When To Go With The Flow {Three Word Wednesday: Flow and Follow} (And A Brand New Giveaway for You!!!)

I enter haltingly into a change in my life.

I suppose that is what happens when you read One Thousand Gifts and Interrupted

simultaneously. Both very good books by extremely gifted authors who change the way you look at the gifts around you from a profoundly Biblical standpoint.

And I see a flow to all of this.

While reading (listening to) It Starts With Food I marveled at how God created our bodies to work. Without our knowledge, the body is in a constant state of give and take. One organ uses this nutrient to fuel this activity, which produces this component that tells this organ to do that. Its complex and my brain cannot hold all the information.

So when I put down It Starts With Food and picked up One Thousand Gifts and Interrupted, I seemed to be changing gears altogether. Only my journey just continued.Because this body is not our only body. This life is not our only life.

“For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, 

though many, are one body, so it is with Christ… 

Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” 

1 Corinthians 12:12, 27

In previous readings of that passage my brain used macro illustrations to visualize the metaphor. The eye, the hand. You lose one sense, other senses heighten. You stub your toe, the eyes close, muscles constrict, nerves fire up.

But in these past weeks, it’s the micro that has gotten the play.

There is a flow to how the human body works, and there is no difference in the living, breathing, body of the church.

So when our cellular selves were ushered into the Body by Grace, we became a part of God’s processes and purposes in a very intentional way. I picture the writers of the epistles taking us on a "Magic Schoolbus" tour, “You are new here, so let me show you how all this works.’

Ann Voskamp sees the flow in the simple, "God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy."

Jen Hatmaker in the stewardship, "Hey, here's something crazy: In the Word, poverty, widows, hunger- these are not metaphors. There are billions of lambs that literally need to be fed. With food."

And then so many of us are tempted to get tripped up by the Gospel. In truth it’s the imitation gospel. The free gift of salvation becomes the free pass to consumption. It is what has so many churchgoers sitting on their hands in warm buildings for 1 hour, then ignoring their neighbors in need for the remainder of the week. It is what leaves us discontent and blinded to the small graces God gives us every day that we are too busy to unwrap in thanksgiving.

Because, after all, we don’t have to do anything because we are saved by grace through faith- not by works.

Have we forgotten the word follow?

When we end the story there our lives are at best average, at worst destructive. The flow is disrupted. The cells in the body are plagued by selfish cancer and free-resentful-radicals cause unspeakable damage. Discontent ushers death.

That is where the beauty of the Law, the absolute gorgeous power of the Law steps in.

This is how it works… it’s not a suggestion. It’s a fact. Just as solid as gas in your fuel tank works better than vegetable oil. Thanksgiving fuels joy, and vice versa. Love fuels service, and the reverse.

Taking the time to receive, acknowledge the gifts, and return thanks- those aren’t suggestions. They are medicine to heal our souls and strengthen the Body.

So what is the next step? I will be recording thanksgiving on these pages. Perhaps you would record your own as well. Or pray that God would open your eyes to the needs of those around you. 

#48.  Soft blanket paths on the floor

# 49. Tea party with Belle and Tinkerbell

# 50. Songs before the meal.

And I will be giving gifts as well!

THE GIVEAWAY!!! 

How do you receive? Simply leave a comment here on the blog or on my Facebook page with something for which you are thankful. You may even private message me. One name will be randomly drawn and I will contact you to inquire which book you would like to receive, Interrupted: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity or One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are and you will receive it in the mail! Yay!!!

The "contest" will end on Valentine's Day. Love love love.

Sharing with Kristin for Three Word Wednesday!

Let's Get Busy! (With the Good Stuff) {GratiTuesday} {Three Word Wednesday}

I don't do laundry because I want to or because I like to, or even because my family will go naked if I don't. Honestly, they have grown accustomed to trekking down to the basement and digging their clean clothes out of one of several filled laundry baskets, or the ever mounting heap of clean laundry in the middle of the cold cement floor.

I do it because if I don't, the mess of spiders and other nasty basement bugs that I find exploring the cotton blends and such could decide to move in permanently and I'll never get them back...

Am I the only one?

We are also doing a somewhat major eating overhaul of sorts around here, and laundry has gradually slipped back down to the bottom of the list. Especially with the family trekking and enabling all the way...

So where is the balance? Juggling laundry and cooking and cleaning and writing and praise team and little people and and exercising and bathing and more, all with a happy heart? All while trying to give God and my husband more than just the left overs?

Maybe the balls I'm juggling are different shades of chaos than the ones you are tossing up, but without balance don't they all come crashing down eventually?

And don't we all tend to juggle more than our hands can handle?

Well, I have some beautiful women who are taking a walk through Ruth with me (enter another projectile to keep aloft) and I have to tell you we are all busy. All of us. With stuff. And Ruth has been reminding me that we are all going to be busy and busy is not bad. Really busy can be really good. Ruth worked day and night. Gleaning and threshing day after day (save the Sabbath) for months on end to provide for herself and Naomi. All while grieving.

Was she worn out? You bet. Yet when Naomi told her to go, get up and head to threshing floor to lay at Boaz's feet and ask for marriage, she went. (Ruth 3) She responded, "All that you say I will do." She got dolled up and performed another task.

This was a super-woman to me.

She was busy for the Lord, and I couldn't be more grateful for it. The whole world was blessed by her obedience. She blessed her children and all the children that would come after her because her continual obedience to the Lord in the little things paved the way for the Savior we will welcome here again in a couple months.

So I look back at the laundry, at the meals, and the children, and the husband, and the praise team, and the Bible study and I am forced to make some choices as to what busy-ness to get busy with. Because when God calls me to obey, I don't want to be too worn out with the stuff that doesn't matter to actually heed His call.

We are coming upon busy days. Something like 10 or 11 Fridays until Christmas. I'm holding off on the Christmas lists and starting with a priority list. December leaves my head spinning every time. So this time I'm seeking wisdom and peace before the crazy to store up and draw from on the hard days. So that when I feel robbed of my time and energy, I can remember that none of it was truly mine to begin with.

Maybe we could do this together? And all those bits of peace and wisdom I collect, I will put right here for you and you can dish it right back out to me! Sound good? Great.

And the best part of all is that God promises to get in the busy with us! Love it! And love you all. Really. I'm so excited for us!

Dethroning Your Fear {Three Word Wednesday}

It is often said that people and animals respond to a threat in one of two ways.

Fight or Flight.

