I Am Persuaded

My grandmother lived what many would consider a tragic life. Born in the early days of the Great Depression, she grew up poor, hungry, neglected, and abused by a step mother who was given charge of her after her mother's death when she was only four. She had to work hard for every thing she had-and she didn't have much. By the time of her death, she had been preceded by 2 of her children-a stillborn baby boy and a wayward son who suffered a seizure in his mid 20's and died alone.

Her life was not to be envied. But she was greatly admired by those who knew her. She kept the faith and coated the family Bible in tears until her backslid husband and rebellious children found their way to this Jesus whom she loved.

My grandfather died in his early 60's leaving my "nanny" behind. As was common for many growing up when she did, nanny didn't have much of an education. She became a very adult learner and started studying to receive her GED. Those plans were halted one day when her daughter walked in to find her talking like a baby and crying for her "mama". Her descent into Alzheimer's was rapid.

It wasn't long after that she slipped into a lengthy coma. She woke up three times, and each time she said the same five words, "God's been good to me."

What event in her life warranted such a declaration? Her life was full of death and sorrow and struggle, yet those were the words so deep in her spirit that not even the depths of a coma could suppress.

I thought about my nanny this week as I taught my youth group from the book of Romans. We reached the passage my Bible labels, "The Believer's Triumph".

Romans 8:38-39 proclaims,

"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

I always thought that to mean nothing I do can separate me from God's love, but I'm now seeing it in a broader view-that God's love is an ever-present force, no matter the circumstance I'm experiencing. Hardship is NOT a result of the absence of His presence or love.

He was good to her because He was always with her.

He was with her at four years old when her mama died.

He was with her when she was punished for filling her empty belly with mustard in the middle of the night because her step mother had starved her.

He was with her when her newborn didn't cry.

He was with her when her children were lost in wild living.

He was with her when she heard of the discovery of her son's lifeless body.

He was with her when her mind had left.

And He was with her in her deep slumber from which she would not recover.

He was always walking with her...and now she can walk with Him.

NOTHING separated her from His love.

She never lost the faith because like the Apostle Paul, she was persuaded that nothing could separate her from the love of God because nothing had separated her from the love of God.

Oh that this would be our testimony. I pray that we would remember that His love has never and will never leave us. I pray that we would see that God has been good to us, because He has never left us.

Dead Dreams

At the age of 31, it's an understatement to say things haven't all turned out the way I planned. Most of the plans I made never came to fruition. Now some of those dreams came and went easier than others. As an adult, I can now understand that my goal of being an actress/singer/princess may have been an overreach and reality necessitates I move on. No problem. But then there are other goals that I genuinely strove for only to find they would always be beyond my reach.

That hurts.

You want to think that if you want something bad enough and work hard enough, it'll all work out. But life isn't always like that. In particular, the life sold out to God and in submission to His Plan probably won't end with all of your dreams being fulfilled.

That's where I landed a couple of weeks ago. I wish not to share the details because I want you to see how applicable the Lord's words to me are to many who feel lost.

Suffice it to say I had a dream/goal/plan that I wanted more than just about anything. For the better part of a decade I had been fixated on this thing. "I'm gonna make this happen" I told myself. Every time I came up against a locked door, I backed up and tried to figure out another way in. If it didn't open with a turn of the knob, I'd find a key. If I couldn't find a key, I'd use a battering ram. I was getting in this door. Because I just had to.

Why was it so important? Because when I looked at those I wished to be like, they had all gone through this door. When I compared myself to them, I always came up short. Whatever was beyond that door, I had to get there, because that's where my heroes were.

But the battering ram didn't work. The door was sealed off for me. I would never be like those I admired so.

I realized this was it. I didn't have the strength to keep forcing my way to a dead end, and to be honest, I wasn't so sure I wanted in anymore.

So I did what I had to do to hammer the final nails into the coffin of my now-dead dream. And with the last swing, the Lord spoke as clearly as He ever has to me. While I wish to keep some of His Word for myself, I believe this part is for many of us.

He said: "Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. You don't need what they have because you aren't going where they are going."

In that instant, peace washed over me and I was finally calm. God wasn't keeping the door shut because He didn't hear me, He was doing it because I belong somewhere else. Not somewhere less than, but somewhere only I can go.

I don't know where you are at right now. But if you find yourself where I was, unable to hear God speaking over the sound of shattered dreams, I believe that word is for you too.

Stop comparing yourself.

God had every one of your days mapped out before you lived the first one (Psalm 139). As a matter of fact, He had them written before those you compare yourself to lived a day as well. His plan for you is not contingent on what anyone else on this planet has done or will do.

It's okay to take a different path. It's okay to not live up to the standard you've set in your mind. Don't mourn the death of a dream. Celebrate the chance for something new to be birthed in you.

You'll Miss the Best Part

Have you ever tried to share a movie you absolutely love with a friend? The expectations are high that they'll think it's as great as you do. But then something happens. The plot twists. A new character is introduced or the action shifts in a way they didn't expect. Suddenly, the movie isn't as exciting or romantic as they had expected. Or maybe things turn scary or uncertain. Your friend decides you were out of your mind to recommend the film and they stand up to leave. You, knowing the spectacular resolution that's coming begin to plead, "but you'll miss the best part if you leave now!"

I've been married just a few days shy of four years. Obviously, I'm no expert. But in that short time I've seen the marriages of several of my young friends end. Of course, there are times when abuse or adultery leave no other viable option, but too often I'm hearing that they made the decision because they are just "too young" to waste their time in bad marriage. Over and over I hear something to the effect of one or both parties deciding if this is the best there is, then they'll pack up and start over while they are still young enough to find their fairy tale elsewhere.

We've bought into this manufactured fallacy that the "honeymoon period" is where you find the deepest love and if you can't make it work there, you're hopeless.

I didn't have that honeymoon period. I've often joked that the devil threw us a "welcome home" party when we returned from our Jamaican honeymoon. We had to learn how to become one person and let me tell you, that's painful. I had to learn how to be a homemaker and he had to now provide for 2 people on a salary that barely supported 1. Those little idiosyncrasies that were so cute when we were dating were now being added to a list of "irreconcilable differences."

We came very close to buying into the lies I was speaking of earlier. In those moments of not being able to agree on anything, of bending to the point of almost breaking, my mind absolutely told  me to cut my loses and start over.

But something happened... a glimmer of hope shone through. When I let the ice walls I built begin to melt, I could hear his laughter again that made me fall for him. Suddenly, I could see how hard he was trying. I could understand why this adjustment was much harder for him than for me. And I remembered what a great team we could be. No longer did I envision our future in a divorce court, but rather together, in our home, surrounded by family.

So back to that movie. That's what it feels like when I hear newlyweds wanting to throw in the towel. I want to scream "BUT YOU'LL MISS THE BEST PART!" If you walk away because the beginning was too slow or not what you expected, you'll never get to the good part. That "better or worse" thing wasn't just talk. The longer you stick around, the more clearly you see that you need to go through both and everything in between to have the kind of meaningful, fulfilling relationship you really need.

Don't buy the lie that the first few months are the height of love. The best is yet to come. Don't walk out before the best part.

The best part is walking through:

Life

Death

Promotions

Unemployment

Fulfillment

Emptiness

but walking through it together.

