Sonkissed

Let the River Flow

2011-12-09T00:10:00.000-08:00

It was around 3:37pm yesterday when I began to ask myself if there is an age cut-off for the Safe Haven Act. I think the men in any given firehouse would gladly take the princess in if they knew how minuscule her chances of surviving another day in this house are with the attitude she’s been toting around this week - or my chances of survival, for that matter. Is there a slot large enough for me to surrender myself, I wonder? At the very least, THEY have access to very large fire extinguishers that may come in handy somewhere around the twelfth “snit” of the day, as my mother-in-law refers to it. Now that I think about it, is Safe Haven meant for her safety or mine? Because clearly I am the one in harm’s way these days.

It was around 4:14pm yesterday when I realized there are no ear plugs large enough to drown out the wee voice that once was music to my ears. Wee.No.Longer. And with no hesitation my daily plea has become, “Turn down the main, Skid Row! Can’t you see I’m a woman on the edge???” Indeed calling her the princess has backfired immeasurably. Somehow, somewhere along the way she has come to believe she is no longer a princess, but rather, the queen. And I, a mere servant in her court, a hired hand, a peasant. And so it is from the depths of my weary, defeated, pitiful soul I cry, “Uncle, uncle, I give. Sweet Jesus, hear my pleas. Remove the pint-sized demon from my baby girl and give me back my angel!”

It was around 6:17pm yesterday when I found myself lying in the fetal position beneath a makeshift fort I had fashioned out of a Snuggie, patchwork quilt and Minnie Mouse fleece throw attempting futilely to keep the enemies at bay. I was playing my own version of hide and seek, whereupon I “accidentally” forget to tell them there is a game underway. So there I was, lying in a heap larger than the seven loads of unfolded laundry at the foot of the bed, feeling defeated for the seventeenth time that day, when it suddenly dawned on me. It had been a very long time since I’d had a good cry. Let me be clear. No soft whimpers shall ever grace these halls...or feebly constructed forts for that matter. There is only one cardinal sin in my eyes when it comes to living with a two-year old, self-professed diva. Show.No.Weakness. A true toddler can sense fear and let’s be honest, at this point in time, I am truly afraid of the princess. I am literally afraid that she will be waiting around the next corner with a two-by-four, brass knuckles, or worse, a bad attitude and an insatiable hunger for chocolate goldfish that will not be denied. But I digress. If I intend to show any amount of weakness in this house by doing something as ridiculous as crying, I better really make it count.

It was around 6:23pm yesterday when the floodgates opened and the pent-up frustration and exhaustion of the last several weeks began to flow. It was one of those really freeing, drawn out, physically exhausting cries. And it was magical. I think I may have unknowingly signed up to cry on behalf of mommies everywhere who were feeling the same defeat as I in that very moment. And for one brief moment, nothing else mattered. I was just a girl with a box of tissue, mourning the loss of her freedom and sanity, and everything was right with the world for one brief moment.

It was around 6:49pm yesterday when they found me (and yes, I was still alive - the epitaph will have to wait). And the battle raged on long into the night, but something had changed. I had changed. I was renewed, revitalized, ready to tackle whatever sippy cup came my way (at 97mph, mind you). And God saw what He had done and it was good. And He rested. I, on the other hand, could not sleep, as usual. But it was okay. I actually stole some quiet moments to do a little research on the cost of a share of stock in Kimberly-Clark, the company that manufactures Kleenex (it’s currently $69.82 by the way).

It was around 12:34am this morning when it came to me. “Jesus wept.” ~John 11:35

Man, that guy really was a genius. Even the most perfect man to ever walk this Earth knew that a good cry is worth it’s weight in gold. Hey, if our toddlers can do it and our Savior could do it, why can’t we? And so I leave you with this. Let it out, ladies. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, please don’t call me. I’ll be playing hide and seek with a box of Kleenex and a can of camouflage paint.

Miss Matched

2011-10-23T17:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, so here’s the thing. It has become abundantly clear to me lately that the little 2-year old, self-professed heir-to-some-throne, somewhere in America I call my daughter really does believe she is a magical fairy princess. I see it in the attitude that daily screams (implicitly AND verbally), “I am here. Notice me! Bow down to me! Provide goldfish at my beckoned call! And do not even think of saying ‘no’ to me!” I see it in the sweet little, “Nooooo’s” that resound throughout our halls oh, let’s say, about every 6.3 seconds. And I see it in every outfit she meticulously chooses each morning. Oh wait, each hour, because yes, she MUST change clothes every hour, on the hour, as if her little pint-sized life depended on it. And I’m not talking about a new dress. I’m talking 4 new skirts, all at the same time, 3 pairs of underwear and the ONE tank top amidst the thousands that seems to scream her name every.moment.of.every.day. Why??? For the love of all that is holy (and most of her wardrobe is at this point), why can’t she let her mother pick an outfit for her? All kidding aside, let’s delve into this battle I call the Great Wardrobe Debate of 2011.

What’s really at the heart of the matter here? I, being the super organized, ghetto fabulous, mother-of-the-year that I am, seek only to present to the world, a well-put-together, darling, proper, presentable child any mother would swoon over. An honorable intention, right? And she, being the strong-willed, simple minded, new at the way this whole mother-daughter relationship thing works, child, seeks only to destroy me and my good intentions. Sounds about right, doesn’t it? Sounds a bit nutty, if you ask me. Here it is, ladies. Wait for it...we’re nutty if we believe our little mini-me’s can see even a fraction of an inch beyond what we see. ‘Cause here’s how it plays out in our minds. “She is a reflection of me and the job I am doing with her. What will others think if she doesn’t match, look clean, and well put-together?” And here’s how it plays out in her mind. “Purple is pretty. Green is pretty. Put them together, twice as pretty!”

So I have no choice but to dig deep and try to fathom why the mixing of Play-doh colors does not bother me in the least, but an outfit that doesn’t match sends me so far over the edge no amount of therapy can bring me back. So I’ve been mulling it over incessantly and I think I’ve got it. It’s become increasingly obvious to me since I became a parent that the path I deem “appropriate” for my babies is actually the exact opposite of what God intends for them. Bear with me. I’m not calling myself a failure (not today anyway), just exploring and comparing a worldly point of view with God’s truth about the matter. You see, I see my babies as a reflection of me and so, I want them to look composed and presentable to the world. Sweet smelling babies = successful mother, right? The problem is, my view of presentable and God’s view are entirely different. I’ve been conditioned to think that I must appear as if I’ve got it all together, a Superwoman of sorts, able to leap tall-buildings in a single bound, or at the very least, get in and out of the dollar aisle at Target without running over another mommy’s toes with my cart. I must make it to the early soccer game, bring the best hot dish at MOPS and be on time, be met at the classroom door with cheers of, “Junior did an excellent job sharing today,” volunteer to host the weekly playdate, not raise my voice for more than 3 hours straight, have the cleanest toilet on the block, AND make a mean meatloaf. Right? Pause for effect.

Breathe. Here’s the good news. God laughs at my view of presentable. His view looks a little more like this. Are you comfortable and confident in my love for you? If you are, you’re ready to face the world. Go and make disciples of the nations - even if your shoes don’t match. You see, we view our children as reflections of us and God views us the very same way. Scary, but freeing. Ask yourself this...what exactly is it that you are reflecting of your Heavenly Father? Love? Compassion? Grace? And most of all, Need? Do you need Him? Because I truly believe THAT is what He cares about, so much more so than the color of our socks, though frankly, I think he prefers the frilly lace ones with the pom pom balls on the back!

The truth is that most of the time, my outfit looks great (please don’t hunt me down on Thursday to test this one out), but on the inside, my clothes are lying in a pile on the closet floor. And I believe the heart of God would beat so loudly if I let the world peek into my closet rather than glimpse at the false front I so often present to try to make myself feel worthy. Am I raising babies that look good or babies that look to God? You see, in her pint-sized, not yet scarred, 2-year old mind, the princess truly believes when she puts that 4th skirt over the 3rd she has crossed the threshold from little girl to magical fairy princess. What if I believed that whole-heartedly in the reflection God sees in me? That I am so passionately loved despite my appearance? That I am deeply accepted despite the way I feel on any given day? What if the world saw the blood of Jesus rather than the coffee stains on my tank top?

Most days I have to break out the handcuffs to get the princess to let me brush her hair and so, it’s difficult for me to look at those darling little curls and not hear the words, “Child, what happened to your head?” ringing in my ears. Perhaps now I’ll look at her and see a crown of thorns beneath the faux-diamond tiara and remember that my Father does not care if hair number 4,214 was out of place. And when princess insists on her favorite dress (from 2009) and I’m struggling to button the top 3 buttons on the back that no longer close because she’s just had her seventeenth growth spurt, I’ll see the lashes my Jesus endured for me and remember that a perfectly buttoned shirt could never hide that. And when no amount of jelly beans can convince her that shoes are a necessity on the playground, I’ll think of the great sacrifice my loving savior made for me as I’m washing her feet at the end of the day and I’ll smile. Because I believe sometimes when we refuse to listen, our sweet, sweet Father has no choice but to find gentle reminders such as these to whisper in our defiant ears, “I do not care how the world sees you. I see you as flawless, clothed in righteousness, precious and holy, set apart for Me.” Now zip up your jacket and go tell them how much I love them.

Two.Years.Old.

2011-05-18T20:08:00.000-07:00

Nuff said!

Stuff on my kids #3, #4, probably #5, not sure how many!

2011-02-08T14:58:00.001-08:00

It's been awhile folks, so I have some serious catching up to do. I find myself more the blog follower these days than the blog writer. But alas, enjoy! And sorry about the lack of Bubba pics. He's not quite the ham the Princess is these days.

Run for Your Eternal Life

2010-11-15T13:16:00.000-08:00

I posed the question to myself recently, “If you could choose one word to describe yourself what would it be?” And the only answer I could surmise was, “Defeated.” Simply stated, I am losing. I’m losing the battle for sleep. I’m losing battles with my children on an almost daily basis. I’m definitely losing the battle of the bulge. And I’m sure to lose what little I have left of my mind any day now. There is no pit boss belting out my name in response to, “Who’s the big winner?” I’m more likely to be the one face down in the glitter gulch – the big loser, that’s me. Give me an inch, I’ll probably take a centimeter, because that’s about all I’ve got room for right now.

So I think it’s time to stop throwing for the end zone and take a knee. So that’s it. I’m closing my play book and heading to the locker room. And it is at this point my Jesus whispers, “Sweet child, take your hands off your ears and listen closely. I have you right where I want you. Stop pining and check your back pocket. You’ve already won.”

Make no mistake. There’s no white flag of surrender in my rearview mirror. I firmly believe I’m called to “press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Philippians 3:12). But the finish line at the end of the race looks a little different from this angle. There won’t be a gold medal around my neck, only a garland of grace to adorn my head. And there won’t be a trophy engraved with “Best overall,” but rather a book with my name written somewhere around page 6,327. And I will not be the one waving from atop the highest step on the podium. I’ll most likely be the one on my knees, weeping uncontrollably. Yep, the race is pretty clear to me now. I crossed the finish line years ago when I said, “Take my heart.” And I claimed my prize that very same day, a prize I did not deserve, but humbly accepted. The redeeming work of Calvary was and is enough. Let it be, girlfriend! There once was a man who loved His children so much He gave up the one thing any parent simply could not bear to lose. And to this I am called, to throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and run with perseverance the race marked out for me. And now I run only because my heart knows no different, because I long for better days, because in my loss, there is great victory.

And the beauty in the race is this. When I look in the mirror and see a big loser, somewhere in the back of my self-deprecating mind, I hear a voice that drowns my own and reassures me, “You are the one Jesus loves.” Oh, to live in that love! To think half as highly of myself as Jesus thinks of me. To feel the joy He feels when His daughter comes running home and falls into His arms begging for mercy, forgiveness, and rest. I have always fancied myself the prodigal’s daughter, testing boundaries, pushing limits, and going it alone until I finally make my way home again. And then it weighs on me like a forty-three pound toddler, “Why am I running again?” I have already won. I received my prize a long, long, long time ago, on a hill, by a tree, where I met my first love, my Savior, my Jesus. Game over!

Heavenly Father, bless my friends and family with perseverance and rest, strength and weakness, joy and pain. Reassure them that though the faces they see in the mirror might not seem appealing, you see them as flawless, as you intended them to be. Amen.

Remember, if only for today, YOU ARE THE ONE JESUS LOVES!

Dazed & confused...but slightly encouraged

2010-10-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

I was highly encouraged by a guest speaker to my MOPS group this morning whose words gently reminded me that I hold the keys to both my husband and my children’s hearts. Let me get this straight. I am not only charged with feeding, clothing and meeting the basic needs of bubba and the princess, but I am also responsible for the maintenance and care of their souls as well. Ugh! Of course, at the end of the day they will rest safely in the palm of my Heavenly Father’s hand, but in the interim, little ole me has the power to make or break their spirit in a thousand different ways. I am the guardian of their tender little hearts. What a terrifying thought! I might even go so far as to say that it feels a bit burdensome. So as I ponder the way I have raised my children thus far I am left with no other option than to throw up my hands in shame and disgrace and cry, “Dear Lord, what on Earth were you thinking?!”

Psalm 8:3-5 When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?

And who am I that you find me even vaguely capable of molding and shaping your precious little ones into fully functioning adults, putting their faith and trust in you always and seeking your face all the days of their lives? I mean, are you kidding me? Most days I can barely muster the wherewithal to brush my own teeth let alone find the time, patience, and at the very least desire to not irreparably damage my children for all eternity. The responsibility of “training my children in the way they should go” weighs so heavily on my heart and chest I can barely breathe, but for some reason you have planted these seeds in my life and deem me worthy and capable of watering them on a daily basis. And so, I humbly, but more often hesitantly accept the challenge and set about on this journey of motherhood once again, and today, Thursday, October 14, 2010 (one for the record books) I believe I may have actually done more good than harm to these two little munchkins that sit before me watching Alvin and the Chipmunks as if they were Jesus, Mary, and Joseph themselves.

There is something very profound that occurs when God assembles a group of ten women with very different upbringings, ideas and temperments and they each exude the courage to be vulnerable and honest from the get go, laying their souls bare for each other to examine. A divine appointment, if you will. And so I have been more than blessed today by my new girlfriends whose willingness to share parts of themselves they find unsavory at best touches my heart on the deepest level. I have always been a bit of an over-sharer myself, lacking the filter that says, “Hold that one back for awhile. You don’t want to scare them.” But I truly believe my ability to get to know others is solely based on my ability to let myself be known. If I get real with them, they feel a sense of relief and comfort knowing they can get real with me. Perhaps the fear of judgment is left out of the equation and the playing field is leveled. Needless to say, I left my group this morning feeling rejuvenated and encouraged, ready to spend some quality time with my babies, investing in their souls, if only for a few hours before naptime.

We built a fort in the living room and plopped ourselves down on a tower of pillows to watch a movie. And there on the floor, snuggled by my side, my darling PJ turned his precious face to me and whispered, “Momma, I like you. I had a great day.” My heart wept. What have I done to these children to make an hour on the floor feel like a day at Disneyland? Has my screaming and yelling and lack of patience traumatized them past the point of return or is there hope for me yet? Does God trust me that much with their future choices, actions, path in life, and even success as a husband or wife? Or at the heart of the matter, am I really just responsible for their general well-being and how they feel about themselves at the end of the day? I’m not sure which idea scares me more. I think I’d like to use a lifeline. Hello, Jesus, are you there? Help a mother out, would ya? These kids are going to need all the help they can get. So here I sit, praying for a miracle and feeling overwhelmed. And once again, with nowhere left to turn but back...all the way back to the beginning, the Bible.

2 Corinthians 4:6-7 For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

I’m going to try to break this down to the most fundamental level. My hope, my help, the wisdom, the patience, and the power to love my children and care for their souls comes from above. How blessed my children would be if I daily tapped into the Heavenly resources that so freely await me anytime I ask. Why is it that the “doing” is not quite as difficult as the “remembering to do?” I can remember to put gas in the car and change a diaper every few hours, but remembering that my babies hang on my every word and look to me for security and acceptance is far too great a task. What a sad, sad world I’ve created for myself. The power to become the mother I so desperately long to be God says is already within me, a treasure found in a jar of clay, cracked and flawed to let the light of a loving Father shine through for the world to see. I guess that’s a visual aid I can wrap my hands around. You know, the Bible speaks of clay again in Isaiah, as God is described as the potter and we, putty in His hands, so to speak.

Isaiah 64:8 Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.

Really, Father, really? I am putty in your hands, ever-changing, far from perfect and now I am expected to be the potter and take a spin on the wheel, molding my children from the ground up? Most days I’m lucky if I can carve a donut out of a can of neon pink Play-Doh and now I’m supposed to turn these two little mini-me’s into priceless works of art? God has quite a sense of humor, but I’ve heard it said that He does not call the qualified; He qualifies the called. So again, I wipe the cobwebs from the jar of clay collecting dust on this shelf I call my heart and offer up this simple prayer. I can only hope to someday fashion treasures not perfect and refined as we will someday be, but loved and loving, worn and weathered, flawed just enough to let the beauty and wonder of your love shine through for all to see. The treasure we claim in our jars of clay is not the work of our hands we pridefully exhibit to a world hungry for success, but the work of the cross we humbly preach to a world thirsty for redemption.

I woke up this morning pondering what lessons I would teach my children today and found instead, that I am learning more from them on this journey than they are from me. In their eyes, I’ve seen fear and anxiety, anticipation of what their day will look like based on my mood. I’ve seen the reflection of a tired, worn down, impatient girl longing for some quiet time who now understands that I am no longer just the clay, I am a potter as well. I am a sheep and a shepherd. I am a child and a mother. I am a canvas and an artist. There is one thing my children did learn from me today though. I taught them that their mommy has a lot to learn, but she is a humble “student,” a blank slate, an empty page, and God is the author and perfector of her faith.

Lord, teach my babies that though their mommy is finite, You are infinite – in wisdom, in love, and in boundless grace. Amen.

Stuff on my kids #2

2010-08-05T15:49:00.000-07:00

Oops! I missed one and how could I forget this...

But while I'm at it, the bear suit made an appearance way back in January.

More to come...

A New Series

2010-08-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

Allow me to "steal" an idea, if you will. I've come across several recent blogs in which the author has created a series to which they add when an opportunity arises. One friend blogs occasionally about "things she loves," my sister told me about a blogger who consistently writes about "things he wants to punch in the face," and one of my all-time faves is a guy who posts about "stuff on his cat," literally, he takes pictures of his cat with things stuck to it. And so as I thought about a common theme in my life, the only thing that came to mind was my kids' obssessions with trying stuff on. And so, when I say "steal," I mean kindly "borrow" the latter blogger's idea and I will call my new segment, "stuff on my kids."

Allow me to demonstrate with photos of the last several months in which my darling babies have taken their fetishes and ran with them. There is this little ditty in which my beanie babies test out their winter hats.

This gem of my sweet, and let me affirm, very masculine son, bubba.

And of course, the princess getting ready for her debut in the shower.

Ah, but lest I forget the most recent snapshot of little princess testing out her brother's new suit of armor.And thus begins the first of many posts of "stuff on my kids." Let the games begin, folks. Much more to come...

Here's where the story begins

2010-04-30T14:09:00.000-07:00

Do you ever ask yourself...

