When the Mills Stop

Long time readers of my blog may remember an entry from last January entitled "The Mills of God's Justice", in which I discussed my mother's relative who was awaiting trial for molesting her and others as children. More than 50 years after his trespasses, his victims found the courage to come forward and he was arrested in December of 2013.

Over the past year, this man has been awaiting trial from his jail cell. We waited. The trial date was moved numerous times. We waited. Attorneys changed. We waited. Charges had to be renamed and brought before the grand jury again. We waited.

The wait is now over. This ordeal has ended.

The victims never made it to the courtroom.

The defendant passed away last week, before the trial could commence.

Our family wishes to thank all for the support, prayers, and love during this time.

Let me say how proud I am of each and every survivor who has come forward in this case and in others like it that are brought forward everyday. In an environment that seems to be increasingly hostile towards survivors of abuse who come forward as adults, their actions are nothing short of heroic.

Please continue to pray for those who came forward in this case that they would find peace and closure.

As this chapter closes, I pray the same blessing upon them that the Lord spoke to Moses for the Israelites:

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”’ (Numbers 6:24-26)

Mary's First Name: "Mommy"

Millions upon millions of people say prayers through one of the most important woman in the history of our world. Her name was Mary and she gained her notoriety by accepting God’s will in her life, which was to give birth to a son named Jesus. Around the world in countless languages people will pray this way:

“Hail Mary,

Full of Grace,

The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women,

and blessed is the fruit

of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary,

Mother of God,

pray for us sinners now,

and at the hour of death.”

Of course, we Protestants don’t pray to Mary, but I share this prayer because of one very important line: "blessed art thou among women". “Blessed among women” has been her title for centuries.

Mary herself fortold that “blessed” would be her title throughout the ages.

In Luke 1, after she learned that she would become pregnant by the power of the Holy Spirit she traveled to Judea to see her cousin Elizabeth. Mary says in verse 46;

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is His Name. His mercy extends to those who fear Him, from generation to generation.”

Even though she knew how special it was that God had chosen her, I wonder if Mary always “felt” blessed?

When I was pregnant I knew that Kai was a blessing from God, but there were times it didn’t always “feel” like a blessing. It didn’t necessarily feel like a blessing when I had to try 5 or 10 times to get myself out of bed. It didn’t feel like a blessing when my feet were so big I could feel water sloshing when I moved. It really didn’t feel like a blessing when I was in labor. Although I knew I was blessed to have him, “blessed” wasn’t the word I would have called it at times.

I wonder if Mary felt “blessed” as her young body changed. I wonder if she felt “blessed” as she walked through town amongst the whispers that hers was an illegitimate child. And I wonder if she felt “blessed” when she finds herself in Luke 2, away from her home, with a carpenter as a widwife, and nothing but some cloth to cover her newborn.

Luke chapter 2 reads like this:

“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. This was the first census that took place will Quirinius was governor of Syria. And everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth in Gaililee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, b/c he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, bc there was no guest room available for them.” (1-7)

What I love about the way Luke tells the story is that it is told so simply. He gets to the root of the story that we miss when we add pieces to it. It doesn’t say “the ultra holy mary and joseph gave birth to the King of Kings." It says a man and a woman were expecting a baby, He was HER firstborn, and she did the best with what she had.

This scripture is the reason for the picture above. That is a photo of my son in the moments after his birth. It’s one of my favorite photos even though he is screaming and clearly angry. It wasn’t a silent moment. It really wasn’t that peaceful. But that photo marks 2 births; the birth of my son Kai, and the birth of the woman I was becoming. This photo marks the beginning of my new life and my new name-"mommy". No matter what I’ve been or what I’ll be, nothing is as important as that name-"mommy".

See, even though I didn’t always feel like “blessed” was the right word for how I felt, in that moment even with him screaming his lungs off, when they laid him on me “blessed” wasn’t the best thing I could be called, “mommy” was. In that moment I became his and he became mine.

The birth of Jesus wasn’t important to Mary because it made her blessed or holy or ready to be a saint, before she was “blessed among woman” she was simply-“mommy”. That was her first name that mattered. Luke 2 isn’t just about the arrival of a Messiah, at its base, Luke 2 is about a young woman doing the best she could for this son she would ultimately have to give up. It was about the moment when he became hers and she became his.

As she laid there cuddling her baby, angels appeared to nearby shepherds telling them of the birth of the Messiah. Verse 16 tells us, “they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

We always take that “pondered these things” line as if it were referring to the shepherds’ words, but I think it was more. I think she was doing what parents do, she was making memories of each moment.

When Kai was born I would spend hours holding him, smelling his skin, trying to memorize every piece of him. I refused to let andy use Kai’s hospital blanket for anything when we got home bc I wanted to preserve the way he smelled in those early days.

When the bible says Mary “pondered” these things, I think she did the same things. I think she was trying to remember the way his skin felt and how he smelled. I think she locked all those things away for the day when he wouldn’t be little anymore. Because to us Luke 2 is about our Savior, but to Mary, it was about her baby.

I know that seems very ordinary for the mother of Jesus to be doing, but if He was fully God AND fully human then it makes sense for him to do all the things a normal baby does, and if he behaved as a normal baby, then it makes sense that she would be a normal mom.

I wonder if she was sleep deprived like the rest of us. I wonder if she worried all the time about him.

When I first brought Kai home I worried he wasn’t breathing right, so I would literally stay awake all night and watch him breath in and out, watching his chest move up and down. I think if she did those same things, those were moments she pondered. I wonder if in those early, frustrating, draining days with  a newborn if she felt “blessed”.

I wonder if “blessed” is how she felt as he traveled performing miracles.

I wonder if “blessed” is how she felt as he preached to multitudes.

I wonder if “blessed” is how she felt when he started preaching hard messages that turned people away.

I wonder if “blessed” is how she felt when the people started to turn on him.

I wonder if “blessed” is how she felt as she stood at the foot of the cross where her son had to die as a criminal.

I have to wonder as she watched her son die a slow, painful, sacrificial death if all those memories she locked away, all the moment of “pondering” flooded back. She wasn’t just watching the death of the Messiah, she was watching her little baby give up his life when he had done nothing wrong.

As she looked at the edges of the wooden cross did her mind go back the edges of that manger where she was just a few short years before trying to do her best to take care of her baby when she was just a baby herself?

As he hung gasping for every breath, did she watch his chest move up and down up and down and remember watching him sleep as a baby and his little chest moving up and down up and down? As she saw the blood pour down did her mind go back to scraped knees and kissing away his boo boos when he would cry for “mommy”?

I can’t imagine she felt “blessed among women” in that moment. In that moment, just as with his first moments, I think all she was was his mom.

Nothing in scripture highlights their relationship more than where we find her in John 19:25. “Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, mary the wife of clopas, and mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, 'woman here is your son' and the disciple, 'here is your mother.' From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

I wonder if when he looked on her his memories came flooding back too.

Did he remember her gentleness when he had wondered off to the temple?

Did he think back to this woman who raised him in the midst of being falsely accused of becoming pregnant out of wedlock?

Did he, too, think of the times as a child that she would scoop him up in her arms and make his troubles go away?

He must have cared a great deal to look out for her well being in the midst of his death. Because at the root of their story is a mom and her son.

I think we work so hard to make the story of Jesus holy that we forget the purpose of him coming to earth. He made himself like us so he could minister where we are. We want to focus on him being fully God to the point that we forget he was fully human too.

Mary was indeed blessed among women and it was all because she said she would do whatever God had for her. And what he had for her was to raise a son who would live a life that was ordinary in a lot of ways and give his life for you and for me. He gave up his rightful position as God to come and give his life for you.

The truth is that when you accept his will for you, that you would be saved, you won’t always feel blessed. But you will always know the love of a savior who gave up all of heaven for you. Just as Mary didn’t always feel blessed, but knew her most important role was as “Jesus’s mommy”, you may not always feel blessed but your most important name could be “child of God.”

Separation of Church and Race

(Photo Personalliberty.com)

Anyone paying attention to what's going on in America knows that the land I call home has become a powder keg as of late. Following what are being deemed "controversial" court rulings involving high profile cases, protesters have taken over our streets in countless cities to voice their outrage. In both cases, African American men were killed by Caucasian police officers during attempted arrests.

There are some Americans who are angry because they think there is a war on the black population of our country, that they are the target of unfair policing practices.