Clean Out Your Freezer

I want to lose weight, really, I do. I know it would be best for me to drop a few pounds. It would make me healthier in my body, but my mind and emotions would benefit as well. Yep, everyday I wake up resolved to make this change.

But I have a problem... a cold, half-gallon problem.

I like chocolate ice cream. Sometimes I think I love it. I like the comfort it brings. If I have a rough day I know I can rely on its sugary goodness to make me feel better...at least for a while. Yeah, I like ice cream...but I hate what it does to me.

Being an emotional eater is a strange thing. It's almost like an out of body experience. As you go through the motions involved to remove the carton from the freezer, scoop it into a bowl, and consume the treat your mind is saying "stop", but your body overrules it. Almost the instant it's gone, you realize the mistake you've made. It didn't make you feel as good as you thought it would. The day was still bad. Your heart was still broken. The questions still linger. But now you can add the pain of a brain freeze and fear of the scale in the morning.

I write this full of resolve in my heart, yet again. I'm giving up this stuff. I'm going to turn my back on sugar. I'm going to lose this weight because I have to for my own good. Yes, I mean it this time. But there's a problem...

I keep a carton of ice cream in my freezer at all times.

For emergencies.

It's bad for me. Time has proven it to be so. My head understands this, but I need that contingency plan. I keep it on standby just in case. The last bridge I want to burn is the one with ice cream on it. But as long as it's an option, I will keep running to it.

It occurs to me that this was the same pattern I carried in the relationships of my youth. I knew certain people were bad for me. I ran to them for comfort, but the comfort was fleeting. Soon enough I'd realize how bad they were for me. I'd resolve to leave them. But they were always in my "freezer". I kept them close enough in case I had a bad day. Maybe next time would be different. Maybe next time they wouldn't play games that left my head and heart aching. But the next time was always like the last time.

If you were serious about a diet, you'd throw out the sweets. If you were serious about being sober, you'd pour the liquor down the sink. If I had been serious about moving on to healthy relationships I'd make sure the bad ones weren't being kept on ice.

The day finally came when I realized the pattern I was in. All the good intentions in the world didn't matter if the bad relationships were still close enough to be an option.

When food addicts throw out food they tend to make a total mess of it so they won't be tempted to go back into the trash and retrieve it-yes, their addiction is so bad they'd go into the garbage to get the food they were trying to discard. So they can't just put the cookies in the trash can. They'll put other garbage on top, or maybe smother it with mustard to make it totally unappealing.

Disgusting, right. That's the picture I want in your mind next time you run back to that person or thing that has you trapped. You are digging in the garbage-and darling, you are much too good for that.

I've heard it said that the thing you run to for comfort is your idol. Think: What or who do you run to for comfort? Have they taken the place of God in your life? When they are done "comforting" you, are you better off? Are you a better person when you are with them? Are you more like the man or woman God intended you to be when you are with them?

If this relationship (whether romantic or friendly) is hurting you, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually, it's time to throw it out, cover it in garbage, and walk it to the garbage truck yourself to make sure it can't be an option tomorrow or next week or next year.

You deserve better, and you can have better, but only if you clean out your freezer.

Refuge for the Ragamuffins

Perhaps the greatest kindness God bestowed upon me in ministry thus far was sending me where no one else wanted to go.

My first youth pastorate was in a church nestled in an impoverished community. It came with no youth and no salary or hope of one.

Standing at the pulpit you could see out to a halfway house. A quick search of predators in the neighborhood surrounding the church house would leave your computer lit up like a Christmas tree. Evidence of gang activity abounded and drug deals were carried out in broad daylight.

At the end of the street were a couple of apartment buildings. If tenants called the cops on the dangers around them, they were evicted. If they didn't make the ridiculously high rent the day it was due, chains were placed on their doors and all they had was gone.

I spent some time in one of these apartments with a single mom of two special needs kids. The entire apartment was smaller than most people's living rooms. There she lived with her children and her parents. This mom found her way to our church after two other churches said they couldn't handle her kids and asked her to leave. The myopic view of those churches was our good fortune as we gained this sweet family and heaven recorded a new soul when this struggling mama gave her heart to Jesus on her first Sunday with the words "I need a bath" (translation: I need Jesus to cleanse my sins.)

It was on a visit to this family that I heard the saddest thing in my personal recollection. The little girl, maybe 3 years old, unable to walk well, tried to chase after my husband when we left calling out "DADDY" because she had no concept of what a daddy was. This was the heartbreaking reality of this community.

Nobody wanted them.

Nobody was fighting me for the title of youth pastor here.

A lot of people wondered what I was doing there.

I sometimes wondered what I was doing there.

These were not the kind of young people I was accustomed to. Theirs were not the problems I knew how to give counsel on. I was raised in good schools, with two ever-present parents who loved me. And those were the kind of kids I spent most of my time talking with.

It's funny, the kids like me spend a lot of time praying for direction on their future. That's the number one thing I hear. They just can't seem to get settled on where they will study or which career will fulfill them most.

These kids never prayed like that. I don't think they saw a future for themselves at all.

Eventually, we started feeding the neighborhood. We went outside every Wednesday in the summer and played soccer and ate $5 pizzas and did the shortest devotion possible, trying to get a little Word in before the fights started breaking out.

I remembered complaints I used to hear in those "good churches" with the "good young people" back when I was younger. Members in those churches used to comment during outreach that those kids only come for free food. Those kids who track mud on the carpet and don't know how to dress for church should know better. Those kids who only come if there's a camp or trip coming up are detracting from the attention our kids deserve.

I thought about that attitude during one of these Wednesday night outreaches whenI realized why God sent me there.

I listened to some of the young people who had shown up "just for the free food" talking. They were comparing dads. The kids in churches I grew up in on the nice part of town did that, too. Except when we compared dads it was about their occupation, when these kids did it they compared their location-as in, which jail are they located in or do we know their location at all?

After the conversation was over and the pizza was gone, we packed up to head home, but these kids wanted to stay...in the dark parking lot...next to the halfway house...across the street from drug dealers. Where were their parents? Oh...that's right. They were locked up...or maybe they were purchasers at the drug house...or maybe they were out trying to earn a decent living, but forced to leave their kids to fend for themselves in the meantime.

In waves, all those snarky comments I had heard, and at times, may have even said, about these ragamuffin types smacked me in the face.

Yes, they only came for the food...because they were hungry with no one to feed them.

Yes, they track mud in the church...because no one was home and they've been out in the elements for hours.

Yes, they show up for special trips and camp...because they want a family vacation, but they have no family.

Yes, they act out for attention...because they want a dad and mom and the only way they know to get adult attention is by acting out.

We were the refuge for the ragamuffins.

I thought I was really doing them a favor. I couldn't have known the kindness God was showing me by sending me to them. He was breaking me of my pre-conceived notions of what ministry is. He was showing me the "least of these". He was simultaneously showing me how blessed I am and how I'm no better than anyone else.

I'm begging you, don't write off those kids or those teens or those adults. Even if you think they are taking advantage of you. Take them in. Teach them. And in the process, I assure you, they will teach you.