Have I let it sink in, or has it merely scratched the surface? Have I taken stock and counted each and every blessing today? When I tell them “I am the one Jesus loves,” do I live in that love, or am I still pining for it? Have I come to the place of rest in the shadow of your wings, or am I still toiling on the ground? Do I lie awake at night thinking of how I will protect my babies when the enemy comes near, or do I recognize that they are yours and yours alone, entrusted to me for only a short time? Have I surrendered, or am I still behind the wheel? Have I even remotely grasped the magnitude of your power, the abundance of your grace, the depth of your love, and the lengths you would go to – and have gone to – to call me daughter and friend? Have I been changed, as you stand unchanging? Have I forgiven myself, as you have forgiven me and made me pure?

Today was emotionally exhausting in the best way possible. As I listened to the testimony of one you call your own, I heard the pain that still lingers, saw the hope as it unfolded, felt the joy of things to come, and fought back tears. I felt as though I was looking in a mirror and took a good, hard look at where I stand on this journey. A thousand questions came to mind, and though I can’t say I was thrilled with all the answers, I am at peace knowing that I am right where I am supposed to be. Your timing never ceases to amaze me. Lord, you have my heart, you know my story, and I am confident that you will not stop writing until every chapter is complete, every wound is healed, and every tear has been bottled.

When Toddlers Attack

2010-03-12T18:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve spent the last month trying to come to grips with the fact that my sweet angel, PJ, has finally fallen into the trap of the “terrible twos” that I was so certain I had miraculously avoided. Now in all fairness, bubba is also contending with an ear infection, lack of sleep, and a somewhat new baby sissy and simply cannot understand why he is no longer the center of everyone’s universe (though I’d like to tell him secretly that he is, indeed, still the center of mine and will always be “my special son”). And so I find myself, once again, dealing with a very strong-willed, stubborn and let’s face it, just plain HUGE physical force that I can no longer control. Let me illustrate. On a weekend vacation visiting with in-laws, we thought it would great fun to visit the aquarium and zoo on consecutive days. Both did not end well. I spent the day at the zoo trying to corral perhaps the wildest animal that place has ever seen. Seriously, even the lions were begging me to remove him. My solace came around 2 o’clock, after a peanut butter sandwich and some chocolate milk. The aquarium did not go quite as well. The trek from the puffer fish to the second level of the parking lot carrying my 42 pound son, kicking and screaming, was made even more enjoyable by the pouring rain and starving baby girl that awaited me in the back seat of the car. And for the third time that week, I locked the doors and waited for close to an hour for PJ to stop fighting and give in. He did not. I climbed in the back seat and held his seat belt closed long enough for the drive home while Grant drove. Those were, however, the worst days thus far (if you don’t count the trip to the pediatrician’s office today, wherein two nurses and myself fought diligently to hold him down long enough for the doc to check his ears and I might have caught every sixth word she said amid the wailing and screaming and repeated attempts to flee the room or at the very least, kill the lights). A typical day, on the other hand, consists of a mere 4-5 meltdowns and numerous attempts to sit on, kick, or knock over the princess for no apparent reason.

I have spent hours upon hours trying to reason with my child, all the while forgetting that even though he uses words like “impressive” and “fortunate” and calls me a “genius” when I suggest lotion for his dry cheeks, he is still a two-year old child. I have spanked and I am not afraid to admit, purely in frustration. I have forced numerous “time outs” to no avail, taken away all of his favorite toys, which I found he really CAN live without, and have locked him in his room and watched incredulously as he broke the childproof doorknob lock off again and again. And now, way beyond my breaking point and purely at a loss, I throw my hands up in surrender and cry, “I give!” You win, my sweet, sweet, boy. You are the master manipulator, the king of the castle and I simply cannot compete.

So here, at the end of my rope, I am now seeking the advice of professionals. My pediatrician had little to say on the matter and referred me to a child psychologist who affirmed what I have since discovered on my own. The only way to survive this period is to simply not react. I am currently “attending” to my child (positively reinforcing without instructing or asking questions while we play). I cover my mouth when I feel the urge to cry and instead, find myself laughing. Let’s face it, at times like these, is there really anything else we can do? And I’ve noticed small improvements already. Here’s what I really struggle with. Why do mommies take everything so personally? I have called every friend and mommy I know to vent, hoping all the while to hear them tell me that indeed, I DO have the most difficult and challenging child on the face of the Earth. Believe me, I know there are much worse situations and I am now praying diligently for the sanity and safety of those mommies and their babies. But it just seems that if someone would validate how tough my struggle is at the moment, I might not feel like such a failure as a mommy or that I somehow caused this behavior in my frustrated, little angel of a son. The truth is, I put so much pressure on myself to be a good parent and what I’m failing to realize is that I am a good parent, simply because I love them both so much and have the desire to do right by them. Don’t we all just want happy, healthy, well-adjusted children who will grow up to be the same in adulthood? Don’t we all just want them to love us unconditionally as we love them? And truth be told, don’t we all just want a spa weekend in the Hamptons with the nearest diaper thousands of miles away? I guess what I’m really learning on this journey is that it isn’t about PJ’s behavior at all. It’s really about my response to it and what I am supposed to be learning at the moment. Don’t they say that it’s actually our children who teach us life lessons? So what is it that I am to glean from this challenging period? At the end of the day, I’m not as big of a failure as a mommy as I sometimes feel. I mean, they both still want me 24/7 so I can’t be that big of a downer, right? It is not my job to raise the perfect child. It is my job to love my children the best way I know how and to seek guidance and wisdom from the only one who does love my children perfectly, my Heavenly Father, my hope, my Jesus.

And let me just say, straight from my heart and completely unabashedly, the one thing I have been lacking in my parenting is peace and I have known all along where to turn for that. Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted, I come on hands and knees back to my first love, back to my Jesus and cannot wait for the intimacy I’ve been missing for way too long. It is time to draw near to the one who’s been waiting to hear from me. It is time to draw upon the strength that will carry me through these trying times. It is time to give my babies what they’ve needed all along – a mommy who loves them so much that she would carry them kicking and screaming ten thousand miles in the pouring rain if that’s what they need to feel her love.

One final thought, the best advice I’ve received so far is to nurture your child’s heart first and the behavior will follow. What a concept, right? So simple and yet so packed with truth and wisdom. And now my “and on the bright side” moment for today…as I was putting the finishing touches on bubba’s PB&J today, he began to scream as usual, “MOMMA, I WANT…” and stopped mid-sentence. He got up and came into the kitchen and quietly stated, “Um, 'scuse me, momma, can you please put my bib on?” My darling little angel is already on the road to recovery, or better stated, I am on the road to recovery and bubba is waving furiously from the sidewalk, waiting for me to catch up.

Life isn't always good in the mother hood

2009-10-28T13:06:00.000-07:00

So today is a good day to be a mommy and I am thankful that there are no messes to clean up, boo boos to mend, or tantrums to tune out, and as I relish this moment, I am thinking about my dear friend who rarely has days such as this. My “I love being a mommy” days are pretty few and far between and I am so not afraid to admit it. And so I sit here wondering, “Why do we feel like we’re bad mommies when we so much as hint that we are not enjoying every moment?” Let me lay some groundwork. I am not one of those women whose sole purpose in life is to be a mommy. I wish I could say that I want nothing more and nothing less, but I’m no liar. The truth is that I wanted a family and would never in a million years change my life as it is today or regret my decision to have children in any way, but I have other dreams and aspirations waiting on the horizon for me to wave the burp cloth of surrender and pursue them. I simply do not want to be a mom who has no life outside of her children. Yes, my children are a giant part of my life now, but there are other facets to that life as well, other talents, other gifts, and other desires I’d love to explore someday.

They tell you being a mother is hard. They tell you you’ll spend countless nights without a minute of rest. They tell you you’ll be an emotional wreck from time to time. What they don’t tell you is that you’ll likely feel ashamed if you don’t enjoy every minute of it. Maybe I’m the only one, but as much as I love my babies, I think motherhood is a fairly thankless job, at least in the early years. You exist to meet the needs of another human being and get very little in return. You are stretched to your limits, pushed to your breaking point, and then asked to give just a little more. Yes, it’s difficult, but in ways I never imagined. And I guess I’m just tired of feeling “less than” for not being afraid to admit that.

I watched that movie, Marley and Me a few days ago and in one scene, Jennifer Aniston tearfully relates that she has given up every part of herself that made her who she is for the sake of being a mother. I swear I’ve had that conversation verbatim with my husband. So many of the things he fell in love with disappeared when I became a mommy. They should warn men of that; perhaps the divorce rate would be much lower. Hey guys, your wife will change drastically when she has children. She must be all things to all people and that means, many of the things you adore about her will fall to the wayside for a while. But I have to believe they return as our children grow up. I have to hold out hope that I will one day be that carefree, risk-taking, free-spirited, independent woman I once was.

And in the meantime, I think our society needs to be a bit more forgiving of the moms who don’t constantly boast of the rewards of being a mother. Sometimes those rewards don’t surface until much later. I think we need to temper our stories of success and our moments of joy with the moments that we’d care to forget. Chances are, when you are on your 375th cry of, “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me,” there’s a very good chance thousands of other mothers are mumbling the very same thing at that very same moment. What every mommy needs is a little encouragement, a little understanding, and a whole lot of, “Oh yeah, me too” words of comfort. It’s okay to be less than perfect. It’s ok to have 67 frustrating days for every 3 joyful days. It’s ok to wish you could just sleep when you want to sleep, take a sick day every week, and eat a meal while it’s still hot. What we do is no small feat. Let’s face it; sometimes it’s trying, at best.

Hang in there mommies, you’ll survive the early years. Soak up every fleeting moment of contentment, share the little things that make you smile and the huge things that make you wish there was a vineyard in your back yard. And if you intend to give yourself any chance at all, ask God to be your guide, because Lord knows none of us can do it without Him. And when you feel like the worst mommy ever, give yourself the grace He gives you and know that you are not alone. And with that, this morning I sat down to read my Bible for the first time in like, a hundred years and my darling PJ came running out of the room yelling, “Mama, what doing, mama?” He then proceeded to sit beside me, hold my hand, kiss me and say, “I wuv you Mama.” And that ladies, is why we do it.

Get up and dance, already!

2009-07-31T16:32:00.000-07:00

From my all-time fave, Almost Famous: “They don't even know what it is to be a fan, you know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.”

I have recently become a fan of a fairly new band called Jack’s Mannequin. Already a huge fan of The Fray, I had been intermittently checking their website for upcoming concert dates and almost fell out of my chair when I saw that they were finally touring on the west coast AND were playing with Jack’s Mannequin at Irvine Meadows (yes, it will always be Irvine Meadows to me, just like The Big A will always be Angel Stadium). And so, I rallied the troops (Stacey) and we went to see the show two days ago.

I found it intriguing that me, a girl with quite possibly the least amount of rhythm in all of Orange County could barely contain my excitement and so, I was forced to tap my feet and even sway a bit from time to time. I said I lacked rhythm; did you think I’d actually even attempt to launch into full dance mode? And then I saw them, two rows in front of us and just a few seats down, two of the most excitable, young, teenage girls I had ever seen at a concert. They were dancing and singing and screaming in their shrill, girlie voices at the top of their lungs, every word to every song. And I, as I had done many times before at many different concerts, should have launched into attack mode immediately, verbally, and even physically mocking their every move. But something was different this time. I started thinking about those girls who broke into hysterics at the mere mention of The Beatles. And then it occurred to me. I think I secretly am one of those girls. I mean, in all fairness, it was never really just a band that got me choked up so much as my intense love for their music, and I could easily see why these girls were so excited. I suddenly realized that all my previous mocking was most likely pointed at myself, at my own inability to just let go and let myself celebrate something that moved me.

I’ve always been so acutely aware of everyone around me, and so terribly concerned of what they will think if I look silly that I fail to allow myself to fully enjoy even the best of shows. Well, short of the Go-Go’s concert before I became so completely self-aware. I’m one of those girls who has to have a fair amount of liquid courage before I hit the dance floor, and by fair amount I mean depleting the bar of its entire stock of Vodka, sprite and sweet-and-sour mix. I refuse to leave the house without a shower. And forget about public speaking, even if I could claim the title of Nobel Prize winner on a particular subject. Let’s face it, I don’t even like opening gifts at my own parties because I can’t stand the thought of all eyes on me. Those things are neither here nor there I suppose, but when it comes to dancing, I don’t think it’s a confidence issue so much as I have no delusions about my inability to move with even a trace of fluidity. Seriously, even that old guy on the Magic Mountain commercials puts me to shame. Now I know some of you could actually bring back the cabbage patch and be labeled “innovative.” I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my people now. I’m talking to the Ronald Millers of the world, the ones who believe strategically waving both arms above your head for an entire set makes you a pretty good dancer. It doesn’t. And just so you know, mocking famous dances of the past is pretty transparent too. Come on people, you know who you are. You’re the wedding guest who revives the running man and the kid-n-play under the guise of a joke, hoping to fill time on the dance floor until others figure out that you simply can’t dance to save your life.

And so I wonder, how much joy have I missed out on by not allowing myself to get caught up in the moment and just let go? How many times have I restrained my enthusiasm to remain cool and collected? I mean, doesn’t the same principle of, “’Tis better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt,” apply here? And the conclusion I’ve arrived at is this, yes, it is better to remain a wallflower than to be a laughing stock and the subject of many future jokes. It is better to keep some shred of dignity than to deem yourself “that girl.” Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kids, I’m just kidding. No, I don’t believe it is ever a better decision to censor yourself when it comes to passion and your love of basically anything (well, anything pure and honest and legal anyway). Think about it. God does not want us to hide our passion for Him, does He? Doesn’t He desire that we let our light, our love for Him, shine? Does He not ask that I be a city on a hill? And if, in fact, He wants me to express my enthusiasm for Him, His word, His grace, etc. in that manner, why not my love and passion for the simple things in life that He has so graciously surrounded me with as well? Why not stand up and sing or even dance when you hear a song that makes you smile from ear to ear. You know, the songs that remind us of a particular time in our lives, the songs that flood us with sweet memories and choke us up so fervently that we can barely manage to continue to sing along? Seriously, next time you feel the urge to stand up and act a fool at a concert, allow yourself to forget that you are surrounded by thousands of others who will likely point fingers and laugh at your antics and imitate your less-than-smooth moves. Chances are those people are wishing they had the guts to do the same.

Oh, and on a side note to Jack’s Mannequin, now that I know you are originally from Dana Point, I fully intend to stalk you (in a very non-threatening, legal manner, of course) every free minute I get. Your music seriously makes this self-professed Ronald Miller want to stand up and dance.

What A Friend We Have

2008-12-15T21:33:00.000-08:00

I sang the songs of yesterday,
And let them wake my heart.
And in the words I’d held at bay,
Discovered who you are.

Jesus, Savior, Nourisher,
Teach my soul to trust.
Counselor, encourager,
Who raised me from the dust.

Son of Man, whose grace abounds
In morning, noon and night.
Holy God with nail-pierced hands
That steered my wrong course right.

Chorus
What a friend we have in Jesus.
Faithful friend who never leaves us.
What a friend who truly sees us.
Loving friend who daily frees us.

Father of the weak and poor,
Lover of the lost,
Son whose mercy opens doors,
Bearer of another’s cross.

Shepherd of a wandering flock,
Cornerstone on which to build,
Humble servant, solid rock,
Vision of promises fulfilled.

Chorus
What a friend we have in Jesus.
Faithful friend who never leaves us.
What a friend who truly sees us.
Loving friend who daily frees us.

Remover of all obstacles,
Deliverer, with lives to mend,
Redeemer of the prodigals,
Mighty King, forever friend.

May songs I sing, with heart unbound,
Be praises to my faithful friend,
For what an honor to be found,
And know what lies around the bend.

The Golden Rule

2008-12-09T15:46:00.000-08:00

So after the recent election and the way this country, and my heart, were so divided, I took a long, hard look at the root of my discontent and I came up with two basic truths.

First, when asked to search our souls and arrive at a decision that is of a political nature, I believe we have fallen far short. Make no mistake, I firmly believe your faith should guide EVERY decision you make in life, including those of a political nature! You may try to separate your politics from your faith as best as possible, but you will fail miserably, for you cannot claim faith and trust in God and not allow Him to permeate all areas of your life. Why would a God who desires your WHOLE heart wish to be left out of certain aspects of your life? So my first truth is this: as Christians, I believe we too often attempt to interpret Christ through the world's eyes rather than interpreting the world through Christ's eyes. Case in point: when facing a tough decision, we are implored to consider, "What would Jesus do?" We consistently try to make sense of challenges and opposition by trying to understand Christ. But the truth is, Christ is not that difficult to figure out. He loves you, He wants what is best for you, He was clear about what He detested, and He asked you to take a stand on the side of purity and grace. When something seems confusing to me, it does not do me much good to look through my worldview glasses for truth and clarity, but rather to read the Word, ask God for guidance and consider the following. It isn't really about what Jesus WOULD do. It's about what Jesus DID do. And it's all right there in God's own words. He didn't leave some stuff out for us to second guess Him. He let His wishes be known.

And that brings me to my second truth. I don't believe this world is hurting because we have had a Republican in the White House for too long and I don't believe we will sink deeper into despair because we will now have a Democrat in the White House. I believe this world is hurting because we have left Jesus out of OUR homes for too long. I feel like He's been knocking on our doors, especially mine, for quite some time and maybe my music's been up too loud or something, but I certainly haven't heeded the call! Now, I'm not one of those people who chooses to guess the time when my loving savior will come to call me home (assuming I'm so lucky) or try to label how far into the end times we have traveled, but I do know this. We are called to always be ready and that means NOW! Notice I stated earlier that I believe Jesus wants us to take a stand on the side of purity and grace. I think grace is the bigger part of that equation. When we let Jesus direct our steps, He does so not with a heavy hand, iron fist, or angry voice so much as He does so with grace and we are to do the same. Somehow, some time ago, Christians became known as self-righteous hypocrites and I'm not so sure we didn't somehow earn that title. The truth is, if we are claiming to live without sin simply because Christ has found us, we truly are hypocrites. If, however, we are claiming to follow Christ in hopes that we will SOMEDAY live in the absence of sin, and treating others with the same measure of grace, we are spot on! People, we follow no man further than he follows Christ. I don't do as other Christians do (except for the whole sinning thing). I do-or try to do-as Christ did.
Philip Yancey begs the question, "What's so amazing about grace?" and I loooove His work. So what is so amazing? Well, let's see, what's not??? Grace is unwarranted, grace is not fair, and grace is so beautiful. When we sin, we are not fallen Christians, because as Yancey states, "The opposite of sin is grace, not virtue." We are simply Christians, saved by grace. How can we not approach a fallen world with the same measure of grace that is extended to us daily by a loving God? Yancey also states, "The sense of sin is the measure of the soul's awareness of God." Essentially, you cannot know God without knowing that you are a sinner. Hallelujah people! I'm not giving you a free pass to sin so that you can get to know God a little better. I'm just saying, remember the golden rule. Come on now, search waaaay back to kindergarten when you were firts taught to do unto others as you would have done to you. When did that stop being applicable, huh? If God loves us in our failures, how can we not love others in theirs. And now, I'm gonna hit ya with the tough stuff and I'll say it as simply as I can. You gotta repent! God has no place for a sinner who refuses to repent. And that's it. Love those little backsliders as much as possible (including yourselves - a little forgiveness for ourselves goes a long way), show them what a penitent heart looks like, and maybe they'll catch a glimpse of God in there somewhere!