There are some Americans who are angry because they think police officers have been unfairly vilanized by the media and even our leaders.

Yes, I have my opinions on what the outcome should have been in each case.

No, I'm not going to share my opinion because it doesn't matter.

What does matter is that these incidents have proven in one way or another that we do not live in a post-racism society. Whether these incidents were racially motivated or not, the fallout has proven that there is enough of a perception of racism to paralyze our nation.

Most disheartening to me in the last few weeks has been the response of some claiming to speak for the religious community. Watching "ministers" call for deepening the racial divide is painful when we should be calling for deeper unity among believers in these difficult times.

Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. After all, we have long known that the most segregated time in America is Sunday morning. We identify our houses of worship by the races that make up the congregations. If I were to use the labels "white church" or "black church" we would all have it in our minds what that means. We have convinced ourselves that this segregation is okay because it is giving people what they want based on their culture. But the truth is that religion has long been a central connector for community and culture and the longer we stay separated the more we will drift.

When religious leaders are seen calling not only for further segregation and distrust but for physical vengeance against what they deem a "racist society" they are actually calling for their followers to live in defiance of the prayer Christ prayed for all believers in John 17,

"I pray also for those who will believe in me through [the disciples'] message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one—I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me." (v.20-23 NIV)

These were some of the last wishes uttered by Jesus before His arrest. In those moments before the ultimate unjust apprehension, Christ prayed that we would live in unity so that the world would believe in Him. So regardless of what race we are and what injustice we are claiming, if we are a Christian and our words are not calls for unity, then they should fall silent.

We, as children of God, cannot view the events around us as those who are godless, and we certainly can't react as they do. Colossians 3 offers a stern command,

"Now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all. Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." (v.8-14 NIV)

We are one body, purchased by the blood of Jesus. Christ gave His life for us to live in unity and for anyone to encourage us to separate over something as silly as the pigment of our skin is to disrespect that sacrifice.

If our words call for division, they are wrong. If our words demean our brother or sister based on their race or ethnicity, they should not be uttered.

May God use men and women to call for the unity He demands of us. May the Church bind together to bring hope and healing to our communities and nation. May we see one another as Christ does, as one body, devoid of color.

"So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise." Galatians 3:26-29

Four Promises From a Christian Parent-Regardless of My Child's Sin

This past week I began seeing a blog making the rounds on social media. It was titled "If I Have Gay Children: Four Promises From A Christian Pastor/Parent". Written by John Pavlovitz, these are his promises:

1.  "If I have gay children, you’ll all know it." He states that he will not treat their sexuality as a secret.

2. "If I have gay children, I’ll pray for them." But he makes great strides to let us know he isn't praying for them to change, but rather praying for them to be able to cope with what they were dealt.

3. "If I have gay children, I’ll love them." That one is just as it sounds.

4. "If I have gay children, most likely; I have gay children." This is the portion that I am most bothered by when I see friends sharing this blog because he uses scripture to justify same sex orientation. He states, "God has already created them and wired them, and placed the seed of who they are within them. Psalm 139 says that He, 'stitched them together in their mother’s womb'. The incredibly intricate stuff that makes them uniquely them; once-in-History souls, has already been uploaded into their very cells."

Now, I don't know this blogger. All I know is that someone who claims to have been in ministry for 17 years is getting a lot of praise for comments I cannot reconcile with being a Christian parent.

Knowing that I will be a parent in just a few days, I have thought often of what my child will become. And, yes, I have even thought of what would happen if he found himself ensnared in certain sins because I know that day will come when his sinful nature overtakes. With that in mind, I came up with my own promises, regardless of what the sin is he finds himself drawn to:

1. When my child sins, I will remember that he is like his mother. Romans 3:23 tells us, "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (NIV)  My son will sin. Just like I have sinned. Just like his dad. Just like everyone else. I didn't want my sins paraded around for the sake of shame or glory, and I won't do that to my son. I won't treat him like his sins inconvenience or embarrass me as a minister. I will remember that he is human, and thus carries a sinful nature that has to be addressed.

2. When my child sins, I'll FIGHT for him in prayer. I have no desire to pray the way this blogger describes. I want to pray like my grandmother. When my dad was lost in sin, she was a warrior. She refused to let the devil have him without a fight. He would come home from nights of partying (usually accompanied by the kind of girl you don't settle down with), to find his mother praying over a tear-stained bible. The day he got saved he called his mom to tell her and she said, "I have something to tell you-you got saved tonight." When he asked how she could know, she responded, "I've been fasting and praying for 3 days." Loving your child doesn't mean you lie down and let the devil take them because you don't want them to feel uncomfortable with your disapproval, it means you get up, you put on the armor of God and you stand your ground. My child does not belong to the enemy of his soul. He doesn't even belong to me. I gave him to God the day I found out I was pregnant. I have prayed over him everyday of my pregnancy. I've put in my time before the throne of God and the devil will have Kai over my dead body.

3. When my child sins, I'll love him. This is the one point Pavlovitz got right! My son is worthy of love no matter what. I will give him the type of Godly love described in Psalm 103, "He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities." (v.10 NIV) In the same way God's love for us doesn't make our sins less sinful, my love for my son will not make his sins less wrong, it just means I can see past them to the man God created him to be. Kai will always be my son regardless of his sins.

4. My child will sin, but he will not be the sum of his sins. I will not accept that my son is a sinner and nothing can be done about it. At the end of Psalm 139 that Pavlovitz used we find an interesting prayer in verses 23 and 24, "Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (NIV) Yes, God carefully weaved us in our mother's womb, but that doesn't take away the fact that we are accountable for what we do with the nature we inherited from Adam. Isaiah 43:1 says, "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." (NIV) Unlike this blogger who seems fine with leaving labels such as "homosexual" on his children, God doesn't call you by the labels the world so easily assigns. He calls you not by labels, but by the name He assigned you-Mine.

I leave you with this thought: if your child had cancer would you say "well that's how God made them, full of defective cells. I love him so much I'm going to accept him, full of diseases." Of course not! If your child was sick you would run to the ends of the earth to find a cure. You would give up your own sleep, food, air, whatever it took to change his situation. Why would you treat sin differently?

The Loophole

When I married my husband, I made some promises to him in the form of our vows. There were the standard commitments: promises to love, comfort, honor, and keep in sickness and in health while forsaking all others. But we also promised to be each other's friend and love, to be there in laughter and tears, conflict and tranquility. We promised to be ourselves and to love one another for who they were.

Now imagine that after a year of marriage I become restless. What if my mind begins to wonder what is beyond the bounds of our marriage? Suddenly, those vows I made in love seem less like sincere promises and guidelines and more like a contract that was trying to stifle me. What if I spend days pouring over that contract searching for the most literal meaning of each word with the intention of finding a loophole I could escape through? In an instant, love no longer means exclusivity. Soon, "forsaking all others" is vague. I would start to think, "I didn't list out specific acts that are off limits, and if he didn't ask me to give up things specifically, I don't have to worry about it."

I would be a pretty shady wife at best, and an adulterer at worst. But that's what we do in our relationship with Christ.

My generation has become famous for talking about its relationship with Christ and how it's all that matters. The truth is, if we are in a relationship with Him, most of us are adulterous partners looking for a loophole, and according to Christ's definition of adultery in Matthew 5:28, we are cheaters long before any act is committed.

I constantly see blogs and commentaries offering excuses for one thing or another. They address the "important" questions: "Can I be a Christian and curse?" "Will I go to hell if I drink?" "Is sexual sin really that bad?" Anyone who dares to suggest that a Christian should live differently than the world for the sake of either one's personal relationship with Christ or their witness is quickly labeled a Pharisee, a hypocrite, or just plain irrelevant. Those calling for holiness are accused of being judgmental and told they don't "understand grace".

Generally, these bloggers justify their answers by concluding that if the bible doesn't specifically outlaw something (and I mean to the letter), then it is fair game.

The problem is that for a generation that cries out "I just love Jesus more than anything! I don't want anything but Him!" the constant searching for a way out doesn't work.

Let's return to the aforementioned example of a marriage. I don't think of the boundaries of my marriage as something keeping me from excitement or fun because there is nothing beyond its fences that I want. I don't look for loopholes in my vows because anywhere away from my husband could never compare to the joy I have at his side. So it is with Christ. When you are really in love with Him, you don't look for a way out, because nothing on the other side of His presence could compare! In the same way I keep the unspoken rules of my marriage out of love and not obligation, we should out of love ask "what can I do to be closer to my love-Jesus?" instead of seeing His bible as a contract waiting to be torn apart.