Then there's fear.

Fight or Flight- that's all survival there. Survival instinct. It is something that works beyond fear. In spite of it.

Fear works a lot like stress. Its result- paralysis.

Months back, I chose a word for this year. I prayed, sought, studied. "Fearless" commanded all other words silence, and refused to relinquish its hold on my psyche. So I chose it, and was soon warned that choosing that word could mean God would mess with me in that area. The prophecy was true and I can tell you that I have suffered more at the hand of fear this year than I can ever remember before.

That being said, I can hardly remember what I ate for breakfast, so my memory is not the most reliable gauge of my overall emotional health.

Still, the tunnel seems to be coming to an end- the light approaching ever brighter.

I can move and breathe again.

Too long have I been locked in an upper room for fear of... whatever. Name it.

I put on a good show. Muddle through in spite of the crippling thoughts that threaten to undo me. There is a lot to fear in this world, and all sorts of them have been seeking the throne in my heart reserved for God.

Not gonna lie, they have budged themselves on there more than once.

I'm not using the "respect" definition of fear. I'm talking idolatrous fear.
Because having no other gods isn't always about loving something more than God. Oftentimes, it's about ascribing more power to things other than God. Like all those things we fear.

And don't think for a second that you have to wait until you are completely immobilized by fear before it is a problem. No phobia diagnosis necessary. The moment it robs you of peace in the Lord, the moment it plants the seed of doubt, that's when it is a problem.

If we think too quickly about it all, we may try to find some way to justify our fear. I'm a mom, I'm supposed to worry. (Lie.) We are tempted to give fear credit for the fact that we are mobilized to take the reins and act in our communities. Or read our Bibles. Like those fears are driving us to our knees before the Lord.

Only fear does not do that. Ever. Survival- that's different. Love. Mercy. Grace. Those gifts from God are alone what send us searching for His peace.

Fear locks us away. It is a cunning bully that gradually shoves us in with the crowd that believed in Jesus, but were too scared to confess it because of what others might do. It leaves us helpless, frozen on an ocean in a squall.

It deafens us to Jesus' words:

"It is I; do not be afraid." (John 6:20)

It robs us of the gifts that are rightfully ours as heirs to the kingdom of God:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives so I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (John 14:27)

And God knows that. It is recorded in history as one of the first emotions felt by our first mother and father after the Fall. He knew way back when, before Creation, that we would need a Savior. And that we would need a Helper. And He delivered. Just like God always does.

God may give us more than our feeble selves can handle, but His promise of salvation and a Helper are guarantees that offer real hope. Because there is nothing He cannot handle. Nothing.

Drop-kick our fear and deliver us every day, Lord.

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Linking up today with simply wonderful Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday!

Your Outside Voice! {Three Word Wednesday}

It could have annoyed me. The squealing, the dawdling, the giggling. I could have let it get to me. Had my children been the culprits and my attitude gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, it most certainly would have.

But it was me. Me! Squealing. Dawdling. Giggling. With one of my very dearest friends. And then we added another friend to the mix and it escalated.

Time to myself is a rarity and a gift. Literally. A birthday gift. A night away. Without the "office." I love my job, but everyone needs a moment to give your brain a break from responsibilities. Even homemakers.

So there we were doing all those things that girls a fraction of our age do, and loving it. And after our stay, right after the magnetic plastic keys were placed at the front desk, I turned around and saw her.

My aunt. From Chicago (which was hours and hours away from the hotel, by the way.) I called her name. She turned, did a double take. 

Then came the shriek. The scream. The unavoidable utterance that disregarded the dozen or so other people in the room. We used our outside voices.

Hugsscreamsquestions! "What are you doing here?! This is SO WEIRD!"

My uncle and cousins joined in. It just so happened we were in the same city (2+ hours from my home), same hotel, on the same night. And had our schedules been off even 10 minutes we wouldn't have ever known it had happened. Thanks, God. Still thanks. You're the best. 

Introductions were made with my friend. More hugs. Goodbyes. And I climbed in the truck high on love.

Driving home I thought that's gotta be what heaven is like. Enjoying our friendship and freedom, and then screaming. Uninhibited shouts of joy! Imagine joining our brothers and sisters in eternity and all the shouting. What a party!

The thing I tend to forget is that the party starts here. Shouting for joy happens here. Happens now. No amount of junk the devil throws at us will quiet the joy and freedom we have received in Jesus. That's where satan trips us up. If he can quiet the true joy of believers, he can drown it out in the tears and murderous threats of hatred. When thanksgiving remains at a dull roar the lies of hopelessness flood our ears.

The reality is there is necessary grief at times. But there is necessary thanksgiving at all times.

I am too often silent. I feel it in my bones. The guilt of rejoicing in the small while others are in pain. The lies crowding my senses until thankfulness is not even a memory. 

But the Bible repeatedly tells us to use our outside voices. All the time. Sometimes we need permission. Whether you need it or not- here it is. Boast in who your God is. Boast in His love. His power. His resurrection. His goodness. It is your privilege. Your gift.

Let's get noisy, people! Praying your joy is raucous today. Raucous!

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Linking up with the beautiful and busy Simply Beth again today!

If you are looking for a soundtrack for your joy, either to inspire it or reflect it, may I suggest the newest album from Rend Collective? It is raucous in the best possible way.

At All Times {Three Word Wednesday}

Do you find it odd that at the most scary part of a 24 hour period, that is the time when we are supposed to find rest?

The world has been getting to me lately. Quite honestly, it has kept me up at night. God's fearless wild woman trembles in the face of imaginary bullies. The ones that would rob her children of their innocence, and her heart of its peace.

And when the preschooler comes in our bedroom in the black of night and says she's scared of the dark, I say "me too." Because moms and dads have nightmares too.

Because in the light we could see for miles. In the darkness, only a few feet.

Because I often feel like I'm driving our family west at dusk. Chasing the sun. Reaching to catch it before it sinks, and I drown in darkness.

The darkness deepens. Indeed it does.

And I pray, "Lord, with me abide."

And He says, "I do."

I confess. I search frantically for headlights and reflectors to light the way. Because I don't trust God. He taunts me over the horizon. Drive further, faster. Come get me.

That's my emotions. My weak faith takes over.

That's not God.

He does not taunt. His "I do" promises I am.

His I am is eternal. Inescapable.

No high-speed chase of fleeting fancy.

He pursues. I wait.

For God alone my soul waits in silence;

from Him comes my salvation.

