Real Talk

Y’all ever just need a moment with God. Like a REAL moment when you get angry and whiney? When your questions turn into accusations? The now whats take on a derogatory tone? When our kids look at us like we should be in Time Out…

That was me last night. It happens when I think things are going so well and I’m taking steps in the right direction, but then someone says something or the opportunity that I’m chasing just poofs into thin air.

I can’t stand these moments. Because then I start to doubt. And sermons from the night before about doubt are all the sudden slapping me in the face. Super Punch Out style.

You have to understand something about my life. This is my life. Let me give you two examples. I was a substitute teacher for seven years. Absolutely loved my job, but do you know how many times I applied for a full time position? A lot. I am a writer. Absolutely passionate about this gig, but do you know how many manuscripts I’ve submitted to agents? A lot. I am so used to closed doors. Can anybody else relate?

It sucks. Because then we start to take things personally. Like if an agent doesn’t think my manuscript is right for his list, it means I’m a bad writer. If I don’t say the right things in an interview, it means I’m not qualified. At the snap of a finger, a blink of an eye, we believe that we aren’t good enough. That I’m not doing anything right. And the lies just keep getting bigger and wider.

Why is that? John 10:10a, “The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy.” Now more than ever, the devil is determined to steal our in between moments. He’s lurking in that very second when we can either give up or trust God to carry us through. When setbacks come, he craftily tries to convince us that we are the failure. He twists our thoughts from I’m okay to I will never recover.

This is the exact reason I came up with this slogan for You Are On Time: “The moment your ending becomes God’s beginning.” The truth is, there are many moments when something ends. It doesn’t have to be when we’re at rock bottom and we’re crying out for God to save us. It doesn’t have to be when we get that life-threatening diagnosis and we’re on our knees begging for God to take over. While those moments are just as meaningful and just as desperate for God to enter in, I want to tell you that moments of doubt and uncertainty and the now whats are also moments worthy of God’s help.

Whenever I feel defeated, I go for a walk. And I think about uneven sidewalks. How my feet stumble on a rock or a tear in the concrete. I think about unleveled streets. Like, I’m walking on a straight path, but that path comes with roundabouts and curves and hills and valleys. I wonder why the gnats would rather live in my mouth than fly above my head with their friends. I think about how my physical walks are representative of my metaphoric life.

And then.

I think about how this Jesus, blood-soaked and barely alive, walked this same path. Crooked and bumpy, weighted down and offended, He kept moving toward the cross. At any point, He could have ended it all. He could have given up. But He didn’t. He obeyed and trusted His Father’s will, even to His death, because He knew that God’s beginning was much much greater than His end.

Friends, I don’t know which sidewalk you are on today. Maybe it’s mine and we passed each other last night, but here’s what I’m choosing to do today. In my moment of now what I’m choosing God’s beginning. I’m choosing that in my moments of doubt and uncertainty to believe in a God who is bigger than my circumstances. In a God who has the power to change hearts. In a God who knows these sidewalks very well and that I can trust Him with every step.

When opposition comes, anchor your heart and your mind in His promises. They are trustworthy and they are true. Surround yourself with people who support you. Who randomly message you with encouraging Scripture. Stay the course. If God has laid something on your heart, it’s because you’ve been chosen to accomplish that task. Keep following His heart; He is there to guide you, even if you stumble upon a rock. He is there to carry you through.

Father, forgive me for doubting your plans for my life. May I never forget how faithful you have been to me. May I always trust that your plans are good and perfect and right.

And can I please get out of time out?

What Fatherhood Means to Me, a Single Mom of Two

Have you been tagged lately by the Motherhood Challenge on Facebook? Did you accept? I did in a personal way. Sort of. I started a post called, “What Motherhood Means to Me.” Twenty minutes later, the page was still blank. Not because it doesn’t mean anything, but because it means everything. I just couldn’t put all my thoughts into words. I was okay coming up equally empty as I was full.

Then an influx of Fatherhood Challenges flooded my News Feed. For some reason, seeing dads posing with their kids hit me with a greater force. Maybe it’s because I’m divorced and there is a portion of my heart that longs for family photos again. Maybe it’s because we’ve shifted as a society into believing that men don’t take selfies and they certainly don’t take selfies with their kids. Regardless, the reality is: there are a lot of Fatherhood Challenges happening right now and I am so proud of you all. Especially the single dads. The ones who are current with their child support, and the ones who fight for their kids in a courtroom, and the ones show up for chorus concerts and football games and school conferences. Consistently. You’re holdin’ it down and it shows. I hope you are proud of you too.

Anyway, I got to thinkin’ again. I mean, I’m female, so that determines my motherhood, but I’m also a single parent, so do I have to determine my fatherhood too? If so, how? What does that even mean? What does that look like? Are the roles interchangeable? How could I possibly understand and proclaim that I know what it takes to be a dad?

Immediately and freakishly, my dad’s face entered my mind, and I was a given a pretty good answer.

