Monday, November 19, 2012

Mac and Cheese Miracles


There is a place in Houston, in the 3rd ward to be exact, where miracles happen every day. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. God is working at a little school called Generation One. I’ve had the privilege to be part of a group that provided lunch for these kiddos and the staff every Friday for 6 weeks. It is a small, peripheral role, but I really thought I would be helping and blessing these kids even with this limited involvement. But as often happens with these things, I was totally wrong. In doing nothing but walking in, saying hi and delivering sack lunches, I was helped and blessed more than I could ever give back. It all started when a friend of mine decided that she could get together a bunch of women out here in Katy, TX, and provide lunch for this small Christian school. In doing so it frees up a chunk of the school’s budget and makes a place for a few more kids. Gives a few families a little more hope for the future of their children.
On the second to last week my group decided to do a hot lunch. It was nothing fancy, baked macaroni and cheese (recipe courtesy of the Pioneer Woman – thanks, Ree), baby carrots, homemade bread, and juice boxes. My friend and I headed down to Generation One armed with what we thought was plenty of food to feed about 56 hungry mouths. Ya’ll should know that I’m a worrier by nature. Each week I count and recount lunches and check and re-check names against the roster. The minute we unloaded the food in the kitchen and started heating, I looked around and knew we didn’t have enough. It just wasn’t as much as I thought it would be.  As my friend Shannon drove the first set of lunches over the building that housed Kindergarten and 1st grade, I was near tears in the kitchen praying. In this neighborhood there isn’t a drive thru you can run to and pick up extra lunches. There isn’t even a grocery store. If we didn’t have enough, it would be disastrous. We could go get more food, but someone would be eating late after we’d had to drive down the highway, and it would be obvious that someone got left out.
About that time a staff member came over and had a request. There was a small business meeting at 11:30; could we make 5 extra plates? In despair I knew there was no way we had five extra plates, but I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I said yes and prayed this would somehow work out. I don’t think I’ve ever chanted “loaves and fishes God, please just give me loaves and fishes” with that much fervency. I’m sure you can guess what happened next. We filled every plate for every class, every teacher, and every staff member. I looked up and we had a half a loaf of bread left and a half a tray of macaroni – just enough for 5 extra plates. And as it so happened, I had just enough extra scripture verse cards that each plate also carried a “love note” from us (what the kids call the daily scripture they get in their lunches). But God didn’t even stop there – there was enough bread for everybody in the meeting to have not one, but two slices of homemade bread. I had been the most worried about the bread, because I made it, and I was terrified my offering would fall short. What kind of God pays attention to those kinds of details?

Miracles – they happen.

As we were finishing up plating a young man I’d seen walking around the school came in with one of the school leaders. When I say young man I mean he couldn’t have been more than 17. I assumed he volunteered there, worked there, was delivering something, etc. But no, he was introduced to us as the father of a precious little girl in the preschool class. He had come to the school to conference with the staff because he was worried about his daughter and wanted to know how he could help her with her schooling at home. He wanted to know how he could be more involved. Here’s a boy, no more than a kid himself, who lives in a neighborhood with very little hope and desperate poverty, and he’s showing up to be a dad to his little girl. It made me wonder if I could be so strong in the midst of such circumstances.  What kind of resolve does it take to be a responsible, 17 year old dad in a neighborhood where such a thing may not always be valued? I have prayed for that young father every day since. He looked at our plates and asked what we were making. When I said mac and cheese his eyes lit up. Doesn’t mac and cheese affect everyone that way? There’s just something good about it. We offered him a plate, because of course, no surprise by now, we had enough for one more. I don’t know if he took it after we left, I hope he did. If anyone deserves a hot lunch made with love, that young man did.

Miracles – they happen.