Until we return to our first love, the incessant, childish questions will continue. Reading the Word of God isn't about finding arguments for or against certain acts, it is about intimacy with our Creator. Once you have rekindled that intimacy, your desires will change naturally because nothing-no drink, no sexual partner, not even salty talk-could compare.

Sing Over Me

A month ago I did not know the name Dennis Jernigan, although he has written some of my favorite worship songs. The prolific writer is known for compositions including "Who Can Satisfy" and "You Are My All In All". I became acquainted with his name recently during a conversation with a friend regarding the Church's response to homosexuality. You see, Mister Jernigan, an anointed songwriter and minister,  spent a large portion of his life as a gay man. His upbringing, his former lifestyle, and his DELIVERANCE from homosexuality are the subject of a new documentary entitled Sing Over Me. 

Jernigan's story, I fear, is a common one. Growing up in rural Oklahoma, he just didn't fit the mold of what he was told a young boy was supposed to be. He was artistic and preferred to spend time with female friends. This difference in personality coupled with an incident in which he was solicited for a sexual encounter with an adult male left the writer feeling as if he were, in his words, "something less than a little boy." 

His adolescent and teen years brought fear, confusion, guilt, and bullying as he began sexually experimenting with his male peers in an effort to find approval and affection he craved. After high school he attended ultra-conservative Oklahoma Baptist University. While he dated women at OBU, he continued to engage in homosexual relationships secretly. 

Sing Over Me examines the battles waged in Jernigan's mind. He found himself falling in love with a woman, but kept getting drawn into sexual relationships with men. He lived under a heavy calling, but was left feeling that God hated people like him, because Christians hated people like him. Like many living with the shame inflicted from living a double life, he became depressed and suicidal. 

The peak of the documentary is undoubtedly the story of his true conversion during a "Second Chapter of Acts" concert. As the Holy Spirit spoke through one of the group members, Dennis gave everything over to God. And in that moment, Dennis says he was delivered-instantly, completely. Time certainly seems to support this claim, because this man who stated he couldn't be aroused by a woman has been married for over 3 decades and has 9 children! 

This film touched me on a personal level. I have watched friends and family struggle with the same issues as Jernigan.  I have seen every approach possible from the Church, from telling them they are going to hell because God hates them, to being told that they just can't help what God made them, so they should continue in their lifestyle. 

Watching the pain on Jernigan's face as he described what it was like to live in such bondage left me desiring to do more to help this community understand that there is complete freedom through Christ Jesus. 

To my friends seeking to more effectively understand and minister to the homosexual community (and we should, because they are souls worthy of our time), I urge you to watch this documentary. Hearing exactly how a man anointed and gifted by God could fall into such a  trap may open your mind and heart to understand how one can stumble into this sin without even knowing what they are doing. 

To my friends struggling with living a double life, rife with guilt and pain, I encourage you to watch as well. I would suggest you learn more about Jernigan's story, so that you can see there is hope, help, and healing through the blood of Jesus Christ. 

Sing Over Me is streaming FREE through the month of September. To watch this amazing story of love and redemption, visit www.singovermemovie.com. 

The Noisy Neighbor

My husband and I live on the second floor of a three story apartment building. The first few months we lived there we had a tenant above us. We barely noticed she was there. Then she moved and left a vacant space for about a month. A few weeks ago we got new neighbors...and they made their presence known.

Between the hours of 9:00 pm and 3:00 am they could be heard stomping around on the floor. I know it isn't their fault if the floors creak, but this was not just from normal walking. It sounded like they were playing tag, running back and forth at all hours.

Even though I am in and out of our home all day, I never saw them. Being able to afford high rent in spite of apparently never going to work and keeping odd hours,  there was only one possible explaination-they must be drug dealers. Yes, in my pregnant paranoia I became the noisy neighbor from Bewitched.

This past weekend I finally caught a glimpse of them heading into their apartment. They were much younger than me. Now, I know this is when the youth pastor side should have prevailed and mercy should have taken over, but my hormones temporarily blocked that.

Andy has to get up at 4:30 am to go to work, which meant their lifestyle was keeping him from sleep he desperately needed. I'm eight months pregnant and fighting for every minute of sleep I can get before our baby arrives. With this in mind, our limit was reached and Andy decided to go give them a piece of our tired minds and tell them they had better start keeping it down.

As he headed up the stairs, I waited just inside our ajar door, listening for the outbreak of a fight or gunshots or whatever was to come from the surely impending altercation (you know, because they are clearly cartel).

But I didn't hear any of that.

Instead, I heard Andy introduce himself very kindly as the downstairs neighbor (this didn't surprise me, because he is very kind even if he did get worked up over lack of sleep). Immediately a voice cut him off. No, not a drug lord, but rather a young woman saying, "I know why you're here. I'm really sorry for the noise." Then I heard her introduce Andy to their young son as her boyfriend joined her to add his apologies.

No, they weren't drug dealers. They were young, overwhelmed parents.

When Andy returned he told me that their son gets out of his crib in the middle of the night and that's why we hear running late in the evening. He's also learning to walk, so those "thuds" were just his attempts to reach milestones. They felt so bad they asked to bring us dinner to make amends.

Possible scenarios began to flood my mind again. Maybe this is their first time on their own. Maybe they really don't have a concept of how frustrating it is to live beneath that noise. Maybe they were kicked out of their homes based on poor decisions that were made. Maybe they needed someone to be kind and show mercy, so that they could know about a kind and merciful God. Maybe I needed to remember that in a few months I will need that same mercy as my son begins to find his place in the world.

Lord, forgive me for allowing selfishness to override the call you put on me to go to the least of these. Help me to show love and kindness to those who struggle around me and teach me to see them as souls and not lost causes.

When I Was a Prostitute

I've gone to great lengths to be honest with my readers over the years, but I bet you never thought you'd read that title on my blog. We all know the most basic definition of a prostitute: "a person, typically a woman, who engages in sexual activity for payment." But there is a secondary definition: "a person who misuses their talents or who sacrifices their self-respect for the sake of personal or financial gain." I would have definitely fit that second description, and the truth is, many young women do.

In my case, I became a prostitute when I decided it was acceptable for a man to mistreat me if he followed this mistreatment up by buying me expensive gifts. I sacrificed my self-respect at the altar of a jewelry store. Let's be clear, there is nothing wrong with giving and receiving gifts while in a relationship-as long as the motivation is admiration and not covering up poor treatment. I became engulfed in a cycle in which I was lied to and run around on and then blinded by shiny objects. 

So what's wrong with this practice? The problem is that it slowly programs your mind to see love and relationship as an exchange in which you give your partner what they want for what you want. It sets up a currency-your self-respect, affection, and yes, perhaps even your body are swapped for gifts and money. You become, in effect, a prostitute. 

It is a very self-centered view of love, and thus, not really love at all. When you experience true love, you realize love isn't about what you can get out of it. Real love is about laying everything down, even your life if necessary. 

So to my young friends: don't be duped into believing your affection or self-respect can be purchased.  You are better than that. You deserve better than that. To those who are the "purchasers" in these relationships, I pray that you would learn to respect yourself as well. If you think you have to buy affection, then it's time to assess what is lacking in your self-worth that makes you believe you have to buy love. You deserve better as well. 

No amount of money can compete with the feeling of knowing you love and are truly loved by someone who will be there regardless of what a bank account says. I promise, there is no better security than that. 

Bona Fides

It's really great having an intelligent father you can go to for sage advice, until he tells you what you don't want to hear. That's where I've been lately, in that awkward place where what you need to hear collides with what you don't want to hear.

Last week I was in the midst of a good old fashioned pity party, doubting decisions I had made, because things hadn't turned out as I expected quite yet. The problem is that I know where I am, and I know roughly where I'm going to end up, I just can't figure out how to bridge that gap.

In the midst of calling myself everything from stupid to selfish, dad cut me off. He said, "you are earning your 'bona fides'. Old cops used to say rookies were 'earning their bones'." Of course I gave him a death glare because that cleared up nothing other than a rough reference to the term "bona fide". He went on to explain that this simply meant you have to pay your dues first, and once you've done that, it can't be said that you were handed anything.

