many (and I mean many!) flip-flops to slide on, and stepping outside to discover that it really is warm for a change. I love the first time of the season you can throw burgers and hot dogs on the grill and eat out on the back porch while watching the neighbors play outside with their kids or hang the laundry out to dry. To me, that is perfection.
There really is something about the first truly beautiful spring day you get to enjoy. After a long, cold, harsh winter you feel refreshed, you feel renewed. It’s an experience our friends in Florida and the like don’t quite get. I almost feel like they are a little cheated. Sure, they get the majority of the year with sunshine, but us Mid-Westerners know the true value of a spring day. We’ve had it rough for the last few months! There’s no way they can appreciate a day like that the way we can.
We all go through “winter” seasons in our lives. Periods of darkness, coldness, hopelessness. Days, months, maybe even years where we’re trapped under the heaviness of circumstances in our lives, praying for the sun to shine again.
But nothing compares to the sweetness of that first day of spring. That moment when we realize what God has brought us through, and that for the first time in a long time the day seems hopeful, promising. We feel new; it is as if everything that was dead inside of us is now alive. And we know the days to follow are more of the same.
While at times I wish every day was a “spring” day – light, easy, full of fun and laughter – I know that I must go through the winter to get to the next season. As difficult as the winter may be, at the end I’m better for it, stronger, more prepared for the next time it comes around.
And I’m so thankful that after the winter, God brings that first spring day.
You know how you have those CDs that you’ve practically worn out? Where you know every little run the singer sings, every oo and ah and oh in the song? I like to stock up on those for road trips to help make the drive a little easier. My favorite music usually makes being alone and bored slightly more bearable. So when I packed up for a four hour car ride to my parents’ I made sure to grab a couple. The first one I popped in was Nichole Nordeman, and before I knew it I was belting out track 4, and I realized that I didn’t remember singing along to every word on the three previous songs, even though I knew I had.
I thought that was pretty cool, how the mind can work and that it was just automatic. I knew it so well I didn’t even have to think about what was coming out of my mouth, and so of course all that thinking about how I wasn’t thinking made me start actually thinking about what I was singing (does that even come close to making any sense?? LOL). since I was pondering this profound (or at least at the time what seemed to be profound) thought, I began to actually listen to the words I was singing. And a line I’ve heard countless times before made me stop singing because it was like I was hearing it for the first time.
“You know how many hairs are on my head.”
It’s one of those phrases that is probably tossed around so much that it starts to lose its significance and its impact. At least for me it has. I know I’ve heard the verse in the Bible plenty of times, or sang it in that particular song and others, but in that moment on that day it struck me. God knows every single hair on my head. God knows everything about every single hair on my head. He knows which ones are gray (yes, at 22, I have found at least 3 of them!! Yikes!!), which ones have split ends, which ones will come out in the shower tomorrow. Not because He has some weird obsession with hair, but because He knows ME.
When I think about moments I have felt so overwhelmingly loved, they’re moments where I’ve felt known. Like when I was a kid and my dad bought just the right brand of cheese puffs because he knew the ones I didn’t like, or when my mom tells me she’s praying for me to have patience with others because she knows how black and white I see things, or my when husband automatically grabs my hand without me asking on icy parking lots or skinny stairwells because he knows how klutzy I am and how easily I fall – these are moments where I know I’m loved because of how well they know me.
God knows more about me than anyone ever could because He made every part of me. It’s not just the number of hairs on my head or the number of cells in my body. It’s my hurts, my hopes, my failures, my triumphs, my strengths, and my weaknesses.
And being that known means that He loves me like nothing else I’ll ever experience.
I recently got to spend time with some very close friends. We don’t get to be together a whole lot since we’re now in 3 different states, but they’re the kind of friends that we pick up right where we left off. It wasn’t too long before we started bringing up old stories, one of which was my infamous car wreck.
My best friend Stephanie and I spent time together shopping and hanging one summer day before our senior year started, and decided to go to a Christian bookstore. We were in a city that I normally didn’t drive around in, but I thought I was pretty sure I knew where I was going. We weren’t in a huge hurry, so even after 45 minutes of not finding it, we weren’t too worried. Then, suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a wreck. I apparently had run a red light (I still don’t remember seeing it) and a car (who had the right of way) turned into me. Stephanie often likes to remind me that I “almost killed her,” since it was the passenger side that got hit. And I kindly remind her that she “almost killed me” once as well, since we had our own incident due to her driving, but that’s a story for another day.