When I thought about my earthly dad, I remembered how he played catch with me and taught me how to swing a golf club. How he okayed driving on the Interstate when I was 12. Meh. My earthly dad showed me how to methodically mow the lawn and eat at Taco Johns. He taught me how to play Chess and classic card games like “Little Casino.” I thought about how he used to waltz my little self around the room singing, “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…” My dad loved me.

I thought about how he commuted an hour and a half to and from work Monday-Friday for 18 years so my mom could buy groceries and put satisfying meals on the table. I had clothes on my back, a warm house in the winter and an even hotter one in the summer. No a/c. Ever. Window units do not count. We didn’t have all the money in the world. But we didn’t need it either. My dad provided for me.

I don’t remember my dad being at very many volleyball or basketball games, but I was okay with that because the trade-off was eight years of private school tuition, which allowed me to become an athlete in the first place. When he did come, please believe, those were my best games. My dad was proud of me.

I think about how my dad loves my mom. He loves what she does and he loves who she is. I never had that. My kids never witnessed a loving marriage. I believe Fatherhood is also a husband loving his wife, the way Christ loves His church. So if you’re married and if you’re a dad, show your kids how to love your wife. Love your wife. And then start a Husband Challenge.

I thought about how we traveled to and from church every Sunday on the same road my dad took during the week. For him, a five day commute became six. (I don’t know about you, but some Sundays, I have a hard time commuting my kids 10 miles). My dad was desperate for wisdom and understanding. I thought about how he prayed extremely long prayers before dinner. Every so often he’d throw in Scripture. He must’ve been compelled by this verse. “Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” Deut. 11:19. That’s what my earthly dad did. That’s what my earthly dad still does, even though for the last 20 years he’s been suffering from a spinal cord injury. He always speaks of a good Father, a Heavenly Father, a gracious and perfect Father. Could it be that God used my own dad to lay the framework for my blog? Think about that. What kind of foundation are we setting for our children? I don’t always remember where a verse is found, but what amazes me is I still remember the words. I remember the words…