The Chicken Heart

My mom makes the most fantastic chicken soup on the planet. When I got married, I wanted to master this recipe because 1.) I wanted to show my husband I could cook like her and 2.) I figured it was impossible to mess up soup. I was wrong about that second one.

I called mom for the recipe and the first thing she says is, "you buy a whole chicken". I had never cooked a "whole" anything. The closest I had gotten was a whole pizza (newlywed tip: always keep a frozen pizza around in case of dinner disasters. It's a nice insurance policy). I get the chicken home before realizing I don't know what to do with this thing next. So I call mom back. She proceeds to tell me there's stuff inside it I have to get out. Say what???? I wasn't looking for all this intimacy with my poultry. I may as well have gone out and rung its neck and plucked the feathers myself.

Gross.

So I did what she said, and a traumatizing 30 minutes and a few more ingredients later, I had my masterpiece.

Yeah, he better enjoy this after what I went through.

Needless to say, it was terrible and most certainly not like my mom made it. But, Andy chose to be kind. He said it was great and even insisted on seconds while I had personally moved on to "cook" that insurance policy pizza for myself.

Not only did he eat the awful soup when it was hot, he took more to eat the next day for lunch. It was so sweet. I knew he was going the extra mile to build my confidence.

After lunch, he called me to tell me a "funny" story. "Do you know what I found in the soup?" he asked. Not the question a new cook wants to hear. "What?" I asked with trembling voice. "THE HEART!" Yep. During that stomach turning sweep of the chicken's cavity I left something behind. I was devastated, but he laughed and said he didn't care. In hindsight, I guess it's a good thing we had an extra heart around, since mine was broken. I wanted so badly to be what I envisioned as the perfect wife, and there was no way around being a great cook to fulfill that fantasy.

As I've gotten older and more experienced, I've learned that the idea of the "perfect wife" was a fallacy, but this dinner disaster showed me what real love is.

Love thinks about others before self. Love put my husband's desire for a good meal before my desire to not disassemble the chicken. Love put my need to feel successful above Andy's desire to push away the bowl. Love put that heart in the soup to show me that Andy didn't love the idea of a perfect wife, he loved the imperfect wife he had.

I needed this experience to shatter the fear that I had to live up to stereotypes. I'm the woman God created me to be and my husband wants me to be. Nothing else matters.

P.S. After this debacle, mom informed me you could just use pre-packaged chicken breasts, thanks for the late info.

Shattered

By the time my son was a year and a half old he was clearly a tech prodigy. He would steal my iPhone and face time or call his friends (his friends being my parents and our pastor, sometimes very early in the morning). At some point, after fighting a losing battle, I figured if he was that determined, at least I should fill my devices with educational apps so we can see something good come out of this obsession.

He loved the songs and the merriment and the games at his fingertips. He had access to the world, and it brought him great joy.

And seeing Kai experience joy gives me joy as well.

A couple of days ago, I let him use my iPad while I took an important phone call. About five minutes in, he started yelling, "mama, iPad!" "Yes, Kai, you have mama's iPad" I replied, trying to get him to settle down. He was insistent on pointing out something, "MAMA, iPAD!" I drew near to make a very disappointing discovery-the screen was shattered. Kai had decided to pretend my hairbrush was a hammer and bashed it into the device repeatedly.

I quickly scooped him up and removed him from the area that now harbored countless glass shards hiding in the carpet. I turned on the tablet to see if would still work at all. The software was fine, but when my thumb slipped across the screen I knew it was unusable, as my skin was torn open by the destruction left behind. Kai continued crying for his, "pie-pad" and we had to have a conversation about how his actions broke it and it would never be the same.

I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me. The funny part is that I wasn't upset that he had broken my expensive electronic, I was upset that he wouldn't have it for his enjoyment anymore.

A while later he came to me crying that his foot was hurt. Immediately, I figured out that a tiny piece of glass must have escaped the path of the vacuum cleaner. Just as I was about to point out that had he not destroyed the iPad he wouldn't have gotten hurt, I looked into the pain in his eyes. It just wasn't in me to belabor the point. I just checked his foot, kissed his "boo-boo", and got down on my hands and knees searching for more rogue pieces. I swept my arms back and forth on the carpet for at least 5 minutes, determined that if any glass remained, it should pierce me and not him.

This has been the story of mankind's relationship with God since the beginning. It's a cycle dating back to Eden of God giving us a means of great joy, trusting us with it, watching as we carelessly destroy it, and then looking on us with undeserved compassion and affection.

My dad used to tell me something his parents said to him- "you will never understand how much I love you until you have a child of your own." He was right. Not only has Kai shown me how my earthly father feels towards me, he has proven what my heavenly Father feels as well. When Kai came crying in pain that resulted from his poor choices, I couldn't help but be moved to compassion for him. When we come crying out to our Father in pain resulting from our poor choices, He is moved as well. It doesn't matter what our sinful decisions shattered-our relationships, jobs, bodies-when we cry out sincerely, He will come running to hold us.

As I looked at my hands at the end of the iPad ordeal, covered in cuts I chose to take in my son's place, the Lord reminded me that's what He did for me. Yes, I have to face earthly consequences for my poor decisions, but He bore the ultimate punishment so I wouldn't have to-and so you wouldn't have to either.

I know this may seem like a major leap to compare a broken iPad with the fall of humanity, but I'm a simple person with simple thoughts, and God spoke to me through the disaster area in my living room.

When Christmas Is the Worst

As I've gotten older, the tone of the song, "silver bells" has changed for me. I used to envision those smiling faces and hear the children's laughter its lyrics recall. I once heard those silver bells resounding deep and clear bringing in the excitement of the season. But now...now my mind can't help but focus on those other words...words in the song like "busy" and "rush". That's what Christmas has become for most of us. While we bustle to meet the expectations set by seemingly effortless traditions before us and pinterest at our fingertips, we often fail to look around at those for whom Christmas is the worst.

Here is a list of a few groups for whom Christmas is often considered the least wonderful time of the year:

The grieving. Traditions are meant as a way to keep our families together. Whether it's a special food or game or spoken word, traditions remind us  of where we came from. But for those who are mourning, they are a painful remind of how nothing will ever be the same. The pies won't ever be a sweet as when mom made them. Monopoly won't be as fun (or frustrating) as when dad used to cheat. The Christmas story won't seem as sacred as when grandpa read it from the family Bible. Suddenly, the traditions that were supposed to keep our loved one's memory alive leave us feeling hollow.

There is a specific subset of the grieving I want to remember: those mourning the loss of a child. I've had many friends lose a child this year. Some were gone before they were even born, while some perished in childhood and adolescence. For these heartbroken parents, they mourn not over traditions that will never be the same, but over those they never got to see. They won't get to see their child wait up to catch Santa or find a new bike in the living room. They won't get a photo of their grandchild on the jolly old man's lap or hear their squeals of delight over ribbons and boxes instead of the gifts inside. Whether these parents lost their children last month or 20 years ago, nothing fills that void.

The outcasts. Nothing seems to make people feel more like an outcast like family gatherings. While people complain about "having" to go home and see their family, there are likely millions who have no home to return to. Whether they were cast out for one reason or another, or their family members have died, or they have moved away and have no way to keep that promise of being home for Christmas, it's hard to view a holiday alone as anything but lonely. And then there are those who are surrounded by family and still feel all alone. The "black sheep" of the family often feel nothing but dread this time of year because they know their family's fun will be at their expense. They know their portion of the family newsletter will be kept to a minimum. They know they'll be judged for their lack of a spouse, or children, or an education, or a better job. They hold their breath and count down the minutes until they can leave, praying they can get through the landmine of Christmas conversation without being ripped to shreds.