Truth tempered with grace

2008-11-03T14:18:00.000-08:00

I have always considered myself a very liberal Christian, “careful” so as not to upset anyone (believer or non-believer) and so afraid of turning people away from Christ that I’ve likely missed many opportunities to turn them toward Christ. And so, as those of you who know me will attest, for me to actually sit down and write about an issue of faith that is proving to be more divisive than unifying among Christians, I must actually feel quite passionate about it. Alas, I’ve held my tongue long enough. Let’s discuss Proposition 8, shall we?

I will preface by saying that I have had many friends who are homosexual and I have and do love them all dearly and treat them no different than of my other friends. I have always struggled with the idea of tolerance and have more often than not compromised my faith to avoid alienating non-believers. I don’t struggle with the idea of homosexuality. God leaves no doubt that it is an issue of sin and if I tow the line on this one, where DO I draw the line? I have always steered clear of moral debates, never wanting to appear holier than thou. And now as I take a stand in favor of Prop 8, I do so, not feeling morally superior to others, but simply because God has asked me to speak the truth IN LOVE. My calling may not be the same as 90% of this country, but does that mean I should abandon all that I know to be true in my heart to fit in? Being a Christian does not mean winning a popularity contest. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. But God warned of this many times. Christians will suffer in this world. We will be persecuted. Those who went before actually died for their faith and yet we struggle with checking a box on a ballot. Most of us aren’t even called to be martyrs, but simply to speak the truth and yet, we are failing to do so.

I went to a new church this past Sunday (and no, I did not implode upon entering – God still has room for a prodigal’s daughter) and the message spoke loud and clear. How do we share our faith? Truth tempered with grace, right? Absolutely! I will be the first one onboard the grace train. I will gladly extend grace to any sinner who desires it and would hope that God and others deal with me accordingly, but the presence of grace does not roll out the red carpet for the acceptance of sin. And at the core of the issue, I do believe homosexuality is a sin. You cannot have an honest discussion about faith in God without discussing sin (and I firmly believe this conversation should always begin with my own personal sin). Without the acknowledgement of sin, there is no room for a message of redemption and our biggest fears would be realized. The Bible would truly become just a book with a series of great stories, legends, and songs. But the Bible is more than that. The Bible is hope, salvation, and absolute truth. It isn’t a collection of opinions, some of which we may choose to adopt as our own and others we can sidestep as we see necessary. I’ve told my husband (who is not a Bible believer) on many occasions that I don’t necessarily like everything God calls me to stand for, but I don’t get to pick and choose. If I claim it as truth, then I claim ALL of it as truth. And he has told me countless times that he would not respect me if I didn’t.

At the heart of the matter - to me anyway - is this: I refuse to be a moral drifter and I am not saying my morals are right or wrong, but they are my morals and I must defend them at all costs. I was not put on this Earth to make a million friends. I was put on this Earth to serve a loving God and share His message in duality. Truth without love is brutality, but love without truth is disobedience. To stand idly by and allow what I believe to be sin to creep into society is to disobey God.

I’ve been told to just not vote at all, because in essence, the lives others choose to live do not affect mine. I believe drunk driving is a sin also, and pedophilia, abortion, etc. The list is endless, I could even add arrogance, pride, and greed to that list. If there were a proposition to legalize any of these things, I would vote against it as well. In my eyes, if anything I deem sinful crosses my path and I have been given the freedom to speak out against it, it is my duty as a Christian to do so. Suppose Martin Luther King “just didn’t get involved?” There would have been no civil rights movement. The fact that gay marriage has already been legalized in California in the first place says to me that someone got involved! It is my privilege and obligation as a citizen of this country to do the same. I make no apologies where this is concerned and I would expect people on both sides of this issue to do the same. We have been given many choices in this life; what we do with them is one of the few things in our lives we can actually control. And if I choose to take no stance on sin, I’m not leaving much room for God to work. Without sin, Jesus was a great prophet. But with the acknowledgement of sin, Jesus was and is a loving savior. If I chose to abuse my darling little son, I would hope others would not simply turn the other cheek and allow me to live my life the way that I see fit. I would hope someone would send my little angel a savior to rescue him from the darkness. And that, my friends (hehehehe) is what I believe God has called His children to do. I’m not claiming to be anyone’s savior, but I know someone who is and I’m pretty certain He won’t be standing outside the voting booths whispering, “Shhhh, now is not the time to tell them about me.”

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle - Jesus did with you!

2006-10-13T15:20:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Christians do not care about preserving or nurturing the environment? It’s true, you know. I found that out as I watched a documentary on Idaho Public Television last Wednesday night. Through an expose on evangelical Christians and their views about the environment, Bill Moyers attempted to tackle the question, “Is God Green?” The show featured interviews with Pastor Tri Robinson of Vineyard Christian Fellowship in Garden City, Idaho. Robinson is being hailed a “hero” of sorts for his bold assertions that Christians should actually take an interest in this Earth that we live on, even going so far as to say that it is a “Biblical imperative of stewardship.” Can you believe that? Apparently, we, as Christians, are to be concerned about things that non-believers have cared about for years. Absurd!

But here’s what I find truly unbelievable (and if you haven’t figured it out yet, that whole diatribe I just laid out was sarcasm)…I don’t know any Christians who believe they should “ignore” environmental issues or who fail to acknowledge that EVERY human being has a duty to take care of God’s green Earth. Yes, I believe God is green and perhaps a bit red with embarrassment when he sees the media portray his children from such a pitiful perspective. I don’t even know where to begin with this one.

Cheers to Pastor Robinson for his brave efforts to address an issue that has unfortunately been swept under the proverbial rug for way too long. Cheers to Pastor Robinson for even laying out a biblical foundation for our calling to environmental preservation. Cheers to Pastor Robinson for seeking to dispel a common myth that Christians believe the Earth is “gonna burn,” therefore, asserting that any attempts to preserve it are futile, at best. Did you know that? Did you know that Christians actually refuse to recycle on the basis that the whole Earth is going down, even the aluminum cans? Hmm, I don’t know about yours, but my God is a God of second chances, even for the tin cans and the plastic bottles (hehe – sorry, the whole thing is absurd, isn’t it?)!

In my quest for truth, I came across an author who put it this way. As Christians, our bodies will soon perish, but yet, we take care of those, don’t we? So why not the Earth? It has been entrusted to us in the same way that we have been admonished to care for our bodies, which are “temples of the Lord,” right? We’ll spend countless hours on the treadmill, but we won’t spend 2 seconds tossing our Pepsi can into the blue trash bin instead of the black one? A heartless lot, aren’t we? No, we are not, at least not all of us. So here’s what really sits uncomfortably in my soul when I watch these programs. What happened to truth in broadcasting? Not all evangelical Christians are racing for the finish line to claim the prize (which we already have, by the way). Not all of us are standing on the highest sky rise with our arms outstretched waiting for the spaceship to land. And certainly not all of us are impatiently searching the horizon for some plume of smoke that signifies the lake of fire is just around the corner! Some of us actually would like to do some good or leave some mark while we meander through this life. So again I say, yea to Pastor Robinson for showing the world that Christian environmentalists exist and though we are few (she says in jest, with a mischievous smirk), we are ready, willing, and able to act in whatever means necessary, even if it means, Heaven forbid, sacrificing a perfectly good minute on a Sunday afternoon to bend down and pick up a candy wrapper that has fallen by the wayside!

If you haven’t noticed, I’m really quite sick of it! I would rather jam a pencil in my eye than watch another expose on the crazy lives of evangelicals. Why don’t they do a piece on Muslims and their views on the environment? Or the Hare Krishna’s, now THAT, I’d watch! Why is it always those crazy Christians? I’ll tell you why. Because my Jesus is a threat to people who don’t believe in Him. My Jesus was a pacifist and an activist, a politician and a law-abiding citizen, a student and a teacher. My Jesus was specific about how we ought to live our lives here on Earth, but vague about when we would see him face to face. People don’t know what to make of that. They don’t want a community of people who tow the line. They want you to take a stand and fight till the death to defend it, even if it means climbing the ladder of self-righteousness to reach the judgment seat. But with Jesus, there are some shades of gray, whether we choose to believe it or not. We are called to believe the impossible, to deny our instincts, to admit to our imperfections and accept undeserved forgiveness. We are called to believe unabashedly that what seems upside down is actually right side up, and what our hearts tell us is senseless, our eyes will one day confirm. I truly believe that if you are so defensive about the views of another that you must go on the offensive to attack, there must be some seed of conviction deep within that you are trying to stifle.

Now I’m not saying this particular documentary was challenging Christianity or portraying it in a negative light. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I guess it’s what wasn’t said that really bothers me. What was missing was the fact that the majority of Christians do not believe we are to overlook environmental issues, global warming, etc. And to praise one pastor who is doing his part suggests, to me anyway, that most of us are not. My husband was watching this show subconsciously absorbing a story line that reads something like this: Christians roam the Earth like packs of wolves devouring aluminum cans and hurling them by the thousands into the nearest ocean, all the while spraying Aqua Net in an endless stream into the sky, which unsurprisingly is now a dirty shade of blue from which birds plummet to their death at an alarming rate. Don’t count me out yet; I did e-mail this to save paper, didn’t I? Ok, I’ll lose the dramatics now and simply say this…I love my home (San Clemente, the United States, and the Earth) and I’d no more like to see it perish than I’d like to spend an evening on the receiving end of a frontal assault by my demon-possessed cat. I care about the Earth and I know some other Christians who do too. There’s prayer because we care (the new motto of Christian activists), and we believe in a God who makes things happen. I do not believe I am free and clear of responsibility to Mother Earth simply because one day I will leave her and I know a few others who feel the same way. For the love of all that is holy, I married an Environmental Resource Specialist, tree hugging, granola-eater; I couldn’t litter if I wanted to!

There is one other thing I’d like to address and you may totally disagree with me on this one, but for the longest time, I’ve wondered why it disturbs me so intensely when I see a church or a pastor or any Christian for that matter on television discussing what they are doing for the Lord. And though this is a non-essential tenet of the faith, I have a very strong opinion on this one (tune out now if you don’t care to hear it). Matthew has much to say about service to the Lord in Chapter 6 and states, 2”Therefore, when you do a charitable deed, do not sound a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory from men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward. 3But when you do a charitable deed do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly. 5And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth; they have received their reward in full. 6But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you…17But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18so that it will not be obvious to men that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

Not for one moment am I presuming to know the motives of one man’s heart, nor do I believe his intentions were anything but pure. In fact, I might even go so far as to assert that it is the media that seeks to call attention to Christianity today, but I think in light of Matthew’s admonitions, if I were ever to find myself the interest of a media frenzy – don’t laugh, it could happen - I would gracefully bow out and leave the convertin’ to Jesus! I am fairly certain the intent of most Christians who take center stage in the public arena is to point a finger at the grace, forgiveness and love of God, but unfortunately, there is much more interest and much higher ratings in jumping on the bash-Christianity bandwagon. The lights I’ve seen shed on my faith time and again are less than flattering.

I’ve watched hour-long shows about my faith and failed to hear even one mention of Jesus Christ. My favorite author, Donald Miller, tells a story about a class he taught to a group of Christian college students. He asked them to describe the tenets of their faith and they nailed it. They spewed out everything from service to worship to moral absolutes to spiritual gifts, but forgot to include that Jesus guy. Ouch. That’s like trying to describe the ocean without mentioning water. In another interview I read recently, Reverend, Richard Cizik, gives the following definition of being “born again.”

“Well, it's pretty hard to define. Every individual has their own definition, their own existential experience, so to speak. All [born again] means [is] that you submit yourself to the authority of Jesus Christ over all of your life. He becomes the most important thing to you. It's not obedience to some laws or the Old Testament Ten Commandments. It's obedience to what Jesus wants, as authoritatively stated in the Scriptures, and that changes one's life.”

Ok, Richard, I’m halfway there with you. I wholly agree that everyone does have his or her own definition and I’m way on board with the idea that it has little to do with obeying some laws that were etched in stone some fifty gazillion years ago, but I’m going to take it a step further. Being born again, to me, has a whole lot to do with repentance and forgiveness and not necessarily in that order. It’s that whole idea I alluded to earlier that God is a God of second chances. And Richard, I second the notion that obedience to what Jesus wants changes lives. So what DOES Jesus want? I believe He wants to love me, and wants to hang out with me on Sunday afternoons (sometimes even on weekdays), and I believe, more than anything else, He wants me to acknowledge what He did for me on a hill awhile ago and maybe even tell some people about that. But here’s the stone, cold truth…there aren’t a whole lot of people who want to hear about that these days, least of all, the people on TV. And sometimes I think if we allow ourselves to entertain the idea of “getting the word out” by stepping into the public limelight and being broadcast through the media, there’s a good chance that Jesus guy won’t make the cut. Whenever I happen to nurture the desire to serve God in the smallest way and whatever I manage to do for Him when I’m not out shopping or at home torturing my kitty or screaming obscenities at the TV on a Sunday morning when the Chargers are down by a field goal (I love you, LT!), I think I’ll just do in silence and not give anyone ammunition to hurl back at me when I’m face down in the glitter gulch mourning the loss of my innocence!

But I digress. Some Christians care about the environment and the ozone layer and the fishes in the sea. But some of them really don’t and do you know what else? Some of them don’t like chocolate or the beach or (God help them) cats. Yes, some Christians suck. Ok, all of them do in one way or another, but so do all Catholics and all Muslims and all Jews and all Amish and all Buddhists and all Mormons, whether they believe it or not. We are all inherently bad (that whole “fall of man” thing). So can we stop focusing on the Christians for once and just play a rerun of Law and Order, or something?! Now that’s good television!

Heavenly Father, we recognize that being a child in your family means caring about other people, even the ones who don’t know you. We like what you’ve done here and even though we can’t wait to see you face to face, we promise to do our best to keep this place clean and beautiful and safe for all of your children. And Father, when we decide we’d like to be movie stars for a day, please help us to act out a story of love, and grace, and friendship and let the truth be told!!!

The Greatest American Hero (uh, that'd be Jesus)

2006-08-17T08:22:00.000-07:00

So I was thinking today about those pastors who fall from their pedestals in the eyes of the church when they find themselves (oops), in the throws of adultery, or the bonds of addiction, or heaven forbid, entertaining a notion that challenges church doctrine. My knee-jerk response to this sort of situation is to belt out in utter amazement, “Wow, and he was such a great man of God!” Excuse me while I climb back into the chair I just fell from and regain my composure.

A great man of God…is there such a person? And if there is, how does one achieve such a status? I am hesitant to even utter the phrase out loud, but if I were to even skate along the edge of belief in such a person, I would offer the following definition. A great man of God is not the one who can yell loudest, but the one who can listen most intently. A great man of God is not the most dynamic in the crowd, but the most humble. A great man of God does not boast in how much he has to offer, but delights in even the smallest gain. And most importantly, a great man of God recognizes that he is not inherently great, but attributes his value to God alone. More simply stated, the greatness of man is that he is “of God.”

When I think about my best friends, the ones I believe to be truly great, I define them in this way: they are not the ones who know what’s best for me, but the ones who WANT to know what’s best for me. They are the ones who are willing to walk beside me as I figure it out. They are not preaching from the pulpit about the error of my ways or weighing me down with burdens I cannot carry, otherwise known as “should-haves” and “ought-tos”. They are not boasting of their position in my life, but are content with my friendship. My greatest friends are not great at all; they are merely faithful.

The greatest men of God are fundamentally the same. They do not recognize their greatness and if it should surface, it is attributed to God and God alone. So even though there may exist some form of greatness in man, I would prefer to address it in another way. Perhaps greatness could be defined more appropriately as simply, faith. The spiritual icons of the Bible were not great men of God; they were great men (and women) of faith. They were the ones whose lives elicited greatness as a result of their belief, and hope, and trust in a loving God. They beat the odds, cheated death, astounded the masses, and emerged from the most impossible circumstances unscathed. They were not great; they were rescued. They believed in the greatness of God and clung to His promises.

And here’s a further definition and a thought you’ll likely loathe. The greatest men of God are those that have been wounded. Wounded men are useful. They are of great value in the kingdom of God. I love this one…

An excerpt from “To Own a Dragon” by Donald Miller:
“The TRC was a commission established by Nelson Mandela to listen to and attempt to reconcile the country after the atrocities of apartheid. It was a sobering account, a group of men and women listening to their countrymen, endless hours of testimony so gripping and gruesome as to beget feelings of hopelessness.

Before the commission was established, government officials asked Bishop Desmond Tutu what sort of person should be considered for a position on the commission, and Tutu responded, essentially, that the commission should be comprised of victims, of people whose lives had been ripped open by the horrors of oppression. But not arrogant victims, he sated, not people looking for vengeance. Instead, Tutu said softly, these should be people who have the authority of awful experiences, experiences that educate them toward empathy, and yet still have within themselves hearts willing to forgive. This, he went on to clarify, could be accomplished only through a deeply buttressed spiritual life. The people will be wounded healers.”

Wounded healers, I like that. We’re qualified to act as healers on the basis that we were once, and will always be, in need of some healing of our own. It has been said that God does not build a man; He breaks him. If you are asserting that God has made you great based on the experiences you have had, you are walking a dangerously thin tightrope. By carrying you through trials and tribulations, God has not given you success and self-worth so much as He has given you tools. You are now qualified…to be a healer, to be a brother or a sister, to be a friend.

I’ve heard people say that they have no regrets about the decisions they’ve made. They claim that their experiences have shaped them and made them who they are. Perhaps, but I believe God made me who I am when he formed me in the womb and the experiences I have had have done nothing more than qualify me to be a healer. Who in their right mind would not choose the path of least resistance if they could do it all over again??? Certainly not me!

God does not say that we will reach our fullest potential by enduring life and learning hard lessons. He did not create a blank slate in me that will become a glorious work of art as I encounter various experiences and travel many roads. I was a masterpiece at birth because I am the work of His hands. Jer 29:11”For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” There is no need for me to plan my way; God has done that for me. It is not my job to clear a path; it is my job to remain on the path that He laid for me, essentially, to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus. There may be many roads for me to wander aimlessly down, but there is only one that leads to the cross.

A final thought…when I make a bad decision or choose a path that leads me away from God, it does not change who I am; it merely changes where I end up. If I happen to emerge stronger, wiser, or even richer, it is because God loves me enough to bless me in spite of myself, not because He is rewarding me for my suffering. I have many regrets about my choices and would definitely do many things differently if given the chance. I will say this though – in every single circumstance where I went horribly wrong and chose the wrong path, there is only one thing I would have done differently. I would have trusted in God’s greatness a little bit more and in my own a little bit less. I am not a great woman of God; I am a woman who trusts in a great God.

Give that guy a Sharpie!

2006-05-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

Ephesians 4
17So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. 18They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts.

20You, however, did not come to know Christ that way. 21Surely you heard of him and were taught in him in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus. 22You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; 23to be made new in the attitude of your minds; 24and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

30And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.

Ok, so I was watching that crazy guy with the gray hair last night. You know, the one who writes all those random scribbles on a white board while he’s giving his “message,” none of which you can actually read? Well, I found myself drawn to him (no pun intended) for some reason, like watching a train wreck, but the train actually pulled into the station in the end and I was pleasantly surprised. He was talking about grieving the spirit, and not only had I never heard this topic preached before, but certainly not like this. I gotta be honest; I have absolutely no idea what it means to grieve the spirit, but his take on the issue sounded pretty good to me. And so, I’ll share.