My dad taught me about Jesus.

~~~

So what does Fatherhood mean to me, a single mom of two? It means the same thing it meant to my dad. I only hope my kids come out of their childhood knowing these things:

1. That I taught them about Jesus.
2. That I provided for them.
3. That I love them.
4. That I am proud of them.

Mothers. Fathers. Fathers. Mothers. Keep up the good work. We are doing an amazing job.

*Friends, I realize some of you have a different story. Or maybe your earthly dad has passed away. Or maybe you never got to be a dad. My heart is heavy for you. But I want to compassionately tell you that this Jesus will never leave you. He’s been pursuing you since the dawn of your existence. “He is a father to the fatherless” (Psalm 68:5). And He will never pass away (Isaiah 9:7). He defeated death and He’s coming back for you. That’s how much He loves you. And if there’s a portion of your heart longing to be called Dad, trust Him to fill that space (Psalm 34:18). His grace is enough. His love is complete. His presence sews a seamless heart.

He. Is the ultimate Fatherhood Challenge.

 

 

Forgiveness

Welcome back!

I just want to take a moment and express my gratitude for the overwhelming support you showed me after sharing, My Truth Was a Lie. It is always nail-biting when we make ourselves vulnerable in front of a crowd. But I’m fully confident that when we use our awkwardness for the glory of God, he can turn us into the most magnificent masterpieces this world has never seen. So share your hard story. Someone is dying to hear it. Give them hope and save their life.

~~

I planned to publish today’s post immediately following, My Truth Was a Lie, except I realized that after digging up a fragile past, I needed time to exhale. So I waited a week. And then I realized I needed time to inhale the first week of March Madness, so I waited another week. The funny thing is, today’s topic has everything to do with this exact day, Good Friday, and practically this exact hour. God’s timing is never a second off. Pull up a seat, we’re talkin’ about the F word:

Forgiveness.

I just saw you roll your eyes.

Friends, without this post, my last one would be entirely in vain. Please stay seated.

Whenever I struggle with any “life” lessons, the best way for me to overcome them is to change my perspective. I am going to attempt to shift the lens a bit and try to capture a more intense Light. It’s what has helped me and I so hope it helps you too.

Ready?

First, we need to define what forgiveness is not. Forgiveness is not making a wrong right. If that were true, I would be justifying a decade of domestic abuse. Buzzer. Eh. No.

Secondly, we need to define what forgiveness is. Forgiveness is making right all the wrongs. Confused? Me too. Let’s change our perspective. Read Isaiah 53:3-5 with me (New Living Translation, NLT). This is Isaiah’s prophecy concerning who Jesus was and how he would suffer before His death. I’ve italicized words I want to resonate with your heart.

³He was despised and rejected—

 a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.

We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.

He was despised, and we did not care.

I wonder. Has someone done something to you or said something to you that makes you feel despised? Rejected? Sorrowful? Grieved beyond its definition? Did you feel like the other person just didn’t care? Do you feel like there is no possible way you could ever, ever look that person in the eye and have an attitude of forgiveness toward them because of how they’ve hurt you? I get it. But then I read further and my eyes were enlightened to this:

⁴ Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;

it was our sorrows^[a] that weighed him down.

And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God,

 a punishment for his own sins!

⁵ But he was pierced for our rebellion,     

crushed for our sins.

He was beaten so we could be whole.     

He was whipped so we could be healed.

And I realized that the same thing that has been done to me, I am guilty of doing to Christ. It’s because of my sins that He died. So then it started making sense. Jesus Christ came to make right every wrong that I have ever done by shedding His blood on the cross. “Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness” (Hebrew 9:22).

Jesus Christ is the portrait of Forgiveness.

He was flogged and scourged and bludgeoned. His appearance was marred beyond human likeness. He experienced the excruciating agony of torn flesh, thorns in his skull and exposed muscles. He was spit upon and cursed and mocked. Friends,

things that are happening to us happened to Him first.

He knows! He knows exactly how we feel! Still. Still, He went to Calvary, and as His blood-soaked body hung on the cross, He screamed out the ultimate definition of love:

“Father, forgive them. For they do not know what they are doing.” Luke 23:34

The truth is, sometimes our sin leaves us not knowing what we are doing. Confused? Me too. Let’s change our perspective. We are certain that if someone calls us out of our name they are doing it on purpose. Like, they know exactly what they’re doing. But then I examined my own heart, and sometimes I say things to my kids or to my friends that leaves me wondering what I was doing. And I know better!

Friends, I believe there is a pivotal, defining lesson in Luke 23:34. Jesus is flat out telling us they do not know what they are doing. So my question is: who is telling us that they do?

The master of deception, that’s who. When someone wrongs us, Satan wants us to take it out on that physical person. Hold a grudge. Not forgive. And we know how separated a relationship becomes. That’s his ploy. To steal from us.

But what does Christ tell us to do? Forgive them. Here’s the thing: When someone has wronged us, we are not battling that physical person. “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6:12.

Our tendency is to take it out on the person who has harmed us, perhaps because we can physically see them. But when we open our eyes and turn on the Light, we realize we’re not fighting the physical person in front of us. We are fighting the spiritual darkness inside of them.

Today, Good Friday, Christ’s hands and feet were nailed to a wooden cross so the sins of our spiritual darkness could be forgiven. Every lash, every offensive word, every accusation, every sinister stare was upon Him. In one solemn request, in one purposeful prayer, He released the chains of our sins into the hands of His Father. Dying, He taught us how to pray. “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”

Friends, I know it’s hard. But don’t for one second forget that you’ve already conquered hard. Christ is in us; therefore, His power is in us. We have to pray. We have to forgive our Exes and our mother-in-laws and our best friends simply because Christ forgave us. Remember, Forgiveness is not making a wrong right. It’s making right the wrong. It’s releasing our imprisonment and placing it into the Almighty hands of the Father. It’s setting us free. We win.

And if you’re here today wondering how you can be forgiven by this Jesus who loves you so much that He suffered and died for you, pray. “Father, forgive me for I do not know what I am doing. I’m asking you to be Lord of my life. Thank you for taking my sin and putting it to death on the cross. Thank you for setting me free. Amen.”

Starting today, Good Friday, let’s be a forgiving people representing a forgiving King.

Happy Easter, friends.

You may get up now 🙂

 

Is My Heart in the Right Place?

Hey there. Remember last week in, You’re Mine, Valentine, I said that when we guard our hearts, God has some serious surprises in store for us? Yeah, I totally have that post ready to go, but something in my heart is tellin’ me to wait, so that’s what I’m gonna do. I hope you don’t mind.

For today, I have to get this off my chest.

This past week I’ve been inundated with decisions. I feel like I’m supposed to share this specific situation with you because I kinda feel like I guarded my own heart, and that’s all a bit foreign to me, so perhaps in my attempt, you can gain momentum too.

 