Psalm 62:1

Rest does not depend on our circumstances. The great illusion is that it will come when our situation changes. When we move. When our kids grow older. But the truth is there will always be a new fear or struggle to replace the old one. 

Rest can only be found in the unchanging I am. Ever present. Ever powerful. Always Mercy. Always Love. 

And He will remind us of that in the dark places. When He speak
s peace and rest into our sin-weary souls. It is no accident that our physical rest is to be found when the darkness is deepest. It is a reminder to rest in Him. In Him alone.

Praying your hearts are refreshed in Him.

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Simply serving love with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday. For more refreshment, visit her over there and read some amazing writers. Love you all!

Labels Worth Keeping {Three Word Wednesday}

I'm back!!! What WHAT?! And for a Three Word Wednesday from my dear friend, Simply Beth! Not promising any new revelations. Kept up with the writing and communicating over the summer about as much as I anticipated- which wasn't much. But it was a nice healthy break and I am ready to write!

Soooo... I've been thinking...

The other day I performed my ritualistic and somewhat cursory, scan of my Facebook feed. I'm not here calling anyone out, so I'll keep it vague. A person I know referred to their spouse in a pretty derogatory way. Not an angry tirade against their spouse. Just a pattern of speech that seemed to flow pretty freely. Kind of a "ball-and-chain" reference.

Not a fan.

At. All.

And it just so happens I've been contemplating the devil's calculated use of divide and conquer with us simple human beings. It's all over the Bible. Just look at the first humans. Their consumption didn't separate us from God alone, but from each other.

The first husband and wife, and every couple since then. Every person since then.

Contrast that with Christ and the ministry of reconciliation He has given to us.

 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.

2 Corinthians 5:17-19

People think it is the labels we put on each other that divide us. I think we're just using the wrong labels.

I've heard my husband refer to me in many ways. Not one derogatory. Our current favorite is true love, a label adhered during a conversation following Frozen.

This isn't supposed to gross you out. And please don't think our every word to each other to be drizzled with the nectar of love. It's just different. A good different. It reminds me who I am talking to and about. It seasons my words.

It keeps me from buying into the idea that our words are just words. That the careless words we speak in haste won't become a pattern in our lives. Because words can pack a punch. We know it's true. And if the devil can play into one insecurity using a comment I shouldn't have made (yes, I am culprit numero uno), then it's time I figured out a new speech borne of a new creation. It's a totally different language- not in an effort to appear better than others, but as a revelation of who I am in Christ. And who they are as well.

Because kind words pack a punch too. And praise God for that.

"Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person." 

Colossians 4:6

So I'm bringing back labels. Labels, like most habits, don't exist in a vacuum. We are born seeking an identity. To whom do we belong? Those of us blessed to know the Lord find our identity in Him. But removing the negative labels we have allowed to litter our self-image isn't enough. We won't keep them off unless we replace them with something new. 

That's what Christ did. He replaced the A of the adulterous woman with the F of forgiven. (John 7-8)

And in giving us the ministry of reconciliation, He has called us to do the same. To grab the emotional goo-gone and windex and scrape away the labels that wallpaper the broken hearts around us. To apply the ointment and adhesive of forgiveness and purpose. Labels like "His." Like "My Neighbor." "Brother." "Sister." He cemented us together in the Body of Christ for a reason, and that's not to do any verbal amputations, but to minister, heal, and work together in His kingdom. 

God spoke and it was. His Spirit in us gives us the ability to speak true life to our neighbors. Praying the Holy Spirit works that in you today and this week, into your heart and your words. Wouldn't it be an awesome thing to see reconciliation in our own lives? Our own neighborhoods? Our own towns? Praising God that He can make it so. Love you all.

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And if you need a soundtrack to this particular post, let me direct you to YouTube and the fabulous stylings of Toby Mac in "Speak Life" and Matthew West in "Child of the One True King." I know there are many others. Please feel free to share your favorites with me. I'm always looking for good tunes!

It's Summer Vacation!

Went round and round with myself. Take the summer off blogging? No? Part of me fears it would be blog suicide- what if you lovely readers never come back? The other part of me knows Jesus has raised  people from the dead before and He can do just that with a blog as well.

On the beautiful days, I will want to be outside. On the crappy days, I will have to keep my children from annihilating one another. And it's going to be mighty hard to play sheriff if I'm frustrated that I'm missing some sort of self-inflicted deadline.

Then there's all the family road trips.

Plus at this point I'm tired and not desiring to churn out "stuff" just because I have to, regardless of quality.

Ya see what I'm getting at? I guess I'm on summer vacation too.

Here's what I hope to do this summer for you all: I hope to keep posting on Facebook. I hope to put up some archived "oldies but goodies" for your perusal, in case you missed them. I hope to keep reading other blogs, yours, and be inspired. I hope to write things down as I go through life and get fresh ideas for the Fall. Sound good?

But before we part ways (and we never really will because I think about you all the time and keep you in my heart and prayers) for a time... I had an issue with my daughter the other night.

I was less than gracious. She has a nightlight right by her bed. Right. by. it. It was on.

So was the hallway light. I opened the door just wide enough that it would illuminate just her face and not the whole room. I didn't need the littlest one woken by the light.

Her issue- there were parts of her room that were still dark.

My solution- LOOK AT THE LIGHT!

But she wouldn't. It was right there and she could only cry that the darkness 5 feet from her bed was impenetrable and malicious.

Compassion was still in bed, so I was left with only Impatience.

But not God. Jesus' light is all over Scripture. We're always told to keep our eyes on Him, the author and perfecter of our faith. To focus on what is True and Lovely... To stare directly at the Son.

Because we have tendencies to act like my preschooler. To be overwhelmed by our circumstances. By the atrocities happening every day in this sinful world. By our own sinful desires and actions.

And satan beckons us to observe darkness, and to despair.

But God's solution is far different. First, look into the light. Read the Word. Find peace in the Truth of His power, love, mercy.

The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life- of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 27:1

And Second, realize that this light is a portable thing. Not meant to just plug in beside our beds. The Power Source is supposed to be taken out into the world. Because we have put on Christ, we put on His servanthood, His sacrifice, His new life. 

So that darkness "over there" becomes light because God made us into nightlights for Him.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:5

If you find yourself peering in the dark, I hope this blog has been a nightlight of yours. I pray you find comfort in spending time with God the Father and His word. His Spirit. His Son. I pray you live in the victory that is ours in Jesus Christ! I love you all and pray your Summer is a blessed one!