The split-holiday children. Some separated parents do a phenomenal job of putting their kids before their anger, and those parents deserve to be commended. But, unfortunately, a large number of children are used as pawns in the battle of who can hurt the other party more. These kids are shuffled back and forth in an effort to give everyone a shot at making memories. For too many, those memories will include bashing the other household, before being rushed off somewhere else. Traditions are forced to change. New people come into the picture. A new environment must be learned. Soon, the idea of two Christmases sounds less like a fantasy and more like a nightmare.

The anxious. This group is probably the most forgotten in this season. Imagine for a moment that you struggle with crowds and sensory overload. Now put yourself in almost any location during the Christmas season. Malls, restaurants, churches, even your living room. Chances are, those places will be filled with people, loud noises, and flashing lights. It's nothing short of tormenting. All these factors are multiplied by the constant demands that the anxious "be happy". How can they experience the joy of the season if they can't first feel its peace?

So what are we to do?

We need to slow ourselves down and remember the reason to celebrate. It's not about presents or traditions or even family. It's about God giving up His son, and Jesus giving up His throne. He came to be like us so that He could save us. If we really remembered that, would we honestly be so concerned about everything else? And more importantly, if we remembered why we celebrate, would we be so self-centered as to not notice those dying in our midst?

How can we serve these for whom Christmas is the worst?

For the grieving, offer a listening ear. Allow them to share stories of Christmas past. Let them know you share in their belief that their loved one was one in a million and worth remembering.  Find out what special things their loved one did for them and then find a way to fulfill that request yourself.

For the outcasts, offer a place to belong. Most families make way too much food anyway, one more place setting won't hurt you and one more gift won't break the bank. Some of my favorite holiday memories were created in the years we couldn't get back to family so we welcomed those we knew were alone to join us. As a child, it was a great experience to hear how other families and cultures celebrated.

For those from broken homes. Be sensitive and exercise wisdom in conversations. Realize that they are in a situation they didn't ask for. Listen when they want to talk, but don't engage in the bashing of one side or another. These children are often forced to deal with adult situations, when they are around you, let them be little.

For the anxious. Stop forcing Christmas cheer. If they need a break, give them one. They are dealing with issues beyond their control. Understand, they aren't rude or angry, they are being betrayed by their minds. They are probably even more frustrated than you at their actions.

May the Lord remind us of the wonderment of what He did, and may He make us mindful of those around us all year long.

Paper Bag Love

My son Kai and I have found ourselves newly enthralled in an outreach of our local church. On Thursdays, some of the ladies visit local nursing homes. They have a devotion, sing, and allow the residents to share their thoughts. I had put off joining in because Kai is, well, "rambunctious". He loves people, and he's never met a stranger, but his high spirits can at times get him in trouble. I finally gave in last week and he did a great job! He walked around shaking hands and saying, "morning" and "[Merry] Christmas".

This week the ladies of this ministry brought a special treat for the residents. After our service, we handed out bags with fruit and a few treats inside. I couldn't help but think about my mom.

My mother grew up in extreme poverty. It would shock some of you to hear of the conditions she experienced in rural America. Christmas was always special for her, not because she got lots of toys or because she stayed up looking for Santa to shower her with gifts, because those were not realities in her world, but rather, she was excited because the local bank always did something special for their neighbors. The bank would open up and hand out bags with fruit inside. Every Christmas growing up mom would tell us about those bags. They contained an orange, an apple, a banana, and a candy bar. And that was the highlight of the season. Something so simple, but it stayed with her because it was an act of love in a paper bag.

Fast-forward 50-something years. That little girl, who somehow survived to adulthood, has thrived. She has traveled the world, worked hard, and built a fine life, but never forgot what it is to have nothing. Even in very lean years, she was always generous. Times growing up when we didn't have much, she still made it a point to be a "giver".

And what did all that giving "get" her?

It got her a grandson who happily spent his play time handing out love in a paper bag. It allowed her to see the embodiment of Psalm 100:5, "For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations" because not only did she make it through by the Grace of God, she has seen her children's children be blessed and bless others.

As Kai was "working the room" yesterday someone asked me how many generations of preachers are in my family. I proudly responded that I'm the third as far as I know. The inquiring lady smiled, pointed at my two year old, and said, "then he will be the fourth. I can already see it." As a mother, I guess I'm supposed to hope he enters a more lucrative field, but what's a more fertile field than the harvest before us? My heart leaped at the thought that my son would spend his life in joyful service to his Master.

I pray that my son always thinks of others before himself. I pray he always finds his deepest joy in serving those who need to borrow from his peace. I pray that he recognizes how blessed he is. I pray he possesses the generosity of his grandmother. And I pray that we all realize in this season of over-indulgence that love doesn't have to come from the fanciest store or be wrapped in the most expensive packaging, it can be found at the bottom of a paper bag.

There's Something About That Name

I just left practice for my church's upcoming Christmas play. One of the featured songs isn't what most would call a "Christmas song", but it has a special place in my heart. "There's Something About That Name" was the background music during what would be one of the most life changing days I've experienced.

It was an August morning a decade ago when I decided to take what some would call a "fateful" trip to Atlanta, Georgia to see my then-boyfriend. My mother protested my decision, but in the end, decided that if I was set on going I should at least take her car, which she believed to be safer.

For some time, I had been living a double life. I was deeply involved with my local church, but doing whatever I wanted when I was outside of its walls.

I was stubborn.

I was foolish.

I was disrespectful.

I was living for my own pleasure.

I was also driving down a frightfully busy interstate.

About an hour outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee my iPod shuffled to this old song. Having always loved the rhythm and power, I sang along,

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus/There's just something about that Name/Master, Savior, Jesus/Like the fragrance after the rain/Jesus, Jesus, Jesus/Let all heaven and earth proclaim/Kings and kingdoms shall all pass away/But there's something about that Name."

Just after reaching the chorus, I noticed the cars in front of me swerving. There was a portion of a tire in the road, I panicked and swerved like everyone else. But unlike everyone else, the SUV I was driving collided with a guardrail, first at the front fender, then the back bumper. Everything moved in slow motion at first, until the second hit shot my vehicle across several lanes of traffic. The force of the collision slammed my body against the driver's door, ruining my shoulder girdle for years to come. Out of control and fearing these were my last moments on earth, I threw my hands up and screamed out for the Name I had just been singing.

Miraculously, and with no help from my own self, I made it to the shoulder of the road opposite the guardrail. It was as if a hand had picked up the car and placed it exactly parallel to the interstate, feet from a drop off, facing the correct direction. I sat in shock at what had just happened.Had it not been for a kind stranger stopping and calling the police, I'm not sure I would've had enough wits about me to know what to do next.

The impact broke the car's axle nearly in half, totaling mom's car. I called my parents, upset and embarrassed, partially over the wreck and partially at my earlier behavior. I just knew they would unload on me when they came to pick me up. But that's not what happened. They held me, told me "it's just a car" and thanked God I was okay.