Now if I had to take my best guess as to what it means to grieve the spirit, I’d guess something along the lines of doing bad stuff that makes God sad. Hehe! Silly me! With a little help from my gray-haired friend, I’m leaning toward an entirely different perspective now. His sermon was actually about tithing, but his comment about grieving the Holy Spirit stuck out more to me. It was something along the lines of, “If you are defensive about your giving, you are defensive about God’s grace.” Huh? I missed the first half hour or so of his little program, but I drew my own inferences and I think I may have actually caught his drift, despite the mess of Sharpie markings and meaningless doodles in the background. You see, when you actually understand the measure of God’s grace and how much you’ve been forgiven, giving almost seems like a natural way to say “thanks.” It’s possibly the only way some of us can express our gratitude. And yes, I know it won’t ever be enough, nor does God expect anything in return (short of our faith and trust in Him), but it’s a physical reaction to an overwhelming emotional feeling we get when we are hit with God’s boundless love for us.

So I think the point the crazy scribbler was trying to make when he made that comment about giving was that if we are defensive and feeling guilty about our giving, it may be because we have not fully experienced God’s grace in our lives. In other words, when we hesitate in our giving, we are likely not doing so out of a spirit of thanksgiving and gratitude. If we’re feeling negative emotions about giving to God, it’s probably because we don’t feel particularly appreciative about His sacrifice and love for us. How can you grasp the magnitude of being loved despite the ugliest and most unpleasant parts of you and NOT feel some sort of desire to say “thanks?” If you don’t feel thankful, you don’t feel loved and accepted and that’s a pretty big problem. So when you’re “grieving the spirit,” you aren’t making HIM sad, you’re making YOU sad because you’re missing out on something, namely, God’s grace and intimate friendship.

Ok, enough with the crazy gray-haired scribbler; cut to the Apostle Paul. In the Ephesians passage, Paul says the Gentiles are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the futility of their thinking. Hmmm…they don’t understand because their thinking is limited. Perhaps their thoughts are on things that don’t matter? Maybe they’re thinking about what’s for dinner or how they need to break in their new sandals or about those cute little shepherd girls on the next block? Maybe they should be thinking about things above, like God’s faithfulness to them or His providence in their lives. Perhaps if they shift their focus, they might gain a little understanding. Then Paul goes on to say that when we come to know Christ, our minds are to have a new attitude. Our minds…those things we use from time to time. Those things are supposed to have a new attitude. And what exactly could that be? Um, how about…gratitude? How about contentment? Maybe even a little bit of joy? I think the point Paul is trying to make is that the state of our souls matters a little more than the state of the nation. What God is doing within us counts a little more than what God is doing around us, don’t you think? And if we’re too busy worrying about life, we probably aren’t spending enough time living in love. What would it look like if we actually did live in a constant awareness that we are loved and forgiven (for our past mistakes, our future mistakes, and even that thought we’re thinking right now)? Our minds truly would have a new attitude, our understanding would reach its full measure, and our souls may actually feel at rest for a moment or two. How could anyone feel anything but joy when they are walking hand in hand with a king, a counselor, and a friend of sinners?

In verse 30, Paul advises us not to grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom we were sealed for the day of redemption. I think the key here is the part about redemption. If we could come to a deeper understanding of the idea that we were sealed for redemption, grieving the Holy Spirit wouldn’t even be an option. Honestly, once we believe that God is who He says He is and Jesus did what He said He did, we are sealed for all eternity and that seal can never be broken. We have been and will be eternally redeemed! You can’t be sad about that, can you? Besides, the Holy Spirit doesn’t need to do any grieving over our actions; we do enough of that ourselves.

Once more for the masses...I don’t believe God is grieving what we do. I believe we’re grieving what we do, and simply stated, that means not letting grace in.

God, please help me to let grace in. Love me as only you can and remind me that I have no reason to grieve your absence, for you are ever-present! Help me to care more about what you are doing in me and less about what is going on around me. Let my thinking be limited and my giving be unlimited. And please do the same for my friends and family.

Forever Friend

2006-02-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

So I sat down to write about all the old hymns and how they were all about the same thing, God’s grace and mercy. My intention was to rant about how the songs we write today are all about our contributions to the kingdom of God and our sacrificial lives, but I’m feeling rather convicted. You see, when I did a little research what I found was that they really aren’t much different at all. Short of a few grammatical and language differences, the subject matter is all the same. They all tell the same stories, complete with longing, suffering, wonder, appreciation, and an ever-present need for redemption and many of them speak of our desire to serve the God we love. All of it’s right there, on the pages of the old hymnbooks and the overhead projectors of our “worship” communities. Nothing has changed, really. But I do have a strong fondness of the old hymns. They’re so raw and unedited. The writers seem so passionate and certain of their hearts’ desire and for the most part, that was one thing alone, Jesus. Sure, there are numerous hymns about God, but almost all of the ones I came across were sung to and about Jesus (yes, I know all about the Trinity). There is one thing I can say for certain about my own view of “worship” songs. When I sing songs today, it’s almost as if I’m singing to a stranger, like some distant pen pal I’ve never met. But the writers of the hymns seemed to be much more connected to their subject matter. They seemed to be intimately involved with Him, on a much deeper than surface level. They were friends with Jesus and it shone through in their lyrics.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make that connection with Jesus when I sing to Him and the only way I know how to do that is to explore what exactly that connection looks like. What does it mean to be a friend of Jesus? How do I go from looking upward to Jesus, to standing before Him, face to face? I think to do that I have to understand who He really is and what He means to me. Jesus has been called so many things because He truly was so many things to so many different people (and still is). He’s been called a shepherd, deliverer, healer, king, potter, purifier, redeemer, restorer, rock, servant, saviour, unspotted lamb, vine, cornerstone…shall I go on? Wow, those are some serious shoes to fill. So here are a few names I particularly love that really define who Jesus is to me.

Counselor (one who gives advice) – Let me take this one step further. Jesus does not just give advice; He gives sound advice and even my best friend sometimes messes that one up. Any counsel from Jesus is more than trustworthy, because He is the author of perfection. He is the measure against which we hold every question of morality and every act of judgment. So when I’m stuck at a crossroads and I’m not sure which path to take, I can rest assured that the right way is the way of the savior. And though it may not be the path of least resistance, as long as my eyes are fixed on Jesus, I will always come out alright on the other side (and I don’t have to pay $100 for an hour session to get there). What a friend I have in Jesus!

Lover (an affectionate or benevolent friend) – My personal favorite. Jesus doesn’t merely think I’m kind of cool and somewhat fun to hang around. Jesus loves me affectionately and passionately. He cares for me, which, lets be honest, sometimes our parents don’t even do well. He is a benevolent friend, inherently good, and devoted to me whole-heartedly and I know this because anyone who willingly goes to the grave to secure my fate does nothing half-heartedly. What a friend I have in Jesus!

Nourisher (to promote the growth of; sustain) – To think that Jesus actually cares about my growth! Well, He does. And I’m not talking about my growth as defined by a life of less sin or greater works. I think spiritual growth is simply growing closer to Jesus by getting more real with Him. Once I grow up by coming clean and learning to lean, He truly does sustain me and nourish my soul. What a friend I have in Jesus!

And now a final word about my faithful friend, Jesus. I heard someone say once that every time you see a penny on the ground, you should stop and reflect upon what it says, “In God We Trust.” And then try to remember all the times you’ve trusted God and all the times He has never failed you. Brilliant! God’s faithfulness to us is not in question. What we struggle with is remembering His faithfulness amidst our doubts, fears, and painful circumstances. So I thought this was a cute way to remind myself and now, whenever God proves Himself faithful to me yet again, I drop a penny in my “trust fund.” ‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.

So I think if I keep focusing on the attributes of Jesus and realize that He is truly the greatest friend a girl could ever have, the words on the overhead projector may actually come to life and instead of sending my praises up to the one who loves me, I can whisper a simple “Thank you” to the friend standing right beside me.

So here are a few of my favorite hymns about my forever friend.

Anywhere with Jesus
Words by Jessie Brown Pounds - 1887
Verses 3 and 4 by Helen Cadbury Alexander - 1915

Music by Daniel Brink Towner – 1887

Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go,
Anywhere He leads me in this world below;
Anywhere without Him dearest joys would fade;
Anywhere with Jesus I am not afraid.

Refrain
Anywhere, anywhere! Fear I cannot know;
Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go.

Anywhere with Jesus I am not alone;
Other friends may fail me, He is still my own;
Though His hand may lead me over drearest ways,
Anywhere with Jesus is a house of praise.

Anywhere with Jesus, over land and sea,
Telling souls in darkness of salvation free;
Ready as He summons me to go or stay,
Anywhere with Jesus when He points the way.

Anywhere with Jesus I can go to sleep,
When the darkening shadows round about me creep,
Knowing I shall waken nevermore to roam;
Anywhere with Jesus will be home, sweet home.

The Touch of His Hand on Mine
Words by Jessie Brown Pounds
Music by Henry P. Morton - 1913

There are days so dark that I seek in vain
For the face of my Friend Divine;
But though darkness hide, He is there to guide
By the touch of His Hand on mine.

Refrain
O the touch of His Hand on mine,
O the touch of His Hand on mine,
There is grace and power in the trying hour,
By the touch of His Hand on mine.

There are times when tired of the toilsome road,
For the ways of the world I pine;
But He draws me back to the upward track,
By the touch of His Hand on mine.

When the way is dim and I cannot see
Through the midst of His wise design,
How my glad heart yearns and my faith returns,
By the touch of His Hand on mine.

In that last sad hour as I stand alone,
Where the powers of death combine,
While the dark waves roll He will guide my soul,
By the touch of His Hand on mine.

And now I think I’ll try my hand at one of my own…

Forever Friend
I sang the songs of yesterday,
And let them wake my heart.
And in the words I’d held at bay,
Discovered who you are.

Jesus, Savior, Nourisher,
Teach my soul to trust.
Counselor, encourager,
Who raised me from the dust.

Son of Man, whose grace abounds
In morning, noon and night.
Holy God with nail-pierced hands
That steered my wrong course right.

Refrain
What a friend we have in Jesus.
Faithful friend who never leaves us.
What a friend who truly sees us.
Loving friend who daily frees us.

Father of the weak and poor,
Lover of the lost,
Son whose mercy opens doors,
Bearer of another’s cross.

Shepherd of a wandering flock,
Cornerstone on which to build,
Humble servant, solid rock,
Vision of promises fulfilled.

Refrain
What a friend we have in Jesus.
Faithful friend who never leaves us.
What a friend who truly sees us.
Loving friend who daily frees us.

Remover of all obstacles,
Deliverer, with lives to mend,
Redeemer of the prodigals,
Mighty King, forever friend.

May songs I sing, with heart unbound,
Be praises to my faithful friend,
For what an honor to be found,
And know what lies around the bend.

Chosen and Precious

2006-02-08T16:01:00.000-08:00

I’ve heard it said before that we live in a world that seeks to devour us. The outrageous cost of living, the lack of morality in most of our entertainment, and the barrage of advertisements that urge us to super size, throw caution to the wind, and build a better body, lead us to believe that good enough will never be. We are crushed under the promise of a “new and improved us.” But what if that is not the case at all? Of course, the main goal of an advertiser is to get you to buy what they are selling, but does all that pressure really seek to devour us? I don’t think this world seeks to devour us so much as it seeks to ignore us and THAT is an even greater detriment. In trying to find our place in this world, I think sometimes we can do much greater harm to ourselves than any outside force could do.

So here’s the way I see it. I used to view the world as a giant, relentless tidal wave. There was a constant struggle to stay afloat and every time I came up for air, that pesky wave would pummel me yet again. Now I view the world as more of a black hole, an abyss of ordinariness and predictability and we all just sort of get lost in the darkness. Our attempts to step back into the light look a little like this. We fight to find something unique about ourselves and accentuate that quality, to leave a mark and render ourselves unforgettable. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way our actions are construed more as acting out and not as standing out. Our goal is to gain attention and admiration. And quite frankly, some of us would just like to be noticed. Consequently, our real struggle is not against the world, but against ourselves.

David laments in Psalm 103, “As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.” To this world, we are nothing but flowers that will soon pass. I think we spend most of our days here on Earth trying to prove to others that we are much more than that. But in our pursuit of notoriety, we build an image even worse than that of a dying flower, in fact, much closer to a weed. And what is most frightening is that in many cases, people of ill repute are the people this world elevates. It is the Dennis Rodmans and the Saddam Husseins that this world deems most newsworthy. The more absurd your lifestyle, the more outrageous your deeds, and the more obnoxious your image, the more attention you get. And make no mistake, it happens on a smaller scale too. Young girls act out in promiscuity to get the attention they so desperately crave. Gang members commit heinous acts of violence to feel some sense of inclusion with a family, however dysfunctional it may be. Even as babies, the most effective way to get our needs met is to scream until someone takes notice. So alright, it isn’t difficult to analyze WHY we do what we do. The long and short of it is that we don’t want to merely sway back and forth in the wind waiting for our time to come. We want to prove to this world that we have something to offer, something unlike anything else it has ever known, something special. Basically, we want to prove we have more value than Joe Schmo sitting next to us. So here’s a question for you to ponder…is it really THAT important for this world to take notice of us? I mean, what’s so wrong with being ignored. In fact, I would venture to guess that most of us long for the people around us to ignore us every once in a while. So I guess I should delve a little deeper. Isn’t what really matters that God takes notice of us? Doesn’t our value come from Him alone? Shouldn’t that be enough? (Here comes that “in a perfect world” speech again).

“The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God's eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity and held safe in an everlasting embrace. We must dare to opt consciously for our chosen ness and not allow our emotions, feelings, or passions to seduce us into self-rejection.” -Henri J. M. Nouwen

When we start to feel ignored by this world and consequently, persecute ourselves for being unnoticeable, wouldn’t it serve us well to search for our worth elsewhere? Oh that we could remember this one on a daily basis! I am the chosen child of God, precious in His sight. Chosen and precious. Chosen and precious. Chosen and precious. So what if this world does not choose me? What if when the team captains are picking their players, I’m the last one picked? Here’s one I love even more. In the child’s game Red Rover, when the other team finally does call your name, you run as fast as you can to break through and then they block you. It’s like being teased at acceptance. They’re calling you to come join them and then they shut you out. Fun, but slightly rude. Hang tight, I have a point. In God’s eyes, you will never be shut out as long as you’re headed in His direction. You are chosen and precious.

I guess our real hang up then, is once again, letting God’s affection for us be enough and accepting that though this world may never take notice of us, God will never forget us. Chosen and precious. And now, a HUGE digression, but a scenario I find quite intriguing.

If you give a child a dollar, he will celebrate. He will rejoice and laugh and shout with joy because he's got dreams. He's got lofty ideas of how far a dollar will go. He’s got endless possibilities. If you give a grown man a dollar, he will despair. He will mutter an insincere "thanks" and cringe with disdain because he's got life. He's got years of heartache, years of bills too numerous to count and years of the bitter, tasteless sting of reality. He is jaded. A dollar is almost a curse; it is a fraction of what it would take to do more than merely survive. It is a dent in the armor of happiness, a mere pebble on the beach of eternal bliss (hehe). Oh, how I long to be a child again, to feel the worth of a dollar. And oh, how marvelous the beauty and wonder of the thought that our heavenly father views us the same. We are but a dollar in worth to ourselves, but to Him, a vast ocean of wealth with priceless value. We are an endless possibility to God, a blank slate on which to write a story with a happy ending, a blank canvas on which to paint a masterpiece. Chosen and precious. Before David’s diatribe in Psalm 103, he says a little something about ‘as high as the Heavens above, so great is the measure of our Father’s love.’ GREAT IS THE MEASURE OF OUR FATHER’S LOVE! Great, not slightly noticeable, mildly tolerant, or remotely apparent, but GREAT! For someone who has chosen to saturate us in His love, to ignore us would be completely out of character.

Ok, I’ll close with this. I’m sort of a vivid learner. I can’t retain or comprehend an idea until I’ve painted a picture of it in my mind (or read it 75 times). So here’s how I illustrated this topic. There once was this huge game of Red Rover going on in Heaven. There were two teams, the Sin Seekers and the Fallen Angels and they both screamed in unison, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Jesus right over.” And the beauty of the game was this. Jesus came running and no hands went up to keep Him out. He broke through (ok, a little blood was shed), but He broke through nonetheless. And everybody won and from that day on, here we stand – ignored by worldly standards – chosen and precious by Godly standards.

And justice for all

2006-01-20T15:25:00.000-08:00

So what is the sign of repentance anyway? How do we truly know when someone is face down on their penitent face and when they are simply posing for the cameras? And my God, what gives us the right to be concerned with this matter in the first place? Let me first state that in attempting to scratch the surface of this one, the finger that so often comes dangerously close to pointing at God’s vengeance and eternal damnation is pointing right back at myself, because I am the worst of sinners when it comes to judging (and so many other areas). So here goes nothing. Where do we draw the lines between “gently” rebuking our brothers and sisters, harshly judging them under the guise of saving their mortal souls, and biting our tongues when we believe they are “backsliding”? And when they profess to be “giving it to God,” what then?

Let me lay a foundation and define judgment as I see it and then I’ll get into our obsessive flirtation with it. What is it? Judgment is not characterized by speech alone, but can come in the form of a disdainful look, a sigh of disappointment, or even the distancing of oneself from a long-time friend for fear of becoming “guilty by association.” And now, where does it come from? In all honesty, I am more apt to believe our judgment of others is better explained as a deflection of our own guilt about the sins in our lives than as a genuine concern for their salvation. Either way, I think too many of us are confused about how we approach judgment in the Christian community. As far as non-believers are concerned, we may as well be charging admission when we point our disapproving fingers, roll our disbelieving eyes, and dispel our urgent calls to repentance because these tactics we’ve come to know and love are nothing short of entertaining to non-believers. Seriously, I pray for the whole world to know Christ, but you and I both know that isn’t going to happen, so let’s concentrate on the smaller picture for now.

I guess the real problem then is Christians…not the ones who have mastered the art of empathy and surmounted the challenge of coupling compassion with admonition (hats off to all 3 of you!), but those who have intentionally (God forbid) or unintentionally tarnished the crown of mercy and singed the garland of grace. In a perfect world, all Christians would be skilled at gentle rebuke. If we were truly learning from the master, rebuke would play out as it does in Mark 16:14, “…Jesus appeared to the eleven as they were eating; he rebuked them for their lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him after he had risen.” Jesus rebukes the disciples in this passage not for their wicked ways per se, but for their lack of faith in Him. So when one of our brothers or sisters is sinning, is it their actual sin that bothers us or is it their lack of faith? If there is ever an instance in which I feel it is appropriate to correct one of my friends, it should be when he/she is not trusting in God’s power to heal and forgive, not solely because I disapprove of his/her choices. And even then, my approach should be such that the playing field is level. We are both sinners; both in need of God’s love and mercy; and both under the blanket of grace, rather than the weight of condemnation. Ah yes, in a perfect world…

But here’s another one for you to chew on. Not only have we eclipsed gentle rebuke with biting judgment, but we’ve actually taken it one step farther. One of the biggest problems it seems is that many Christians have not learned to distinguish where rebuke ends and forgiveness begins. Daily we walk the line between responsibility as a Christian and responsibility as a friend. What is truly disheartening is that we have somewhere along the line divorced the two and come to the conclusion that we cannot play both roles at the same time. In our rush to ensure that God’s precious flock does not wander from the field, we have unknowingly pushed a few sheep off the proverbial walk of faith and down a cliff of despair and guilt.

