Excerpt of an Adventurous Life

I have become a soccer mom. The gradual evolution started small with just a couple games for a few weeks with the local parks department and has now become games every weekend almost year round with practices up to 5 nights a week.

Recently we were traveling for a soccer tournement and my son realized he had forgotten his swim trunks at home. I agreed to head to the mall after the games and hunt down some super cheap trunks for the hotel pool. After a long day at the field, we headed to the local mall. We finally found some at Sears for $3.50! Oh, the joy of a good find! I was elated and exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to buy these trunks and get back to the hotel pool.

I grabbed the trunks and  got in the shortest line. I ended up behind a woman, who didn’t speak English, and her daughter, who was translating between her mother and the cashier. It ended up being the longest line after all. There was some sort of misunderstanding about the price of the sweater the woman was purchasing and she didn’t have the money for it.


That still small voice spoke to my heart saying, “Buy her the sweater.” I answered back, “Are you sure?” and the voice responded, “Buy her the sweater.” So, I interrupted and told the cashier that I was going to buy the sweater and handed her my debit card. The daughter, seeing what I was doing, tried to stop me saying that I didn’t need to buy her mother the sweater. They would get this sorted out. I answered back that I knew I didn’t NEED to buy the sweater. I proceeded to buy the sweater for the woman. Moments later the mother said something to her daughter which was translated, “Why?”

Prayerfully, I forwarded the question to God. Then I replied, "This is my gift to you just like Jesus’ free gift of eternal life. When you wear this sweater think of Him dying on the cross for you sins to give you eternal life.” Her eyes teared up and she thanked me.

When my children and I had left the store, they began asking me questions about what just happened. I told them that God wanted to bless that woman with the sweater, and have her think of Him whenever she wears it. He placed us in line behind her so that we could deliver His message to her. Not only was this a “divine appointment” between me, this woman, and God, but it also was a sweet teaching moment for my children.

When we walk by faith, we will act when we hear His voice. We trust that He has a purpose to those things that we can’t understand. I didn’t know the moment I bought that sweater, exactly why I was buying the sweater. I was just trusting that God knew and would work it out Himself.

Brothers and Sisters, He asks us to walk in fellowship with Him throughout our days. Anchor your day in prayer and be sensitive to His leadings. You just never know what adventure awaits you!

Grace Infused Life

I can feel my life slipping away

Being replaced by His essence

My flesh deserves no funeral

No memorial will be given

Given to unforgiveness, judgement, pride, or bitterness

Instead, I will linger under His sweet aroma

Instead, I will taste of His decadent nectar

Instead, I will sit quietly and listen for His song

Instead, I will rest my gaze on His breathtaking beauty

Instead, I will be wrapped in His soft, soothing Love

He, who is the Healer, Redeemer, and Restorer

AMEN

Living and Loving Freely

OMD has a song called "Secrets" that starts playing in my head from time to time. It has become the soundtrack to this decade old conversation I have with God. Well, maybe it isn't a conversation as much as it is me asking questions that I haven't really wanted answered.

Questions like: How do we live a life of transparent freedom in the church? I feel like so many of us live in (what I call) the "shameful secrets closet." How do we come out? Why are we choosing to live isolated and apart from each other? Would the idea of living in "community" actually happen more if we weren't so ashamed of our secrets? Would we be more free to love others? Would we be less fearful of being judged by our brothers and sisters?  Maybe this is what Jesus was getting at when he talked about the log and the speck?

I have been asking God these questions, but too afraid to hear the answers for many, many,  years. However this year, He has infused me with boldness and courage. I have become courageous enough to sit still and let Him rip. Think of me sitting on a kitchen stool with my hands white knuckling the edges and my eyes shut so tight, I am seeing psychedelic designs. None the less, I am sitting still and quiet ready to receive whatever He has to say.

I know deep down what the answer is...and it scares the poop right out of me. In order for us to live freely, we have to come out of the shameful secrets closet. We have to come to terms with our humanity and stop judging ourselves and each other. The thought of being judged makes me want to lock myself away in my closet for 100 years! I hate that feeling of being slimed on--especially by those who are supposed to have my back.

