The Battle Cry of Thanksgiving

We only enter into the full life if our faith gives thanks...
 Thanksgiving is the manifestation of our Yes! to His grace.

-Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

We are officially one week out from Thanksgiving Day and I am officially unprepared.

Other years I might have had my act together. Other years I would have the majority of my Christmas gifts bought, wrapped, and ready to send along with my father-in-law to take to the other siblings' family Christmas celebrations.

Not this year.

Moving and health have slowed me down to notice a battle cry muffled under the Christmas sales, stuffing ingredients, and travel plans.

The battle cry of Thanksgiving.

First, let me assure you I have no problem with "premature" Christmas decorations and music. I would have no problem if those remained present throughout the year, so why should I mind if they cropped up pre-November? I also take no issue with early gift buying. You have your shopping done? I applaud you.

But under all the Pilgrim and Native American decorations, Thanksgiving has gradually become less a time to thank God for all of our circumstances, and more a time to prepare the perfect circumstances in which to be thankful. Because when things work out, that's really the time to be thankful.

History tells us the greatest believers of all time were set apart by their thankfulness to God for His mercy, His salvation, His Son. Just take a quick survey of all the times Jesus thanked God and you will see the tie between faith in a good, all-powerful Father God and thankfulness to Him.

Thankful living is a testimony to a heart that is satisfied in its Lord.

And since we are all quite aware that satan is a copycat liar, the best way to thwart the testimony of our thankful hearts is to parcel out a cheap, plastic, canned version of the same. A version of thanksgiving that says, "Things are going pretty well. I can be thankful for that." A version that draws thanksgiving from the perishable circumstances without, instead of the imperishable truth within.

Because thanksgiving that stems from outside circumstances alone is a thanksgiving that will be burned with the chaff.

Thanksgiving that stems from the Father who has adopted us into His family as His children, the Son who gave Himself completely so we His enemies could be brought into relationship with Him, the Spirit who dwells within and creates, sustains, and strengthens faith within us, that is the only Thanksgiving that will last.

So this year, I pray that we enjoy Thanksgiving Day- parades, football, food, family. But more importantly, let Thanksgiving Day wake us up, church. Let it not be the end of a chaotic year. Let it not become "the day before Black Friday".

Let it be a resounding battle cry of God's people.

A cry that tells the world that there is joy around us and in us because of Christ alone.

That all the sin and death and destruction around us will not extinguish our thankfulness to the living God because in Jesus Christ those very evils are brought under the power of the Father to bring about a greater good we could never hope to achieve without Him.

A cry that says we will not set ourselves up for destruction by being distracted by imitation joy that can be destroyed in moment.

A cry that says, "Oh taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man that takes refuge in Him." (Psalm 34:8)

A cry that says we belong to a generous Father who lavished upon us the very life and death and resurrection of His only Son. And that because of that we know He will not withhold what we need.

Let this be our "fight song". What a mighty army is built on the hearts of God's thankful people. May God bless your day of battle this year. Love you all.

When Life Looks A Lot More Like Gilligan's Island

Just sit right back and you'll read a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...

Don't ask me how, but my children discovered Gilligan's Island this past weekend. And with me or my husband manning the remote (so as to avoid the raunchy TV Land commercials) we sat as a family and watched as a whole new generation was awed by the magical and inescapable island of their dreams.

It's a dangerous thing- watching your childhood favorites again. They rarely, if ever, live up to the memories. Still, Gilligan's Island was entertaining, if not marvelous. It taught me a few things too:

1. Life would have been a lot simpler if those huts had been built of sound-proof bamboo. Then people wouldn't have been eavesdropping and freaking out all the time. Seriously, Howells, you think the Professor and Skipper are going to off Gilligan to save their own skin and avoid war with an island tribe?

2. The show isn't realistic. Not in the slightest. I mean really, a head-hunting tribe with only 3 members (none of which are women- how will the culture be preserved with no babies)? A dentist's drill powered by the pedaling patient? Gilligan and the Skipper sleeping and waking in those same clothes every single day and they don't fade? I know it wasn't supposed to be realistic, but when I was younger it never really occurred to me just how outlandish it all was. It didn't seem ridiculous at all.

3. Perspective matters. The show scared the kids. A guy running up and down on the island in a bed sheet. A giant stuffed spider whose legs don't even touch the ground (because their was a dude in that costume, I believe). Gilligan avoiding mortal combat with an island native. It was tense in the room as the kids seriously fretted, how will everything work out?  