Let me be very clear. I am extremely apprehensive to express any sort of disapproval of one’s actions to begin with (though I do it quite often), but I am only human. So, when I have truly invested in one of my friends, given myself some sort of a platform from which to speak, and genuinely feel that out of concern alone I cannot shut my mouth any longer, I have been known to share my feelings about the choices he/she is making. And then, when I have spoken my peace, I do my best to let it go! But is this what the Bible calls us to do or are we called to a much greater duty? You ready? I really don’t have an answer for you on this one, but I do know one thing – there is a very finite line that has been drawn in the sand for us to take note of and it addresses the following question. When do we expel the immoral brother (which is most often, ourselves) and when do we lovingly embrace him? I got three words for you…RE-PENT-ANCE! The moment a sinner cries out to God for forgiveness, our rebuke falls to the wayside and God’s mercy takes over. But as one writer points out, “The trouble with most Christians today is that they would rather be on the judgment seat than on the witness stand.” Don’t we love it when someone else’s sin is more visible than ours? We get to feel better about our own iniquities or at least about our ability to camouflage them. And God forbid someone should actually acknowledge their sins and cry out to God for help. Then we get to judge their sincerity and the motives of their heart. Listen to what God’s divinely inspired have to say about that. 1 Corinthians 4:3-5”I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.” If that isn’t enough to squash the pride in you, consider this. The appearance of our righteousness in the church often leads to the disappearance of God’s righteousness and who wants to answer for that one on judgment day?

So let me explain it in one more way. Eric Sandras says in Buck Naked Faith, “It is the pursuit of the kind of the relationship with the Father that Jesus had, and not the expectation of attainment in this lifetime, that we’ve needed all along.” I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it a million more. We get so caught up in trying to be Jesus that we often fail to be WITH Jesus. God desires us to pursue a relationship with Him, to seek Him and long for His friendship. To strive for the very same intimate bond that He had with Jesus. But He’s also made it perfectly clear that while we are on Earth, in our sinful bodies, we will never have that perfect relationship. So maybe we should focus on a more feasible goal. We should be encouraging each other to pursue a relationship with God through confession, trust, and ever-increasing need for His grace, not holding each other to the impossible standard of filling His shoes. So when you get the urge to pick up your gavel, don your black robe, and shout, “Guilty!” try to remember that you’re the one on trial and throw yourself on the mercy of the court.

God, we throw ourselves on the mercy of your court. Please silence the voices of our accusers and when we look to you, let them look away. If we do allow their misplaced anger and hurt to sting our souls, gently reminder us that as long as we trust in you, you will never abandon us. And if we ask ourselves – what does it look like to trust God? May we always hear the answer – it looks like a cross set upon a hill, stained red as a reminder that we are loved.

Rest Assured

2006-01-12T15:56:00.000-08:00

"I was regretting the past and fearing the future. Suddenly God was speaking: 'My name is I am.' I waited and God continued, 'When you live in the past, with its mistakes and regrets, it is hard. I am not there. My name is not I was. When you live in the future, with its problems and fears, it is hard. I am not there. My name is not I will be. When you live in this moment, it is not hard. I am here. My name is I AM.'" ~Helen Mellincost

Wow, I really need to write; it’s been way too long. So on this day of turmoil and chaos, frustration and rage, busyness and restlessness, I will make time to write, because only one other thing soothes my soul such as this. There is too much these days for any one person to handle (except Jesus, of course). There is too much noise, too many errands to run, too much stress, too many crazy California drivers, too much heartbreak and too many worries that bombard us from one minute to the next. Shall I go on? Oh, what a girl would give for just five minutes of solace! We wonder why we all have difficulty falling asleep, and no, it’s not because we haven’t given in and bought a sleep number bed yet. We can’t get our bodies to rest at night because we can’t get our minds to rest at night. The worries of yesterday and the anxieties of tomorrow weigh on us like a ton of bricks and in the stillness of the night, our “to do” list is anything but still.

So try to follow my random thoughts for a minute and don’t freak out when I say this. Those crazy Buddhists have it all figured out (well, some of it anyway). Buddhist ideals rest on the challenge of maintaining consciousness of one’s surroundings at any and every given moment. Buddhist philosophy rests on this principle – be here now! When you are sitting, feel the chair beneath you. When you are speaking, listen to your own words. Whatever you do, focus on the physicality of the task and try to align your thoughts with those actions. In other words, THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE DOING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD (ok, maybe the Buddhists would leave out the love of God thing, but you get the picture)! Hmm, easier said than done and even the Buddhists know that, but it’s a good goal to have, right? Ok, here comes that movie trailer guy again…”In a world with too much of everything, where chaos ruled and busyness triumphed, one man came to awaken their hearts, put to sleep their minds, and change the course of history forever.” I love that movie trailer guy! Anyway, in a perfect world our “to do” lists would only get smaller (and our bank accounts larger, but I’ll leave that one for another day). So let me just touch on the “be here now” idea for now.

So I’ve been trying to figure out a way to work Psalm 23 into my writing, because I truly love it and I guess now is as good a time as any. In case you’ve forgotten, Psalm 23:1-6The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

I love this Psalm for so many reasons. It’s all about the peace, comfort, and solitude that only a loving and powerful God can offer and it’s all about how He chooses to bless us with these things daily. On a side note, I love verse 6, “Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life.” Notice it does not say that I will strive for goodness and love or run after them? Goodness and love will follow me. Imagine that…they will come to me wherever I go. God loves me that much. But I digress. What is truly appealing to me is the tense of the scripture. The author is writing in the present tense. He is not concerned about what God did yesterday or what He will do tomorrow. His only concern is what God is doing RIGHT NOW. And right now, God is providing, and leading, restoring, guiding, comforting, and shepherding. God is present at this moment and every moment for that matter. So really, God is the greatest Buddhist who ever lived (LOL). God is the only one who has ever mastered the art of “being here now.”

In the song “Getting Into You” by Relient K, their hearts cry out, “I’ve been a liar and I’ll never amount to the kind of person you deserve to worship you. You say you will not dwell on what I did but rather what I do. You say, ‘I love you and that’s what you are getting yourself into.’” So if God is not concerned with what I did yesterday, why would I care? It seems like wasted energy, doesn’t it? Warren Wiersbe says it this way, “Most Christians are being crucified on a cross between two thieves: Yesterday's regret and tomorrow's worries.” Hmm…thieves, I like that. Yesterday and tomorrow are thieves. They steal our peace, rob us of our joy, and deprive us of the intimacy with God that comes from awareness of His presence at every moment.

So how do I learn to live in the middle? To make my comfort zone the diminutive space between yesterday and tomorrow or better yet, between five minutes ago and five minutes from now? How do I feel the chair beneath me, the air around me, and the keyboard that I’m typing on when my mind draws ever closer to the stack of bills lying on the desk beside me? How do I maintain consciousness of God’s love for me RIGHT NOW and let everything else fade into the background? Here is one perspective: Arthur W. Pink states in an almost urgent tone, “From every pulpit in the land it needs to be thundered forth that God still lives, that God still observes, ... still reigns. Faith is now in the crucible, it is being tested by fire, and there is no fixed... resting place for the heart and mind but in the throne of God. What is needed now, as never before, is a full, positive, constructive setting forth of the Godhood of God.”

The Godhood of God, I like that too. It seems the longer our “to do” list gets and the more crushing the weight of our present circumstances, the less relevance God has to us. In fact, He takes on a whole different role in our lives, doesn’t He? God becomes the punisher, the great unknown, the misunderstood, misrepresented, unloving, unsympathetic, distant, fair-weather friend. He is responsible for our burdens and slow to pull us out from under them. He is selective in His hearing and apathetic about our pain. He is an Alzheimer’s patient, forgetting those He loves. Where, oh where has our great God of compassion and mercy gone? I’ll tell you where He’s gone – nowhere. It’s us who have gone. That author is right, faith is now in the crucible being tested by fire and the real question is, how will we fair? Will we find a resting place for our hearts and minds in the throne of God or in the checkout line at Target? The coffee counter at Starbucks? The big screen at the local theater? God forbid, the bar at the end of the street? Where will our solace lie? Only in the throne of God! So I’ll say it one more time, in case you missed it. COME TO JESUS! Or better yet, stop leaving Him. Lord knows He’s never tried to flee from you. Let’s set forth the Godhood of God, let Him play the role He intended in the first place, and try to believe He really does have it all under control. After all, I’m lucky if I can muster up enough energy to change my cat’s litter, let alone try to change my past or my future.

God, please help me to take back the night. Help me to find rest without the assistance of a million tiny pills. Lead me every second to the middle ground, to the moment between regret and fear, to the throne where your Godhood lies and my need for grace is evident, to the only place my soul finds rest. And when my only focus is on crossing off the items on my list so I can breathe, remind me that only one thing is needed to breathe life into my soul again and that is your love. Help me to live in constant awareness of that love. And in those times of protest when I cry and scream and throw my little temper tantrums, please, drag my sorry butt to Jesus and remind me that I am nothing and life is meaningless without His friendship. And please, oh please, do the same for my friends and family (ok, and all those other sinners too).

The Serenity Prayer

2005-12-13T11:26:00.000-08:00

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

Ok, so I truly believe God has been whispering this simple little prayer in my ear every day for about a month now and how blessed I feel. I was raised in a violent alcoholic home. Chaos was the benchmark of a typical day. There were holes in the walls from my father’s fits of anger, broken sliding glass doors, numerous visits from the police, and believe me, crying was not an activity we reserved for hallmark moments. I think my parents must have separated no less than 10 times until they finally called it quits when I was 17. And the support groups – those silly, sappy, nauseating meetings that reeked of weakness, self-pity and desperation – those were my favorite part of the journey (haha). Let’s see…there was Overcomers, ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics), New Life, Alateen (we actually sang about sunshine at the beginning of the meeting), and many, many more. Friends of Bill W. we certainly were and lifelong friends it seemed at times. And finally the vicious cycle ended a year before I graduated and along with it, the endless stream of rehab hospitals and therapy sessions…at least until I turned 24.

And so, following in my father’s footsteps to some extent, I landed myself in jail with a DUI, a $2,400 fine, a 7-year probation, and 6 AA meetings. And yes, I actually went to the required meetings and trust me, they don’t take well to DUI offenders who don’t necessarily choose to sit in on their little therapy sessions, but are required to do so by the courts. So there I sat, writhing in my seat, uneasy that it felt all too familiar. The 12 step posters on the wall, the faces that longed for a reclamation of jobs and families lost, and the coffee that offered little solace to unanswered cravings. And though the anything-but-fond memories that came flooding back were not unfamiliar, they still seemed to fill me with the same contempt they had 7 years prior. The words on the walls carried no meaning; they were just empty recitations to fill an hour and a half…until this past month.

What amuses me is that I bought a stone tablet engraved with the Serenity Prayer about a year ago and it hangs on my bedroom wall still, yet I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it, let alone stopped to reflect. And so God spoke and for the first time, I listened. And He has spoken it to me every day for about a month now and I’m still listening. But now, I’m understanding. And the little prayer that I used to recite in meetings with my family has now taken hold of my heart and I believe, is directing my steps to some extent.

So let me first share what I love the most about it – the title, the Serenity Prayer. Serenity is defined as a state of being serene, which is to be “clear and free of storms or unpleasant change.” Basically, it’s a prayer to God for peace in the middle of a storm. Sometimes I feel like my entire life is a storm, so to ask God for serenity is to ask God how to deal with my life at any and every given moment. What do I need, God, to get through each day, each hour, and even each minute? And so begins the prayer I’ve come to love. Let me break it down for you the way I believe God is breaking it down for me right now.

God grant me the serenity (God allow me for just one peaceful moment),
To accept the things I cannot change (OTHER PEOPLE),
The courage to change the things I can (ME),
And the wisdom to know the difference (half a brain to get it right).

And suddenly this simple, little prayer I used to recite with disdain and contempt has profound meaning to me.

…to accept the things I cannot change. You will never be able to change someone who is not ready and willing to change. Whatever opinions we have that drive our passions, our beliefs and the way we choose to live our lives are just that – the way WE choose to live OUR lives (or if you really want to break it down, the way God chooses for each of us to live our lives). The path God leads me down may never cross the path of one of His other children. I believe He directs all of our steps, but not necessarily in exactly the same direction. I am free to express my desires and convictions, but that doesn’t mean they ring true for everyone. How much energy have I expended unnecessarily to ensure everyone else around me “gets it” and is on board with my way of thinking? Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t “get it.” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve been way off the mark way more often than I care to admit and didn’t see it until much later, so why would I ever presume to know what’s right for someone else at any given moment? I think we can certainly influence those around us (in positive and negative ways) and I’m all for sharing our beliefs, along with our struggles, our heart cries, our joys and our sorrows, but at the end of the day, we may still end up at opposite ends of the spectrum. Chances are, we’ll spend most of our time waving to each other from across a crowded room, trying to meet somewhere in the middle, but likely running around in circles.

I think for the most part, we assume that most people are dumber than they actually are. We presume - by attempting to sway their philosophies – to be giving them new information, advice that will surely help them along on their quest for maturity, when in actuality, they probably already know what course of action will serve them best. Until they are ready to choose that course, our attempts at educating them are feeble. People hear only what they want to hear (the other stuff gets filtered out – that pesky selective hearing) and only when they want to hear it. Also, our intentions, as noble as they may seem, are probably often flawed and thus, fall on deaf ears. We seek to change the minds of others and get them to align with our ideals, but it’s often under the guise of great concern for their well-being. So let me lay it out for you, plain and simple and please don’t take offense. You may care for someone desperately and even act out of that concern from time to time. You may try tirelessly to steer someone down a path you believe to be much more of a blessing to them. God forbid, you may even be right, but I speak from 17 years of experience and living with an alcoholic when I say…YOU WILL NOT CHANGE SOMEONE WHO IS NOT READY TO CHANGE!!! And so you speak your peace (in love, of course) and you accept that you cannot change anyone but yourself and then you do what is necessary for you to move on with your life. To quote the Beatles, “Let it Be.” And if you still feel the need to speak your peace until you’re blue in the face, speak it to God. He’ll always listen. And here’s something scary – you may find out that it wasn’t the other person that needed changing in the first place.

…the courage to change the things I can. If it seems things are spinning out of control, chances are they are. There are few things in life we can control and countless millions we cannot, rarely our circumstances and certainly not other people. What’s truly ironic and altogether frustrating is that the more we try to control the world around us, the more control we lose. So where is the light in the dark this time? There is one thing we have some semblance of control over – ourselves. And I believe that though asking for courage is a great place to start, the only way to truly gain control over ourselves is to first surrender control to God. And then, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13
I can restrain my anger, contain my frustration, and maintain my composure.
I can listen intently, wait patiently, and speak intelligently.
I can organize my thoughts, criticize my actions, and empathize with weakness.
I can let go of bitterness and hold on to fond memories.
I can receive constructive criticism, respond with humility, and rejoice in lessons learned.
I can stand up for what I believe in, stand down when I know I’m wrong, and stand alone when others have fled.
I can trust in God’s promises, lean on His grace, and rest in His presence.
There are a million words you can substitute for courage in the Serenity Prayer. God grant me the strength to change the things I can, the desire, the will, the energy, even the patience, but the one I love most is faith. Above all else, I need faith to change the things I do have control over.

…and the wisdom to know the difference. This one is pretty self-explanatory. God, help me not to dumb myself down in this area. Learning to surrender our pride and accept that there are certain things in life we cannot change is no small feat, but the ability to recognize those things is paramount. And even greater still is the ability to overcome our tendency to deceive ourselves and switch the two. So often, we convince ourselves that we are unable to change as a mechanism to excuse our actions and deem ourselves a “victim.” Then we further complicate the issue by turning our efforts outward and convincing ourselves that we can change others. And so the vicious cycle continues. The only way to break the cycle is to shift our need for control back to where it belongs, to determine how we can change ourselves to adapt and cope with the circumstances we are faced with. Wisdom in this area and genuine honesty with ourselves go hand in hand. If we are honest about our motives and courageous enough to affect change from within, then God has truly granted us the wisdom to know the difference.

God, keep me clear and free of storms. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. And please do the same for my friends and family. Jesus, be the only Jesus they’ll ever meet and meet them where they are.

A Loveless Eternity

2005-11-18T10:08:00.000-08:00

What if we’re wrong? What if we’ve got it all backwards and we all end up in Hell? Well, according to all my non-believing friends, that’s where all the hot guys and girls are going to be, so why not? If Hell is an endless party, I’ll be the first one in line, but if there’s a slight chance it’s something less than that, I’m fighting tooth and nail for a ticket on a different bus. So what exactly is Hell going to be like (and may I please never find this out firsthand!)? It’s been depicted as this black hole of torture with fire that never ceases, people screaming out in pain and terror, and the whole show is run by this crazy little guy with horns, a pitchfork, and a fetish for basking in the suffering of others. Maybe, but what if we’re wrong? What if none of those things are there? What if, just what if…

It isn’t what WILL be in Hell that will be of great consequence, but rather what will NOT be there – God’s love. Have you ever been in love, so deeply in love that the mere thought of being apart seems too intense to bear? Every second feels like an eternity. Your mind is consumed with thoughts of nothing but returning to your true love again, feeling their gentle embrace and gazing into their eyes. Here’s the worst part – you cannot even sleep to numb the pain momentarily. Now imagine that fear of separation actually becomes a reality. Imagine you find yourself in Hell when you die and your Jesus, your savior, the lover of your soul, is nowhere to be found. You are in a loveless eternity, because in Hell, the presence of evil is not quite as disturbing as the absence of good (God). This scares me much more than some pesky flame that I cannot extinguish. The idea of being sans Jesus forever is much more than frightening. It’s excruciating, tormenting, a thirst that cannot be quenched by any worldly object or person, not that either of those things would be available to you in Hell anyway. I keep hearing the voice of that guy who announces movie trailers…”In a world without love, one man stood at the door and knocked, but no one listened. Now, they will have to live with the knowledge that while He walked amongst them, they chose to follow Fleetwood Mac and Not Jesus – they chose to ‘go their own way.’” I hate that guy and his crazy voice of doom, but seriously, he’s right. Love walks amongst us now, but not everyone will reap the benefits of that forever.

So what are we in the afterlife if not entangled in a passionate love affair? Well, Paul describes this scenario in 1 Corinthians 13: 1-3. “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.” In a loveless eternity, we are nothing and we gain nothing. I think this is the only thing that inspires in me the urge to share Christ with people. And I don’t mean to shove religion down their throats, but to share my Jesus with them. It’s about as close to evangelism as I get. I don’t have a desire to convert the world or win a million souls for Jesus. Maybe I should, but I don’t. When my heart breaks for non-believers, it’s because they don’t know my Jesus. They don’t know how much He loves them, how warm His hugs are and how sweet His kisses are. They don’t know what lengths He would (and did) go to for them, how wide His arms stretch, how ruthlessly He pursues them, and how long He would hang on a tree just to get their attention. If only they knew.

Lord, let them know. In your loudest, deepest movie trailer voice, speak to them and say, “In a world where love slept, one man came to awaken their senses.” Lord, awaken their senses. Let the burden of a loveless eternity be enough to scare the Hell out of them…and out of me and out of my friends and my family…and the people who work at the DMV, Michael Moore and Bill Maher, people with road rage, sports rage, and buyer’s remorse, terrorists, pessimists, and egoists, Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Oprah Winfrey and the homeless. Ah heck, scare the hell out of everyone!