My son’s baseball season started last Thursday. His first practice consisted of whatever first practices consist of, plus hat, helmet and uniform fittings. The following day, I received an email from the coach that this season’s league would cost $415.00. Whiff.

At first, I got upset at myself because as a single mama, I couldn’t “swing” that financially. But then I thought, even if I had help, that was still $415.00. And all I kept hearing was Dave Ramsey’s accountability shouting, “Budget!”

Thoughts of what will people think teased me, but I chose to retreat back into inner my Matryoshkan self (read my last post for clarification). I gathered up my game face and sent an honest email to the coach, telling him we’d be striking out.

PAUSE: Sometimes I think we are afraid to tell others we’re on a budget. Not because we don’t have the money, but because we do have it, and we want to use it the right way. I think we fear that others will judge us (which they might), but I think spending money wisely is a sign of strength. And for me, in that moment, it was my only truth. I had to share it.

PLAY: I still wrestled with what to do next. I could put my son in a less expensive baseball league. Or I could let him play a different sport. Or he could take a break from sports altogether. Since part of guarding our hearts requires us to commit everything to God, I prayed for vision. Not my vision. His.

Then, Sunday night happened.

Out of nowhere, my son said, “Mom, when’s my first baseball game? I don’t even want to play baseball. The only sport I want to play is football.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and thanked God for reminding me that prayers do get answered, and often times it’s in the most unlikely places and through the most uncommon ways.

So there I was, Monday morning, signing up my son for football when ding! my phone went off. I received an email from the baseball coach pleading with me, hands and knees begging me to allow my son to stay on the team. I was flattered that the coach would go to this extreme for my son, but I have to say it was in that moment, I intentionally thought about my decision. For me, those are the moments when doubt creeps in. Second guessing sits idle. Persuasion, well, persuades, and conformity calls. While the coaches’ intentions were genuine and thoughtful, it was still $415.00. That didn’t sit right with my heart.

Your story may be different. Maybe your budget is $500.00 and that league would have been a perfect fit. Whatever the case may be, your heart is right too.

What I’m suggesting is that when we are faced with a decision, regardless of the magnitude, we should seek God’s vision, weigh the options and wait for Him to give us a clear and final word. Then, we can willfully move in the direction that sits right with our heart. In this situation, it was my budget and the words of my son; therefore, on to football. I’m not saying it’s always easy. And most times, it’s not immediate. In this case, the answer came very quickly. I praise God for that. But truthfully, guarding our hearts is HARD and requires PERSISTENCE and DILIGENCE. Tender care, remember? We have to learn to listen to our Eternal Life Coach. The path He’s chosen for us is right. It’s right. He will show us the way. We just have to learn to follow.

 

You’re Mine, Valentine.

In two days, creatures of this land will celebrate the most romantic day of the year. Ah yes, Cupid will be striking soul mates, showering love dust on all the cherished couples, dishing out dozens of roses and cartons of chocolates, all while dancing a heavenly waltz across a limitless sky. Meanwhile, the rest of us will be barfing in a bucket.

Valentine’s Day is a tricky day. A manipulative day. A happy day. A depressing day. I mean, you have people like my parents who will be celebrating their 40^th wedding anniversary on Valentine’s Day. And then you have people like me, single and divorced, who get to spend 24 tortoise hours reminding ourselves of just how single and divorced we are.

I say that lightheartedly, but in all seriousness, a lot of people come to mind this Valentine’s Day: my Divorce Care group, my friend whose marriage just ended a few days ago, and a whole lot of single people that God intentionally orchestrated to intersect my path.

I’d like to take this moment to prepare you for this upcoming sensitive day. I am sincerely sending you a cyber-gift because it is far too valuable to risk being catapulted from a mail truck. I read the headlines. Bubble-wrapped inside your shatterproof screen is a Matryoshka doll.

Stay with me. Deep within the descending doll lays the most sacred, most magnificent, most protected element: your heart. I’m giving it back to you because you deserve, hear me, you deserve it. Your heart is a precious gift from God Himself, and it’s time to restore its worth. I’m not saying stack yourself up and remain locked inside. You will probably start to smell. Which might be okay if you naturally smelled like wood. On second thought, it’s still not recommended. Unless it’s cedar wood.

What I am saying is this:

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

While you’re nesting inside, paint the walls with words like: dignity and self-respect, honesty and integrity and love. Then, layer by Matryoshkan layer, begin exposing those things. In the same way, retreat when you feel riddled by fear and shame. Close the lid on worry, low self-esteem and unfair treatment. Layer by Matryoshkan layer, protect yourself. Don’t hide. Protect. Remind yourself of the wall. Painted words remember?

Like a garden, guarding our hearts doesn’t happen overnight. No gardener plants a carrot seed and eats that same carrot the following day. It takes time and tender care for it to grow. Likewise, no human just up and decides to guard their heart and poof! it’s guarded. It takes time and tender care to heal. It takes time to trust ourselves and even longer to trust others, especially when that fragile bond has been so harshly broken. It takes time to feel safe. It takes time to decide what we will allow to enter our hearts, and perhaps more valiantly, it takes time to decide what comes out of it.

It’s no accident that this word guard bears the exact same meaning as when God commanded Adam to guard the Garden of Eden. It means to work it, tend it, protect it. Out of the Garden of Eden flowed springs of living water. Out of your heart flows springs of life. No difference. Your heart to your Maker is just as pure, just as perfect, just as worthy and just as pristine as the rivers of Eden. It is your job to care for it that way.

How do we begin? First, fall in love with your Creator. Walk intimately with Him. Seek His face. Get to know His heart. Develop a love language with Him that is only unique to you. And every day thereafter, diligently, persistently, unceasingly get to know His love. It is enough. How it is enough!

When we do, I feel like God, not Cupid, will shower us with some serious surprises. You can read about that in my next post. Oh, the suspense!

Friends, Valentine’s Day is not a comparison. It doesn’t own the right to destroy your self-worth. It doesn’t possess the power to pull you back into your past.

Valentine’s Day 2016, is a day for you, lovely you, to walk hand-in-hand with the Creator of your heart. Trust me, you will fall in love with Him. You will learn how to diligently, persistently, unceasingly care for every heartbeat purposely pumping inside of you. You, deserve this day.

*Married lovers, I hope you don’t feel excluded from this post. The truth is, I need you. I need to see that 40^th anniversaries can still happen. I need to see teamwork and compassion and forgiveness and commitment. I need to see it, so I can help my generation see it. We are struggling. We are losing the marriage fight. Please keep showing us. Please keep praying for us. Please keep reaching out to us. Start a marriage counseling program at your church. At your doorstep. Free. Of. Charge. Invest in my generation. Despite all of the brokenness, I really believe we want to rediscover this thing called:

Please share this post with anyone who comes to mind. Not for me. But for them. Thank you.

To my parents on your 40^th wedding anniversary:

I am so proud of you.

Socks and Politics