I tell you this story to remind you of a few things. God is alive in our world. He’s working hard in places we never see. Every time I leave Generation One I feel unworthy. I couldn’t figure out exactly where that feeling came from, until a friend of mine explained it – because that’s where Jesus is. In a small school, in a poverty-stricken neighborhood, I’ve been in the presence of Jesus. I am unworthy to be there, but by his grace I can be. I can be blessed by more thank you’s and Velcro hugs and delighted smiles from children than any one person deserves.
Second, as you celebrate Thanksgiving this week, give thanks for this moment, right now, and let go of your worries, even if just for a day. Don’t think of what you will buy at black Friday. Don’t worry about what Santa will bring. For your life just give thanks. We have so much. We have no idea what poverty is. We have no idea what goes on in the corners of the world, even in our very community. Until we see it, we sometimes can miss the light God is shining in those corners. The light he wants to shine on us if we but give him the chance. So don’t worry about tomorrow, just live today and every day in gratitude that there is a loving Father who makes sure everyone has a plate and a place at the table. If you get a chance, give something to someone else. It really is in giving it away that the biggest blessings come.
And even if your table is not the turkey feast that many of us associate with Thanksgiving, even if you have nothing but simple fare, give thanks. Because I’m here to tell you, God can do some amazing miracles with nothing more than mac and cheese.

"People will come from east and west and north and south, and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God. Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.” Luke 13:29-30


If you'd like to learn more about or support Generation One, please go to https://www.generationone.net/donate. Or if you're in the Houston area and would like a tour or would like to get involved in the lunch program, please contact me. We would love to have you. :)

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

The Morning After...

This morning following (and leading up to) the Presidential election, people are being so ugly on both sides of the fence. Jen Hatmaker took a beating on social media last night for trying to be a voice of reason. I unsuscribed from and hid from my news feed on Facebook friends from both sides of the aisle, because I simply could not stand any more vitriol and hate. Talk of secession, assasination (yes, from normally semi-reasonably intelligent people), gloating over republicans and rubbing their faces in it, calling people bigots and gay-haters because they happened to support Romney, and worst of all, claiming you couldn't be a Christian if you stood on one side or the other, depending on who's viewpoint you agreed with. It's all too much. I'm seriously considering a Facebook fast. 

I want to ask people today, what changed, really? Our house is still here. Our mortgage is the same. Our bank accounts, precious little though they may be, are the same. My car still works and the back end is still wrecked. There may be economic change in our future. I hope there is. But it's not happening today. And nothing we can do will change the Kingdom calendar anyway. It's a matter of faith. 

Many other things remained unchanged that have nothing to do with the economics of you and me. People still live in tent city in Haiti. Children in the 3rd ward of Houston are still hungry and their parents are still without hope. There is still work to be done, and most likely it won't be done by any one government or president. It will be done, or not done, by you and me. But mostly, I am thankful today. This beautiful morning I woke up and the sun rose. My son is sleeping in after waking me up at 5:45. I spent a long time in prayer and thought because of that early rise. I'm thankful for everything, down to cats that live a long time and sit next to me while I pray. I'm thankful for my marriage, my family, my home. Tim still has a job and today I'm still a stay at home mom. I'm thankful for our country, for the men and women that defend it. I'm thankful that in our country, change can and does come. I'm thankful that I'm not in charge of that change, in any way shape or form. 

I prayed for our president. I prayed for humility, kindness, understanding, acceptance, wisdom, and love - both from him and for him. I prayed for his children and his wife. I prayed for his marriage. I will never forget Dr. Mann preaching at Riverbend after he had prayed at the National Prayer Breakfast when Clinton was president. It was right in the middle of the scandal and he said Clinton looked like a broken man. Dr. Mann said he walked over to him, put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Mr. President, I believe in you. I have faith in you, and I pray for you every day." He said Clinton got tears in his eyes and hugged him, and could barely get out the words, "Thank you." Presidents need our prayers. They have feelings and desires and hopes. They want and need people to believe in them. In my heart I believe they all really want to change the country for the better, and they all aspire to do so because they love America.

We are all just people, even those in power. We are all loved by God, created by Him. Not one of us is more right, better, more loved, or has God's ear more than the other. I wish I could find a way to say that on Facebook so that people would listen, but I know they won't. So I prayed for healing and a settling down. I'm sure every election year is like this. I'm sure the people who hated Bush felt the same way when he was elected as those who hate Obama. There is always a winner and loser and if you live long enough, your side will lose. We forget how to be gracious winners and losers in our adult lives. We teach our children to congratulate the winning team, shake their hand, and keep their heads up in defeat. My dad always taught us to be gracious in defeat and in victory. Somehow as adults it's become ok to forego basic human courtesy and decency. I hate the lines that we draw in humanity. Racial, sexual orientation, religious, economic, political party. Jesus doesn't draw lines, he never has. He just came to love us all, and that was his greatest commandment to us before He ascended to heaven. That if we were to call ourselves His followers:

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." John 13:34

"I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” 1 Timothy 2:1-2 NIV

Saturday, May 12, 2012

To All the Moms Who Loved Enough to Say "No"


This is for all the moms out there who said “no”, but most especially for my own.