Of course I had to do some research and surprise, surprise, pappy was right on his definition. "Bona Fides" comes from a Latin phrase. It means "information that establishes a person’s reputation or credentials." "Bona Fide", without an "s" was at one point a legal term meaning "without fraud". (grammarist.com) Basically, earning your "bone fides" means establishing credentials to prove you are the real deal.

So why the need for the grammar lesson? I have to believe I'm not the only minister who has felt this way. I can't be the only one who has looked around at my present situation and said "how am I any good to anyone? How could this be part of the plan that God called me too?" I know I'm not, because I've watched multitudes of young preachers quit the race because halfway through earning their bones they couldn't see what was going on.

I'm gonna blame this, in part, on the way we were taught the most basic bible stories. We were taught that if God called you to something He would place you right in immediately, you would see fruit of your labor, and be fulfilled in every way. We were taught the "instant gratification gospel". We were told that God took David from the fields, he somehow defeated a giant, and rose to fame. We were told that Moses went from stutterer to revered leader over night. And we were told that Abraham became the "father of many nations"simply because God's favor was on him.

Here's the problem, all these men "earned their bones". David earned his by killing bear and lion. Moses earned his by listening to God even when it meant being mocked and repeatedly turned down by Pharaoh and criticized by the very people he was trying to lead to freedom. Abraham earned his by a series of events in which he followed the leading of the Lord in everything from leaving his homeland and family to nearly slaughtering his son. In fact, in the case of Isaac, the bible plainly states that God was "tempting" Abraham when He demanded Isaac's life be sacrificed (Genesis 22:1).

Yes, God could take you from obscurity and place you on a world stage without all the proving ground in the middle, but He won't. The reason is simple: He loves you too much to set you up like that. In these times of trouble and confusion, take heart! He is letting you earn your Bona Fides now so that when bigger things come down the road you can point the haters back to these moments and say "God trained me on the lion so I could face the giants!"

What if David had let his fear keep him from defeating the lion and bear? What if he said "clearly God isn't on my side because I have to face these terrifying situations"? The course of scripture would have been altered. Don't fear the proving ground. Don't doubt what you face today, you are just earning your bones!

How I Know

This week brought the tragic news of the suicide of American comedic legend Robin Williams. Following the announcement of his death came a near immediate public debate on how we as a culture and as the Church view the act of suicide. I was so bothered by some of the commentary I saw (from multiple sources) referring to suicide as a "brave" or "strong" act committed by people who simply could not carry on that I wrote a response on my Facebook page.

This was the post as it appeared on my personal page:

"I'm extremely bothered by the commentary that suicide is either brave or a means to find peace. When someone's mind is so mixed up that they would consider ending their life, they last thing they need is a cheering section making suicide a viable option. I know, I've been in that place before. I've been the one who was used up and thrown aside, ready to get out of the pain anyway possible. We have no control over where the deceased ended up, but we can do something about making sure others aren't encouraged to join them before their time."

As happens far too often, people saw my words and read into it what they wished. They created an entire dialog that didn't exist, filling my page with the words they thought I would say instead of what was actually said. I was met with implications that I lack compassion and add to the "stigma" of mental illness, that I was anti-treatment, and that I was judgmental of the spiritual state of those struggling with illness. Clearly, none of these things were a part of my comments. I want to clarify here, at length, my intentions and why I feel the way I do about the subjects of depression and suicide.

Until this week, I had not shared publicly my experience with depression or thoughts of ending my life, but in light of the battle I saw going on, I felt impressed to come forward.

I have talked openly about my experience of being used and mistreated in a previous relationship. I have told of how my self-esteem plummeted, culminating in an eating disorder. I have even talked about how I was so low that I lost faith in the very existence of God. What I haven't talked about was the day I decided it just wasn't worth the pain anymore.

One afternoon, while home alone, I saw that none of my plans would work out. I was sure that I had a long, lonely life ahead and couldn't stand the thought of that. The easiest solution came with a bottle of prescription pain killers I had been given by a doctor. I took so many pills that I started vomiting uncontrollably. I remember lying on the bathroom floor, all alone. I remember thinking "I'd rather die alone now than live alone for the rest of my life." I still remember the cold bathroom tiles against my face, because that feeling was the only way I knew I was still alive. I was totally detached from what was going on.

I looked up through the bathroom door and saw a photo of my parents. In a brief moment of clarity, I thought of what it would do to them if they found me. So I peeled myself off the floor and decided to drive until I found somewhere to crash my car. "Surely it will hurt them less if it looks like an accident", I thought. In the middle of all of this, it was a very sad thought that sent me back home-"if I die, no one would come to my funeral." I had a vision of my family grieving alone over my body and no one there to comfort them. Even in my distress, I loved them and I didn't want them to hurt. They had been good to me. They had done nothing wrong to cause what was happening.

I returned home and told no one what I had done. I lied about what happened to the pills to cover my tracks.

I share this not to be controversial or edgy. I am sure some will write and say I should have stayed quiet. But I share it to let you know I do get it. I understand what it is to have NO HOPE. This is the reason I can't be quiet while some laud the decision to commit this heinous act or act as though it's a reasonable means to find peace.

There is nothing peaceful about suicide.

Lying on that floor my mind swirled over the twenty something years that had proceeded. My mind ached as I thought of missed opportunities and squandered time. I lay there feeling like I was being stabbed all over my body as the method I thought would be peaceful turned on me. How could something that breaks God's heart be peaceful? And what could break His heart like one of His children feeling like they just couldn't carry on?

This is what upset me about blogs and postings I saw. The concept that peace can be found is ludicrous. I suppose that platitude is supposed to be used to help mourners cope, but we have to realize who is watching. I was told that people in that state of mind don't care what others say, but if that were true then why do we read constantly of young people attempting suicide because "someone on Facebook said I should"?  I assure you, if I had been told by people I respected or my own family that it "takes a lot of strength to do this", the vision that sent me home wouldn't have looked the same.

I am not judge. I have said repeatedly (though it was often ignored) that I can't know what happens to the soul of a man who kills himself. To say that I do is to say that I fully understand grace, and I'm never going to claim that. I can't see that God would hold someone accountable for an act committed when they were not in a stable mindset. But because I don't know, that gives me even more drive to make sure nothing I say could be misconstrued as support of the decision. I make the comments I do because I love souls, even those that are tortured. I don't want even one to think that I support my walking this planet without them.

This is my prayer and my purpose in anything I have written on the subject: that we as the Church could find a way to have enough compassion and love that we learn how to just "be there" for those who hurt. That we would have honest and open dialogue. That people who are sick and struggling like I was (I never missed a church service, by the way, and no one knew what was going on) would feel comfortable enough to tell the truth about what they are going through and that we would help however we can, whether it be through prayer, support, or even helping to find help in the psychiatric community.

I pray most of all, that we would think before we speak, regardless of our position. I pray that we would neither encourage permanent choices nor condemn those admitting to such thoughts. I pray that we would encourage those who hurt that the strongest decision they could make is to keep getting up every day, pressing on believing that the best is yet to come!

Control

Growing up in a Pentecostal church, moves of the Holy Spirit were not foreign to me. It was not uncommon to be in a service in which men and women spoke in other tongues nor was it odd for those tongues to be interpreted via the same Spirit. I watched young and old alike leap, dance, or even spin under His control.

I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit at youth camp when I was 10 years old. I had been seeking for some time this gift that I was told would give me power and boldness to live for Jesus, something that I knew I needed even at a young age. In the 18 years since that initial outpouring I have realized what makes this experience so unique. Speaking in tongues was not about what is said or done. It is about relinquishing total control to God. Yes, seeking the Spirit is about receiving boldness to be His witness, but it is also about handing ourselves over to whatever He has. It is saying, "I give You control over what I say, what I do, and where I go."

I attended a Christian university for one semester when I was 18. We were required to attend chapel services twice a week. During one of these services, a popular preacher brought a sermon on the Holy Spirit. During her "altar call" she instructed all those who had not spoken in tongues to come forward. On her count, all those who had gathered were to begin moving their mouths and forcing out random noises-she called this "speaking in tongues". Those who did not do so to her liking were subjected to the speaker moving their jaws up and down for them. This was the first time I encountered this type of instruction on the Spirit, but it was not the last.

Recently, I have become troubled as I hear of this type of teaching being thrust upon our young people. I know of popular preachers and youth gatherings that lure teens and collegiate age participants, leading them to believe there is a true working of the Spirit happening, but when they arrive, it is nothing more than a conjured up spell being cast on our most influential.