Love 'em or leave 'em (and no, you can't kill 'em)

2005-11-01T10:06:00.000-08:00

Marriage has been on my mind a lot lately and not just for obvious reasons. I’ve had the good fortune to witness both new relationships, exciting and hopeful, and relationships on the verge of failure, fighting for one last breath. And yes, I do consider it good fortune that I’ve been a party to both. It sounds strange, I know, but through both, I’ve been challenged to consider further this notion of true love (blegh). Just kidding. I would love to believe that love truly is terminal and that once you’ve found it, you never lose it, but let’s face it, love doesn’t always last. People fall in and out of love on a daily basis. It’s as fleeting as my lunch hour on a Monday. So if love is not enough to make a relationship last, what hope do we have? Let me start with a little definition (ok, a HUGE definition).

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 defines love like this: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

So basically, no one I know has ever been in love, because I have never in my life witnessed a love like this between two human beings, at least not 100% of the time. So maybe this love is not our love for each other, but the only one perfect love that exists – God’s love for us. God is the only one who has ever truly got it right. He knows what love is all about because He is the author of every love story and the singer of every love song. He loved first, He will love last, and every second in between will not just be sprinkled with His love, but flooded with His love for us. I am the one God loves. He’s pretty much nailed down what it means to be in love with us (no pun intended). We are the ones who need a little work in this area - at least I know I do - and that is why the issue has been hanging over my head lately like a ten-ton brick. How am I possibly going to know how to make my marriage work when I can barely remember to feed my cat every day? How do I survive those times in my marriage when my husband and I wonder if we married the wrong person? Those moments (perhaps even years at a time) when we both want out? Those days when I cannot even mutter the word love, let alone continue to feel it? How do I hang on to a commitment to honor and cherish when it feels like a commitment to an insane asylum?

I watched a movie last weekend called The Story of Us, starring Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer. The movie was about their marriage, from beginning to end. Of course, the first few years were nothing short of fulfilling, highlighting the births of their children, the purchase of their first home, and all those other warm, fuzzy moments we believe give life meaning. And they do. Then they hit the tough times and everything starts to crumble. They fight constantly, avoid dealing with each other’s feelings, and harbor resentment toward each other, which eventually leads to their decision to divorce. Years of doing “life” have worn them both out and they can do nothing but throw up their hands, call it a loss, and learn to accept the reality of their situation. What little love they had been clinging to had vanished and they believed the wounds were too deep to heal.

And there you have it folks, I believe THAT is a better representation of love than all those crazy fairy tale versions of it. I don’t expect some knight in shining armor to come sweep me off my feet (cause I’m pretty sure he’d just drop me on my head somewhere down the road anyway). I’m not waiting for Prince Charming to carry me off into the sunset (San Clemente is just fine). And I’m pretty confident that my days of being deemed “snow white” are long gone. So what is love then, if it isn’t pina coladas and getting caught in the rain? Mother Theresa said, “True love is love that causes us pain. That is why we must pray for the courage to love.” Ok, so it’s more along the lines of having a route canal. So what I really need is courage? I’ll work on that one. In the meantime, back to God’s perfect love for us and the problem I have with it…

If God’s love is so perfect and so unfailing and so trustworthy, why does it feel so non-existent sometimes, or even worse, painful, confusing and fleeting? Why is it often frustrating, rather than comforting? Simply stated, why don’t we feel loved all the time if He loves us so much? Here’s a verse that I think is supposed to shed some light on the matter, but offers no real comfort to me (sorry, it’s true). 1 Corinthians 13:12 (yes, the same chapter I alluded to earlier, all about God’s perfect love for us). “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” So basically, it’s another one of those irritating references to the “big picture.” It’s supposed to remind us to be still, to trust in God’s greater plan, to continue to believe in His plans for us. Today we see dimly – someday it’ll all make sense – yada yada yada! I want answers and I want them NOW!!! But I digress. God’s word is trustworthy and His love even more so.

So where do we go from here? Are you ready for this? I’m actually going to try to tie it all together now (God’s love and our worldly love). In The Story of Us, Bruce and Michelle pick us their children at summer camp and are ready to sit them down and share their decision to divorce. Bruce does some stupid dance that embarrasses his son and all at once, Michelle realizes what her marriage is truly all about. She sees every moment they’ve shared, good and bad, every up and every down, every fight and every hug and she is overcome with emotion…and yes, love. You see, the only way I can accurately define love is “history.” And history encompasses everything. It’s the anniversaries and the silent treatments. It’s the candlelight dinners and the TV dinners. It’s the intimate moments we cherish and the pet peeves that drive us crazy. It’s the late night talks and the miscommunications. It’s everything. And if history really repeats itself, then we can expect more of the same for the rest of our lives. We will fight and make up; we will doubt and question; we will cry and laugh, but whatever we do, we should do it together, because that is what love is about. My relationship with God is no different. I cannot simply believe He does not love me because I don’t always feel loved. I have a history with God and that is what keeps me hanging on. They aren’t always fond memories, but they are memories nonetheless. My commitments in this life are pretty pathetic. My relationships with my family and friends, my interests and hobbies, my career path - all of those things are fleeting, but God’s commitment to me is everlasting. It’s solid ground, so try as I may to run from love, it just keeps finding me again. Damn it, I hate that! It’s like being the main character in a neverending novel. I can’t choose to opt out; I’m stuck in it until the very last page is turned and I don’t get to choose the ending either. All I can do is sit tight and go along for the ride.

There’s a poem called “Tonight I Can Write” by Pablo Neruda that always haunts me. He cries out, “Love is so short. Forgetting is so long.” Doesn’t it seem like those moments in which we actually feel loved by God seem to last about as long as a sneeze, but the time we spend longing for that love again seems to last an eternity? And THAT is history…remembering where we’ve been and looking forward to where we’re going…together!

Lord, love my friends and family and help them love each other. Give them the courage to love and the strength to hang on when they don’t. Give them all an A+ in history and an F- in recess. Chain them when they feel like running and unchain them when they feel like dancing. Help them all to stop looking for the perfect love and realize that they already have it. And when they are struggling to make their commitments work…Breathe for them when they feel they can’t take another breath, speak through them when they have nothing left to say, lead them when they’ve lost their way, and sing to them when the music fades.

Up the hill

2005-10-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

I walked a mile down the hill,
Far from the tree, far from your will.

I shed this skin, a broken reed,
And donned a mask that would not bleed.

I walked a mile to the shore,
Proclaiming riches, shunning poor.

I chose my course and would not shift,
I raised the sails and set adrift.

A wayward wanderer, tossed about,
Filled with fear, consumed by doubt.

In spite of you, I stifled pleas.
In spite of me, you calmed the seas.

This broken spirit, prone to roam,
You gently lifted and carried home.

With wounded pride, back on dry land,
I changed my course and took your hand.

I walked a mile up the hill,
So much in need and bleeding still.

And in that place where we oft we meet,
I laid my burdens at your feet.

Now when my heart begins to stray,
Back down the hill and far away,
Tethered to this tree, I’ll pray,
Sweet Jesus, help me find my way.

A Nursery Rhyme and a Mercy Rhyme

2005-10-03T08:34:00.000-07:00

A Nursery Rhyme
Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

A Mercy Rhyme
Jack and Jill went up a hill to empty out their pails. Jack was crowned and Jill was found beneath the thorns and nails.

I've got your "joy, joy, joy" right here!

2005-09-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

You know those Christians who seem to be at peace with every circumstance that comes their way? The ones who boast the “peace of God” in the midst of a challenging situation? The ones who really have figured out what it means to “consider it pure joy they face trials of many kinds?” You know the type – the ones with the joy, joy, joy, down in their hearts? Blegh! I love them dearly, but I’m not particularly fond of them sometimes. I actually heard someone say recently that those people are “walking in the light,” as all Christians should. They implied that their peace and joy in the midst of trials was a true testimony to their strong faith and I had to object (cause that’s just how I am – I think we should rattle the cage every now and again). I would never go so far as to say that they are not genuine in their state of mind. I am certain they do feel God’s peace and are truly content. I’d even suggest that their faith is strong during those moments, because to deny that would be extremely judgmental and I’m sure everyone knows that I rarely rush to judgment (hehehe). What I do take objection to is the idea that THEY are the ones who walk in the light and the rest of us slackers need to pick up the pace. Ok, so maybe they didn’t use those words, but the implication was there. At the very least, I think the idea is worthy of closer examination.

Somewhere in the course of the conversation, the statement was made that Christians who have figured out how to find that joy in the midst of suffering are a pleasure to be around, that their joy sometimes rubs off on us when we aren’t so “chipper,” and that they are positive examples for our faith. A little background info…we had been previously discussing how our complaining and arguing during times of tribulation is sinful and how it can corrupt and compromise the faith of others (people who witness our temper tantrums). Then the conversation rolled around to how joyful Christians actually encourage our faith, not compromise it. So, me being me, I was forced to share my discomfort with the idea and assert that most often when I encounter Christians who appear to be joyful all the time, my faith is frustrated more than it is encouraged. There’s this nagging inside me that taunts, “No one is happy all the time, especially not when we’re struggling with some test of our faith.” And again I say, I’m not assuming their emotions are ingenuine; I’m only dispelling my reaction to their emotions.

Ok, so if you believe God in 1 Samuel 16:7 when He says, “Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart,” then isn’t it possible our definitions of joy and peace might be a little one-sided? I mean, we’ve decided that when someone is suffering and they appear to be happy, they must really be trusting God. They must be very confident in their faith. But truly, only God knows their hearts and where they stand in relation to Him. So why would I model my own faith after someone else’s reaction to struggles if I don’t know what lies beyond the surface? I’d rather rely on what I know to be true, not what I assume to be true. And this much I know…I know that God made us all different, with different reactions and different emotions and different approaches to life. And I believe He did that intentionally, to encourage us to spend time getting to know each other. We don’t fit a mold and I think that’s the beauty of fellowship – to discover what is unique in each of us and celebrate it. I mean honestly, even Jesus wasn’t walking around singing, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy down in my heart” at every minute, every day. He grieved. He was ambivalent, nonchalant, and even angry at times. But that is what attracted people to Him, his ability to reach different people on different levels.

So is it possible for me to actually compromise someone else’s faith? Hmmm…gonna go with ABSOLUTELY on this one! The minute I stop acknowledging that I need Jesus to help me through; I have truly misrepresented my God. When I’m going through some test or trial and I feel the need to complain or argue, where exactly is my focus? If every trial is from God and I’m complaining about my trials, then aren’t I complaining about God? Am I showing an unbelieving world that God is a mean, mean Grinch who seeks to hurt me as often as possible? Or am I complaining to God and asking Him for guidance? Am I trusting in His goodness and His plans for me? (Don’t I always seem to bring it back to this?) I guess what really feels unsettling is why I run to everyone else to validate my frustration. I complain because I want someone to acknowledge that I am justified in feeling wronged. I want support in my anger and the truth is that most often, it isn’t worthy of validation. And what I should be doing is running to God for comfort. WHY DO I DO THAT? When something wonderful happens to me, I call the one person I know will share in my excitement. And when I’m hurting, I call the one person who knows how to comfort and encourage me. Why is that one person rarely God? If I believed in His love for me, He would be my “one and only.” He would be the one I run to and the result of that intimacy would be genuine, uncompromised faith - trust in the middle of trials.

1 Timothy 4:4-5 says, “For everything God Created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer.” Now there’s a thought. That means, even the trials and tests and suffering are good, because they are from God. I guess it’s all in the perspective. If everything God creates is good, then those circumstances I complain about are actually meant for good. So I should be receiving them with thanksgiving, because ultimately, my faith will be strengthened and God will prove Himself faithful once again. Wow, if only I lived that way on a consistent basis. God would truly be my one and only. But I digress; my faithless heart leads me astray.

We are all going to experience pain and suffering. Some of us will appear at peace in the midst of it. Some of us will appear to be crumbling under the weight of our circumstances. Some of us will appear unphased. Aren't appearances deceiving? So is it our shiny, happy, smiling faces during these times that matter or is it where we stand in relation to God? Am I turning my back on Him or am I running to Him? Can I rejoice in His love and faithfulness without rejoicing in my circumstances? I mean really, if He’s testing me, at least He hasn’t forgotten about me. One final thought. When our faith is tested and we “pass” the test by continuing to trust in God, our faith is proven. So really, it’s His continual faithfulness to us that lends credibility to our faith. Hmmm…God is good.

God be my God, my one and only. Take the place of all those things I turn to for comfort (even the mall). Let my wandering heart find its way back home. Help me to rejoice in your love. When all around has fallen, let your loving arms uplift me. Help me not to compromise the faith of another by failing to run to you. And please, oh please, do the same for my friends.

Is their life beyond the red letters?

2005-09-27T10:25:00.000-07:00

One of the women in my Bible Study was sharing an experience she had in Mongolia last year. She was on a missions trip and was instructed to meet with a group of women every day for one week straight to share the gospel message and hopefully lead them to salvation through Christ. This was her first missions trip and there was a huge language barrier, so to say she was slightly intimidated is a huge understatement. She prayed for God to give her the words to reach these women. At first, they seemed very disinterested, as if they were there out of obligation and not because they wanted to be. They were very distant and paid little attention to her as she spoke. Again, she was apprehensive and cried out to God. On the last day of the trip, she set aside the agenda given to her and began to share some very intimate glimpses into her life. She told the women of her husband’s recent infidelity with his secretary (they worked at a church together), his lack of interest in their marriage, and ultimate decision to leave her. She fought back tears as she related her feelings about the situation – her fears and her sadness – and struggled to maintain composure. She had a difficult time deciding just how much, if any, of the story to share, but felt God had led her to divulge to these women. And so she did. And a group of 15 women who had previously maintained a cold distance between themselves and her, suddenly changed. They literally shifted their chairs closer to her, forming a tight circle and stared intently, hanging on every word. At the close of the evening, they thanked her for sharing and immediately left the study. They returned several hours later with gifts they had purchased in the local shops and those who had no money actually went home to find some small token of their appreciation for her honesty. She had finally reached them, on the last night, in the eleventh hour. As she shared this experience with the women of our Bible Study, she added that many of them chose to give their lives to God that week and gave God the glory for strengthening her through this test of faith.

So as I pondered this experience, the same theme kept ringing in my mind. Is it possible to share the gospel without sharing the actual word of God? Can we share the gospel through our struggles – our thoughts, feelings, emotions and weaknesses? By just relating to someone and meeting them on their level? By being genuine and open and sharing our life experiences with them? So often when we are approaching non-believers, we go straight to the Bible - which isn’t necessarily a bad thing - but seem to miss out on something in the process. The protestors at the abortion clinics dispel the word of God to broken, lost souls who may need a friend more than a pamphlet telling them when a fetus becomes a human being. Sometimes an alcoholic may need a ride home more than the scriptural foundation for why drunkenness is a sin. And maybe sometimes it’s more important to try to understand why someone of another faith has chosen their belief system rather than convince them ours is the ‘right’ way. If we truly believe God has the power to save souls, maybe we should take an active interest in the lives of others, instead of trying to get them interested in what we believe. I think we can SHOW them God’s love on occasion. You know, focus on the works of God and not necessarily the words of God. Of course, every situation is different and calls for a different course of action (or reaction or no action). But I believe that’s what following Christ is all about. I mean, can we really decide how to approach someone or learn to relate to them if we haven’t taken the time to listen to them? You probably wouldn’t spend three hours sharing how pleased you are with the outcome of the latest election to a friend who lives in a communist nation. And I’d venture to guess you wouldn’t brag about your shiny, new Mazarati to the child you sponsor in a third world country. Christ met his followers on THEIR level – heard the cries of their hearts – and addressed them accordingly.

I think sharing the cry of our hearts and the touch of our hands and the warmth of our shoulders may be received a lot better in certain situations than reciting scripture verbatim. Don’t the red letters scream at all of us, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest?” They don’t necessarily admonish us to, “Read this to everyone you encounter who does not believe and all good things will be yours.” They offer comfort and a soft place to land, not always a jumping off point. Lead them to Jesus and He will speak. How we lead them to Jesus is where God’s discernment comes in. Do we share the Bible alone or do we share ourselves and how the word of God has changed us? Sometimes I get so exhausted in my own ‘walk’ with God and have nothing leftover to share anyway. Nichole Nordeman wrote a song describing the conflict between how perfect we strive to be for God and how short we fall. The chorus sings to us all that we can never be good enough, but God takes us as we are because He is the only one who can. There is one line that I love that really hits home for me. “At the end of myself, at the end of the day, I can find little else but the courage to say, ‘I need you, that’s all.’” Yep, that’s pretty much it for me. Sometimes it’s hard for us to muster up enough energy to keep believing ourselves, let alone try to find the right words to help someone else climb aboard the God train. So in those times, maybe sharing ourselves, our struggle and our human weakness is just as appropriate as sharing the word of God.

I’ll leave you with this…isn’t it our humanity that points to God’s divinity? Just a thought.

Can I get a witness?

2005-09-23T09:19:00.000-07:00

I’ve been mulling over this whole idea of “blowing our witness” for God. I recently heard a woman discussing her son’s downward spiral of adultery, lies and complacence toward God. She alluded to the fact that through his actions (leaving his family and choosing to move in with another woman, outside of marriage), he had blown his witness. This grieved her terribly and it made me begin to question what exactly it is that we find so discomforting during these times. More specifically, what does it really mean to “blow our witness?”

If my witness is blown every time I sin, I am in serious trouble. I think if we try to approach the issue in terms of identifying and overcoming our sin, we become more like defendants than witnesses. We are looking for ways to justify our actions or at the very least, to explain them to an accusing world. Webster defines a witness as ‘one that gives evidence’ or ‘one who has personal knowledge of something.’ So what is it that we are called to bear witness to? What evidence are we to share as Christ-followers? If my witness is solely based on my sin, I’m defeated before I’ve even opened my mouth. I don’t need to testify about my sin; my actions speak loud enough. The evidence of my sin is pretty much laid out there for all to see and believe me, if I don’t put it out there, someone will find it sooner or later anyway (a former pastor likes to call these people ‘sin sniffers’).

So if my sin is not the be all and end all, what is this personal knowledge of which I am to bear witness? Could it be…God’s love and grace? Ok, so perhaps I am supposed to divulge my sin (maybe not all the gory details, but some allusion to the fact that I’m not perfect), but in so doing, do I not also express my need for Jesus? I think the greater witness is not that I’m fatally flawed, but that God is not and in my imperfection, my need for His love and grace prevails. So I pose this question to all of you and hope you’ll toss it around a little bit. Do we blow our witness by sinning or by failing to recognize and admit that we need Jesus? I suppose the two are somewhat interchangeable. It’s pretty inevitable that I will sin, but I think that to do so without simultaneously crying out to God for help would be a greater detriment to myself and again, send me right back to the defendant’s chair. No thanks, I’d rather be a witness to God’s love and grace, not a defendant fending off blows. So my prayer for all of you today is that you truly don’t blow your witness. We stand adored, not accused. Cry out to Him, fall down before Him, and never stop needing Him.

More than a feeling

2005-09-21T17:47:00.000-07:00

I began a six-week Bible study last Tuesday night and I think I’m kind of enjoying it. It’s pretty much the same as all the other Bible studies I’ve done – pretty basic stuff you learn early on – but basic is exactly what I need right now. I have a difficult time in women’s studies, because they sometimes feel very insincere and “plastic” (sorry, they do). It often feels like we claim to believe everything we’re “supposed” to believe, and sometimes, the reality of our faith falls through the cracks. I’ll explain. It seems to me that we excel at vocalizing our faith in God, but fail to vocalize those things we believe we shouldn’t feel as Christians. You know, the fact that we don’t always trust God; we don’t always believe He cares for us, and sometimes we believe He’s just plain mean. The warm, fuzzy things are easy to claim, but the negative feelings toward God that often overwhelm us get swept under the rug. So as I listened to the women in my group share their desire to trust God and to rely on His promises and to believe He has their best interests at heart, I came to a sudden realization that rattled me a little and yet, gave me an astounding hope I haven’t had in a really long time. Here it is kids…faith is not a feeling – at least not for me.