Furthermore, we have to embrace our identity. We have to stop fighting who we are--who God says we are. We need to let the shame wash away and live in the Truth of who we are in God's eyes.

In order to embrace my identity as a daughter of the King who has been picked up out of the pit, I have to believe God is who He says He is, and what He says is ultimate Truth. If He says, I am pleasing to Him, that He loves me, that my shameful sins have been washed away by the blood, and that my old (wo)man has been crucified, then it IS. My closet is barren. There are no more shameful secrets.

 By calling  myself anything other than this--I am saying God is a liar. I am questioning what He says. I'm arguing with the Maker of Heaven and Earth. I'm telling Him that I'm not who He says I am. I don't think it is a good thing to call God a liar, but I think we do it every day when we refuse to accept that we are a new creation in Christ. I am not a sinner saved by grace. I am a saint who exhibits sinful behaviors. However, my behavior is separate from my identity.


Are we ready to truly love unconditionally? Are we ready to know what sinful behaviors others have struggled with, what others have gone through? Can you love beyond the sin? Can we see the new creation more than the behavior?

Are we ready to be opened up to the possible judgement of others? I can't help but think of the lady caught in adultery. Even though she didn't open her closet door on her own, the end result was judgement from her community.  That's the feeling I am trying to avoid.

This story illustrates that we can't judge others cause we all have junk. The lady was in the act of having an affair when the men of the church grabbed her and took her to Jesus.  They were ready to stone her to death for her sins. I love what Jesus said. He simply said that the one without sin can throw the first stone.

In the end, everyone walked away from her that day cause in reality they were no better than her. They all had sin. The only one left was the one not holding a stone. He was without sin--without blemish. His love washed over her and she was never the same.

His love has washed over me and I have never been the same. I want to live and love freely.  My heart desires to see believers for who they really are--sons and daughters of the Most High. Those things I have gone through have been taken to the Father and I am FREE! Those things that you have gone through have been taken to the Father and YOU ARE FREE! We are new creations and our behavior doesn't dictate our identity.

Flying Sailboats, Typewriters, and Monkey Masks

The first story I can remember writing was about a couple of kids on a flying sailboat. They would fly from adventure to adventure saving whatever needed to be saved.

I fell in love with putting my imagination on paper. I would swoon just thinking of which words to use to describe different people or events. I would nestle into my favorite spot in my bedroom and write away the day. It felt like coming home after being away at camp--to be safely home in the folds of love.

One day, while visiting with my grandparents, my Grandma turned on her typewriter and began typing out a letter to someone. It probably was to her sister who lived in OH. They had such a close relationship. They were on the phone often with each other and would send letters with family photos back and forth through the mail.

 I loved it when my great Aunt would come to visit. Those two old birds could sit in the kitchen all day and laugh and cackle about anything. I remember when my Aunt, my Grandma's daughter, got married. My Grandma's sister brought monkey masks for the family to wear in one of our photos which we did. At the time, I thought my family was so weird--typical preteen. Now, I would give anything to go back and have my grandma and great Aunt with us again. My grandma was just so full of life. I loved her. Anyway, she was typing a letter.

The typewriter clicked and clacked away to the rhythm of my Grandma's thoughtful fingers. It was the most beautiful sound...the sound of thoughts becoming real. The sound of her inner fears and joys, her ideas and perspectives coming to the surface and breaking out onto the paper. It electrified me.

Before long, I had a typewriter of my own. I started bringing to the surface my inner thoughts and feelings and letting them break open onto the paper. I knew then, that this was a part of me. The paper became my canvas and my thoughts were the paints I used to create my mosaics.

I am a writer. I savor the taste of words in my mouth. They are like a sweet wine that I never want to swallow. Even if my words go unnoticed, I am still a writer. The reward isn't in who reads what I wrote, but in the rhythmic release of the inside to the outside. It is home.

Not mine, but Your's

All three of my kids have summer birthdays.  Each year, I take the couple days before each birthday to reflect back on their birth, their struggles, and their strengths. I have come to treasure this time and think of it as the anniversary of the day I said, "Not mine, but Yours" to the Lord.