They were thankful I was alive. Me. A selfish, mean girl who had only hours before told them I was going to do what I wanted, regardless of their feelings.

That trip wasn't "fate" after all. It was God extending mercy. He allowed me to come within inches of death so that I could see grace personified through my parents.

I had taken them for granted...just as I had taken Him for granted.

I had disrespected them...just as I had disrespected His work on the cross by living how I wanted.

I had broken their hearts just as I had broken His.

But...

Their love was unconditional...just as His is.

They desired to hold me...just as He does.

They forgot all my hurtful words and decisions...just as He did.

That day, just as the song says, my kingdoms passed away. The life I thought I was building began to dismantle. Every time the weather turns cold or I over exert my shoulder, I'm reminded of that day and how good God was (and is) to me. I was spared for a destiny. I was spared to be the wife to a man I had not yet met. I was spared to be a mom to a child I didn't even know I wanted. I was spared to share testimonies like this in the hopes that someone knows what it is to have kingdoms that must fall as well.

There is something special about that Name. When I called it out that day, I was crying out for exactly who the prophet said He would be-"Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6)

The Wonderful Counselor who has the answer to any question.

The Mighty God for whom nothing is impossible.

The Everlasting Father who loves me no matter what I do.

The Prince of Peace who would be there when my lifestyle finally caught up with me and chaos tried to swallow me whole.

When I thought I had arrived at the end, my lips cried out for the Name that had been engraved in my mind long ago. There truly is something about that Name, and there is NOTHING to compare to it.

Muffin Top

Sometimes I write about issues not because I want to, but rather because I feel like I need to in order to help someone else. This is one of those blogs.

When my husband and I were dating, one of his family members came up to me, grabbed my sides and said, "you're getting a muffin top there" (*for those fortunate enough to have never been labeled with one, a MT is what happens when your waist gets bigger and spills out over the top of your jeans. It's stupid. It's also no one's business).  I know this was just a passing attempt at humor that failed horribly, but it hurt me deeply. Anyone who knows me knows I'm pretty tough. I don't hesitate in giving back venom after I've been struck, but this was different. I froze. I knew they were right. But I also knew something they didn't know-I had recently battled an eating disorder.

The reason for my sudden "muffin top" was that my body had been on an insane journey from which it was struggling to recover. My organs, now so dependent on weight loss pills and diuretics, literally stopped functioning normally when I tried to give up all my weight cutting measures. To understand how I got to this point, you need to know where I started out. I want to share this painful and embarrassing part of my life in the hopes that this could both steer my friends away from these measures and help families know the signs they should look for.

In my early twenties I had zero self-esteem. A list of what I saw as devastating disappointments paired with an emotionally abusive relationship left me feeling out of control.

Control.

That's the key word in this whole mess. My bulimia was never about my weight or the food  I was trying to blame for my problems, it was about control. I couldn't control anything going on around me, but I could control what happened within me-or so I thought.

When people hear "bulimia" they immediately think of throwing up. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that was a major part of my disorder. But so was the abuse of pills and so was excessive exercise and so was drinking a gallon of water at a time as fast as possible and then lying on the floor unable to move.

Please know, I'm not glorifying who I was. There's nothing pretty about an eating disorder. It makes you a hideous, obsessed mess. I know the pressure. I know you think you can just do it until prom or graduation or your wedding or whatever event you have to "look your best" for, but hear me-you cannot be your best by abusing your body. That's what it is-abuse. Instead of getting out of the abusive, toxic relationships I was in, I transferred that abuse to my body.

And as for that need to be in control? It wasn't long until my body revolted against what I was doing and I lost ALL control. Medications that are only meant to be used occasionally were being used daily for weeks at a time. My body got used to them and I had to up the dosages until they didn't work at all. Eventually my digestive system shut down. According to my doctor, my intestines were essentially dying and if I didn't stop soon, there would be no recovery.

Thank God, one day after purging I looked in the mirror and realized I didn't recognize myself anymore. Changes that were imperceptible to others were mocking me from my reflection. I had to stop. With God's help, I was able to. He helped me see what this was really about. He helped me see that the control I was killing myself to gain didn't belong to me, nor did it belong to my boyfriend, or my life situations-it belonged to Him.

That's not to say that I haven't had moments of temptation. There are triggers, like the "muffin top incident", that make me want to start again. Then there are minefields, like pregnancy weight gain that makes me think the only solution is diving head first back into my disorder. But I can't go back. I refuse.

I hope this blog has served its purpose of pointing out the dangers of eating disorders. I hope this familiar face helps those struggling with these issues to know they aren't alone and that there is hope ahead. I hope this makes a point about why weight jokes are dangerous, not funny. And I hope this helps my friends in recovery to embrace their new bodies, muffin tops and all.

Ohana

Disney's Lilo and Stitch tells the story of a young girl being raised in Hawaii by her older sister after their parents died. Throughout the movie we watch as Lilo's older sister struggles to know how to be both sister and provider for their family as she fights to keep them together. In times of worry or frustration, the girls pause to remember the Hawaiian word, "Ohana". The little girl explains, "'Ohana' means family; family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten."

My family watched this movie last week, so this idea of "Ohana" was fresh in my mind this week as my church moved to a new location. I write often of how the Church is meant to function as a family. We are to care for one another, to be there in the good and the bad. We share the joy over marriage, birth, and graduation, and we share the grief over divorce, death, and life disappointments. But this transition has reminded me that the Church is supposed to be a broader since of family-an Ohana type of family-one that doesn't leave anyone behind.

As youth pastor, this move is thrilling. A gorgeous sanctuary I can't wait to preach in and a gym that gives us lots of room for growth. A new, safe location with plenty of room for outdoor events. It's hard to imagine anyone would have difficulty packing up and moving on.

But then I remember my Ohana.

I didn't grow up in this particular church. Other than our son's dedication and first birthday party, I don't have many emotional attachments there. But my Ohana have been in that location for almost 40 years.

I see a sanctuary that is too small for growth...they see their child's wedding chapel.

I see a fellowship hall that suffocates us...they see their family reunion site.

I see a youth and children's area with no room to do activities...they see the place their children learned how to be angels in countless Christmas plays.

See, as easy as it is for me to see a brighter future, it's just as easy for them to feel like they've been forgotten. Like we have this new vision and they are being left behind.

But that's not what Ohana does...we don't leave each other and we definitely don't forget one another.

Yes, my mission is geared towards youth, but I would be a fool to think I didn't need those who came before us. Far too often, those of us who are "young harvest" minded allow the enemy to put a divide between our congregations. It's "us" against "them" and if the older people can't get on board the vision train, they can just get left at the station. How is that right? I would hate to think that in another 40 years I would be told my time was up and that my contributions were meaningless. The ironic part is that mine is a generation that wants to highlight being "relational", but we want to ignore this most beautiful concept of "ohana". A church that leaves people behind just because they can't see what we see is not relational at all.

Am I saying we should deny progress if a few protest? Of course not. Nor am I naive enough to think there aren't some people who are just down right obstinate and can't be reasoned with. But I am saying that a true leader knows how to pick the right battles and get enough people to buy into what really matters to move forward. A great leader doesn't have to be callous in order to accomplish their goals. A great leader does all things in love.