This, my friends, is a staged photo of one example of inanimate objects that set me off. Let’s play the matching game. Or let’s not, because these socks have no match. Is there a secret abyss squeezed somewhere in between the washer and dryer that I’m not aware of? Do these socks transform into the steam that exits my house? Shouldn’t there be a pile of socks beneath the outdoor vent? Better yet, shouldn’t there be a pile of socks in the dryer? Seriously, what happens to the socks? For the sake of my sanity, please tell me this happens in your house.

One of my favorite things about life is finding meaning in the mundane. Especially when things like this happen all of the time. It’s not a coincidence. They are haunting me.

A few days ago, while taking this photo, I heard political commercials in the background. More specifically, I heard political attack ads in the background.

For those of you who don’t live in Iowa, let me just tell you, tonight is a big night. Iowans are caucusing. As an expert in nothing political, I thought it would be wise of me to find out what that meant before submitting this post. While dining over Chinese food, my aunt graciously gave me a run down on the process. But as she was talking, my random mind starting thinking about those misplaced socks. Sorry, M.

And that’s when it hit me.

Politics are like misplaced socks!!

Here’s my 30-second spiel:

We started off as one nation under God, indivisible. Un-divided. Paired. But as time went on, some ideas got lost in between the washer and dryer. That doesn’t mean the ideas were bad or wrong or unimportant. Mysteriously, they just went missing. And they’ve been MIA for a long time.

Like I said, I know nothing about politics, but I do know about dissension and anger and verbal abuse and peacelessness. I do know about going into something together and coming out misplaced. I know about attack ads. And they’re not, well, they’re not okay.

So my challenge to us is this:

While we are passionately and fiercely caucusing our candidate, let’s also passionately and fiercely caucus love.

I don’t know that we will ever literally, physically find a matching sock. But what I do know is the more we literally, physically approach each other in love, our nation that seems so divided can actually, mysteriously work quite well…together.

 ^“Owe nothing to anyone—except for your obligation to love one another. If you love your neighbor, you will fulfill the requirements of God’s law.” Romans 13:8 (NLT)

Happy Anniversary!

HEY HEY!! It’s our silver anniversary!

Sorta.

This is my 25^th post! You keep reading, so I keep writing. We are practically married.

Call me dramatic, but when I was little, I used to imagine myself accepting an award for best actress and then giving a thank-you speech. Now, I just have recurring nightmares of losing my lines in front of thousands.

For today, I’ll put my “award” aside, and skip right to the speech.

So here’s to you, beautiful yous.

When I launched, You are on Time, I wasn’t exactly sure which way I wanted it to go. In all honesty, I thought it would be a remarkable opportunity to throw my EX under the bus. But then I thought about lawsuits and attorney’s fees, so instead, I began writing about my own life, which is a whole lot less expensive.

If you raid my closet, you will find collections of writings that represent my truth. My innocence. My me. You will also find a whole episode of, “Clothes That Have Been Worn Entirely Too Long.” Anyway, my writing has always been a reflection of me, and whatever situation I find myself in. Seven months ago, I decided it was time to stop stuffing those thoughts into the closet, and start sharing them on the screen. Seven months ago, the hurt inside my truth became known to you.

And your response has left me speechless.

Whenever I log into WordPress, it takes me to a “Stats” page. On that page, there is a graphic eyeball. Underneath that graphic eyeball is a number. That number represents two things. 1) How many people have visited my blog and 2) How many people have viewed a specific post.

Consistently, the number keeps going up. Consistently, my heart keeps skipping a trillion beats.

When I say, “A blog is only as amazing as its readers,” that has everything to do with you! You are the amazingness! You are the reason why the numbers are increasing! My site is a work in progress, but without you reading my posts, I wouldn’t even have a site. Without you sacrificing your time, it would be difficult for me to keep typing. Without you, I would need more closet space. And that’s just ridiculous.

What I’m trying to say is thank you for blessing me. Thank you for giving me an outlet to share my thoughts with you. Thank you for driving me, and thank you for coming along for the ride.

And most of all, thank you for lending me your eyeballs.

Happy 25th Anniversary, friends!

Time for cake.

1 Thessalonians 5:11, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”

 

#AndthenMondaycomes…

Well, this was my week.

Last Friday, I posted #Godrestores. I shared my timely, transparent journey of the last six months. It was so, so hard. In the end though, God decided the calling on my life was of greater importance than finding a guy. I cannot argue that. As you, beautiful yous, would have it, #Godrestores, became the most viewed post I’ve written. I also gained extra help along the way, as more of you have signed up to follow me. Last Friday was a really good day.

And then Monday came. I received some ridiculous news. Riding on Monday’s back was Tuesday. Arguments and discord ensued. Tuesday’s back brought Wednesday. This time, wretched news within my family. All the joy and excitement from Friday was blown out of the sky. It was as if I was floating back to Earth in slow motion. Like a leaf rocking back and forth. Falling.

On top of all that, laundry, dirty dishes, zits, hairy legs, misplaced words, broken nails, second grade interrupting contracts, twice-shattered cell phone screens, (not twice-shattered cell phone cases, no, that would be too logical), and then ding dong, my daughter’s fake childhood game of “Housekeeper,” turned into a million, yes a million, finely shredded fragments of paper on the floor reminding me that this is my life!

All in a matter for 3 days, I felt like a failing parent, a failing friend, a failing self. I cried a lot. On one side of the scale, it felt as if everything was going wrong. But on the other, it felt as if everything was going right. And how dare I curse the same God who, 3 days prior, brought restoration. How dare I?!

I’ve come up with this conclusion: Cleaning up our lives most definitely begins with a very real game of “Housekeeper” gone wrong.

Here we are, looking down on catastrophe. Crap just strewn all over the floor. At first, we try to forget the mess. We close the door. We close our heart. But our souls are just as glassy as the door, and at some point we realize this monstrosity must be dealt with. Thus, we begin.

Maybe that means starting with the biggest pieces, the heaviest areas of our lives. Maybe it means bulldozing bits of paper, the little white lies, the smallest habits, into one pile. The truth is, big or small, we all got somethin’. But the really cool thing about any ginormous mess, is that somewhere there’s an empty space. Somewhere there is light cracking through. Somewhere there is hope blooming. Somewhere, starting is possible.

As I was sliding scraps of paper from under the sofa, I slit my index finger on a sharp tack sticking out of the fabric. It hurt pretty good, and bled so much I had to get a Jurassic World Band-Aid. As I walked to the bathroom, I noticed that remnants of paper were attached to the bottom of my sock. With each step, pieces fell to the floor, forming a trail behind me. As if the mess on the other side of the wall isn’t enough, now I’m carrying it with me wherever I go, I thought.

Isn’t that just like our sin? Isn’t that just like the despair in our lives? Isn’t that just like when our Fridays turn into Mondays? Either our happiness is challenged or it’s a challenge to find our happiness. This cloud of darkness follows us wherever we go, but it’s not like we aren’t trying to shake it! Good grief how we are trying! So how do we get past this path knowing that we have to face the source of our frustrations all over again?

Two words: Turn around.