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.

John 16:33

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Last link up of the Summer with Simply Beth! 

All is Redeemed {Lessons and Lunchables}

Ever get pity chips? Not the knowing nod of a veteran parent, bestowing on you some metaphorical badge of honor in the presence of a screaming toddler. I'm talking actual chips. Tortilla chips.

It started with a lunchable. My preschooler earned it by her "good" behavior (we all know the term good is about as relative as it comes) in the grocery store. We managed to make it all the way out to the van before the dessert contents were consumed. Before I even had a chance to buckle her in, the lunchable container was placed on the table between the two front seats. 

Buckled and ready to go, I glanced at the small plastic tray containing untouched meat, cheese and crackers. The only things missing were the cookies. I looked at my daughter, "What's this doing here?"

"I'm done," she informed me. 

"Really? What did you eat?"

"The cookies."

"Did you eat anything else? The meat, cheese, or crackers?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want them."

Paying a buck and a half for a small snacky lunch, I am okay with that. Paying a buck and a half for two Oreos- I don't think so. I let her know that if she wanted any chance of watching her "Frozen" movie, she would eat two pieces of each of the other items.

So as her fit of rage commenced, I drove us to Chipotle to get my burrito bowl fix.While ordering two burritos and two bowls, my darling child clung tightly to my leg, screaming as though a puppy had been slaughtered before her eyes. Over her sobs and pleading, I calmly conveyed to the food artists which ingredients belonged in each burrito/bowl, every so often looking down and asking her if she was quite done. 

As the young man rang up my meals, he gave my daughter a pitying look. "Would you like some chips?" You can imagine the wail that erupted after his well-meant offer. 

"She's fine," I told him.

He bagged our purchases. "You can just have the chips," he whispered as he handed me the bags.

"You'll need 'em," remarked the helpful woman behind me.

I walked out the restaurant doors and texted my friend, "I have also discovered the trick to getting free chips at chipotle... it involves screaming children."

We then remained in the parking lot until one piece of meat and cheese was consumed. She choked those down along with her cracker under threat of staying in said parking lot until it was gone- overnight if necessary.

I've been pondering this post for two weeks now. Two weeks at least. Trying to figure out just how to put this. Then this past Monday night I listened to Beth Moore assure her audience that every single part of their life had been redeemed. Every part. That's what I've been thinking this whole time!

No one's life is all frosting and chocolate. No one's past is all dessert and sugar.

There are some things we'd rather just put aside and say, "I'm done now."

But the thing is- God has redeemed it all. Every single bit of it. He didn't just purchase the Sunday mornings where the sermon was absorbed, the bedtimes where every kid was tucked in all timely and peaceful.

He redeemed all of it- even the unsavory moments. Those idiosyncrasies we have that drive us crazy. the relapses. The careless, hurtful words. The death glares. The selfish moments. Unsavory, yes. Unredeemable, never.

Those moments in our past where we made the wrong decisions over and over again- when we can't even understand how or why God delivered us into the place we are now. He has redeemed those moments. He can use those for His glory. Every bit of them can be used for His glory.

There is not one part of you that God is willing to throw away.

Does He grieve over sin? Surely He does. As a parent yearns for the welfare of their child. As a husband yearns for the faithfulness of his wife. He is a holy God and cannot tolerate sin.

But our God doesn't revel in our good and tolerate our bad. He bought the whole kitten caboodle. And He can work with and on everything in our lives. Of course love like that would compel us to strive toward the goal of pleasing Him, but never once do we need worry that we don't measure up to His love.

He sent His son to do that.

Believe that. God loves you completely. Nothing is outside His grasp

His love far surpasses our failings, and it always will. Who doesn't need that?

"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, 

that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 

so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 

may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."

Ephesians 3:14-19

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Linking lately with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday!

We Are Healed {Written in Wounds}

Fifth graders are cool. Perhaps you already know this. Perhaps you have the honor of housing and/or loving a fifth grader in your own family.

I don't, but for an hour or so a week, I get to interact with the beings after school. Adopt them temporarily. They meander into our church in steady stream of chatter. They snack with their friends. Then they sing (or don't sing) dorky camp songs with one of the dorkiest people I know- me.

Music has a kind of crazy magic that draws out of a person a wild abandon that just can't be released effectively through speech. Add in dancing and ridonkulous lyrics about baby sharks, and you have wholly different people. So in a way, I'm pretty much a magician. Maybe that's why I have been accepted into the tribe of fifth graders.

I was initiated yesterday. While other kids filed into the sanctuary, a lovely girl and her friend walked up to me to show off their sweatshirts. There wasn't much extraordinary about the shirts themselves, but what was scrawled on them was worthy of notice. I'm still not sure I understand why, but for some reason these girls had their friends sign their shirts. In permanent marker.

I repressed the questions of my inner mom ("And your moms are cool with this?"), and marveled at the creativity and comradery demonstrated in the multi-colored names across their arms and backs. Friends willing to sign off on these girls. They knew them and more than that, they approved of them. And they were willing to testify to that permanently.

"You wanna sign it?" She sounded so cool about it.

"Yes please," I answered. I'm not nearly so cool.

She held out her Sharpie rainbow and I selected my color. I signed her back. Because I have her back. I signed her friend's hood.

I've signed my name before. And I've signed off on the most horrible sins. Music works its magic and draws out my confession in worship:

"Oh, to see my name

Written in the wounds,

For through Your suffering I am free..."

"But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities..."

-Isaiah 53:5a

Yes, I signed off on His death. You can see my signature there. No Sharpie needed. It is written in His blood.

But that's not the end of the story. He loves us too much to end it there.

"Death is crushed to death;

Life is mine to live,

Won through Your selfless love."

-The Power of the Cross, by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend

"...upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed."

Isaiah 53:5b

And it is tonight and in the days to come that we receive admission to witness the most glorious of all paradoxes. The Servant King binds our wounds with His wounds. 

It's not just some cool theological mystery to ponder and solve. 

It's God the Father signing His name, His approval, onto His Son. Then clothing us in Him. 

We have put on Christ. (Galatians 3:27)

And it's more than clothing deep. It cuts right to the heart.

Because we are His friends. (John 15:13-15)

You are His friend.

He made you that way.

Because He loves you.

It is holy week, but Jesus didn't die for this week. He died for you.

So that when we are not enough, when things don't get done, when we say that thing that we shouldn't have said, when we sign our names to Christ's murder over and over again- He shows us the truth.