We laugh hysterically about it now, because by the time the excitement of it had died down and our car was safely off the road and the other driver (who was way too gracious to me) was on his way, we found ourselves in the parking lot of none other than the bookstore we had spent so much time driving around to find, and had I managed to stop at that red light, we would have been there moments later.
I still remember calling my dad to let him know I had wrecked the car. Never for one second did he sound upset but simply asked if I was okay and said he’d be there as soon as he could to see if he could get the car home. I was so nervous when I saw his car pull into that parking lot. But when he stepped out of the car his arms were outstretched as he walked towards me and embraced me in a huge hug.
I often remind myself of that moment when thinking about approaching my Heavenly Father when I’ve done something wrong or stupid. When I call on Him, admit what I’ve done, His response is like my dad’s. He longs to embrace me and fix the mess I’ve made. Sure, there are consequences for my actions, just like I had to spend my senior year driving a car with proof my accident on the side, we often bear the scars of sin. But we have a Father who is loving, and who is faithful and just to forgive us our sins when we confess them to Him.
I’ve imagined what it would have been like had I tried to hide the accident from my father. There’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed the damage to the car. As ridiculous as that would have been it’s just as ridiculous to try to hide my sin from my Abba Father, for He knows what I’ve done and longs for me to come to Him when I’ve “wrecked the car.” There’s no reason to approach the throne of grace afraid, because it is a throne of GRACE.
And when we find ourselves there broken over our sins, we are met with open arms.
I hate when I do that. I’ve doing pretty well, watching my calories, eating what I brought and not spending money on eating out at work on food I know is not good for me. But today…I gave in. When a co-worker said she was going out and asked me if I wanted anything, I didn’t have the will power to say no for the third day in a row. Not only did I eat this unhealthy lunch, I ate way too much of it, because, well…I paid for it, right? There’s starving kids in Africa, right? Mom always said to clean your plate, right?
Since I ate at my desk while I worked I still got to take my 30 minutes, and I decided the best way to fix my mistake was to take a brisk walk. There’s this park down the road (which is really just this random section of trees the town has decided not to chop down) that I thought had some trails. It’s nestled in between some housing developments and an elementary school. I parked at the school and began my walk.
It was a pretty comfortable temperature for the season; the snow had melted and it felt nice out. Not a bad day for a walk. My first discovery however was that these paths weren’t paved like I had thought, but they were covered in leaves and the ground didn’t seem too wet. The first few moments of my walk were nice. Birds chirping, my mind in a pretty quiet state. Then the leaves seemed to disappear and I realized I was pretty much walking on wet, sludgy, sloppy mud. Not yet discouraged I walked on the leaves next to the path, which worked for a while until I realized that this wasn’t just a patch of trees, it was woods. With broken trees to jump over and rocks and thorns and twigs scratching my ankles and snagging my coat.
I found myself at the end of the “park” and in a housing development which I decided to walk around. When I realized that it didn’t quite end up at the road I thought it would and I was getting short on time, I came back around to the woods and thought I could cut back through until I met up with the path and found my car. As I cut through the woods it quickly became apparent that probably wasn’t the best idea, as I was once again trudging through the mud and brushing branches from my face.
Finally, I made my way back to the path. As I sighed in relief, I felt something wet. And then a few more somethings wet. Rain. It was raining. Perfect. Too far to really run at this point, I had no choice but to bear it until I found my car.
As I climbed into the driver’s seat I swear I could hear God chuckle, and I quickly learned my lesson. There are no shortcuts in life. When you do something stupid, there’s no easy way to fix it. That little adventure didn’t burn off all the extra calories I knew I consumed, and I had only got myself in further trouble every step I took. Though I was wet, tired, and muddy, I was thankful for the reminder to have patience along the way and for the knowledge that God is with me on my crazy journey…
Okay, so I have recently starting going to the gym (ugh) and have been pretty committed so far. What I’ve discovered is that I really can’t get through a workout without having water. There’s this skinny little thing (ugh) who I’m sure is a wonderful girl, but she’s in there every day, running (ugh) at like 7 mph for an hour straight. No joke. And, no water for her. Not me. Twenty minutes of brisk walking and you’d think I had been out in the Sahara for a few days dying in the desert. Now, not only do I need this water, but I am very particular about what it comes in. I have tried multiple water bottles. No straws, nothing that I have to suck on to get water to come out, no twist tops – they just don’t work. I have a cheap little one that the top pops up and I squeeze it and voila, water.