My Tuesday night study is on “The Testing of Your Faith.” We spent the first week sharing the times in our lives when our faith was tested and how we responded to the test. Nothing really struck me as new revelation; I felt like I had heard it all before. We’ve all been tested; we’ve probably all felt the same anger, resentment, hurt, frustration and depression during those times. Some of us have probably been fortunate enough to have found peace – through God – in the midst of it. Me? Not so much. Well, I’m sure I’ve had peace at some point during a struggle, but I probably attributed it to something or someone other than God and I think my definition of peace is probably skewed also. This week in my group, we explored the testing of our faith a little deeper and I was actually enlightened and consequently, encouraged. Somewhere in the midst of discussing what we believe – or better yet, what we fail to believe – when we’re tested, this idea of faith not being based solely on feelings crept up on me slowly and the longer I let it sink in, the more encouraged I felt.

I’m speaking only for myself when I say that faith is more often a choice than a feeling. When I’m burdened by some event or series of events, I stop believing. I don’t stop believing in God, but I stop believing that He cares for me and I stop believing in His promises. And that is an even more dangerous place to be. As a daughter cries to her father when she isn’t getting her way, “You don’t love me!” Such is my relationship with God. So I have to ask myself, “Am I going to wait for the warm, fuzzy feelings towards God to return, or am I going to choose to believe that He knows what’s best for me?” Faith is not a feeling; faith is a choice. When someone wrongs me and I confess to forgive them, I don’t always instantly feel forgiveness in such a way that I am able to forget the pain they’ve caused. Forgiveness is a choice. I choose to forgive and hope that trust will be re-built and the pain will soon diminish.

My feelings are very deceiving at times. The idea that I don’t need to rely on them when I’m being tested is actually quite comforting. When times are tough, I can choose to believe God cares for me and then rest on the hope that everything will work out for the best and I will be ok. I don’t mean to minimize the pain and suffering we feel when we’re being tested, but to shift the focus from my feelings to my response to those feelings seems to lift a burden off me I haven’t been able to shake in quite some time.

In 1 Thessalonians 2:4, Paul tells the church at Thessalonica, “We speak as men approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please men but God, who tests our hearts.” Wow! When God is testing our faith, He is actually testing our hearts. You mean, He may actually be more concerned about the condition of my heart than the actual circumstances I am trying to overcome? So when I’m tested, is my heart crying out for God or is it shutting down to Him and everyone else around me? Hmmm…do I really need to answer that one? It’s the difference between viewing God as the cause of my suffering and viewing Him as my ally and my friend, the one who will carry me through my suffering. Do I need Him or am I blaming Him?

Jesus asks Peter in Matthew 16:15, “Who do you say I am?” Is it possible when God is testing me that He is asking me the same question? How I am feeling about my present situation may matter much less at that moment than what I believe about God. Do I believe He is showing up in the midst of my pain? Do I believe He loves me? Or do I believe He has left the building? I guess a more appropriate question for me now is will I choose to believe He loves me or will I choose to believe He has failed me? I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes the blame game feels more vindicating when we’re hurting, but it isn’t always about feelings, is it? And again I cry, “Father, where else am I to go? This world has nothing for me.”

Ok, so maybe this all seems very elementary, but frankly, I’ve always been too consumed by my feelings to look beyond them. And I truly believe that this time, it is God who is opening my eyes. And the beauty of it all is this: once again, for the first time in, oh, let’s say…forever, my response to this “discipline” was to utter, “I love you, Lord. Maybe not as perfectly as I should, but I really do love you.” And I did. This morning on my way to work, I actually felt led to cry out to God and I still do.

Artist Lenny Bruce said, “There is no ‘what should be,’ there is only what is.” Is it possible for us to forget the ‘what should be’ moments long enough to recognize the ‘what is’ in our lives? My ‘should be’ moments are usually characterized by an internal struggle with my emotions. I am attempting to sort out my emotions long enough to make sense of the situation and feel okay with it. But a ‘what is’ moment is not based on feeling okay with anything. My God says to be still and know that He is God. Knowledge is a product of our minds, not necessarily our hearts, which is where our feelings dwell. So what if, when my faith is being tested, I could do just that? I could simply be still and know, beyond all comprehension, that He is not just God, but He is my God and He cares for me deeply.

So who do you say that He is? Is He your creator? Is he your comforter? Is He your savior? And most importantly, is He your friend? Lord, help me to see beyond my complex feelings to the simple truth. Help me to be still and know.

Ask and you shall be further confused

2005-09-04T17:40:00.000-07:00

So I’ve been feeling very hypocritical lately. I read some of the things I’ve written and I think, “I don’t really feel that way”, or “That’s not what I truly believe.” A lot of it reads as if I’m in complete agony and despair and trust me, I’m not. I feel as if I’m dispelling someone else’s truth and that bothers me. If I’m going to write with passion, I want to feel truly connected to my words and know that they are an accurate picture of where I am at, not just a way to connect with others. So after weeks of introspect and soul searching, I think I’ve got a clearer picture of where I stand in relation to God.

I got rear ended on the freeway about 2 weeks ago and I haven’t felt much like writing in quite some time. My car is pretty much totaled, my neck is severely sprained (so says my chiropractor), as is my back, and I’m terrified of driving. Here’s the strange part. Maybe I’m not coping, but I feel nothing (short of a pain in my neck). I’m basically numb. This strikes me as quite odd, considering that I – a girl who wears band-aids just for attention – am usually quite content to play the “woe is me” game with anyone who’ll listen. I really didn’t share the accident with the masses the way I usually do, but those who did find out had some words of comfort to offer. Apparently, God is not punishing me. God did not cause this to happen, nor does He wish me to suffer. God was not responsible for my car accident, the $9,000 damage to my car or the injuries that are healing slowly. God seems to have been looking the other way. And so I wonder…if every good and perfect gift is from above, if all good things are from God, if the slightest miracle produces a “To God be the glory” from the crowd…why then, are the bad things not from Him also? Doesn’t the sun shine on us all and the rain fall on us all? Didn’t God create them both? It seems to be that if He is to thank for every good blessing we get, He should take every bad thing that comes our way too. And what has really been eating away at me is this – who cares if the bad stuff is from Him? Is He wrong to discipline me out of love? Is he wrong to let bad stuff happen to me so that I might be strengthened by it? I’m not even sure if that’s what’s going on here, because what I’m really feeling is numb. I don’t feel persecuted, punished, picked on, or hard-pressed, but I don’t feel blessed either.

Sometimes faith feels like a game, and we are perpetual losers until the game ends. When this life is over, we win. We get to rest in the presence of God forever. I do believe that. I believe He is our creator and the creator of everything under the sun. It’s the life experiences I have a hard time with. Lately I’ve been feeling as if God is hardly concerned with what happens to us, but greatly concerned about where we stand in relation to Him. Everything under the sun is meaningless, right? Life is a series of random events, things we have little control over. The only things I feel I can control are my feelings toward Him. And frankly, I’m pretty tired of feeling numb. I’d like to get back to that place of wonder that I know I have been at before. I want to be closer to my Jesus. I want a happy medium between the anger I used to feel and the numbness I feel now. I want (yes, I’m gonna say it), I want a healthy balance. I think it’s possible the message of Christianity has been both over saturated and oversimplified. The salvation message is about as simple as it gets. You either believe it and live forever or you don’t and spend an eternity sans Jesus. There is no you in matters of salvation; there is only Christ crucified. But as far as all the other tenets of faith are concerned, I just don’t believe it’s that easy, and at this stage in the game, I’m not sure God intended it to be easy. And truly, I DON’T WANT IT TO BE THAT EASY.

I don’t want to be a neurotic crazy lady standing in the streets screaming, “Why, Why? Oh, the horror!” But I think confusion is the journey, the relationship. God is an enigma and if He were not, why would we have a need to pursue Him? It’s His mystery that keeps me yearning to know Him more. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want from my faith and here it is, plain and simple. I want to be confused. I want to be challenged. I want to be asked the tough questions I’d prefer to put out of my mind. I want to dive into the dangerous subjects I try tirelessly to dance around. I want to struggle with my sin and feel convicted, which I haven’t in a really long time. I don’t want to have all the answers, but I sure as Hell want to discuss the questions ad nauseum. When Jesus spoke, a lot of people were confused, but didn’t that make them pursue Him more? Didn’t they want desperately to understand Him? So let me be perfectly clear. MY wants are not for everyone. There are countless people who want nothing short of simplicity and that’s fine, but that’s not my cup of tea.

You see, a lot of people are driven by emotion and for them, I think faith is probably not a stretch, but I’m not one of those people. I don’t stand beneath the cross and shudder, because I’m pretty far removed from my emotions most of the time. The cross feels quite fictional to me about 98% of the time. I am very analytical. I love a good debate. I don’t want to accept anything at face value. I am driven by reason and logic and let’s be honest, there is nothing logical about Christianity! It doesn’t make sense; God doesn’t make sense. So what do I do without blind faith and without reason to rest on? How do I get to the hope when I want desperately for it to make sense first?

I’ve been wrestling with this notion of entering Heaven as a child. What does that mean? I think I’ve always believed it to mean, well, basically, dumb ourselves down. We should stop doubting and running and questioning and just accept that what He says is true because He is the parent and He said so! I don’t believe that anymore. Children are not dumb; they are inquisitive and I think that is what God intended. Haven’t you ever listened to a child who is just beginning to discover that there is a world around them? “Why is the sky blue? Where do babies come from? Why do birds fly? Why can’t I have everything I want?” They want it all to make sense. They want to understand where they fit into the puzzle. They want to know there is a reason for it all. And what do parents want? They don’t want their children to have all the answers. They want them, above all else, to know that they are loved. Isn’t that what God wants for us? I think we are to enter Heaven as children, not dumb and blindly trusting, but adoring Jesus and being adored by Him. It isn’t the questions that matter, nor is it the answers. That stuff is meaningless. What matters is that we seek Him. That we come to Him. That we spend a lifetime longing for someone who is somewhat of an enigma. And I want that again. When I have children of my own, I don’t want them to go to church to learn what they should believe or how they should live their lives. I want them to learn that they have a Jesus and that He doesn’t always make sense, but that’s what makes Him fun and exciting.

I think God has me exactly where He wants me and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. I may never FEEL moved again, but that’s ok. Honestly, I think God knows me pretty well. He knows I thrive on chaos and confusion. He knows I love to challenge everything and make waves. He knows I live for the journey, not the destination. He knows I love the downs sometimes more than the ups and the lows sometimes more than the highs. And He knows that I will always come home to Him, no matter where my feeble mind leads me. And now I’ll tell you what I know. I know there are no other arms that could stretch wide enough to cover my failures. I know there is no one here on Earth who will never fail me. I know there was no greater sacrifice and there never will be. And I know that He loves me and that’s ok, at least for now.

Oh, one more thing. As far as my accident was concerned. I think I’m done with “some way” prayers. No more, “God, if there is some way you can help me out of this one, some way you could make this happen for me, some way you could fix this, confirm this or shut the door on this one, some way….” Perhaps I should’ve been more specific.

May God confuse you all so you'll never stop seeking!

Shades of gray

2005-08-10T16:17:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things about this Christianity business that don’t quite sit well with my soul. I wish I could say I believed with every fiber of my being that the Bible meant EXACTLY what it says, and I will gladly profess to believe that, but deep down, I have too many doubts to feel confident in that belief. I’m just not sure if the God of the Bible is as black and white as many Christians claim He is. I think He is definitely firm about the Calvary road and our hope for salvation, but as far as the non-essentials of the faith go, sometimes I think He’s messin’ with us! Let me first state that the thoughts that rattle around in this feeble mind of mine are just that – thoughts and most often, doubts that I love to toss out there into the great unknown. Add to that the rebellious spirit within me and the weird fascination I have with conflict and chaos, and I’m pretty much nothing but trouble. Basically, don’t take offense; I’m just expressing a feeling that is in no way carved in stone. Alrighty then…

I think it’s possible that God may be a lot less concerned about the sins we do (and do not) commit here on Earth and a lot more concerned about how we deal with people – the ones who agree with our philosophies and the ones who march to a different beat. In the end, I believe what we did FOR God will matter much less than what we did WITH those we came in contact with. And by what we did, I don’t mean all the fabulous sacrifices we made, the lavish gifts we gave or the profound wisdom we offered in their time of need. I mean, the way we related to them, the grace we extended, the love and mercy and understanding we attempted to extend. Do we really try to express God’s love or do we use it to guilt them into buying into our agenda? Do we accept them as children who hurt and act out of that hurt or do we fault them for their shortcomings, differing opinions and non-conformity?

Ok, so maybe it’s not the best movie in the world, but I’m actually going to use the movie Saved to illustrate this point. If you can get past how inappropriate you may believe the movie is, you may discover that there’s truth beneath the humor. Perhaps that may be why so many people find it offensive. In one scene, the main character, Hillary, throws her Bible at a former friend and screams, “You are backsliding into the gates of Hell. I am filled with Christ’s love.” Come on now, look beyond the blatant and pointed attack on super-religious Christians and try to see for just one moment, what struck ME about this scene. One thought screamed at me over and over again as I watched this scene unfold. God’s word, the Bible, is a love story. Jesus is the love song God sings to each one of us. And Hillary’s friend sums it up perfectly in her response, “THIS (the Bible) is not a weapon.” Do I use the Bible as a weapon to alienate non-believers and condemn believers or do I read it as the love story I believe God intended it to be, a love story written just for me?

Ok, movie reference #2…in Pleasantville, the town is in an uproar when their black and white existence is threatened by splashes of color. Things begin to change and their lives can no longer be contained within the neatly packaged box they’ve lived in for years. When change threatens to disrupt familiarity, chaos ensues. The possibility of anything unexpected and unfamiliar is simply frightening and must be stopped. Here’s what I see as the beauty in the story (and again, my favorite scene). The people of Pleasantville have read the same books for years and know exactly what to expect. When this sudden change begins to take shape and life as they know it, is altered, the pages of the books are suddenly blank. As they listen intently to the main character tell stories out loud - stories many of them have never heard - the words begin to appear on the pages. The story writes itself as it is told. What I love about this picture is that it begins with a blank slate. No one knows what to expect until the story unfolds and while some of them find this disturbing, others are somewhat intrigued. There is no mandate on where the road should lead or how they must respond. They are left with nothing but a desire to relate to one another, to share and to discover, together, what the next page will bring. I think our faith is much like this. God did not intend our lives to be lived in black and white, always knowing what lies ahead, what behavior is “appropriate” and what rules will best satisfy our every need. I believe He intends us to write the story together. As the final line in Saved states, “What would Jesus do? I don’t really know, but I think the goal is for us to try to figure it out together.”

I’m not saying that none of us should follow the guidelines God has clearly communicated to us through the Bible and divine revelation. I am simply asserting that sometimes, maybe following the rules is not as important as letting the road take us into unfamiliar territory. Isn’t life a journey, after all? And I do believe God is ok with that. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we can freely disregard God’s word to suit our needs, but rather, overcoming our “shoulds” and “ought tos” to suit the needs of another. Imagine the possibilities if just once, we put our own ideals and opinions aside long enough to listen to those of someone else, to HEAR what they are saying, understand their heart’s cry, and be what they need us to be at that moment, despite what we feel we should be or should say or even what we THINK they need. I think the only one who truly knows what we need is God and he deals with me in the most precious and unimaginable way possible, he loves me, regardless of my faults, in the absence of my desire to be faultless and with the gentle touch of someone who truly “gets” me. I think instead of trying to get everyone saved, we should get them all loved and let God do the saving. When I read the Bible, I usually pray first, “Speak to me, God.” I think now I’ll pray, “Sing to me, Jesus, the love song I so desperately need to hear, and let me sing it to others when they forget the tune.”

God’s love to you all!

Are you there God? It's me, Julie.

2005-08-10T12:22:00.000-07:00

Is it possible to feel close to God in the absence of a horribly tragic experience? I have not felt close to Him in a very long time and I take full responsibility. I haven’t spoken to Him or cried out to Him or (God forbid) even needed Him for quite some time. But what I’ve noticed is that the times I need Him and cry out to Him are the times I am most vulnerable, the times I am going through some sort of turmoil or suffering some sort of loss. I need Him desperately in those moments and in the “in-between” times, I am ambivalent. This troubles me and I wonder – can I feel that closeness with God that I long for when things are going ok for me or do I have to feel pain to come to Him on a daily basis? I guess pain develops in me that longing for the comfort of God’s healing touch, of intimate belonging, or reliance on His strength. I guess what I really want is to feel that longing without having to suffer great pain, without having a need so overwhelming I have no choice but to need and cry out to God.

Is it awful to say that I don’t need God right now? Will He send tragedy my way so that I will need Him? Is His heart breaking because I have barely acknowledged His existence lately? I’m not sure we can actually break God’s heart. I have a very good friend that I only speak to once in a blue moon. My heart does not break when I don’t hear from her for a while, but when she does call, I am more than elated to hear her voice. My personal belief is that this is how God views us. He loves us but He does not sit around in mourning when we don’t call. My unsettling struggle at the moment is that I don’t want to be in this situation any longer. I MISS GOD. I miss His friendship. I miss feeling connected to Him. I do believe we go through peaks and valleys in our “crawl” with the Lord, and thus breeds my curiosity – can I feel close to God in my ambivalence, when things are not spiraling out of control?

And now, I will cloud the issue further. Can God use me to confirm the faith of others despite my ambivalence? And at what cost? Can my words (despite the lack of feeling and faith behind them) be used to communicate God’s love even if I myself do not feel loved by God? Sometimes I feel as if I’m sacrificing my own relationship with God to ensure that others develop their relationships with Him. I speak faith very well, but it doesn’t seem to be active in my own life. I am preaching someone else’s experience and not my own. I believe that God loves me, but I have not felt changed by His love. I believe the events that were illustrated in The Passion of the Christ but I was not moved by them or brought to tears the way everyone around me was. My thought was, “Great movie, good fiction, very well done artistically.” God’s love and sacrifice seems so far removed, I cannot possibly allow it to stir in me a heartfelt response. I am deeply saddened by this and further frustrated when friends tell me they have seen a drastic change in me. How can I be changed if I don’t feel changed? I discussed this issue at length with some friends last night. Typically, the more I talk about my situation, the more clarity I have about what it is that makes me tick. I think it’s possible I discovered the underlying reason for my lack of passion in regards to my Heavenly Father. I have allowed the walls to crumble in numerous relationships with people I (thought I) loved and was betrayed time and time again. I would even go so far as to say that I chose intentionally NOT to sin in a particular area (hehe), despite my fears of abandonment, to honor God and yet, He still took from me something that I held very dear, something I believed was precious – at least at that time. I felt wronged by those relationships and even by God. Broken and hurt, I vowed somewhere along the line to never feel wronged again. I vowed to never feel ANYTHING remotely close to vulnerable, to steer clear of any sort of emotion that could potentially cause me pain. And now, it is nearly impossible to trust and believe in a loving God. Is there any greater loss than the potential loss of God’s love? It is so much safer to say that I believe in His furious love, but yet refuse to let it in far enough to move or change me. So I guess it isn’t so difficult to understand how a girl who claims to be a child of God can stand with Him and not be moved by Him. I’m just thankful He stands with me in the times I feel like running. But I’m still a bit dissatisfied. I’m a firm believer in exploring our past experiences to learn to recognize certain behaviors in our lives, but not to explain or excuse our actions as justifiable because of what we’ve been through. So now that I’ve shed some light on why I feel so ambivalent about God’s love, how do I put aside my fears and insecurities to allow His love to sink in?