When I was a teenager, I swore I would never be like my mom. I would give my children so much more freedom and would not nag them so much. I would nurture them more and scold them less. In my narrow minded 16 year old view, my mom stunted my creativity and kept me far too confined. She, quite simply, did not understand me.
Me at about age 16, brimming with wisdom

Now, however, I am a parent.

My son Sammy, happily drooling candy I just told him not to eat

Although my son is only 2, I already can look ahead and know that I will be everything like her. I can look back and see what an ungrateful wretch I was and feel a burning need to apologize. I suppose that God allows our children to be just like us as a reminder of what we put our mothers through. I know my grandmother used to say that to my mom, and now she will say it to me, and I will say it to my kids someday. But even more than saying, “I’m sorry”, I want to say “thank you” to my mom, and all the moms out there, for a few things I never thought I’d be grateful for.  (I tried to keep the list to a nice, rounded, Top 10, but there was too much I wanted to say):

1.       Thank you for giving me a curfew. I thought you were keeping me too controlled, but in retrospect I see you were trying to give me the most out of life as possible while still keeping me safe. It’s true, nothing good happens to teenagers after midnight.

2.        Thank you for forcing me to have a childhood. I wanted to be a grown up way before I was ready to be one. Now I look back on those years with a fierce gratefulness. Thank you for creating memories that later on I would treasure, when in my eagerness to grow up, I might have missed them.

3.    Thank you for making me study (I wish I’d listened more in college). In America one of our greatest blessings is an education for everyone. We truly can be whatever we want to be, but you have to grasp the opportunities presented to you.

4.       Thank you for broadening my horizons. You tried very hard to show me there was a big world out there, and that I was not the center of it. Valuable lesson.

5.       Thank you for forcing me to learn responsibility. I was expected to show up when I said I would and take care of business. You never allowed me to shirk things. It taught me integrity.

6.       Thank you for punishing me when I lied (which was kind of a lot there for awhile). Everything I was lying about was something I didn’t need to do anyway. It taught me honesty and accountability (Dad had a hand in this with the “talks” as well – but that’s another blog post!)

7.       Thank you for making it completely impossible to sneak around. I never tried to skip school because I would have gotten busted anyway by you or one of your 14 billion friends who worked for the school system.

8.       Speaking of your friends, thank you for bringing lots of other wonderful, loving, mother figures into my life. None of them ever hesitated to send me home when I needed sending. The lot of you were a bunch of tattletales when it came to each other’s kids. I hope I have friends that love me and my kids that much too.

9.       Thank you for creating a home that all my friends loved. Most of them thought you were awesome and didn’t really understand my pain. They loved our house, everyone did. I know now what kind of effort that took. Ours was the home everyone wished they had.

10.   Thank you for not judging me on the really big stuff. In those times, you knew it was more important to be there for me than to tell me how stupid I was (at least not right away…). :)

11.   Thank you for waking me up for church even when I really didn’t want to go. You were laying a foundation. Thank you for teaching me that worship is about God, not me.

12.   Thank you for teaching me that sometimes, the most love a parent can give comes in the form of the word, “No.”

Shortly after my son was born I called my mom and apologized. Once I held my child, I knew how much she loved me, and I understood. But I wanted to write it again on Mother’s day, to her and all the mothers out there who said no. You taught us how to be grown ups, how to be in the service of God, how to be parents. You created as safe a place as possible in the world for us to be children. Thank you for not believing us when we said we hated you. Thank you for not giving up on us after we wrecked the car….again. Thank you for believing we were going to figure it out someday, when often it really looked doubtful. Thank you, now that we’re grown, for laughing at the memories of our struggles. Even our mess ups can now be happy memories. My sister says that heaven is going to be our neighborhood. We will all have houses down the street from each other. We will ride our bikes together every night and eat popsicles and homemade ice cream on the driveway. The fact that she feels that way is not out of the clear blue - that was our childhood. Those memories didn’t happen by accident, my mom made them happen. Though a small part of me still believes I will never be as good at this as my mom was, I know in my heart I will be a good mom, because I had the one that was just perfect for me.