~~~

Next to my bathroom is a closet. Inside that closet is the SHARK NAVIGATOR DELUXE. BTW, if you do not own this vacuum, stop reading and go buy it. It is the most amazing, well-designed, fully featured vacuum I have ever owned. It’s practically like filming your own infomercial. It’s so good, it sucks.

Anyway, the point is, I could just let that mess sit for days. Shut it out. Or I could spend an hour pinching up every piece of shredded paper. Or I could turn around and defend myself by accessing the only tool designed to defeat it.

When dealing with the messes in our lives, friends, Jesus Christ is our SHARK NAVIGATOR DELUXE. We don’t have to struggle through life alone. We simply need a defense. A tool. God’s word is it. Whatever war we are facing, the Bible will teach us to turn around, suit up and fight. Right on the front line. We are clothed in God’s armor (Ephesians 6:11). Not a single leech of paper stands a chance against us. Any failure, any bad thought about ourselves or the world around us, any temptation, or any disappointment can be bagged up and thrown out.

Do you know what the sole purpose of Satan is? I mean, have you really grasped this concept that he’s only here to steal from us. To Kill us. To Destroy us (John 10:10).

The second we land on Cloud 9, Satan is right there doing everything he can to shift the wind. On the way down, he is the one slowly topping our thoughts with self-doubt and insult. It’s a slow process for him because he wants us to stay locked in sadness. He wants to see us struggle. He will take our Fridays and turn them into Mondays and Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The more we recognize that he is real, that he is here tearing our lives apart, the more we need to fight.

Do you know what the sole purpose of Jesus is? He tells us in that exact same verse. “I have come that you may have life. And have it to the full.” (John 10:10). In the first part, Jesus is telling us why Satan is here. To destroy us. In the second part, Jesus is telling us why He is here. To give us life. LIFE!

Friends, I’m not sure if you are aware of this or not, but Satan does not own a SHARK NAVIGATOR DELUXE. He will not clean up your mess. He will make it worse. He is here to deceive you. To knock you out. He is in every sinful piece of shredded paper stuck to the bottom of your sock.