The unfortunate truth is that these kids don't know what a real move of the Spirit is. They haven't seen real out poutings in their local churches brought on by prayer and fasting, so they buy into this idea that He will fall on them if they just work something up. They are raised only on stories of how God used to move, so when they find someone full of charisma and a room of people speaking gibberish, they think "this must be what the old people talk about!" They have confused an alluring message with an anointed speaker. They have traded revival for riotous events that are no more spiritual than going to a concert.

Let me make this clear: you cannot be taught, prodded, or coerced into speaking in tongues. These efforts all point to man being in control of what comes out of your mouth. The moment man is in control, God is no longer in control. If God isn't in control, then it is not His Spirit speaking.

Acts 2, which gives an account of the first outpouring of the Holy Spirit makes it clear that they "began to speak in other tongues, as the SPIRIT gave them utterance." (v. 4 KJV, emphasis mine) They did not begin speaking on their own accord. No disciple stood up and said, "when I count to three start moving your mouths."

Why do I care so much? Because my heart breaks as I watch young men and women I know have a calling on their lives buy into a counterfeit doctrine. I see them not seeking the true Spirit because they accept an exciting movement in His place. I see them travel long distances to hear falsehoods taught, come home claiming to be filled with a new anointing, and never live a different life. They come back just as depressed, just as bound, just as empty as they were before, except now they have a false sense of security about their walk.

It is my prayer that we would see a true revival in our local churches, so that our youth and children would know what a real move of God looks like. I want them to see men and women weep in the presence of God. I want them to see miracles. I want them to see houses of prayer, in which the Spirit comes not by fog, lights, or loud music, but by an earnest invitation and desperation of the congregation. They have to know what a true move looks like or they will continue to be deceived, and if they don't have the power of the Spirit in these last days, I don't know how they will survive.

Andy's Story Part 2

This is Part 2 of a story I began last week. If you have not already done so, please read Part 1 Here.

After Andy left the group of young witches he was a part of, the spiritual warfare around him got out of control. To understand this, you have to know a few things about those who are drawn into witchcraft and demonic activities.

One of the biggest lures of these groups is that they mimic a family. Much like what you hear of gangs, cults target the disenfranchised and lonely and make them believe they are welcomed into a brotherhood that will never abandon them. They stick to you like glue-until you choose to leave. These people can't allow former members to get out because they have too much information and leave the group vulnerable to exposure. For this reason, when someone leaves, they begin to send spirits to the defector. The other thing you should know is that those involved in witchcraft don't view demons as inherently evil. They believe you can use demons to do your bidding, thus the demons are on your side-except when they are used against you.

When Andy left, the spirits he trusted to help him suddenly attacked him. He began having nightmares in which spirits would drag him across floors. He dreamt about committing evil acts. In his waking hours, he began seeing demons in his home and wherever he went. He was scared and alone. This carried on for some time. He continued cutting as a means of distraction. What he did not realize, what many do not realize, is that cutting is a predominant form of sacrifice to the spirits that were plaguing him. The demons that oppressed him did what demons do best, they worked to destroy God's creation.

Eventually, to use his words, he "got tired of hurting and being in pain." He had been invited to a local church and in an act of desperation, walked in to a Sunday night prayer service. Once he arrived he told God, "if You are real, then You have to prove it to me." When the pastor asked if anyone needed special prayer Andy stepped forward. Andy began to ask God to take away the pain, that was the last thing Andy remembers that night.

I would like to say that was the end of the story, that he found peace and the spirits stayed away, but the door he opened had more consequences. Although he continued to see demons, he was able to resist them and was unafraid.

As the years passed, he never told anyone about his former life. He carried the secret about the molestation, he carried the shame of his experience with witchcraft, he carried the frightening truth of what he saw around him. Eventually, he confided in me the things no one knew. He decided to tell my parents, because they had more understanding of these issues than most and were able to offer counsel.

Throughout our courtship and leading up to our wedding he seemed spiritually strong, although there were moments when we had to refocus. A few months into marriage I started to notice slow changes in his walk. I kept asking questions about where he was in his relationship with Christ, but he either became defensive or hid the truth from me. Although I could discern something was happening, I didn't know what was going on.

Internally Andy was struggling with feelings of abandonment by those he was supposed to be close to. People who had said they would always love him and be there for him seemed to have gone away. These feelings bred bitterness in his heart and that bitterness led to anger. Andy soon found that Ephesians 4 is true, anger gives a "foothold" to the devil.

Slowly, old thoughts began to return, in his weakness he once again heard voices telling him that if he just gave himself over, he could be strong. I can't over emphasize this, it was a slow fade. As is always the case, the devil creeps in quietly, little by little and before you know it, he has you.

Andy would close his eyes and begin to envision the spirits entering his body.

I didn't know the seriousness of what was going on until one Wednesday night returning from church. Andy started arguing with me over nothing. Then he started accusing me of saying things I had never said. This all makes sense now, because the devil is the accuser, but at the time I was totally confused. We walked in the door and went to separate rooms. Soon enough he came storming out of his room and approached me as I lie on the couch. He stared at me, about a foot from my face and said, "they say I have to put a spell on you now." Now, if anyone else said that I would have just looked at them as if they were crazy, but I knew he was serious. It was like a dark cloud had suddenly formed in the room. I could feel a shift in the atmosphere.

This is where I need you to trust me. I know this part sounds crazy, but I need you to realize that I am a very rational, realistic person. I don't go around making everything spiritual. I don't call every bad thing an attack of the devil. It takes A LOT for me to give the devil credit for something, but this happened exactly as I am telling it.

I sat up and asked him "what did you just say?" He again told me his plan. Without a thought, in one motion, as if not in my own control, my hand landed on his head and he landed on the floor. I began to pray. His eyes rolled back and his voice went to an octave I have never heard before. The demon began speaking, sometimes in words I understood, sometimes in demonic tongues. Whatever was speaking through him made it clear that it hated me. It began to speak against me, claiming that I was weak and it would destroy me. I spoke to the spirit commanding it to come out in Jesus's name. Andy's body became stiff as he screamed as if in pain over and over again as I placed my bible on top of him. The Holy Spirit rose up within me. It didn't like that at all. As I prayed in tongues he screamed louder and louder trying to drown me out as I called on the name of the Lord.

There I was, newly married, watching a literal war go on in the body and soul of the man I loved. After some time he let out a massive yell that I was sure would prompt our neighbors to call the police. Suddenly, frantically, his eyes began searching the room and he came back to me. We prayed together for Jesus to once again be the Lord of his life, to forgive him of the sins and thoughts that allowed this to happen, and to break the chains that kept him bound to his former practices.

Andy doesn't remember what he said or did that night. The only thing he remembers is watching something leave our apartment and our final prayer together.

I know that this raises a lot of questions. The most obvious is how was he possessed if he had gotten saved? The answer is uncomfortable. No, I don't believe a Christian can be possessed. They can be under oppression and influence, but light and dark can't exist together. The truth is that the anger that was allowed to grow in his heart overtook his relationship with Christ and left a gaping whole for the devil to enter. The second question will come from those who had heard me speak well of Andy in this time. I'm sure to some it seems like I was lying about him being a good husband and friend. Maybe this is one of those "love covers a multitude of sins" things. I don't hold him responsible for the things he said or did during this time period because it wasn't really him speaking. I know the real Andy always loved me. He was absolutely wrong to allow the devil in, but at the end of the day I pledged to love him no matter what and loving him meant not backing down and letting the devil have him.

This experience is the reason I sometimes come across as hard on certain issues. This is the reason I can't be okay with demonic themed films (once you've lived it, you really don't want to watch it). This is the reason I won't turn a blind eye to young people listening to music that endorses demonic themes. This is the reason I can't just call self-mutilators "attention seekers".

Those doors he opened in his teen years still cause problems. Just last month, while I was at camp, he saw one of his former friends from the "church" at a local shopping area. The young man saw him from across the street and began screaming that Andy was a "traitor". There are still times when he sees something that reminds him of those days and we have to pray for the Lord to guard his heart and mind. And yes, there are times when he sees spirits around us. It is not a life easy to escape.

Again, it is my prayer that all who read this understand that we shared all this (even very embarrassing parts) as a way to open the eyes of those dabbling with anything to do with the enemy. He is still seeking whom he may destroy. He is working in ways we don't always see. We must always be on guard and we must be prepared to fight his attacks.