Then again, I was stranded on my own island this past weekend. Hearing part of the story, the part I didn't want to hear. Making assumptions based on incomplete evidence. Creating wildly unrealistic plot lines in my own brain of what I was sure would be my own demise.

I left the port of assumption, navigated the turbulent seas of obsession, and crashed on the shores of despair.

I emailed the person who I assumed thought I was incompetent, untrustworthy, and stubborn. Seeking closure in an email is like throwing darts blindfolded. You might hit the target, but chances are more likely you'll just cause a bystander pain. Pretty sure I did that. Unintentionally, but still. I scrutinized every word of his reply. Agonized over every turn of phrase. And left the exchange more confident than ever that this person thought I was unfit.

But the scary thing is this- I didn't mean to do any of this. I avoided it at all costs. I tried to be rational when I heard the news. I sought wise counsel. I prayed. I read the Bible. I worked out. I drank red wine. I slept. I did every physical and spiritual therapy I could think of. Nothing worked.

It hit me that God was working a change in my life and in the life of His church. A change in which I played a major part. A change that made the devil nervous.

You can bet that when God gets plans in motion, the devil isn't far behind. He wants nothing more to derail the train powered by the Lord and moving in His direction.

I worked an hour on Bible study homework. Felt good doing it. Less than a minute after, my blood pressure soared at the mere thought of this person. I realized I needed reinforcements. I did what I rarely do- I texted a friend for prayer. Personal prayer. I can ask a person to pray for a friend, a family member. It's much harder to ask them to pray for me and a hang up in my own brain. But I knew I was in the middle of a full-on attack and I needed someone else behind me.

Guess what, it worked. She offered a listening ear (or a reading eye, as the case would have it). She offered to pray for me and the other person. Then she offered the exact perspective I needed: the devil sees the work God is doing in the other person, and is fighting to get him back. The devil was sending out his forces and working on the both of us, and with that perspective I was instantly placed on the side of my "enemy."

Instead of his army on one side and mine on the other, waiting to charge onto the battlefield, there we stood- he and I back to back, swords in hand, fighting off the powers of darkness that sought to obliterate any chance of glorifying God.

I was at peace.

I talked to my former "offender" on Sunday at church, and guess what, I do really like him. His enthusiasm was exciting to see and, while I know we are going to have some obstacles and differences of opinion, we are on the same side.

It was the S.S. Truth that rescued me that day. Captained by Jesus Christ and manned by one of his dear servants.

We all get stranded on our own imaginary islands. Ridiculous plot lines and incomplete information threaten to be our undoing. What truth do you need to hear today? What relationships are buckling under these conditions. The devil is looking to devour us. It is my prayer that he's kept hungry and God is glorified in your life and mine.

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Thanks for reading my little testimony here. I ask you to keep this situation in your prayers. Strides have been made, but I know that the further we get, the harder satan will work. Pray for understanding, clear communication, grace and mercy in all this- and I will pray for you too!

Ready, Set, Go

I'm a simple woman. I have this formula for movement. Essentially it's this- the stronger the beat, the faster I go. In fact, if you could just remix everything in my world, I'd probably be the most efficient woman on the planet. Bumpin', that's the word I was looking for. I need something bumpin'.

Following said formula, I emptied the dishwasher with passion a couple days ago. I cleaned up after supper with the enthusiasm I once had clubbing yea so many years ago. I just wish I could pop-n-lock. And those glimpses I caught in the window, those reflections that confirmed that no matter how awesome I am in my own mind- I still look like a mom dancing, they didn't deter me one bit. I played "Ready, Set, Go" on repeat and my husband just smiled as the opening measures cycled again and again. My son said I was weird- bonus.

I danced to "Ready, Set, Go" yesterday as well. Best 69 cents I've spent in a loooong time. If you like bumpin' music, it's by Royal Tailor. Anyway, I told my husband these were my three words for Wednesday. I just didn't tell him it would be about him.

We've been married 9 years today. "Ready, Set, Go" could be our theme song. I met his sister in college. We were out with the choir one night and, while I don't remember the exact conversation, I'm pretty sure it went something like this:

Me: Boys, like, totally suck. I'm done. 
Melissa: Yeah, I hear ya.
Me: I give up.
Melissa: You know, I should totally hook you up with one of my brothers. Then we could be SISTERS!
Me: That would be so AWESOME!