Knowing this, we have the most crucial choice to make: Keep him stuck there. Or turn around, fully suited in the armor of God, and suck him up.

In Christ, we have all the tools we need to defeat the devil. In Christ, we have second chances and clean slates. In Christ, we get to start over!

Life is so, so hard. And if you profess that Jesus is Lord, it will always be so, so hard. My calling is forming. I don’t say that to pump myself up. I say that because I want you to know that Satan is going to try to do everything he can to deflate my passion. And the same goes for you. Whatever good is happening in your life, Satan will try to deflate you. Whatever bad is happening in your life, Satan will continue deflating you. You do not matter to him!!

Friends, that’s not the character of our God. Whatever good is happening in your life, Christ will make it more abundant. Whatever bad is happening in your life, Christ will give you life, and then He will make it more abundant. That’s not to say trouble will disappear. In this world, we will have trouble. The point is, it matters to Christ that your life is full. Whole. Complete. Victorious. You, beautiful you, matter to Him.

And that’s why on good days and most definitely on the bad days, I write. I want to share my journey with you. I want you to know that my calling isn’t being handed to me on a silver platter. I didn’t just win the $1.6 Billion Powerball Jackpot. Right now, my calling is simply a cup of water. And maybe yours is too. Maybe your promotion is causing more setbacks than you anticipated. Maybe stepping down from a position is causing more emotional pain than you anticipated.

It’s in these purposeful moments, we have the choice: stay stuck or suck it up. We need to rely on the promise of Jesus Christ to give us (and to keep giving us) abundant life. So turn around, suit up and fight. FIGHT.

And then go get your vacuum.

 

Shovels & Snow Blowers

Sometimes people don’t believe in something greater than themselves until a man shows up with a snow blower, the size of a Mini Cooper.

There I was, old school, using a plastic shovel to clear 7 inches of snow off my friends’ 72-yard sidewalk. I scooped and hurled mounds of snow like any independent, divorced mother of two would. For about twelve feet. And then I turned into a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. I stabbed my shovel into the ground, peered off into the distance and yelled, Where, Shel Silverstein?!! Where does the sidewalk end?!!

Fortunately, that was all in my head. But in the public scene around me, passengers passed by. Not one offered assistance. So I shoveled on and silently prayed, God, it’s just you and me, and I will do this no matter what, but please send help.

Voila! Just like that, a man in a black Jeep Cherokee pulled up to the neighborhood mailbox. Instead of glaring at him, I showed off. Seriously. I forcefully shoved that shovel to the ground, gathered as much weight as I could, shot out Samson-like strength, and threw that snow right over my shoulder. Take that white powder!

Seconds later, he pulled to the curb and asked, “Can I bring over my snow blower and help?”

Clearly, he missed the show. Me? Help? Please.

My nearly fainted body overruled my mind and I gasped, yes, you have to help me. I’m going to die.

From the moment this spirit-filled stranger left to get his snow blower, to the moment I saw him coming from 3 blocks away, I sifted through my disheveled thoughts on shoveling. Why him? He doesn’t even live close to here. Why not the neighbors, whose sidewalks are already exposed? He can’t be Jesus because he’s comin’ with a Deere, not a white horse, so maybe he’s an angel? Or maybe just an answer to my prayer? Who knew shoveling could be so intriguing? I thought about Shel Silverstein again, and so desperately wanted to know the reason behind his title, Where the Sidewalk Ends.

I didn’t go inside to research it, so I just came up with my own interpretation: As we stand on the corner, looking down miles of sidewalk, we are faced with two choices. Shovel. Or stand. Get to the end. Or never begin.

Believe it or not, God knows about shoveling. He talks about it in Hebrews 12:

⁷ Endure hardship as discipline; (Shovel) God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? ⁸ If you are not disciplined (or did not grow up shoveling)—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. ⁹ Moreover, (if you did grow up shoveling) we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! ¹⁰ They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. ¹¹ No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. (See? Shoveling). Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. ¹² Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. ¹³ “Make level paths for your feet,” (SHOVEL!) so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.”

This world tries to convince us that we’re on an easy path that leads to uncertainty and emptiness, that because God disciplines us, He is mad at us, so the safest thing for us to do is stand and watch. Stay out of the way.

But Christ says to endure hardship! Get out there! Strengthen ourselves! Saddle up those boots and shovel! Press. On. Yes, it will be hard. Yes, it will cause pain, yes, yes it will. Yes, it will take time. A lot of time. Yes, it will. But I challenge you to stay the course because when we do, our focus changes. We begin to see life like the apostle Paul, a prisoner, who was devoted to spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ through his letters. He writes:

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13-14.

Don’t look back. Strain ahead. There is a prize heavily waiting for you. What better place to start than at the beginning of an unshoveled sidewalk, scooping up the weight of this world, and throwing it over your shoulder. Strengthen yourself so you can strengthen others. And if you’re the one needing strength, ask for it. God will send you a man with a snow blower.

           

Friends, where your sidewalk ends, Heaven begins.

Get there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is Christmas?

I just heard that Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas Day. Like today, December 25th, is not His birthday. Um.