God help us to be sensitive to the feelings of our ohana and help those who struggle with change to not feel like they are left behind.

From: Your Anxious Mama

I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't get the perfectly filtered mom only found on Instagram. You deserve her. You deserve the carefree mama who laughs at the messes and realizes that being around the perfection of you is worth every moment of stress.

But that's not what you got.

Most of my life I have been intrenched in a fairly well-hidden battle with anxiety. This is, in fact, the first time I have discussed this fight in such detail, but I need to for your sake. I need you to understand this issue because you need to know that IT ISN'T YOUR FAULT. When I get stressed and have to walk away for a minute to collect myself, IT ISN'T YOUR FAULT. When I have to get very quiet and focus on my own breath, IT ISN'T YOUR FAULT. This problem didn't start with you. It is MY ISSUE and not yours. I've tried very hard to make it clear that it's my cross to bear because I don't want you to live the way I have to live.

This is an especially hard truth to share as many will no doubt comment that I just need to "pray it off of me" or scold me for not heeding what I know are multiple Biblical commands regarding fear and anxiety. I want you to know that I spend a great deal of my time praying that God will heal me, and I believe He will, but until then I am trying to understand what good could come of this...and I'm hoping that perhaps this public admission is the start of some of that good.

When you were growing in my belly, I consistently prayed one prayer over you-that you wouldn't live in fear. I pleaded the blood of Jesus over your mind that you would not be controlled by worry the way I have been at times. I spoke against generational curses that would try and destroy you. This is why I actually rejoice at your daredevil tendencies and cheer that you have "never met a stranger".

You are EXACTLY what I prayed for those nine months you lived within me. As long as I'm alive, I will keep declaring that you will live without worry about tomorrow. The truth is, I would gladly live the rest of my life in this prison of anxiety if it meant you never had to stay there for one day.

But staying this way is not the solution I'm looking for. Just as I spoke God's peace and favor over you, I declare it for myself and my friends who struggle as well, because I know this sickness is not the abundant life we are entitled to.

So today, I'm holding fast to these scriptures for myself and my readers:

"I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done." Psalm 118:17

"...our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Romans 8:18

"Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7

"When I said, 'My foot is slipping,' your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy." Psalm 94:18-19

War

“Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and put you to death, and you will be hated by all nations for my name’s sake. And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold. But the one who endures to the end will be saved."

These are the words of Jesus, uttered on the Mount of Olives, and recorded in Matthew 24. This was His response to a private meeting with the disciples after they had asked how they would know Jesus's return was near.

In light of recent events here in America, I've heard people say that no one could have predicted where we are now. But that's not true. Jesus told us exactly what would happen before His return, and it's happening before our eyes.

I don't recognize my nation anymore. National news reports show government corruption, brutality by those in authority, and retaliation by those seeking vengeance. Our streets are flowing crimson with the blood of those assumed guilty. Evil is celebrated and the faithful are called bigots. Our God is no longer the Lord, instead we have made ourselves gods, putting our desires above all else.

Walking through this passage has opened my eyes in regards to my country and how close we are to Christ's return:

"...you will be hated by all nations for my name’s sake."

This scripture is being fulfilled in a couple of different ways. Firstly, it is no secret that America is hated. We have been the target of ire by many by virtue of our once strong affiliation as a Christian nation. Secondly, we Christians are now hated by our own countrymen when we take the Biblical stance on social issues. Supporting the right-to-life or "traditional marriage" as it is now referenced means you are an uncompassionate bigot.  Believing that the non-negotiables of birth, such as gender, are not up for debate mean that we are heartless idiots. Leave no room for doubt, we are hated for carrying the name of Jesus.

"And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. "

The word "Lawlessness" comes up later in this monologue, but it bears bringing up here because it is a spirit that has invaded not only our nation, but our churches as well. Over the last couple of years there has been an all out social media attack on the Church, brought by those claiming to be fellow believers. They release blogs, posts, and videos denouncing the need to gather together and explaining why they are justified to do so. They tell that the Church is nothing but hypocrites who don't really care about others. They whine about not getting their way in services. They complain about structure and they even get upset because the Bible is being upheld (this complaint is easily explained-it's called "conviction" and it comes from the Holy Spirit, not a minister). They try to act like they are the enlightened ones, but their words are filled with such bitterness and hate towards Christ's Bride, the Church, that I can't believe they are the one's who have seen the light. All across our nation we see churches splitting over petty arguments and congregations staging coups against their shepherds. All this is symptomatic of the spirit of lawlessness, not wanting to be under anyone's authority-not even a God-placed pastor.  Due to this desire for independence, many are easily seduced by the false prophets of our day telling congregants whatever they want to hear, as long as the money rolls into the coffers.

"And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold."

This spirit of lawlessness has taken hold in our government. This week started with news that one of our Presidential nominees had broken the law and lied about it, but would not be charged. This person believed they were above the law-and they were proven to be correct. Then the news shifted to stories of young men who were killed by police officers and the story quickly became that it was in the name of racism. A few days later, angry citizens, believing our officers were acting as judge, jury, and executioner, took matters in their own hands, executing several police officers. The narrative is that we have a "race issue" in America. I believe racism is a sin that has no place in the heart of the believer, but I think this is so much more than that. It is this spirit of lawlessness that has caused our heart ache. Citizens believing they can break the law without consequence and officers believing they can decide innocence or guilt on a street corner, it's the same spirit. And because we have lived as though there is no higher law, our love is all but gone. We don't love our neighbors as ourselves and that's why we have no respect for human life and we haven't for a long time. We aren't shocked or saddened by blood in our streets because not that long ago we were standing in the same streets celebrating another victory for the pro-choice movement. We mourn when an animal is killed, but disregard the thousands of innocent children slaughtered in the name of "choice" and "freedom".

My nation has not only gone out of its way to exclude God from our decisions, we have decided to do everything we can to prove our backs are turned against Him. When I watch the news I don't see the country that was so special because she was good, instead I see a war zone. We were supposed to be the safe ones. I guess war doesn't seem so bad until it lands in your yard.

The only peace I can gain in this time is knowing that all this strife is proof of two things: 1. God's Word is proving itself more indisputable everyday by its prophecies coming true.2. Jesus is coming soon, and as long as we endure, we will be saved.

To the Unappreciated New Daughter-In-Law

Congratulations on your marriage. Condolences on your new relationship with your mother-in-law.

I get it, it's confusing and frustrating. How could the man you love so infinitely have  been raised by a woman who seems to disdain you so deeply?  How could it be that the things your husband considers your best qualities-your independence, your free spirit, your strong-will and determination-make her shake her head in disappointment?

And while we are on the subject of disappointment, how can someone be so judgmental about housekeeping? What difference does it make if you use fabric softener or wash your dishes by hand or vacuum on a regular basis? And why should she care? It's not her house. They aren't her clothes or dishes or carpets.

I know what it feels like to hear stories of women who have good relationships with their husband's mom. It feels like a knife in your stomach. You sit and wonder "what's so special about her? Why does she get the respect and I get the commentary on my inadequacies? Why does she get welcomed into the family with open arms while I get thrown under the family bus?"