"I have called you by name. You are mine." 

-Isaiah 43:1

"I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand."

-John 10:28

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A blessed holy week to you all. I'd sign your sweatshirts any day. I pray for you in the days to come. Things have been crazy around these parts. Preparing for Easter, then Kenya. Reading the Bible in 90 days and doing a Beth Moore study simultaneously provides plenty of inspiration, but little time. Oh, and I have kids.

Which is probably why I'm linking late with Simply Beth yet again. But hey, better late than never.

Love you all!

Just Say "Amen!"

My eyes closed, I tried to muscle in a few more minutes of sleep to the din and scuffling of newly awakened small people above me. Then the phone rang.

A sick friend, a working husband. Can I watch the kids?

"Of course. Sure, no problem."

I hadn't forgotten my last words before bed last night. "I think tomorrow we're just going to take it easy. I need to catch up on my Bible reading. Maybe I'll blog."

But when a friend needs you, things change. And I thought to myself, how will I best serve the Lord and my neighbor today? Reading the Bible to myself, or helping a friend in need? Well, if I remember correctly, it was the "holy" people that passed by the left-for-dead Samaritan. No brainer. I looked at my husband and said, "This is the day the Lord has made. I didn't make it, so I'll do what He wants me to do."

Do I always have that clarity or goodwill at 6 am? Uh no. So it is here that I give some mighty praise to the Holy Spirit who has borne in me a love that surpasses all sleep deprivation. It also helps that my friend is just so cool, and her kids are sweet.

The children showed up as mine stampeded downstairs. The TV clicked on, and those two little ones got a dose of the pre-schoolday routine that we take for granted. When the three oldest made their exit, I knew I would have to be more strategic with my morning. Beginning with some quiet time. Funny, God gave that to me too. Somehow that Bible time that would have been my excuse to forsake my sister in Christ was even more of a blessing because I wasn't actually anticipating being able to get it accomplished.

And this is what I read over and over and over, "Then all the people shall say, 'Amen!'" It makes up about half of Deuteronomy 27. The Levites would recite a law of the Lord and all the people were to say, "Amen!"

I have those days where it takes all my strength to just say "Jesus."

For those other days- the ones where I am granted the clarity of mind and energy of body to follow where the Lord leads, those are the days I am just to say, "Amen!"

It is an affirmative response to the word of God.

It is the refrain of believers.

It is the chorus of the broken, whose only hope is the strong and trustworthy God who proved ultimately on the cross and in the empty tomb that He would take on death and win. He gives us the victory.

So when plans change in the dark of the morning, Amen.

"It is more blessed to give than to receive." Amen!
(Acts 20:35)

"For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Amen!
(Isaiah 43:3)

The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10):
"Go and do likewise." Amen!

"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Amen!
(Ephesians 5:1-2)

Sometimes it is in the solemn quiet of a church sanctuary.

The weeping of the frustrated husband and wife.

The crying of the physically ailing.

The shouts of the prisoner freed from sin.

The surrender of the rundown mother.

It's the melody that claims God is God, and there is no other. Amen.

It's the symphony of the broken, handing hearts to their Healer. Amen.

It's the believer, carried by the Spirit, putting one foot in front of the other down an uncertain path because faith tells them their God is the only certain thing they have in this life.

It is a gift from Him alone, who deigns to dwell with us and make Himself available to carry our burdens. Amen is His invitation to let. it. go.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

Amen.

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Linking late with a lovely lady:) Three Word Wednesday with Simply Sweet, Simply Beth.

Beyond the Mirror

Most women I know who have sworn off cosmetics have done it for altruistic reasons- fasting from vanity and chemicals, or protesting animal testing. Not me. A couple months ago I stopped wearing makeup precisely for vanity's sake. I haven't sworn it off for good, or even for the week, but it occurred to me that I sleep on this face and the skin isn't getting any more elastic, so maybe I should save my eyelids from sagging and give up eye shadow. Not to mention the money I save on not buying the stuff. So, in reality, I'm just cheap.

But I almost didn't make it. I didn't usually wear a ton of make up, but still. Every single time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'd groan a little. There's the woman who gave up. I had lots of friends who go sans makeup, and never once had I thought that about them, but this was my face. I'd depart the mirror only to look again later and be reminded of what my face actually looks like.

I probably sound shallow. I didn't lose sleep over it, but it is an uncomfortable thing to forget what you look like. To get used to being "just you." No frills. Plain old you.

And plain old me has been reading a lot about being uncomfortable lately. My walk through the Bible had me reading through Exodus and Leviticus recently. The last couple days especially have been heavy on the laws and the sacrifices. I'd hate to be the priest on mildew and body sore duty.

Clean, unclean. Over and over. Sacrifices. Atonement. Offerings. I couldn't read it without thinking, I'd be unclean all the time! Seriously, those were busy priests sacrificing and making offerings day in and day out for people like me who fall short. Were there standing appointments I wonder? See you this time tomorrow, Aaron! On a daily basis, God's people got a long look in the mirror at themselves. No frills. Unclean.

But the craziest part of it all was that God stayed with them. These unclean people who would just as soon return to slavery or be absorbed into pagan life- God sat in the midst of them. These rules and regulations seemed a bit much until you got a glimpse of the Most Holy God making camp with them.

For I am the Lord who brought you up out of the land of Egypt to be your God. 

You shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.”

Leviticus 11:45

40 years in the desert and 40 days of Lent are not just cute symbolism. These days we look in the scriptural mirror and get a good glimpse of our fallen state. No sacrifices we offer could atone for the wrongs we have done. No measures taken on our part could bring about healing and holiness in our lives.

But it goes beyond that.

It compels us to look beyond our unclean selves into the presence of the Holy God that delivered us from slavery and makes camp in our lives.

Because He chose us.

Because He loves us.

Because sacrifice must be made so we and God can live together.

And that is exactly what He did.

Praying for you, Dear Friends, as you travel in the wilderness this Lent. I pray you see beyond your shortcomings and sinfulness to the God who abides with you and within you. He is so faithful. So so faithful.

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Linking up today with simply wonderful Simply Beth. Check her blog out- you'll just love her :)

Just One Day {He Will Deliver}

I can't think of a more appropriate way to begin Lent than an Ash Wednesday morning meltdown.