So I’m rushing around in the morning, trying to get my stuff together and planning to hit the gym after work. And I can’t find my water bottle. I checked the car, the dishwasher, the gym bag, the cupboards, and no luck. And, for one of the few times in my life when I’ve been unable to find something, I’m actually relatively calm. (I seriously have broken down and cried over not being able to find something that was relocated a few minutes later). So I just decide that I don’t have time to find it and I need to put on my shoes and head off to work. I open the closet, find my shoes out of the massive pile of footwear, and I just so happen to look up and see my beloved water bottle sitting on the shelf above the coats.
And, the cool thing was my reaction. Immediately the words “Thanks God!” came out of my mouth. Now, I’d love to tell you it’s because I’ve got 1 Thessalonians 5:18 nailed down, where I truly “give thanks in all circumstances.” Actually, it’s the opposite. This idea of thankfulness has been on my mind lately, especially about being thankful in all circumstances. I’ve been trying to learn this in little pieces. I’m thankful for the obvious stuff. For friends, for family, for the big things I see God doing in my life. Not too hard. So I decided to try being thankful for the little things, what I would normally take for granted, and recognize them as things to be appreciative of. Like finding a close parking space when it’s pouring down rain or seeing that chicken’s on sale again at Kroger when my freezer’s empty. And so by being intentional about telling God thanks for these little things in my life I thought it was so cool that on that morning, in the chaos and frustration of not being able to find a stupid water bottle that when I found it, my reaction was one of thanks. It’s starting to come from the heart now, not from forcing myself to do it.
The next step of course is learning to be thankful for the tough stuff. For the things that make me cry or get me upset and for situations in life that don’t go the way I think God should make them go. But the amazing part is that God can do this in my life. If my heart is willing and open to let Him work in my life, He can change me. After all, I was thankful for a water bottle.
Ah…email forwards. The funny jokes, the crazy pictures you know are photo-shopped, and the ones that promise that your life will be awful unless you forward it to 20 more people in the next 5 minutes. I am a recipient of these daily. And I don’t really mind these forwards, I’ll read them for a moment’s entertainment, but what I mind is having to scroll through the people before who have forwarded it. You know, where there’s so many names and email addresses that you wonder if there is actually a point where you’ll get to the information in the email. C’mon people, how hard is it to delete?! So, I got this forward the other day and I’m scrolling…and scrolling…and scrolling, and somewhere in the middle I come upon a quote that someone must put on the bottom of every email they send that said: A woman’s heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man has to seek Him first to find her.
And, in the amazing way that God does things, a few days later a friend of mine mentions that she heard this awesome quote and it really stuck with her…and of course it’s the same one that had been sticking with me. She (also named Emily) commented that it really got her thinking about identity and where she finds hers. How cool is it that God is trying to teach His Emilys at the same time about hiding our hearts in Him? Even though she is 18, single, and still in high school and I’m in my twenties and newly married, we still have the same lesson to learn. And I think it’s a lesson God will have to continue to teach me as the years go on.
God knows our hearts, He made our hearts, and He knows how fragile and tender and easily broken and hurt mine is…and that so often I try to hide it in my husband. I find so much of who I am in who I am married to, not in Who has given me life. My heart, who I am, my hopes, my desires, my hurts, should be hidden in Christ and not any other human being. Why? Because He’s the only one big enough to handle all of it, and He’s truly the only safe place for it.
I was talking to my husband about this, how I struggle with looking to him and not to God, and that quite honestly I find probably 75% of my identity in him. Immediately a look of panic came across his face, and I could see what he was thinking in his eyes, “I’m gonna let her down.” And I realized that by doing that I am setting my husband up to fail. How completely unfair is that? It’s so easy to do, because he’s there, he’s this physical person I can talk to and lean on and embrace, and he is so wonderful and sweet and caring. But as amazing as my husband is, GOD IS SO MUCH MORE! And by placing my heart in his hands and not in God’s, he will eventually let me down. Not on purpose, not because he wants to, but because he is only human.