Through the kind (and much needed) advice of a dear friend, I was gently reminded that maybe God needs to hear these thoughts that I’ve been having for so long. I was somewhat shaken when I realized that even though I’ve been feeling so distant from Him, it never once occurred to me to tell Him I feel distant, that I long to be brought near again, that I miss Him terribly. There is a line in a song by Lifehouse that has been reverberating in my mind endlessly these past few weeks. “How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?” Suddenly it dawned on me; the part I’ve been missing is standing with God. And I don’t mean fighting for Him, preaching His word or even vocalizing my faith. I mean standing still with Him, just being in His presence. Maybe a lengthy prayer isn’t necessary. Maybe a song of worship is too much. Maybe, just maybe, all that is needed is to remember He is there when I do feel needy.

God versus the HMO

2005-08-04T00:04:00.000-07:00

HMO: You choose your provider (who must fall within the network).
GOD’S KINGDOM: Your provider chooses you.

HMO: If you go outside the network, you are no longer the responsibility of your provider.
GOD’S KINGDOM: If you go outside the network, your provider will go after you.

HMO: Monthly contributions ensure your future.
GOD’S KINGDOM: A one-time contribution ensures your future.

HMO: There is a limit to the quality of care you receive.
GOD’S KINGDOM: God’s love knows no boundaries.

HMO: You cannot be accepted with a pre-existing condition.
GOD’S KINGDOM: You were accepted with a pre-existing condition.

Free at last!

2005-07-04T11:14:00.000-07:00

“I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plains, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

To celebrate Independence Day, I’d like to take a moment to reflect upon my total dependence upon God and just what that entails. You see, I have this account in the First Bank of God. It was opened years ago, when I first became aware of my need for a savior. On that day (which I think was actually while I was still in the womb), a piggy bank appeared on my dresser. God made a deposit. His son died and my account was full (of grace, of salvation, of eternal life, of faith…shall I go on???). From that moment on, I began the long, arduous task of relying on the grace of God and living in need of Him. Believe me, this is no small feat. It is difficult to live in need of a savior, but woe to the person who thinks he can make it on his own! I may not be a confessed alcoholic, but I’m perfectly content to practice step 10 at all times. “Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.” Let me shed a little light on this one. It is extremely important to live in a constant awareness of our actions and our thoughts and to be willing to admit that they are not above reproach, but I think the most important part of this step is a word most people would fly right by – promptly. I’ve tried to make light of my sins, hide them from God, or pretend they weren’t really THAT bad. Oh, but they were (and are). In the matter of coming clean before God, why wait? “What’s the rush?” you ask. The faster I get to the cross to lay it all down, the faster His grace flows. You know what I find truly amazing? There is never a line at the First Bank of God…and there’s only one teller!

Though the deposit God made was a one-shot deal, my account never seems to be diminishing. I make withdrawals on a daily basis and in my piggy bank are thousands upon thousands of little slips that read, “IOU.” Of course I realize I cannot possibly pay God back all He has given me, but you get the idea, right? The piggy bank is always full. And the beauty of the whole scenario is this: There will come a day when my piggy bank will be cracked open, all those little slips of paper will be gone, and the only thing that will remain inside is that one initial deposit God made.

P.S. I read a lot of scripture now that I’ve read a hundred times before, but little words jump out at me that just knock me on my @#%! I love this one...

ROMANS 12:3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.

Remember ~ it’s a gift! I am not an amazing woman of great faith; I am merely a child of God, blessed beyond belief.

Happy 4th of July! I’m off to the bank…

I read the news today...oh boy!

2005-06-22T23:16:00.000-07:00

So in these days of unemployment, I am making the most of my time. I am familiarizing myself with the philosophies of Oprah and Dr. Phil, identifying with the losers of daytime television (the actors and the viewers), and make the occasional trip to the kitchen for a healthy diet of mac-n-cheese and Mt. Dew. Seriously, I’ve been writing furiously, but today I actually watched the news and found it quite amusing how truly gospel-worthy it was. As I mocked and pitied the people channel 7 deemed newsworthy, it suddenly occurred to me that I could’ve easily have been right there in front of the cameras too…along with all you other crazy Christian try-to-do-gooders. There is a little bit of each of us in the characters on the TV. I am the 11-year old boy scout lost in Yosemite who hid from his rescuers the first time around until he was exposed on a trail and returned to his loving family. Do I not hide from my rescuer until he exposes me and carries me home? I am the actor fleeing in my pretty white bronco from accusations of guilt, trying to outrun justice. Do I not lock myself inside a pretty white box claiming innocence? And I am the runaway bride trying to escape the pressure of my life. Have I not tried to outrun my own insecurities and fears and find refuge anywhere but here? Oh, I am so newsworthy!

And yet, God does not broadcast my imperfections to an unforgiving world. Rather, He gently embraces me and leads me back home. Ok, ok, so it doesn’t always play out that way. Kicking and screaming I protest…and I doubt…and I set my sights on disproving His love. My pastor likes to say this gospel is best served beaten. I like to take it one step further. Instead of mixing it with non-essentials and oversaturating it with complications, we should beat it…until it bleeds! Rip it to shreds (if we dare), question its validity, and beat it until we see nothing but the blood of Christ pouring over us every minute. Because that is exactly what He does. Christ’s blood may have been spilled at the cross, but it is washing us clean on a daily basis, in fact, every minute, and by no justification on our part. We are getting what we don’t deserve, grace and eternal life – deserving death, receiving breath.

We can certainly claim to be deserving, beyond reproach, and righteous, but in His eyes, our words are meaningless without faith and honesty before Him. In the parable of the two brothers (Matthew 21), a man asks his sons to go work in the vineyard. One says, “Sure thing, Pops” (ok, different words, same idea) and doesn’t end up going. The other says, “Beat it, Pops” and then changes his mind and goes out to work. I am so much of each of them; there’s a constant battle raging within. If my faith were a Miller Lite commercial, it’d read something along the lines of, “Talks great – less willing.” Part of me still struggles with my own ability to earn God’s favor and the other part doesn’t care to try at all. I wish I could succumb to the latter more often. I am so rebellious in nature. I don’t like to be told what to do, but when I am honest before God, He changes my heart for me (on occasion) and sometimes, my hands even produce good works. And when that happens, TO GOD BE THE GLORY! I don’t have to pretend to be worthy of His love. I need only to believe He is who He claims He is and without Him, I am beyond all hope. Gives ya that warm, fuzzy feeling, doesn’t it? Hey, I would venture to guess those nut-jobs on the news didn’t have that warm, fuzzy feeling either. Collectively, we have truly “lost that loving feeling,” but we do have a loving healing. We are being reconciled to our Heavenly Father.

Oh yes, I was all over the news today and I was not so pretty. Here’s what I see as our main malfunction: we need to stop playing “Hide and Seek” and start playing “Tag – you’re it!” Instead of trying to conceal our ugly parts, our scars and our wounds – the parts of us other people find repulsive – we need to start ripping off the band-aids and exposing ourselves (whoa, that might make the news, huh?). Seriously though, if we stopped avoiding the lepers and touched their scars once in a while, we wouldn’t be so quick to hide our own. It’d be an endless game of tag and everyone would be having so much more fun, cause at the end of the day, when the sun went down, we’d all be running toward the same dinner bell in the same house, seated at the same table, eating the same bread and drinking the same wine. And everything would be right with the world. Ok, enough daydreaming! Here’s the reality, it ain’t gonna happen, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

I’ll close with some brutal honesty and the reality of it all (as I see it). We are all backsliding day in and day out and yes, that does mean we are all walking back down the same road (of sin) we once traveled before we met Christ, but here’s the good news: the road has not changed. It’s still the Calvary road, we are still sinners, and Christ is still at the end with open arms. A friend at Bible Study tonight said it this way, “We are strong in His grace.” I am in complete agreement. We are weak in this place, but strong in His grace. I think that’s somewhat newsworthy, don't you? Move over Hour of Power, there's a new kid in town and it's called the gospel of saving grace!

Whose side are you on?

2005-06-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

I went to four weddings last summer (yes, and a funeral too) and each time I sat on the bride’s side. I think for the most part, most people want to be on the bride’s side. Let’s face it; it’s her day. She is the one with all eyes on her, stunning in her wedding gown, beaming with anticipation. Here’s the problem I have with this scenario. In God’s family, I am the bride and sometimes I am my own worst enemy.

As I walk down the aisle, my eyes are on my groom, my Jesus. My future is in His hands. My home is with Him. My heart is under His supervision. If I were to scan the bride’s side, I’d likely see a lot of brokenness. There I would find the dysfunctional family to whom I belong. We are not flawless. We are not well put together. We are not of high standing, prestige, or elite society. But we are hopeful because we are marrying into a family of righteousness. My groom has chosen to call us His own and has vowed to remain true. In my desire to escape from the deceitfulness, falsehood, and façades of this life, it is comforting to know that as I stand here in my tarnished gown, I am walking toward someone who is anything but tarnished. I have been chosen by one unblemished and perfect in His love.

So though I am seated on the bride’s side at the moment, and it is comforting to know that I am a part of something real, I still find myself longing to cross the line and take a seat on the groom’s side. And when my wedding day has come and gone, I don’t think I’ll seal my gown up nice and tight to use at a later date. I think I’d rather count it a loss and trade it in for a robe.

Jesus had a little lamb (who looked a little lame)

2005-06-07T17:25:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you’re a sheep in wolves’ clothing? Yes, I said it as I meant it. I feel like that quite often these days. I know that I am God’s property, that I am a sheep–inwardly–but on the outside, I am much more of a wolf. We’re supposed to be clothed in humility, kindness, love, patience, and all things sugar and spice, but my wardrobe is riddled with everything contrary to that. So I won’t lie. I’ve been told before that my behavior and attitude is not reflective of a “Christian” lifestyle, that I don’t appear to be a follower of Jesus, that I sin too much to be a Christian. I object! Wasn’t Jesus followed by liars, thieves and even murderers? Didn’t they lurk in the shadows attempting to catch a fleeting glimpse of Him? To touch the hem of his clothes? To be healed? By worldly standards, these people did not appear to be cute, little, fluffy sheep; in fact, they appeared to be ugly, disdainful wolves. Nevertheless, they followed the shepherd; hence, they were His sheep. Sound familiar?

I’ve asked God several times, “You say they will know I am yours by the love I have for others and I don’t express that love very well, so how then will they truly know that I am yours? What do I tell them when they ask why I continue to live in sin? What do I tell them when they question my sincerity? What do I tell them when my faith is on shaky ground? What do I tell them when they call me a hypocrite? And what do I tell them when they want to know why horrible things keep happening to them?” The answer He gives me always seems to be the same, “You tell them that I love them.”

God loves you!

You Say It's Your Birthday

2005-06-04T21:08:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday and yes, in true Gemini form, I am again practicing tapping in to my fickle side. This is quite possibly one of the best birthdays I have ever had. It wasn’t about the gifts (though they were all ghetto fabulous and much appreciated). I did not age DOWN a year. I did not party like a rock star. But I have a loving family who knows just what I need and knows how to love my Jesus as purely as possible (for a dysfunctional lot such as us); I received my yearly phone call from my dad (just to check in and remind each other that despite our vast, vast differences, there is love nonetheless, in whatever form it expresses itself). I am greatly humbled in my need for financial help during this period of unemployment (though created by me, both precious and disturbing all at once – I have never written so much in my life); I am intensely aware of the phenomenal people my God has so blessed me with right now…to provide…to come through…to love me despite me…to show up. Needless to say, God and I are again, on speaking terms. Today, if only for one day, (ah hell, if only for one moment), I am happy to be loved by Him, honored to be called His daughter, and hopeful to meet Him again tomorrow. Ok, so my love for a good Zinfandel sometimes gets the best of me, but doesn’t a glass of wine just intensify what you are already feeling anyway? Long live the blood of Christ!

Bitter with Baggage Seeks Something Entirely Different

2005-06-04T00:48:00.000-07:00

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive." ~Harold Whitman

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes me come alive. Anger can be the greatest motivator. I’m feeling my “Calvary Road Rage” again. God and I are not on speaking terms (and He knows why). He is not my friend at the moment; He is the enemy and I’m pissed off. I guess anger is somewhat of my comfort zone. Anger does not make me come alive. Woe to my horribly plagued life and me! Ok, so maybe it’s validating to be angry and to curse this life, but here’s my bottom line: if you don’t confront that which terrifies you, you will never come alive. I think anger stems from a deep-seated fear within me, or rather, four hundred thousand deep-seated fears. I am afraid of failure, of vulnerability, of pain. Anger kills the fear…and everything else in my life. How then, do I push past the anger to make myself come alive?

Life will take me where I don’t want to go. I will enjoy the ride.
I will meet people I don’t like. I will find something good in them and celebrate it.
I will fall flat on my face from time to time. I will get back up.
People I love will not always love me back. I will love myself.
I will take 2nd place, 3rd and sometimes last. I will congratulate those who went before me.
I will gain weight, lose it, and gain it back. I will never be accused of being predictable.
I will be afraid of change. I will change.
I will forget all of the above quite often. I will remind myself to remember.
I will make a million bad decisions. I will make one good one…I will trust God (even when I'm mad at Him).

The Purpose-Driving Life

2005-06-01T23:03:00.000-07:00

So, I’m pretty tired of trying to use my spiritual gifts of wisdom and discernment (hahahaha) to figure out what my purpose in God’s kingdom really is and to be honest, it’s turning out to be much more of a purpose DRIVING life. It’s driving me crazy. It’s driving me into the ground. And it might even be driving the nails into Jesus’ hands all over again. So maybe it’s time to accept that He already died at the cross, was resurrected and ascended. I don’t think He needs to repeat those acts for me to figure out my purpose in His kingdom. So here it is…accept it! My purpose is to accept His grace, His mercy and more importantly, His love.

Revelations 3:15-16 says, “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Yikes! Good thing this isn’t an admonishment to work a little bit harder or we’d all be up a creek! I think it’s a little more along the lines of “need Jesus a little bit more, rely on Him to be all that you can’t be and trust in His purpose” and man, then you’ll be on fire for Jesus (the good kind of fire, not the eternal damnation kind).

Let me go one step further. We can all “do” marvelous and masterful things in the name of Jesus (which, essentially, is Jesus doing things in us for His name’s sake), but at the end of the day, we all get one denarus, the same wage; we all get Jesus! What we do pales in comparison to what God does through us, in us and often, in spite of us.

“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building” (1 Corinthians 3:7-9). We have one purpose – let God grow and flourish whatever we attempt to create.

So I’m not entirely hopeless and wholly devoted to a life of laziness and immobility. I will certainly not give up the hope that He might actually cause me to do some good in this lifetime. I will continue to believe in a system of right and wrong. I will occasionally even be nice to someone just for the heck of it. But what I won’t do is believe for one second that my “purpose” is more important than my reliance on His purpose. Philippians 2:13 states, “…for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose.” So I will do my best, try my hardest, and fight like Hell to allow His purpose to work in me. And when I’m trying to figure out where I fit into “ministry,” I’ll break it down like this: in my eyes, ministry is merely two words stuck together – minus + try. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m trying really hard to figure out my purpose in God’s kingdom and just let His love be enough.

The Parenthetical God

2005-05-24T17:20:00.000-07:00

How many times can I hear the phrase, “Don’t put God in a box” before I feel the need to set the box on fire altogether? I’ve spent too many years believing that if I had just prayed a little harder, believed a little more passionately and trusted a little bit more, my prayers would’ve been answered…my way! I’ve known some pretty faithful people in my life, many unemployed with hours to pray, some who were so filled with the Holy Spirit that they could actually forgive someone who had horribly wronged them, and even a few who were so passionate about God, they could actually speak in tongues. All of them removed God from the box and many times in their lives He came through. What then to the athlete who prays tirelessly for a victory and yet suffers the agony of defeat? What then to the grieving family who cries out day and night for healing for their loved one and yet loses a battle with cancer? What then to the widowed wife who pleads earnestly for forgiveness for the drunk driver who stole her husband and still burns with anger and resentment? Did they not remove God from the box too?

I’d love to share the message of a God who can do all things (and I do believe He can) with everyone I meet, but I find it so hard to do when I know so many whose prayers have not been answered their way. I’m not an idiot. I’ve been around the proverbial Christian block long enough to see the forest through the trees (at least in this area). I do know that God answers ALL prayers, but not always with the answer we are seeking. I know that though He is silent, He is not still. I know that only He knows what is best for us and acts accordingly in our lives. I know that we see dimly what He sees clearly. I know there is a big picture of which I see about a millionth of a millionth of a fraction of a millimeter. For those who receive the amazing answer to prayer they so desperately needed, there are an equal amount of prayers that seem to fall on deaf ears. And regarding those for whom the mountain does not move when they tell it to, there are countless requests that are honored, some without even asking. The sun shines on us all, good and bad. The rain falls on us all, good and bad. There is a silver lining to every cloud and a cloud to every silver lining. So is it the outcome of our prayers that really matters or is it something more? As the author of Ecclesiastes writes, “Everything under the sun is meaningless.” So maybe the focus needs to shift to what is beyond the sun. Maybe the focus should shift from what God will do in our lives to what God has done in our lives...He has loved us and does love us in the most profound way – to the heights of a cross, the depths of a grave and the width of outstretched arms.

So often, the message reads a little something like this: “If you trust God enough, if you ask in His name, if you pray fervent prayers, if you believe in His power, if you say to the mountain, ‘move,’ if you don’t put God in a box, He will come through (and by the way, He loves you). I think it’s time we forget about the box, take God out of the parentheses and begin each sentence with His love.

My God is not a parenthetical God. His love is not meant to be caged. It is not an afterthought to the message; it IS the message. Let’s be honest, I can ask relentlessly, whole-heartedly and passionately for something specific in my life and I may or may not get the answer I desire. But if the question is whether or not God loves me, the answer will always be the same. So why then would I go down an uncertain road when I can stick to what I know and always be right? Sometimes I feel like I’m the one in the box and believe me, I package it up really nice, complete with a bright red bow. And there is definitely not enough room in there for God, but at the end of the day, who cares if God’s in the box or not? As long as He isn’t in the parentheses, I’ll be alright!

The Benefit of Our Doubts

2005-05-16T23:17:00.000-07:00

Why is it so difficult to simply trust? Why does it seem like I am the only one who “gets it?” Why does God always seem so far away? Why do I end up fighting with those to whom I am trying to speak love? Why does it seem so simple but yet so many are confused? Is it wrong for me to doubt? Do I really believe this?

I am sitting on the lap of my Abba, Father picking petals off a flower. “He loves me, He loves me not. He loves me, He loves me not.” And of course, as usual, the last petal is once again the one that taunts me, “He loves me not.” But before I can utter my usual protest, He interrupts me to offer these words of comfort, “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of your God stands forever.” Make no mistake - the flowers will fall – more often than not leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a lot of confusion. But the word of my God will stand forever and He said, “I love you” loud enough for all to hear…at the cross.