If you are preparing to read a hilarious account of my children's impetuous hi-jinks, think again. The meltdown was mine. And when you think meltdown, think nuclear. Think Mt. Wild Woman eruption. Think oatmeal expanding in the microwave and running down the sides of the bowl. Yuck.

That was basically it. All because of my own hang ups with the quality of my housekeeping. I guess the good part is that the only one who ended up in tears was me.

"I quit. I'm a horrible mom. I'm getting a different job."

My husband held me, rubbed my back, reassured me that I was a "good mom." But my conscience told me otherwise.

We decided to come up with a plan. My husband is giving up yelling for Lent. I told him if that was the case with me, I would have blown it already. In fact, if I had given up yelling, swearing, or crying, I would have blown all of those in record time.Thankfully, I just gave up coffee.

Wait a minute... "Do you think that's why I'm acting this way?"

"Well..." I could hear the gears turning as he contemplated the best response. "Maybe that would explain it a little."

He reminded me that the company coming wouldn't care what the house looked like. Rebecca would understand. She has five kids and is so full of grace, it just sloshes right out of her every time she moves. (You like that image, Sloshy Rebecca? :) )

"I know," I said. "That's not the point. I'm just asking for one day. I'm not asking for every day. I'm not even asking for every week. I can't get my house together for one day. Just one day!"

So today is the day after and I guess I can only say Thank God.

I wrote about Lent last year. About how its turbulence shakes us out of the inevitable settling in our souls for the comforts of this world. It's about returning to the Lord. Looking to the stone that the builders rejected.

I'll give it to you straight, yesterday was a day where dawn to dusk I had to lean on Jesus to get me through.

And that is a gift.

I was reminded of that it in my desperately needed quiet time this week too. In Genesis 12, God promises to give Abram's offspring the land at Shechem. So Abram builds an altar and worships God there.

The land hadn't been delivered to them yet. It was just at God's word that Abram found reason to worship. There was no "show me the money" attitude that we so often require today when it comes to worshiping God.

Just one day. That's all I was asking. God promises to deliver. Only He will give me days without end. One day my act will get put back together. The tears, the yelling, the poison words- those will be done. There will be no more begging for help, because my Helper will be there.

In the meantime, until that land is mine, I will believe His promise and I will worship. The altar may be a coffee-stained counter, or a laundry-covered basement, or a tear-stained pillow. But He makes beautiful things out of dust.

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Linking late with the always fabulous, Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday <3

Why I Quit "Helping" God {God is God}

The dog greeted me warmly at the door. I left her loose while I was gone because there was no food out and how much trouble could she get into? I carried the tired toddler into the kitchen and was greeted warmly once more.

By a completely annihilated box of Honey Nut Cheerios. What would possess an animal to jump onto a kitchen table and destroy a box and bag, only to consume a few handfuls of cereal? Yet there lay the accusing debris. As a mother of four with a dirty house, you could imagine my delight.

I set down the kid and reached for the broom. In moments, tiny fingers laid hold of the handle and her words formed, "Mm how. Mm how."

To a foreigner that would mean nothing. To my mother ears it rang clearly, "I help. I help."

I released the broom into her eager hands and watched as she toddled around the kitchen, spreading the cardboard, plastic, crumbs and other junk pell-mell over the linoleum. As a mother of four with a dirty house, you could imagine my delight.

This is precisely why I've quit helping God. I'm as effective as a 1 year old with a broom.

Pray, proclaim, fight, obey, serve, love, forgive, follow. All those things I remember being instructed by God through His word.

"Help me out." Not so much.

Teach, baptize, tell, give, bring, watch, repent.  Those words too come to mind.

"Do me a favor." Not that one.

I'd like to think the absence of those phrases would eliminate the notion from our brains, but I can say from experience that isn't the case. It's tempting to feel some degree of awesomeness in performing a task on behalf of God. Like God must really delight in me, check out this daughter of His I am helping. Check out this hurting brother I am feeding. Feed and clothe the least of these- I'm doing this for you, God.

But the truth is, God doesn't need my help. He's not a frazzled parent, relinquishing His broom to a bossy toddler.

God is in charge. And that's the case always.

So, what's the big difference? What's the big deal if I feel like I'm doing an act to help God or if I'm doing it to help my neighbor? It's precisely this- who is in control?

If I am assuming the Lord is in need of my service, I have some claim to its outcome. Just a little glory, not much, if it all turns out great. I'll give Him most- just hoard a little of the glory to myself, if that's ok.

On the other hand, if it all comes crashing down around me I ask, "God, what did I do wrong?"

I don't want to crawl up onto His lap. I want to crawl up on His throne. I want to grab the reins, and the reign. Just for a moment. Just until He can handle this without me.

Maybe that's not how you think. Maybe you don't feel pressure to make someone believe. Maybe you are content to teach your children the way of the Lord without fretting over whether or not you are going to screw it up and send them to hell in a hand-basket.

Maybe you don't lose sleep over unbelieving family and friends. Or over the starving multitudes. Or the children sold into slavery. Maybe you are content to teach and follow and serve, and know your role.

I have a hard time with that. Overwhelmed with the problems of the world, I forget Whose shoulders can carry it all. I forget that when I visit the poor, teach the children, listen to the lonely, I am not doing God a favor. I am following Jesus where He leads. Nothing more. And I'm sinning all the while. I'm being an imperfect disciple in the hands of the perfect and almighty God, who doesn't need my help, but chooses to use me in His plan.

God delights in me because He created me. He delights in me because He redeemed me and made me His own. And my readiness or reluctance to serve in His name will not diminish or augment His love for me. He loves me because He is love.

Now, are there consequences to withholding my service? Of course. Serious ones even. The Bible is clear on that as well. But not because God needed me and now His plan is going to fall apart because I'm selfish. If that was the case, He would accomplish nothing because I am more often than not a selfish individual. Any glimmers of selflessness come as a result of His work in me.

So I've given up "helping" God. At least for now. I'm sure I'll fall back into the pattern again somewhere down the road and He'll have to remind me that He can handle this whole life thing all on His own and I'm His beloved child, chosen and set apart to work alongside Him, but never in place of Him. I was never meant to carry that load, and that's because He loves us too much to give me His job.

Follow. It's a simple enough command, though difficult in execution. Fight, baptize, proclaim, feed, repent, etc. are all acts that on their own are too complicated for me to accomplish without His power. There's no need to add "Be God" onto the list. So today I start with the simplest of words, Believe, which is a gift in itself, and all the rest will fall into place.

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Linking up today with the always fabulous, Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday.