I met his folks the next day, introduced myself as their future daughter-in-law and decided to just go ahead and start calling them Mom and Dad. Didn't have the son picked out yet, but it was pretty much a done deal, right? Met his Aunt, Uncle, and Grandma. This could work.

Talked to the guy online for a while. Then on the phone. Met him in person one January, married him the next, had our first child the next. Moved and ministered. And I know the cornfields of Iowa don't seem to be a "ready set go" kind of atmosphere, God is showing us that ready, set, go is His call- not ours.

God has taught me a lot over the past nine years, the majority of it through my family.

The one that sticks out today- God doesn't wait until you think you are ready- for anything. Because half the time I have thought I was ready and certainly wasn't. The other half, I doubted my readiness and He supplied all the ready I needed.

I am married to a man who is ready always- at least he seems that way. He looks for opportunities to share Jesus with people. That may seem like a no-brainer with him being a pastor and all, but trust me, it's not. I could go on and on about how much he rocks, but I don't want to make anyone's teeth hurt from all the sweetness.

Thank you awesome readers for indulging this little post dedicated to an amazing gift I've been given. I know if I would have had any hand in it, I would have screwed it up a looong time ago. And now you've all also been privy to his anniversary card, since I haven't made that yet... You are welcome. Love you all and have a wonderful Wednesday:)

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This sappy post is being forced upon anyone else who links up with the FABULOUS Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday:)

If you are looking for the song that bumps my world:

The Incomplete Illusion {Messy Monday}

You may recall we are having a garage sale.

You also may recall that some things tend to be incomplete around here.

So when my husband suggested we take out every single glass from our cupboard, as well as those cowering under the kitchen sink, and those in the boxes we still haven't unpacked since we moved here, I said, "Go for it." Meaning, "You do the heavy lifting and I will tell you what stays and what goes. I mean, we will together decide what stays and what goes. Right."

The glasses, mugs, cups, sippies, water bottles, and other miscellaneous junk covered our floor. Occasionally we would run across a complete set of glasses. In our house we have a word for that phenomenon: Miracle. Our house is where complete sets come to die, so our eyes widened and our brows furrowed when we'd run across even numbers of the same beverage containers.

Then I saw my sweet mugs and did a happy dance. I have a few random mugs that I adore, but I have one set that is particularly close to my heart. I rescued the set a few years back from a second-hand store. They're quirky, with a handle that looks like a capital B. They are my Sweet B mugs. And I had every single one!

A week later, I prepared to meet my dear friend Simply Beth. I wanted to give her more than a ride- I wanted to give her a gift to remember her trip and our time together. Something that would mean something. I racked my brain. Do I head to Hobby Lobby or Family Christian Store and pick her up something cute? Do I make her a necklace with beads formed by the Suubi women from Light Gives Heat? Do I buy some sweet Iowa State scrapbooking paper and make her some bookmarks to use in the pile of books she's reading right now?

I sipped my coffee and thought. The coffee in my Sweet B mug. It's a simple mug. Simple. B. Simply Beth. And she's sweet just like the mugs. That makes sense, right? But who wants a random mug? And you have a complete set!

What is the point of a complete set? Really, we were so excited to have found some. It was like we had arrived. We were real adults now. Adults who could keep four mugs together, even six, so we must be able to keep our lives together, right? Look at us! We have it together! But when I have coffee company over, I never give everyone the same mug- way too confusing. Who wants to spend the morning asking, "Wait. Is this one mine or yours?" So a complete set seems kind of... superfluous.

So I decided to give Beth a mug because she is now a part of my life. And when you have been made complete in Christ, there is only one thing to do with your life- give it away.

That's why all those epistles start with the writers praying for churches from a distance. That's why they call each other brothers. Because being adopted into God's family makes us brothers and sisters. You know that already I'm sure, but in a society where we can spell me with two i's, we need to be reminded that wii is a fun way to play, but a crappy way to live. Each of us complete in Christ is joined together to share lives because our lives no longer belong to us anyway. We are a body, a family, a kingdom together. That's how we are called to live.

The world would look at my collection and see it as incomplete, but I know it's not. It's more complete than it was before, because it's being shared a state away. My adorable mug resides in a cupboard far away, holding a reminder of the love of Christ that binds together sisters from two different mothers.

It's just another example of how Christ fills the empty, common things with a love that knows no bounds.

Praying for you all, wherever you are, and thanking God for uniting us in Him. What a huge family we have, let's invite some more:) Love you all!