Hug a mom this weekend, we need it. We may do this motherhood journey in different ways, but we all walk the road with love.

 Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mothers in my family, all of whom frequently told me "no" (including my sister). I cherish you all!
My sister, my mom, me, and my mother's mom (Dada) circa 1982

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My dad and his mother (Grandmommy) circa 1947

"Her children arise and call her blessed...." Proverbs 31:28

Monday, April 2, 2012

The Perfect Church


As I get older, I feel like God is working a softening process on me. Some might say that I’m just wearing rose-colored glasses more often, but I think it’s more than that, at least I hope it is. Over time I’ve come to lots of realizations, mostly through bible study and prayer, and I like to think that slowly, God is knocking the rough edges off me a little. It seems I don’t know everything, and I’m not perfect, and not everything I think is right. Who knew? :)
It was in this softened frame of mind that I found myself this weekend as I wandered through the basement of the little church I grew up in. My oldest friend was getting married and the wedding was going to be in our church. I’d been sent on a normal errand for the matron of honor, go get the groom’s ring so I could carry it through the ceremony. The fastest way to get from where the bride and her attendants were gathered to where I knew the boys were gathered was through the basement. It’s been awhile since I wandered the basement, but I knew exactly where to go, even though most of the lights were off.
I realized as I walked that I knew every inch of this church, from the Sunday School rooms to the Fellowship Hall to kitchen to the gym to the basement. I even know some of the ductwork (little girls can be very inventive when they’re hiding so they can skip choir). I know all the secret rooms - the rooms where you can access the organ pipes, the room with the controls to chime the bells, the back way into the Baptistery, the control room for the TV broadcast. But for a long time, even though I’m real familiar with the layout, I’ve not thought of myself as really a part of this church. To be honest I considered myself above it. I judged it. Being a part of a church as long as we have, there are bound to be good times and bad times. But when you’re in jr. high and high school and you are the smartest person that has ever walked the earth, you tend to only notice the bad. Not every experience I had at that church was good. I experienced some judgment and some meanness. Though that time is not generally at the forefront in my mind when I visit the church, it’s remained in the back of it for too many years. I realized this weekend, as I walked through the halls in a softened state of mind, that for holding on to the hurt for all these years, I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the man with a plank in my eye trying to point out the splinters in others.
Beth Moore likes to say that if you find a perfect church, and you walk in the front door, you just ruined it. The church can’t be perfect because people can’t be perfect. I have been every bit as judgmental, maybe more so, as others have been to me. I am not better than anyone.  Quite frankly, I am very, very lucky to have been a member of such a beautiful congregation. This weekend my friend walked down the central aisle in our beautiful sanctuary surrounded by stained glass windows and polished wooden pews that are way older than we are. That sanctuary has played a huge role in my life. I was dedicated as a baby up on that stage. I walked down that aisle to give my life to Christ when I was 10 years old. I was baptized there. I was married there. Every major milestone in my walk with Christ has been in that church. It can’t have been all bad if it represents all those memories for me. In fact, it must have been mostly good. The people of that church have loved on me and my family for at least 34 years that I know of, and longer than that if you ask my parents. No, it wasn’t always perfect, but who among us is?
In my grown up years I have learned a lot about myself and I hope that I continue to learn. I have judged. I have been petty. I have been mean. If anyone has done those things to me, then they are no different than I am. We are all flawed and I think that’s why we need each other. I have also been supportive. I have loved. I have been a friend. So many others have done those things for me, too. The whole is more beautiful than the pieces sometimes. If we can hang on and just remember that love can cover anything, then someday our children may walk through the halls of the buildings we call the church, and realize that it is also their home. They may remember Sunday School and VBS and Wednesday night dinner. They may remember baby dedications and baptisms and church camp and choir. They may be so comfortable with a place that they know every nook and cranny. They may attend the wedding of a friend and have their neck hugged by people who have known then since they were born, and hear them say, “It’s good to see you.” They may know what it is to belong to the body of Christ.
No, the church is not perfect, but it shouldn’t be, because then it would not be a true representation of those of us who walk its’ halls. We wouldn’t learn to both forgive, and to ask to be forgiven. There would be no reason for us to join together, if we all already knew everything we need to know. I think that Jesus knew what he was doing when he told us to band together and worship Him. He knew we’d be better together - that others would make up for our shortcomings and vice versa, and that community in His name would teach us how to truly love. I’ll forever be grateful that he plunked me down in a small church in a small town that nurtured my every milestone, and stands ready to welcome me home anytime I visit. What a blessing.

“Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” Acts 20:28

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:33-35


Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Thank you lists

Whenever I get sick of hearing myself complain (inwardly or outwardly) I try to sit down and come up with a reason why every single thing I'm griping about is actually something to be thankful for. It's not really all that hard, because most of what I find myself whining about is honestly, not that big of a deal. You could say it's my own way of giving myself a slap upside the head. Because I need those more than once, you might see me post "thank you" lists more than once. And some items on the list might appear more than once because I seem to need frequent reminders. So, here's today's list, petty as some of my worries may seem. And you'll be glad to know that always, always, after I sit down with God and write him a thank you note, my soul is replenished and  I am a walking bucket of gratitude once again. Try it the next time you're having "one of those days."


Thank you for the mountains of laundry that never seem to end. We have lots and lots of clothes, and I can get all of them clean without much work at all on my part. Many have only the clothes on their backs and a washing machine is something to only dream about.

Thank you for the rain that causes everyone (and the dogs) to track in muddy footprints on my clean floors. Our yard is lush and green and I’m growing a garden that my child will love to help me harvest. Many farmers are praying for rain.

Thank you for my anal retentiveness when it comes to a clean house. I worry sometimes it is too much, and I know that I must balance it. But that impulse also helps me provide a clean and organized home for my family to grow in. I’ve always liked to think there was a reason Jesus stayed with Martha – she kept a comfortable home. I’ve always had a soft spot for Martha. There is a place for both the Mary’s and the Martha’s in this world – we balance each other.

Thank you for just enough money to never have enough. You are teaching me to be a good steward and to prioritize where our money goes. Most in the world would consider our version of “not enough” as untold riches.

Thank you for the thousands of dollars we spend at the allergist. My child suffers from allergies, I am happy to pay to ease his suffering. Millions of mothers would love to have the money for a specialist.

Thank you for the terrible two phase that Sammy is in right now. He challenges me, does not like the word “no”, and is always into everything. He is smart, headstrong, and unafraid of almost any obstacle. Someday these traits will take him far in life.

Thank you for the ten pounds that I can’t seem to lose. I live in a land of plenty and can’t remember ever going to bed hungry. There are millions who don’t have the excess that we do. Help me to balance it and be thankful for it as well.

Thank you God for my animals so that I can complain about ridiculous vet bills and cat throw up on my bedspread. They show me every day what unconditional love is, while keeping me humble. I am never too good to clean up pee in the dog bed.

Thank you for the boot tracks that my husband tracks in every day, usually about 10 minutes after I get the floors clean. He comes home every night to his family and works hard for what we have.

Thank you for my gas guzzling car that drives me wherever I need to go every day, even if right now we can’t afford to fix the giant dent in the back. I have a good car, with plenty of room for our family and then some. Many would give anything for any kind of transportation other than their own two feet.

Thank you that never once in my life have I or my family had to wake up hungry, or know real fear, have serious medical problems, or ever question if we were loved, or go through a war, or poverty, or even go more than 24 hours without talking to my family and knowing that we are all safe, healthy, and prosperous. 

We are blessed beyond measure, and I have no more complaints. I have only things to praise God for. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Cookie Monster is Real



                LysaTerkeurst talks about the “Devil in the Chips Poster” in her bible study Madeto Crave. I love that bible study – I’ve done it twice. The fact that it has passages in it like the one below makes me want to weep with joy. Someone, somewhere feels my pain:

                “My brokenness with food runs deep. I am a girl who begged God to send a magic fat-burning pill down from heaven because I just could not find the willpower to fight this battle on my own. Ya’ll, I prayed for a fat-burning pill. No, I take that back, I begged for a fat-burning pill. With tears in my eyes. Not my finest godly girl moment.” – Lysa Terkeurst, Made to Crave