Dear Day Ahead of Me, {I Am His}

It is a pretty necklace. Simple. I put it on like a superhero cape- it's part of the uniform today. Sweatpants, sweatshirt, greasy hair, coffee, and this necklace. It reminds me I am His. It is my letter to the day. It says:

Dear Day Ahead of Me,

I think it's best you know right off the bat- I am His.

I have no clue what is going to happen to me today. No doubt you have plans. But bear in mind, at all times I am His.

So when I type at the computer and the baby climbs onto my lap and competes for my attention, I remember I don't belong to this computer. I don't belong to this blog. I am His.

And when fight after fight breaks out even after I have commanded, "Do not talk to your brother. Do not talk to your sister." And it seems that the only way to break free of the conflict is to banish my kids for the next decade, or threaten their lives with poisonous words, I will remember I don't belong to this anger, this emergency. I am His.

And when the dishes pile up, the checks run out, the laundry sits wet and untended in the washer for days, I will remember- I don't belong to my chores. My worth isn't tied to what I can see with my eyes. It is tied to the cross. To the tomb. To the certainty of what I do not see. Because I am His.

And when the words of a friend cut deep and, no matter how hard I try, they just won't vacate the front of mind, discontent to simmer on the back burner, I will remember that I have no control over the thoughts of others and they have no claim over me. I don't belong to human opinion. I am His.

And when I look at the haggard expression on an aging face, and feel the constant ache of arthritic hands, I will remember that I'm not getting old- These seasons are His seasoning. I'm like a well-used and beloved bread pan, carrying in my body the Bread of Life. I am His.

And when I look at the perfect lives of those who can keep their worlds from falling apart with no effort, I will remember that every step I take is an action beyond my means. Beyond my power or my will. Each is gift. I am not supposed to go this life alone and make the best of it. I am with Him because I am His.

When the friendships die and the kids buck hard and I wonder if I'm doing everything wrong, I will remember those relationships have not been formed and glued by me, but by Him. I belong to no human. I am His.

When the accolades skim my presence and land on another, I am His.

When compliments tempt me to pride, I am His.

When the hours are long and the days too short, I am His.

When apathy steals over the church so much that I want to scream, "Doesn't anybody care?!" I remember, He cares. He cares. I am His.

When the threat of an unforeseen future shoves me into an abyss of worry, doubt, anger. I belong to the only One who holds the future. He holds me too. I am His.

When the deadlines rush upon me, and I know my work isn't up to snuff. I am His.

When the loving wife in me is body slammed by the insecure maniac being pulled in too many directions. I am His.

When a "what-do-you-think" invites clueless and arrogant words on my part. Or when words escape me and I'm about like talking to the paint on the wall. I am His.

When stuff breaks. I am His.

When I break. I am His.

When the world is just too messed up. I am His.

When the prayers are clumsy and forced. When my quiet time is no more quiet than the usual din. When I am just too tired to be "holy," I am His. I am still His.

You might say I'm possessed. Nothing is closer to the truth. I carry Him with me- His death and His life. He chose me for that. I'll meet people today looking for somewhere to belong. Someone to belong to. So they'll trial and error their way through, belonging to the feel good. Belonging to the good enough. That's not the case with me. I know where I belong. With Him. I know to Whom I belong. I am His.

So go ahead. You can start now. I'm prepared, if not ready. He'll use it all- every breath for His will. I'm not afraid. I go with the Lord. Patience, strength, mercy, forgiveness will all be needed and provided. No worries. I belong to the Maker of them all.

Let's roll.

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Linking up with the giver of my necklace: Simply Beth! 

Finding What Matters in a Cornfield {You Are Valuable}

I love living in Iowa. Don't ask me why, but there is comfort in the surrounding cornfields. And I didn't even grow up rural.

There's one thing I've learned from living the rural life (well more than one, but I'll try to stick to the point). It's this: when someone invites you to look at their tractors, you just do it. It's like in some cultures where they hand you a plate of food, you have to eat it or you insult them. Doesn't matter if you're hungry, gluten-free, allergic- you just eat it. It's kind of like that with looking at tractors. It shows respect. You are taking time and interest in the other person.

So when our dear friend invited our group out to his sheds to see his antique tractors, we all said, "Yeah, tractors sound awesome" and headed out to the sheds.

Sometimes when you take the time to invest yourself in other people, you learn stuff along the way. That's one thing God showed me that day. Because I learned a lot by looking at those tractors- and very little of it had to do with farming.

Our friend has two sheds of tractors. They are rival manufacturers, so he keeps them separate so they don't fight. Standing amid the antiques, I heard some valuable words about the value of my soul.

1. Size Doesn't Matter. You Are One-of-a-Kind.

The models of tractors were arranged by year and make. But the value of each tractor wasn't based on it's size, it's age, it's horsepower. It was based on it's rarity. The most valuable tractor was the one of which they made the fewest models.

Guess what- that's you. God only made one kind of you that year you were born. There are no replacements. Your value isn't based on your number of Facebook friends or the inches around your waist. It's not about how strong you are or how many kids you have. Your intellect, your personality, your gifts all go into making you the person you are, but they aren't what defines your value. You are one-of-a-kind. No one else can be you, and that's a good thing.

2. Your Maker Matters

Right, duh. But seriously, the things that last are the things that have been well made, at least with farming equipment. There's a reason even city folk know the name John Deere. It made it's name on quality. And people pay big bucks for the name because they know what they are getting.

When we take the time to remember who our Maker is, and that He doesn't make junk, we have to acknowledge that there is huge value in us, and every other human, simply because He made us. With care.

3. Condition Condition Condition Matters

It's why people pour big bucks into restorations- because every collector knows that the condition of the antique plays a huge part in its appraisal.

Your baptism clothed you in Christ- in His death and resurrection, in His perfection. That's how God sees you, through the sacrifice of His Son. That is a big deal. We gloss over it. We forget it. We get wrapped up in the emergencies of right now, and we forget we have been made new. So when our bodies, our tongues, our thoughts fail us, we know that God doesn't look down on us in exasperation. You are no less valuable than your "holy" Pastor's family or that church member who volunteers for everything. You are a child of God. You are made new. God has restored you. He has made you new.

"From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation." 2 Corinthians 5:16-18 

One More Thing... 

I know these lists usually work better in three's, but this point had to be made.

4. You Are Worth What Someone Is Willing To Pay

When it comes down to it, any antique is worth what someone is willing to pay for it. You can price it based on what you think it is worth, but if no one thinks it's that valuable, it ain't gonna sell.