I love my husband. I will continue to stand by him and fight for him, as he does for me. I believe God has a tremendous purpose for him that is yet to be realized and that all this will be used to the glory of God. No matter where you are or what you have been through, whether by your choice or actions thrust upon you, God is not finished with you yet. His plan surpasses anything we can think or deserve.

Andy's Story Part 1

From time to time I have (with permission) shared the testimonies of loved ones in an order to offer hope for others I know are struggling with similar situations. A few months ago, my husband asked me to do something I hadn't expected. He asked that I join his story to list of others I had shared. As he has traveled with me and seen the bondage so many are in, he has had an urging to share where he came from in order to warn others of the destruction they are playing with and to share the good news that there is hope, regardless of the darkness of your present situation. It took this long to write it because it is a testimony that contains sensitive and at times controversial material. I wanted to be sure, above all, that the message conveyed was not one of victimization or glory to anything other than the transformative power of God. With that in mind, I present Andy's story.

When asked what my favorite thing is about Andy, my answer is always the same, "it's his kind heart." He has always been kind, gentle, forgiving, and loving towards me-even when I did not deserve it. In this way, our relationship has taught me new dimensions of the love God has for me, for it is truly a Godly love that is in his heart. I share about his goodness in order to explain how unbelievable his former life was, and to tell how God can truly transform every part of us.

During our engagement Andy told me a secret that no one in the world knew. As a young child, he had been molested by another boy in his neighborhood. Andy had forgiven this boy and understood that he had more than likely been molested himself. But even though he had forgiven him, the thought of the events never went away. The actions of this child planted seeds of doubt and weakness in Andy's mind.

As Andy grew up, he seemed to always find himself in trouble. Diagnosed with ADD and being dragged from doctors to psychologists who never got to the root of it all left him feeling worthless.  The options were either to stay on medications that left him like a zombie or drop them all and deal with his disorder. Maybe if they had known what had happened, they would have realized he was actually quite smart and was always active because he needed to distract his mind from the constant battle.

Kids who are labeled with ADHD are often made to feel like a nuisance. They are told they are stupid, crazy, lazy, and have no prospects for the future. That's where Andy was. Those seeds of powerlessness planted by the boy who took advantage of him were watered and tended to by adults and other children who made him feel weak with their words and actions.

Around the age of 12 Andy began self-mutilation. He started cutting his body, sometimes in obvious spots, sometimes in hidden areas, initially as a means of getting attention from those he thought didn't notice him. This plan did nothing but leave him with scars still visible over a decade later, but never ended his suffering.

As he grew older, he began searching for new ways to numb his pain. He did what many abused do, he turned to alcohol and drugs. To most on the outside this seemed like normal teenage rebellion, but in Andy's case it was fueled by something deeper. He wasn't smoking marijuana or drinking because he perceived it as "cool", he did it because anything that dulled his senses was better than the daily torment of wondering if he could have done more to stop the detestable actions that were committed against him.

This habit of self medication led to a feeling that life was meaningless. He became what most considered a "thrill-seeker", pulling crazy stunts like jumping off bridges into rather shallow waters below. What the outsiders didn't know was that this wasn't just about an adrenaline rush. He had no desire to live. It wasn't that he was trying to kill himself, he just didn't care if that was what happened.

He had decided that no one would ever want a "broken" soul like him. No girl would ever choose to marry him, let alone raise a family with him. Being made to feel "stupid" and incapable of any real academic or career success, he really had nothing to look forward to. He knew he had a lonely, empty life ahead, and saw no reason to delay death.

At the age of 18 he was introduced to the darkest and admittedly hardest part to understand of his story. He discovered that a friend was heavily involved in witchcraft and began to inquire as to the practice. His friend knew how to draw in this lonely, powerless boy, he told Andy how through witchcraft and the assistance of the demons they invite he could feel ultimate power.

I can't stress this part enough-Andy turned to the practice because long before he was made to feel powerless. Every time he thought of the acts perpetuated by the young boy, every time someone called him "dumb", every time his best efforts weren't good enough, all that fueled his decision to find something to make him feel "big".

Andy still remembers his first visit to one of the gatherings. As he entered the room, he found the windows covered in black sheets, the only illumination coming from candles, in an effort to give demons the darkness they craved. The walls and floors were covered in drawings. There was a table containing machetes, knives, and a skull. The group of about 15 young people were chanting and singing what seemed to be tribal music.

Andy's friend wanted to invoke a demon that night. He stood in the center of the room as the others gathered around smoking cigars and marijuana (a common practice to invite spirits). As he invited the demons to enter, those around him began to make sacrifices. Some were killing small animals and offering their blood to the spirits. Others began to cut and offer their own blood. It was during this that Andy watched his friend's wish be granted: he became possessed. His young friend began contorting and screaming in demonic tongues.

Andy remained in the group for about nine months. In that time, he started moving up the ladder. He proved himself enough to be called a low-ranking warlock. With this distinction came the ability to cast spells and use spirits to see the inner thoughts of those he wanted to target. The object of his obsession quickly became Christians. He hated Christians. Andy was raised not only in a Christian home, but in a missionary house. He knew about God. He knew that God allegedly loved people, but all he could do was hate God for all the pain he had faced and if you are going to hate God then you have to hate this claiming to be like Him.

The deeper he got into the cult, the more spirits would visit him, especially in his dreams. He left because the spirits he had come to trust began to threaten him. They told him that they would take him to hell. He knew enough to be scared. With this decision to turn away came new demonic attacks as witches began casting spells and sending demons to him even at great distances.

It seemed there was no escape...


Stay tuned for part 2 of Andy's story, coming soon.

Marriage Part 2: When the Party's Over

My last posting was a lament regarding the current view of engagement for most young women in America. Faced with the awesome privilege and responsibility of matrimony, many young people view it as nothing more than an opportunity for a party. They spend months planning for one day, giving very little thought to what happens when that day is over. But eventually, the honeymoon period does end. At this point we watch young marriages disintegrate in the harsh light of marital day. It is with that in mind that I try and open the eyes of my young friends looking to marry.

The Tiara Comes Off

The worst part of any party, no matter how long you've planned or how great the event was, is that eventually you have to clean up. Perhaps the biggest mess created by making a wedding into a party is that you spend months being the center of the universe only to discover when it's over, you are just like everyone else. Throughout my engagement I heard an odd statement that I could never fully grasp, "this is about you, you need to be selfish right now." This was uttered with the best of intentions as people wanted me to have the wedding of my dreams and wanted me to feel okay about making demands. The problem with this mentality is that it doesn't match up with an event that is lauded as a celebration of love. If a wedding is about love then you can't be selfish in planning because love is NEVER selfish.

Nothing says "it's my day" more than the importance placed on the walk down the aisle. The first thing I knew in planning my wedding was that I wanted my close friend, Glynis, to sing "At Last" as I entered the sanctuary. And she did it to perfection. As I planned I could just imagine the doors flying open, the light shimmering behind me, and several hundreds of people looking at me. That is pretty much how it happened, although when the doors opened I immediately locked eyes with my groom and didn't notice those around me. The truth is, it's a nice thought that you would have the room captivated even if just for a moment. Everyone should get to experience that.

But that's not what it's about. That walk should be about more than attention, it should be about a passage into a new stage of life. It's about leaving your old life behind and placing your trust in your spouse to meet your meets. Yep, that moment is nice, but if you spend your engagement believing the world revolves around you, you are in for a dizzying realization the next week when you suddenly have to care more for your spouse's needs than your own. My advice is this: learn sacrificial love (not just compromising love) during your engagement. Don't put it off until "your day" is gone. Get the practice in now, because you won't be the princess at the center of the ball forever.

Vows Aren't Just Words

Although many young couples are now creating their own vows, most still contain something similar to the standard "for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health". Those words seem like an easy thing to commit to in the planning process. I mean, if all it takes to get some fancy wedding photos to show off is to recite after a preacher, why wouldn't you agree? But there is a reason for that promise. You probably will have days when the money runs out (particularly if you break the bank to make your Pinterest wedding dreams come true). It's a lot harder to view your husband as your knight in shining armor in those moments. You probably will have days when you have more than you do right now. In those moments you have use wisdom and cooperation to do the right thing.