It hurts. It hurts more than you want to admit. As tough as you are and as much as you don't need her to like you, deep down you know you want her to like you. It would just make things much easier. It would be nice to not get nauseous at the thought of spending holidays together. It would be cool to be able to tell your in-laws where you live and not live in fear that they may stop by.

I want to share with you, my headstrong sister, what the Lord showed me about this oft-painful relationship...

Her feelings toward you aren't actually about you at all. In fact, they were created long before she met you...perhaps even before you were born. She decided you were a problem the day your husband was placed in her arms. That love is unmatched. No one (in her mind) could ever love him like her. Not only did she give up rights to her body for nearly a year to carry him, she gave up her dreams and plans for the next decades to keep him safe, happy, and healthy.

You didn't do that. You can't even comprehend how to do that.

She gave her life for him to have one of his own.

None of this occurred to me until I had a son of my own. I pray for his future happiness. I pray for his spouse and want nothing more than for him to find a good woman who will love him and love the Lord even more. But...

it is NOT POSSIBLE for this GIRL to know how to take care of him like I do.

I'm the one who cools his macaroni and makes the perfect blue bubble bath. I'm the one who heals boo-boos with my kisses and taught him to walk. What will this GIRL know how to do other than how to get a husband waaaaayyyy out of her league???

These are seriously my thoughts...and my son isn't even two yet!

See, his future wife isn't the  problem, and neither are you.

The problem is that when a woman becomes a mother, raising her  child becomes her career. Whether she stays home or works three jobs, this becomes the most important role. And now here is this woman who has poured her heart and soul into this "business" and now, at the pinnacle of her success, her job is being outsourced. Her job is being handed to a rookie who has NO CLUE how to met the job requirements. Can you see now why she may be a little upset? The housekeeping and cooking concern her because she knows what her son is used to. She wants him to be comfortable and content, and it's hard to accept that another woman can fulfill that role, so instead of accepting it, she criticizes it.

It's probably not that she hates you...it's just that she loves her son and she's too blinded by this change to realize that loving him means she should love the one he chose.

And that's another thing to remember...he chose you. You already won his heart, so don't turn everything into a battle over it. But you have a responsibility in this victory...a responsibility to be gracious and remember that some day, God willing, you will be in the same boat.

Pray for her. Pray for peace of mind that her son will be okay. Pray for confidence that she will realize she still has purpose.

Pray for yourself. Pray that you will have confidence in your new role as wife and daughter-in-law. Pray that you will develop a genuine love and admiration for your mother-in-law even if she never changes her mind about you.

Then put legs on your prayers. Reach out. Ask her to teach you how to make one of her special meals. Spend time together. Ask her about stories from your husband's childhood. Applaud the job she did in raising a man so good that you choose to give your life to caring for him, and assure her that your goals and her's are the same-to see him happy.

Romans 12:13-18 may be a good passage to put up in your home,

"Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."

Try to see this scenario through her eyes, and your world may change.

Signed,

A Wife Who Wishes She Understood This Sooner

Pull Over

In my formative years growing up in a small town in the American South, I have vivid memories of a somewhat strange act that seems to be giving way to progress and our newly hurried lives-the pull over.

This act involves pulling one's car over to the side of the road and waiting, often in silence, as a funeral procession moves by. As a child, I knew exactly what would happen when we spotted a hearse and cars with headlights on in the middle of the day-we would stop, no matter how rushed we were in our own lives, because it was the right thing to do.

I've heard much debate over the legitimacy of the practice and the reason for it. The general consensus is that it's out of respect for the dead. To me, it isn't about the dead at all. It's a sacred act carried out for the living who were left.

One of the most painful parts of losing a loved one is the frustration or even anger that the world just keeps moving, as if your world didn't just fall apart. Pulling over is symbolic. It's me saying to a stranger, "I will stop my world for a moment to acknowledge that yours will never turn the same again."

Jesus "pulled over" in John chapter 11 after the death of Lazarus. Jesus appears almost cold upon hearing of the sickness and subsequent death of Lazarus.  In reality, His attitude was informed by the fact that He had a plan all along, and that plan necessitated that He wait so that the miracle could not be questioned. Because Jesus loved Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, He journeyed back to Judea, a place of great danger to Jesus, to perform this miracle.

He ignored His own safety. He ignored His own agenda.

He pulled over.

When He arrived in the midst of the mourners, He shows His first hint of emotion over the death of His friend. Verse 33 says, "When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled." A couple of verses later we read that "Jesus wept". He didn't weep for Himself, as this wasn't guilt over waiting to come to Lazarus. He didn't weep for Lazarus, as He already knew his resurrection was on its way. No, Jesus wept for Mary and the friends who were grieving.

He pulled over.

It occurs to me that many in the Church have forgotten the importance of pulling over. When there is a death, we may bring food after the service if we aren't too inconvenienced, but we don't really stop in a sign of solidarity with those left behind. And know that death is not just defined by physical death, it's any time one among us feels like their world has stopped turning. This can be the result of a divorce, hurtful decisions made by family members, the loss of a job, addiction, etc.

We have to pull over.

If you hurt, I hurt. If your world stops, mine should as well, even if only for a few minutes.

Lord, help us to see past our own agendas and plans. Teach us to stop and be near to the grieving, just as You are.

To the Mother of the Wild Child in My Pew

Hey girl,

I see you. I see you trying to keep your kid on lockdown during prayer. I see you dodging flailing arms during worship. I see you, jamming gummies in your kid's mouth trying to keep him from yelling back at the preacher during his sermon. I see that look of failure as your child attempts to storm the platform. And yes, I see the side-eye you're getting from the other parishioners as you sit helpless in the face of your tithe-envelope throwing hymnal scribbling, matchbox car throwing offspring. And I have one thing to say to you...

I'm proud of you.

I'm proud of you for raising your child in God's house even when every voice in your head (and perhaps some whispers behind you) say you should've stayed home. I'm proud of you for filling your child's ears with the sound of worship and their mind with the Word. I'm proud of you for recognizing that you CANNOT raise a child in this world in your own strength. I'm proud of you for acknowledging that without God's help, you can't be the mom He called you to be.

I know it's hard. I know that every time someone looks your way you assume it's because they are annoyed. Those sensitivities come naturally in a world where moms are judged constantly. The fact is, I don't know if you're right or not. But I know this-it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you and your baby need to be in church. If those people really don't want you here, then that's an issue between them and God since the Word demands that we welcome children among us.

But know this, if I look at you it isn't out of judgment, it's out of respect for a woman who got up way too early on a Sunday to make breakfast, fought your child to get dressed, and tried to make yourself look presentable enough so that no one says "have you been sleeping? Because you look awful" during the greeting portion of the morning.

I know motherhood is lonely. That's why you need to be here. You need this community. You need me. You even need Sister side-eye. And this community, including side-eye and myself need you and your baby to be a part of our family.

So don't give up. Don't let the enemy convince you that everyone is better off with you locked up at home. Like any predator, he's trying to separate you from the herd so he can devour you-don't let him.