No one values you more than God. Not even you. Especially not you. We put price tags on our worth. We price ourselves by what we think the world sees, by what people say to us and about us.

Here's the deal- God was willing to pay. The Father was willing to pay for you with the life of His One and Only Beloved Son. And even if you were the only one on earth who needed it, He still would have done it. I'm not saying He did this because you are so awesome you just earned it. I'm saying He did this because He created you for Himself, and He wanted you. He sees value in you because He made you and because He loves you. He sees more in you than you do because He isn't blind to the care He put into making you.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. 

Psalm 139:14

You are going to base your ideas of your worth on something- either yourself or someone else. How about we base it on the truth? God is truth. Let's base it on what He says. Let's base it on His Word. It might take a trip to the cornfield to remind us where to look, but if that's the case then may this blog be your virtual cornfield. You are worth so much to the King of Kings. More than you know. I pray you see that, know it, believe it, live it today.

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Linking late with the lovely Simply Beth!

He Is Faithful

Last week, I was diagnosed with two not-so-rare disorders. On the same day.

The first: Misophonia- literally "hatred of sound", is a neurological disorder in which negative experiences (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. A dear friend listened to me complain about virtually every sound my family makes while eating. Dr. Phil did a segment on it, which she happened to watch that night, so she led me to my self-diagnosis. It's mild, don't worry.

The second: Compassion Fatigue. Later that morning, I told the Lord what I needed and He delivered Amy right to me- from 3 1/2 hours away! She suggested I had compassion fatigue. Basically, I was burned out. I'm no Mother Theresa, but I was just tired and wanting to hole myself up away from the world. Pity-party of one please.

I prayed. I read. I got through those hard days. I went to worship on Sunday and Bible study on Monday and things were looking up- WAY up. And not because I really did anything- God was reminding me that I didn't need to do anything except spend time with Him. My Martha was overcoming my Mary.

Then this morning hit, and the tasks of the upcoming garage sale started to tighten my chest. I was short, snippy. My house was too messy, my kids too loud, and my temper too wild. A quote from yesterday's cursory sweep of The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis, came back into my memory- "It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds; in reality our best work is done by keeping things out." It was a smack of reality- my mind was filled with the to-do's and crowding out what rightfully belonged there.

Hadn't we just talked about this in Bible study? Quieting the inside chatter, thinking on those things which are true, Word in-Word out? Do not be anxious about anything...

My mind swept the Bible in my memory. What was that faithful verse I saw on the desktop? I ran to the computer and there it was on that pale yellow sticky-note. The words that brought me His Peace:

The one who calls you is faithful. He will do it. 

1 Thessalonians 5:24

Throughout the week He fulfilled this verse over and over in my life, more times than I know. He kept me like He said He would. When my world was out of whack, He brought me His peace, His Spirit. He strengthened me.

He was faithful. He still is. He always will be.

I pray for you, dear Friends. I really do. I thank God for you. Please pray for me- that this verse reminds the both of us of just how faithful He is. Pray for our church sale, that if it is His will all goes well, we raise the funds needed for our men to travel to Kenya. Pray that those who come are blessed by the items, food, and people, but most of all that they witness the love of Christ in every breath breathed within those walls. Our God is so faithful.

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Linking late with the lovely Simply Beth!

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:

He Plays Beautifully

I don't often admit the thoughts that run through my head during a worship service. I suspect that's because, like most people, my mind isn't always where it belongs. Which is why the fact that I am about to tell you a passing thought I had during a funeral is kind of hard for me.

Maybe it was selfish.

Glenn's guitar sat just two feet from me as I rested on the piano bench. He wasn't there to play it. It was his funeral.

After the music was sung, my eyes wandered back over to the instrument I wouldn't hear him play. They perched there for a moment. Just long enough for me to wonder, wouldn't it be amazing if that was a magic guitar? 

A brief scene coursed through my imagination. Some guy wanders into our praise team loft and sees the guitar sitting in its stand. He ponders it a moment, glances around to make sure no one is paying attention, then picks it up. He sits on the pew behind him and places the guitar on his lap, the back of it resting on his chest. Without explanation, his fingers move exactly to the right parts of the guitar like they have found their home. He leans over the instrument. His body is possessed by a musical talent he never knew he had and, like magic, the guitar makes a guitarist out of the man. He picks beautifully.

But it wouldn't be Glenn. So it wouldn't matter. And there are no such things as magic guitars.

It's just a piece of wood, I remembered.

But for some reason I couldn't let the thought rest there. It's been haunting me these past weeks.

The cross, that was just a piece of wood too. A couple pieces of wood held together by some ropes or something. But in the right hands, it played the most beautiful music I've ever heard. The music of my redemption.

We get wrapped up in the things, but with that guitar there was no doubt that the talent resided in its master. Glenn was good. He was so good. You just couldn't be unhappy while he was playing. It was like magic.
But the most beautiful part of all was that he shared it. His music was a sacrifice to God. He didn't keep it to himself. He just couldn't.

God has done that all along. From the beginning when He breathed out "let there be light" and there was, He showed us that the beauty lies in the Creator. He beckons us throughout His Word over and over to look beyond the nuts and bolts of what we see, and see the Master behind it all. And He plays beautifully.

So why do we doubt His work in us?

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worth of praise, think about these things. -Philippians 4:8

If you are like me, you are more than willing to check off the list above thinking "these things" about other people. She is lovely. He is so commendable.

But the first thing to remember is that Paul tells us to think about what is true.

Here is the truth: you are those things too.

Not on your own of course. Me neither. But God has breathed His Spirit into you, and if He can work wonders on a bloody hunk of wood, then He will work wonders in you. And through you.

You are not ordinary. Not anymore. You might look it on the outside, but the truth is He is extraordinary and what He has done in your heart is the most amazing thing in the world. So amazing the world cannot understand it. So amazing the devil would try anything to ruin it. So amazing that you cannot listen to the worthless lies of the father of lies anymore.

In God's hands there is no such thing as ordinary. He cannot touch a thing without it being amazing just from having been in contact with Him. He might wrap it up in what the world will say is "common," but there is nothing common about following God. Nothing.

You are more than a hunk of wood. You are a precious and beautiful instrument in the hands of the Master Artist. And it's not magic. It's real. There can be no doubt, He plays you beautifully.

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Linking up with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday (on this Thursday morning:))