DISCLOSURE: The purpose of my post today is NOT to convince you otherwise. I am NOT telling you to throw every moment of your life wrapped up in today by the wayside. I am NOT saying that today, Christmas Day, shouldn’t be celebrated.

Rather, my post today is to offer the question, is it more? Is Christmas, today, really more?

Amongst the skipping beats of my heart, I have to say yes. It is more. Hear me out.

According to Jewish calendar events, there is hard evidence suggesting that Jesus was born in September. So why do we celebrate His birth in December? And who is responsible for confusing me? I couldn’t put this notion to rest. And whenever I can’t rest, I go to my computer and write. My thoughts. You’re getting to know me so well.

So here’s what’s going through my mind…

If Jesus was born in the fall, wouldn’t it make sense that His conception, the exactness of the moment when the Holy Spirit came upon Mary (Luke 1), would happen in December? Nine months prior.

What if, perhaps today, instead of celebrating Christ’s physical birth in a manger, we are actually celebrating His conception? His spirit becoming a part of the human process inside a womb. His physical entrance, into the body of a humble servant. The fulfillment of God’s plan, from before time began, to send a Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord. To become one of us. At conception. Fascinating concept, isn’t it?

What if today, Christmas Day, we celebrate the beginning of life at the end of our calendar year? What if there’s a consistency in Jesus’ message, “So the first shall be last…” Matthew 20:16, and Him saying in John 5:24, “I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life.”

Death equals life. The last shall be first. The end is the beginning. Just ask George Lucas.

~~~

Four weeks ago, I opened a blank page on my computer. I dabbled a bit, wanting to write a song, even though I’ve never written one in my life. It’s hard! But I desperately wanted a song. I realized Christmas was coming, so I went with it. I pictured a church on Christmas Eve singing carols. I saw hundreds of people who only come to church once a year. I saw a man coming to the scene of Christ’s birth for the first time, wanting to believe, but not sure how to make it happen. So I wrote:

I’m not a wise man

I haven’t traveled very far

Sometimes I’ve ignored

The bright and shining star.

And then I looked to my right, and there, on my very real counter, I saw this:

I realized that this song wasn’t coming from me, but from the Holy Spirit inside of me. So together, we kept writing…

 I’m not a wise man

I didn’t bring any gold,

But something in my soul

Kept tellin’ me to go

 

So here I am

 

Arms stretched out before you

As I kneel by your side

I am a sinner

Filled with so much pride

Being in your presence

I cannot lie

 

I believe

In the Son of God Most High

Jesus is the Christ

He was born to save my life

I believe

In what they say is true

All I have to do

Is give my heart to you

 

Be pleased

In what you see

Father, forgive me

Father, forgive me

Father, forgive me

I believe

 

I’m not a wise man

But I don’t have to be

Cause the greatest gift I’ll ever know

Has just been given to me

I am free

 

I believe

In the Son of God Most High

Jesus is the Christ

He was born to save my life

I believe

In what they say is true

All I have to do

Is give my heart to you

I believe

I believe

 

Stand if you believe

Stand if you receive

Stand

Stand

You are free

 

Father, forgive us

Father, forgive us

Father, forgive us

We believe

This Christmas.

The very next day, I checked the mail. This is a partial photo of a letter I received:

 

MAGI. Of all the people in the world, MAGI, right here in this letter. Magi are wise men. Men chosen to find kings and crown them. This song was meant to be shared. Maybe not in a church setting. Clearly not on Christmas Eve (at least this year), but I knew it then as powerfully as I know it now, this song is for someone.

When the Holy Spirit came upon Mary and told her she would bear the Christ child, she listened. She opened the door of her heart. She believed. She said, “I am the Lord’s servant. Be unto me as you have said.” Oh, to have Mary’s heart!!

Friends, there is one God. One Son. One Holy Spirit. The same spirit that came upon Mary is living inside of you. Calling you to listen. To believe. Calling you to conception. Calling you to new life in Christ.

Whether you believe that Jesus was born today or in September is NOT my heart’s call. My desire for you is to believe regardless. Believe that Jesus was conceived. Believe that He was born. Believe that He lived. Believe that He died. Believe that He conquered death. Believe that He is sitting at the right hand of God, the Father. Believe that He is coming back. Believe in Him. Believe that your life on this earth is not. the. end.

This Christmas, this December 25^th, all I’m asking is, if you’ve heard someone speak of this Jesus, ask them how you can get to know Him. If you’ve never heard of this Jesus, it’s my pleasure to introduce you. If you’re unsure about what to do next. Just believe. That’s it.

Romans 10:9, “That if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’” Acts 16:30-31, “…what must I do to be saved? They replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved…’”

Believe.

Love you all. Have a Very Merry Christmas.

Dear Jesus,

Today, I believe in you. Be born in me today. Give me life. Today. I know I am a sinner, but I’m asking you to forgive me. Be my King. Forever. Thank you for my life. I love you.

Amen

 

© 2015 JG all lyrics and words