My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. I was 22 and devastated. After spending some time grieving the loss of Simon Gad, I got pregnant again. We were elated at the thought of a baby in our house. We chose a "happy" name.  After what we just lost, we were looking for some joy.

My son, Isaac, was born in the most idyllic of situations--or so I thought.  My husband and I had recently gone through a parenting class and I was confident that we would be the perfect parents. (sighs and eye rolls now, but I was young and romantic then.)

The day after we brought our perfect little baby with 10 perfect little fingers and 10 perfect little toes home, we had to rush him back to the hospital due to an escalating fever that was reaching a critical temperature. My 3 day old underwent numerous tests including a spinal tap. I was burning with emotion and my heart was melting all over the hospital waiting room floor.

We spend the next few weeks in and out of the hospital, while the docs tried to figure out what was happening to my perfect little baby with the perfect little fingers and perfect little toes.  I remember one day in particular.

The docs filed into our hospital room and began to say things like, "We just don't know what is going on. We've run many tests and we are doing all we can. Your son may not make it." Then they filed out as robotic as they had filed in. As my son's fever was on the rise again so was my anger towards God.

I hit maximum capacity and I started silently screaming at Him. "How could you do this to me? You killed the first, and now you are taking my second? I don't know how I can follow you any longer? This isn't love!"

A very pure voice full of loving correction whispered to my soul, "Why do you think I had you name him Isaac? Put him on the altar now." I obeyed. It was the Almighty after all. Very quickly after handing my perfect little baby over to God, my anger dissipated. The Lord carried not only my son's pain but mine as well. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Even my 20 ton fear of losing another baby is light to the Divine.

No parenting book could have taught me what the Lord taught me that day. My children are a gift that God has entrusted to my care. Ultimately, they must follow Him and the path that He has for them. They are out of my grasp.  Not mine, but His.

Confessions of a People-Pleaser

 This week, I went back to the comforts of playing Church instead of being the Church! I hate it when I do this! It makes me want to scream,"counterfeit," at the top of my lungs and jump up and down yelling! The enemy is all over playing church and in being inauthentic in our relationships. He loves to see us settle with surface pleasantries instead of rolling up our sleeves and living in communion with others no matter the situation.

Playing church to me is being more concerned in the set up (wearing my Sunday best, and speaking fluent Christian-ese) than actually living life with people. When I play church, I know that I have "stuff" that people will judge me on and it is easier to close myself off and live in my dress up clothes carrying my issues camouflaged in a frilly bible cover saying, "God bless you," to those I encounter on Sunday morning.

Why would I share real life with people? I don't want to be judged. And yet, with the assumption of being judged, I am the one doing the judging! See how circular this is? Satan can get me so stuck on the hamster wheel sometimes. The whole idea of being judged chains me up to live a guarded life. I am held captive by the worry of being judged by others and myself. 

 When I voice my fears, it makes me even more mad than I was before. I know Truth! I know what the Word of God says. I know that transparent, authentic relationships form the foundation for community. I know God intends for us to live in freedom, unshackled from worry, judgement, and shame.

We all just want to be loved. We want others to not look down on us and think us weak. We want to be honored and respected but comforted when needed. My circumstances don't change my identity. What I go through brings me closer to the Father.

This morning, I confessed playing church to God and hiding from my myself and my community. My heart is unashamed once again. I am FREE!

Morning Prayer

Thank you for your redemptive love that calls us back to your side. Thank you for wooing us, pursuing us, picking us up out of the pit. Your graceful mercy is wonderful. Your redemptive love is unfathomable. I am in awe of you. Your majesty, justice, and righteousness are true. We worship you above all else. We place you in the seat of honor in our lives. There is none like you. you are the mighty King, our High Priest, who is glorified in heaven and earth.

Thank you for loving us; for calling us into communion with you. Thank you for depositing the Spirit in us to guide us to your throne room. Thank you for your gentle patience that leads us home. May our lives reflect your character. May we be filled with your love, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Amen