You agree to sickness and health because those are inevitabilities. You say, "Lindsey, I love my boyfriend. I would stay with him through anything; cancer, disability, death." That's admirable. That should be expected from someone vowing a lifetime to another. But what if it is a mental illness you have to deal with? What if it isn't a matter of your sweet spouse being physically incapable, but rather of him falling to pieces mentally, to the point that he is a different person entirely. What happens then?

The Man of the House

One of the hardest things for me in marriage is a struggle I imagine to be common for many young American women heading into marriage. I got married at age 27. I was strong and independent. I have been able to take care of myself for some time now and had no interest in allowing a man to "take care of me." Here's the problem: God created men as our protector and provider. Men have an innate need to fulfill this role. I find myself having to step back often and give my husband the liberty to do just that. Yes, I could meet the needs on my own, but that would be destructive to us as a couple because it would be destructive to his psyche. I urge my young female friends to allow the Lord to check you on this one. I am by no means endorsing allowing a man to walk on you or saying you don't stand up for yourself. I am merely saying we have to realize how this affects men and allow them to realize the position God created them for in your family.

You Aren't Committing To Your Spouse

This one seems odd. With all the talk about marriage being about your spouse and the commitment to once another, you may be confused by my statement. Your vows are not just a pledge to your spouse, they are a pledge to God. You are telling Him that you respect His institution of marriage. This matters because a pledge to man is easily broken, pledges to God are not. Marriage is not a contract in the eyes of your state, it is a contract between both parties and God. Marriage isn't about being with the one you love. It's not about meeting all their needs. Yes, you will learn to put them first because that's what love does-it prefers others. But those are side effects. Marriage and family is about being an expression of God's love here on earth. In a time when vows mean so little, the church has an obligation to prove that there is such a thing as selflessness.

So after reading this you may be thinking, "wow! Lindsey must really hate married life." Far from it! I love the fact that God gave me a partner to cling to. I love that He gave me a kind, loving, supportive husband to be there through all the ups and downs. I love that our love has shown me new depths of God's love. I love that I get to be a part of something as sacred as marriage. But I don't want to sit by quietly and watch any more young friends walk blindly into the institution without realizing what they are getting into. Marriage is beautiful and sacred. Don't make God the first thing in your relationship, make Him the only and you will have a beautiful life ahead.

Marriage Part 1: It's My Party

When a young woman thinks about getting married, lots of things could rush through her mind. She could think about building a life with the man she has chosen. She could think about having children and raising them in a home of her own. She could even think about growing old with her husband. But these aren't the things she probably does think about. Marriage to most young women isn't about what happens after "I do", it is about the wedding. Just think about how sad that is. When faced with the chance to be a part of a sacred institution, a chance to realize new dimensions of who God created them to be, young women say, "that's an okay bonus, but what I'm excited about is a party where I get to wear a princess gown and tiara."

HOSTAGE DEMANDS

 The first hints that a woman has her priorities confused comes well before the ring. When I was single (in a previous relationship), I definitely upped the pressure on my partner every time another girl got engaged. Watching quasi-friends get engaged led to jealous comments like "what's so special about her?" and "that ring is so tacky" Along with these embarrassing thoughts came desperation for answers to questions like "why did she deserve it and I didn't?" When these comments became part of my stream of consciousness, I proved exactly why I wasn't ready. I didn't care about building a life with a man I loved. I didn't care about filling our hallway with photos of kids and grandkids, I cared about filling my Facebook with humble brag photos of my ring, strategically photographed so as to make it glimmer and flaunt the size without being obvious. You know, like this gem:

(*face palms self)

Proposal obsessed girls often share an interesting pastime: creating hostage demand lists. A quick Pinterest search for "proposal rules" reveals the prevalence of this trend.

What's funny is that when girls initially started posting these plans, their were only maybe 3 request, there are now near-pages of what is expected. The reason is simply this: it's not enough to have a good proposal, it has to be better than everyone else's.

Here is a real example found during a search:

Let me say, I fully believe in number 1, not because it's romantic, but because it is respectful. God trusted my father to take care of me growing up, and he deserved a chance to give his input. Now for another confession: I asked for almost all these things for my proposal, and I got them all. Yes, it was nice, but it really didn't matter. Once I saw Andy and knew what was going on I went temporarily deaf and couldn't hear any of it anyway. 

The point is this: you can't compare your relationship to anyone else's. If you have truly placed your relationship and future in the hands of God, then you have to trust that if He wanted you to have the type of proposal your friend had, then He would have placed you in the same type of relationship as her. God is not Henry Ford. He doesn't work on an assembly line, He is a customizer. When you allow Him to, He creates the love story specific to you, not comparable to anything or anyone. And when you realize that, you no longer care how your story stacks up in the twitter sphere. 

PUT [THE RIGHT] RING ON IT

When I was younger I came up with what I thought was the best litmus test to prove I had the right guy. I figured if he was the right one, then he would get me the right ring. If he showed up with the wrong size or shape diamond, clearly he didn't know me well enough for me to pledge my life to him. 

This was one of the most ignorant things I have ever thought up (and we all know I've had my share of moronic thoughts.) I get it from a practical side, you have to wear this thing the rest of your life, you want it to look good, but obsession with the ring is perhaps the biggest sign of priority confusion. There's no way around it, it's materialistic and not the way to start out a new life together. 

Of all the things you will learn about men once you are married, very high on that list is that men need to feel like a strong provider. How do you think it makes him feel to know he can't get what you demand? I've even heard the theory that the quality of the ring represents how good of a provider he will be, thus if a man buys you a more reasonably priced ring, he will take better care of you. To that I say, "the devil is a lie." What is more important: providing a huge rock, or providing stability by using wisdom? Don't be confused or led astray by the trappings of this world. The measure of a good man is built on his ability to lead you into God's purpose, not his ability to max out a credit card. Just ask yourself, is the perfect ring worth putting your husband into debt? (*hint: his credit will soon be your problem as well) 

IT'S MY PARTY 

When you get engaged you are immediately expected to get your plans together. Whether your engagement is 2 months or a year, planning consumes your life. After all, this is YOUR big day. I had a fabulous wedding, mainly because my mother worked on it everyday. I got engaged the weekend before Christmas and married at the end of the following August, and she literally did something everyday in between. 

The problem with most engaged couples is that they are so consumed in planning the party that they take no time to prepare for what happens afterwards. Who has time to discuss minor issues like if you will have kids or how you will discipline them when there are pressing matters like what color napkins you will order? No one wants to discuss their debt or how they can tackle it while charging thousands of dollars for a honeymoon-it's just a mood killer. This is why I 100% believe that ALL couples need to go through pre-marital counseling. It ended up being one of my favorite parts of wedding preparation. Yes, it was uncomfortable at times, but it was absolutely necessary.

Getting lost in all the wedding planning is almost an inevitable struggle for the engaged couple, but if the full focus is on the party and not the marriage, you have a serious problem on your hands. I assure you, marriage is NOT a party. Yes, there are amazing aspects to marriage done the right way, but soon you will find that the world no longer revolves around you and your happiness. Sorry, but at some point, you have to take the tiara off and go back to the real world. 

In your zeal to get down the aisle don't forget that proposals aren't about demands and marriages aren't about partying. Getting married may be a milestone, but marriage isn't. It is one of the deepest, most difficult commitments you will ever make. It is a promise not just to your spouse, but to God, and thus should never be entered into for any reason other than to bring glory to God. If your focus is on the ring, the proposal, or the party, you just aren't ready.

Stay tuned for part two: when the party is over

The Best Days?

A few months ago I received an invitation to the ten year high school reunion of one of the two schools I attended. Yes, I was as shocked as you that it has been ten years. In the midst of my reflections on a decade in the real world, I started receiving graduation announcements and invitations from young people I have come to know and love through ministry. I started thinking about all the things I wish someone had told me back then, and wanted to share a few with you, high school students and recent grads:

1. These are not the best years of your life. That's what you are probably told over and over again, but it was a lie. God has much bigger and better things ahead for you. When people would offer this platitude to me my heart would sink. I was so lost and lonely as a teenager, if that was the best there was for me, then there was no reason to have hope for the future. The truth is high school is rough. You are surrounded by hundreds (in my school, thousands) of young people ruled by hormones and emotions who don't know who they are. Many of these young people live in homes that are tattered. Some are treated like trash and have no way to escape, so they come to school and take it out on everyone else. Things will get better. You will discover more about yourselves in the next four years than you have in the last 18, I assure you. If you had a great time in high school, that's great, but you ain't seen nothing yet.