Pet Snakes

I had a dream that my husband brought home a baby snake as a pet for our young son. Seeing the snake as "cute" and "innocent", I agreed to welcome this creature in to our home. I had a great feeling of security with this little snake in our house because we had clear boundaries in the form of an empty aquarium. A problem arose, however, when that cute little baby snake was no long so cute or little. In the dream, I went to my husband and pleaded my case, explaining that due to his new size and strength, our son's "pet" was becoming a dangerous liability. My husband agreed to get rid of the reptile, but when we went to get him we discovered the snake had escaped his aquarium! The dream ended with  my heart fallen deep in my stomach as I knew that our once adorable little friend was now lurking behind every corner. Worse yet, I knew that because we had raised our child without fear of his pet that he wouldn't know to be cautious with this predator.

We made three mistakes with the snake:

We assumed it's size made it less than a real snake. We somehow thought it was harmless because it was comparatively "small".
We thought we could contain a creature that is predatory by nature.
We didn't see that we were dismantling our son's natural healthy fear of a dangerous animal.
Every day we welcome "pet snakes" into our homes and lives. They are the "small", "cute" sins we invite to take up residence. We make the same mistakes as I did in the dream:

We assume the "size" of an infraction makes it less than "real" sin. What does it look like to welcome in a "little sin"? Have you ever heard a child admit not to telling a lie, but rather a "fib"? They've created an economy that says if an untruth doesn't visibly hurt another, then it isn't a "real" lie, it's just a little "fib". But even the tiniest lie puts distance between us and our Holy God who cannot lie (titus 1:2). That distance makes it more difficult to hear the Holy Spirit convicting us. When we create an environment which is tolerant of small sins, we deceive ourselves into believing that the lust for sin will not grow. Sin is never satisfied with part of you, it will pursue every piece of you until it destroys you. Look at the story of David as told in 2 Samuel chapters 11-12. David, the once hailed hero of Israel, sees Bathsheba bathing on a rooftop (11:2) and let his gaze linger too long. This "small" sin of looking upon a woman who was not his to look at in that way led to the sins of adultery (11:4) and murder (11:24). What started with a prolonged look led to both the murder of an innocent and good man and the death of David's first child (12:15).

We think we can "contain" our sin. We only lie when it's for a really good reason. We only get drunk on vacation where we won't be caught. We only destroy someone's reputation when they've really made us angry. But just as with the above point, sin won't be satisfied. When you give it freedom in one area, it will take it in the others. David thought his sin was contained because Bathsheba's husband, Uriah, was away at war. No one would know what had happened. It would be their little secret. But those plans fell apart when Bathsheba became pregnant (11:5). David learned that Numbers 32:23 is true when it says, "you may be sure that your sin will find you out". Containment doesn't work. Once you've allowed sin in your life it will chip away at the walls you've set it in until it is on full display, destroying your life and your witness.

We don't see that we are becoming comfortable with sin and are unafraid of its consequences. I've seen parents teach their children to lie for them. Things like, "if anyone asks why we missed church tell them you weren't feeling well." Unfortunately, the parent doesn't realize that they are building a skill. It may be useful to the parent to have their 6 year old lie for them about where they were and what they were doing, but it won't feel so cute when they are a 16 year old lying to their parents about about where they are and what they are doing. As David's sins escalated he didn't immediately see the consequences for his actions. He wasn't caught when he started inquiring about Bathsheba, nor when he sent for her, nor when he called Uriah home in an effort to cover his tracks, not even when he ordered the man's murder was David caught. It wasn't until Nathan arrives in chapter 12 that David realizes that the Lord had seen it all and that punishment was coming. Without swift consequence, we are often deceived into believing that none are coming, but the bible tells us in Romans 6:23 that the wages for ALL sin is death. Sin will wait for you. Sin will find you. Sin will defeat you...if you let it in.


1 Peter 5:8 demands that we "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." The devil is lurking. He's looking for the smallest part of your heart and life to enter and to grow. Don't let him in.

The Day We Killed Me

When I was a single woman my life (and my closet) looked very different. I had a well-paying job and barely any financial responsibilities. I would often set out on shopping adventure days that started with a wallet full of cash and ended with a trunk full of shoes, jeans, dresses, and fancy hats (don't judge me-those hats were fabulous and one should always be prepared to attend the Derby). Looking back, I realize that my money could have been spent much better, but I was certainly within my rights to spend it. I worked hard for my paycheck and the sprees became my stress relief.

Those days started winding down when I got married. And when my son was born they came to a screeching halt. You see, becoming part of a family means becoming a "we" instead of a "me". Decisions are no longer based on what one wants or even what one "deserves", they are based on what is best for the family. Could I go back to spending frivolously? Sure. But I don't want to, because now instead of seeing a gorgeous pair of $200 boots in my closet all I would see is the money that could have been used to pay off the family car or be placed in my son's college fund.

This realization marked two things:
1.) I was becoming a mature, unselfish adult.
2.) Becoming a "we" had killed "me", an exchange I was more than happy with because the death of me meant being a part of something much greater than myself.

As a youth worker I often get questions about sin. I get asked about the line on sex, drinking, modesty, and any  action you could think of. I watch debates ensue that almost always go like this:
1.) the topic is established
2.) the "pro" side says why it's perfectly okay
3.) the "con" side offers what is deemed an antiquated scripture (note: NO scripture is antiquated. See 2 Timothy 3:16-17)
4.) the pro person calls the con person a pharisee and begins to discuss personal conviction
5.) at least one party begins to sub-tweet about the other before suggesting they delete them "if they don't like it".

Discussions like this highlight a huge misunderstanding about God's Word: The opposite of legalism is grace, not anarchy. Jesus even told us He didn't come to abolish the law (Matthew 5:17). The shedding of His blood was not meant to create a Church in which anything goes as long as you don't feel bad about it, rather he was slain to make us holy (Hebrews 10:10).
So what does this have to do with my shopping issues? When we are saved from our sin we are adopted into the "family of God" (Ephesians 1:5). Just as my actions and desires were suddenly based on the "we" and not the "me", so must our actions be based on the good of our adopted family. Paul laid it out firmly in 1 Corinthians 10:23-24:

"'I have the right to do anything,' you say—but not everything is beneficial. 'I have the right to do anything'—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others."

This highlights the reason the New Testament church was able to thrive in the face of persecution-they were a community. If someone lost their job, the others would sell their possessions to care for their brother. They understood better than anyone the concept of "we" over "me". In some ways these verses from 1 Corinthians place even MORE restrictions on what you do than the lists of demands found in the Old Testament that we so easily dismiss as being erased by grace.

So when deciding what you can or can't or should or shouldn't do, ask three questions:

1.) Does the Bible explicitly restrict this? If it does, or you even think it does, the decision making is over. There's no personal justification to dismiss God's Word.
2.) Does this benefit the body of Christ? Note that Paul did not say you could do as you wish as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, he said not to do it UNLESS it BENEFITS your adopted family. If what you are contemplating doing, saying, wearing, or adding to your body doesn't benefit anyone else, then it has no place in your life.
3.) Will this hinder my ability to be used? If you want to be a leader in your faith, then this concept of we becomes much more important. Think through your choices and make sure they can't be used against you in the future to limit your ministry.

The death of me sounds terrifying, but the benefits of becoming a family cannot be overstated. Yes, you may have to give up some things you don't see as wrong in order to help you brother or sister, but you also gain a support system that is doing the same for you. There is nothing that compares to the love of this family.