God is ready and waiting for me to let Him define me, to find my identity in Him, to hide my heart in Him. In fact, He’s made me so that I will only find complete satisfaction when I do so.
And when my heart is hidden in Him, my husband knows exactly where to find it.
I recently was sent an email full of pictures like this.
Hilarious moments where things didn’t quite work out as intended.
(You gotta feel bad for that poor kid kicking the ball into his face!)
And we all can relate. I could have a book full of the stupid things I’ve done.
Actually, I have snapshots like these in my head. Things I’ve done or said that I’ve stamped a big fat “Fail” across. Seriously, like stupid things I said when I was 13. I still haven’t gotten over the humiliation and regret!
Aren’t you glad God doesn’t have a wall of pictures of His kids doing stupid things reminding Him of how we’ve failed? That He wants us to rip up those pictures of those moments we keep of ourselves?
My mind went to the verse that says God has removed our sins as far as the east is from the west. I found it in Psalm 103 and read the whole chapter…and read it again…and again. Wow. We mess up so much in this life but we have a God who forgives our sins and casts them away from us. He cleanses us completely. Those pictures don’t even exist. And whenever I picture those times of failure it is not my God putting it in my head. It’s our mutual enemy seeking to drive a wedge between me and my Heavenly Father.
There’s no reason for me to hold onto those photos. God doesn’t. And reminding myself of those failures only keeps me from truly experiencing His grace and mercy like He wants me to.
No, God definitely doesn’
t have a wall of pictures like these. In fact, I like to think He has a refrigerator for each one of us, covered with pictures of us that have made Him smile.
A movie recently came out called “Yes Man.” It’s about a guy who has settled in life. He won’t say yes to anyone or anything; he won’t commit to anyone or anything. He lives his life by himself, all alone, working the 9-5 then living the rest of his life on his couch, refusing to do a whole lot outside of his normal routine. Even his few friends have just about given up on him completely. When it seems as though all hope is lost for this guy, he’s encouraged by a former acquaintance to attend a “Yes” seminar and promised that it will change his life.
“I want you to invite ‘yes’ into your life,” says the conference leader, “because it will always RSVP ‘yes.’” He is supposed to accept every opportunity that presents itself after that point, no matter what it is. Even if it seems like not such a good idea, it will work out for good because of the power of “yes.” “Yes! I want you to say it a million times. Say it a million more times, and the word you will have said 2 million times is yes!” While I laughed (a lot) at that quote, I soon started to wonder how many times I have said yes to God. I can tell you right now of a couple instances recently where I said no. I’d felt little nudges to do things – to write a note of encouragement to a girl at work, to stop and actually have a conversation with the Wal–Mart greeter who was surviving the cold lobby – and I said no. What God could have done through me if I had just said yes!!! Sure, the Wal-Mart lady may have looked at me strangely or my co-worker may have felt awkward around me, but what if they didn’t? What if they got just a tiny little piece of God’s love and they started seeking more of it?
The power of yes in my life if I used it in response to the Lord, I’’m sure, would blow me away. Sitting here thinking that the God of the universe wants to use me at all, to let me be a part of His plan to work His purpose out simply amazes me. And the fact that I say no makes me realize what an idiot I really am. I want to say yes to God a million times, and then say it a million more times! To respond like Mary when the angel came to her, “I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 1:38) To say, “Speak Lord, for Your servant is listening” when I hear Him calling me (1 Samuel 3:10) To be like Abraham, when the Lord tells him to do the hardest thing he could possibly do by sacrificing his son, and just get up and go. (Genesis 22:2-3)
We used to sing a simple chorus that went like this:: “I’ll say yes, Lord, yes to Your will and to Your way. I’ll say yes, Lord, yes. I will trust You and obey. When Your Spirit speaks to me, with my whole heart I’ll agree, and my answer will be yes, Lord, yes.” I want that to be the cry of my heart. I want to be a Yes Woman.