2. Let your haters be your motivators. I was bullied for several years as a teenager. I went to sleep dreading seeing my bullies the next day. I woke up seeing their faces in my mind. They had me convinced that I was less than they. In the years since, I have learned that if someone is pulling you down, it is because they are already beneath you. The day will come when you can't remember their faces and you won't know their names anymore. Whatever you do, don't give them the satisfaction of causing you to give up. Current students are now faced with the wild west of social media in which anything goes. When I was a kid I had to dread eight hours of school with my assailants, now it is 24/7. Please know that they only mistreat you because something MAJOR is missing in their lives. They want to shut you down because they feel inferior and fear you will surpass them. The truth is, if you keep your head up, and they don't change, their fear will be realized. The bible says we have to pray for those who persecute us. The reason is simple: they are in trouble. Anyone who has to pick on  someone they perceive as weaker doesn't have much of a future ahead if they don't get their life straight. When they pick on you, take it as a compliment you got them running scared. There must be something pretty spectacular about you to have them so intimidated by your future.

3. Most relationships won't last. This goes for all relationships, romantic and otherwise. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but this is actually good news. Change = growth. Yes, you may have some friends from high school that you keep in touch with. Social media makes this much more likely than it used to be. But, you won't be the same person in ten years that you are now, neither will your friends. You will grow up. You will discover who you are. If you and your friend have the same journey, your relationship may remain, but for most, you will find that the things that united you as teenagers were pretty shallow. At some point you will find that there is more to friendship than common interest. You will discover that shared values will trump shared affinity for things that don't really matter. Most couples won't stay together for the same reason. Yes, I know, "but we are different". Okay. Maybe you are right. I'm sure there are thousands of couples waiting to prove me wrong about high school love, but for most it won't last. Don't compromise yourself for someone because you think you have found endless love. Likewise, don't let your heart be broken over love lost and found with someone else. Yes, getting dumped for someone else hurts. But it really isn't the end of the world. More than likely, the same thing will happen in that new relationship as well. Relationships built on hurting someone else have a rocky foundation at best. Keep your head up, buttercup. If someone doesn't recognize your value, that's their problem, not yours. Trust me, it's better to cut those ties now than to waste years on something that wasn't going to work anyway.

There you have it. The reunion was last week, and no I didn't travel 1,600 miles to attend what was effectively a pub crawl with people I barely remember.

My life has progressed quite nicely. I now have a gorgeous husband and what I'm sure is going to be a brilliant son on the way. I have found my calling in life and am pursuing it and I have friends around the world who care for me. I really didn't feel the need to go back. I have proven those were not the best days by a long shot. I hope life turned out well for those who mistreated me. I hope they found whatever it was that was missing that made them so cruel towards me. I'm not angry anymore. They don't control my emotions anymore because I took that power back.

Young friends, God has something so much better for you than you could imagine. Whether you were the valedictorian or the near drop out, there is better coming. Whether you were the star quarterback or the biggest geek in school, there is better coming. Whether you led your prayer club or were the resident stoner, there is better coming. God's plan isn't dependent on which table you occupied in the lunch room. It doesn't matter if everyone was desperate to sit with you or if you were the girl eating in the stairwell alone, He wants to take every experience, every victory, every defeat, and form it into something He can use. Your best is yet to come!

In Response to Baby Mama's Anthem

Let me preface this by saying I know this post will make a lot of people upset, but I'm saying it because someone needs to. Please know that I write not to upset or hurt feelings, but to shed light on the darkness our culture embraces.

You were warned, here we go...

I keep coming across a video on social media of a young woman singing what I'm assuming is a self-written song in her car. A video of the song "Single Mama's Anthem" has gone viral and keeps popping up every few weeks in my feed. In the song she tells the story of having kids as a teenager, being judged, and living a life of "all work and no play". Then the song (which I can't share because of offensive language) gets to the part that really bothers me. The chorus gets to the crux of the issue when she sings "we don't need no man" as far as I can tell the next line is "because it's God that we trust", although I'm struggling to decipher that line.

Nearly every comment I have read applauds the song for telling the truth and hails this young woman for spreading the "we don't need no man" message.

Before I go any further, let me say this is not meant to bash single moms. I'm sure I'll get lots of "you don't know what it's like" messages calling me judgmental. I've been very open with my readers about my past before giving my life completely to Christ and I fully understand that given my previous life I could have been in the single mother's club as easily as anyone else. I don't know why I didn't "get caught" like so many others do. It doesn't make me any better than anyone else, I am fully aware of that.

I couldn't even imagine going through my pregnancy alone, let alone raising a child on my own. I'm sure it's a difficult thing for a young woman to watch her youth slip away because of poor decisions while the other tango participant does as he pleases. I'm sure it's difficult to not be bitter when you have to abandon dreams of school and career after someone convinced you they'd always be there, but left when playing house got too real. I am NOT minimizing the struggle.

It's just that I am concerned with the environment we are bringing our daughters up in that says men are an unimportant and unnecessary piece of the American family. If a man doesn't stick around, it was expected anyway because they are all dogs, if he does stay we are supposed to throw a parade in their honor. How is that okay? How is it not the standard that men will take care of their child because the child is half theirs? Why should I be impressed by a man who sticks around to take care of something that is genetically half his? Why should I expect a man to abandon something that is equally his as it is his partner's?

In case you haven't noticed the American male is under serious attack. They are presented as fools in movies and television. We have let the bad apples spoil the bunch and lumped them all together as lazy, lying, bumbling idiots who are good for nothing but giving us something to look at. Our young women are being influenced by the older women in their lives constantly running down their husbands, ex-husbands, and lovers as "jerks". Young ladies are growing up programmed to believe that there is no such thing as a good man, so there's no reason to hold out for one who will treat them right. This, perhaps more than anything, leaves me terrified for the future of the girls in America. How can we expect them to make good choices regarding their future spouses when we tell them there is no good choice? How can we expect them to honor their husbands as the head of their house if we have taught them that all men are idiots and incapable of making good decisions?

When it comes to moms, we give utmost honor to the single mom for staying with the child. Why is it not just considered normal for any mom to provide love and support for their child? Is a single mother more impressive than one who waited until marriage to do things in the proper order? The truth is there are amazing single moms, and there are terrible single moms. There are also amazing married moms and terrible married moms. I constantly hear praise for the single mom for teaching her kids about hard work and determination. When is the last time you heard someone praise the married couple for raising their children in fear and admonition of the Lord? When have you heard the married mother extolled for teaching her kids how to work with their spouse even when it's difficult? Why are these not qualities worth celebrating? Why is there no "married mama anthem"?

Maybe you don't need a man, but your child does. Your son needs a role model to teach him how to be a real man. He needs to see what it is to possess honor and gentleness. Your daughter needs someone to teach her that she is worthy of respect and dignity. Maybe your child's biological father left. Maybe he was cruel or abusive (in which case I am not advocating sticking around). I implore you, if you find yourself without the child's father around, find another strong male role model for them. Find a man whom you would want your son to be like or the type you would want for your daughter to marry, and let them pour wisdom into them. Find a church that functions the way they are instructed in the New Testament and teaches young people how to grow in the Lord through example and the passing on of wisdom. Don't let pride or bitterness put conflict in their young minds regarding what is expected of them and for them.

Husbands and fathers are just as important as moms, if they weren't, God wouldn't have set up the family structure as He did. To say you are just as well to raise a child on your own is a mockery to the institutions and plans God placed regarding the correct order of things. When God places commands on our lives, such as waiting for marriage for sex, it is because His way is the best way. He is a God of order. If children didn't need a man in their lives, then God wouldn't have set the family structure to include both a man and woman.

Again, I hope it has been made clear that this is not a condemnation on single mothers-far from it. I pray for all women who find themselves in this situation (that I could have found myself in). I pray that they would know that regardless of their past, they are worthy of love and respect. I pray that they would realize that not all men are the same. I pray that we as the church would learn to reach out to this group of women with love, compassion, and empathy. I pray that we would rise up and be support for these kids who live with something missing in their lives. I pray that our men would teach young boys how to love women as Christ loved the Church. I pray that our women would teach young women how to honor and respect the men in their lives.

No matter where you find yourself, in spite of mistakes and missteps, God loves you. He has a future for you regardless of what is found in your past. He will guide you. He is always on your side.