Now I never had a problem with the Chip Devil. My stalker is the Cookie Monster. He calls to me, in all forms of sweet things, be it a delicious glass of sugary wine or a frosted cake, or my latest devil, Golden Oreos. Her book sits on my bedside table even though I’m done with the study, as though the inspiration and knowledge will leap across the table and into my head while I’m sleeping, therefore keeping me on the straight and narrow road of disciplined living. Because -  and here’s where I’m showing a vulnerable side I’m not altogether comfortable with throwing out there – even though I’ve done the study twice…. The Cookie Monster still haunts me. He’s real – he’s alive and well in my pantry. Oh for awhile there, I was on the mountaintop, praising Jesus for strength and conviction and writing Lysa thank you notes for being His awesome messenger. I. Was. Cured. I gained 47 pounds with my pregnancy and I lost it all. I was back in my skinny jeans. Food no longer tortured me, I was in control. I felt like I was ready to take on whatever mission God had for me with gusto, because I was physically at my best. This Holy Temple called my body was in tip top shape. I was poised to be a Holy Warrior for God.

Then I quit my job to stay home with Sammy, and we moved to a new house. I had to give up my gym membership because we couldn’t afford it on one salary. Sammy grew up and wanted snack food, that I also wanted, and not keeping it in the house was not an option anymore. I had to maintain a tighter grocery budget and buying organic-low calorie-homegrown everything became a money sucking luxury that had to go. And just like that, I gained 15 pounds and starting hiding in the closet eating cookies. Ya, I said it. Sometimes I closet eat. What the heck just happened? Wasn’t’ I victorious? I laid my calorie fests at the Cross. I lost the weight and thought I was free. What did I do wrong? I tasted victory for crying out loud! Why did I now only taste Oreos? And worst of all, the state of my brokenness returned like a train wreck. I was a failure. Not only did I fail myself and my family, I failed God. We had beaten this thing together, he answered my prayers, and I detoured right back into the pit.

So that’s where I’ve been for a few months, see sawing my weight and being totally frustrated because I just don’t have the motivation to walk this road again. And honestly I figured I probably needed to walk it alone. I mean, God already gave me the tools once. Asking him again just felt like a farce. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I asked anyway, but I don’t think my heart has really been in it.

Until today.

I’m doing Beth Moore’s new study of the Book of James. Let me just say right now I seriously love me some Beth Moore. That woman is anointed and appointed if I ever saw someone who was. She makes everything relatable, even ancient Greek (seriously). If you haven’t done one of her studies, run, don’t walk, to www.livingproof.org, find a study near you, and sign up.  It will change your relationship with God FOREVER. So, I’m immersed in James right now, who coincidentally is Jesus’ half brother. Talk about an interesting perspective. This guy quite possibly shared a room with the Messiah. James writes a lot about persevering in the face of trouble. The recurring theme that I’m seeing is to keep the faith. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds” James 1:2. This week (week 3) on day 4, I was reduced to tears when I read this:

“Happy is the man who doesn’t give in and do wrong when he is tempted, for he will get as his reward the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him.” James 1:12

If that is not God talking directly to me in the middle of my broken state….I was flabbergasted. I love that He didn’t leave me in the pit….again. I took that as a clear, “Don’t give up, Rachel. I’m not through with you yet.” Beth goes on to say this in day 5:

“God is perfectly acquainted with every circumstance in our lives and every cell in our bodies. He knows what we need. He knows what we crave…Temptation attempts to tear open the package before its due date and, in so doing, disfigures what’s inside. Wait on the Lord!...God’s gifts are given with goals. They’re perfect because they’re perfecting.” Beth Moore, James - Mercy Triumphs

Can I get an amen?

Here’s what I got out of all this. This side of heaven, I’m not supposed to defeat the Cookie Monster. I’ll admit my first thought was, “Well, that sucks.” Never? But really, it’s ok. It kinda takes the pressure off. I CAN’T do it on my own. I will end up in the closet crying as I shovel down Oreos every single time I try to win on my own strength. I don’t have to go it alone, even if I have to do it 1000 more times. I just have to keep my focus on the real prize - Jesus. Just like Paul says, “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.”2 Corinthians 11:30. And in Ephesians 1:17, Paul again says, “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.” Did you catch that? He wants us to brag about our weaknesses, and then he says, in the present tense, “I KEEP asking.”

THAT’S WHAT I MISSED THE FIRST TIME.

Nowhere does it say we will claim victory over our temptations on earth. Lasting victory will only be reached in heaven. It’s not a feeling. It’s not a clothing size or a number on the scale. It’s not a notch in a really skinny belt. It’s about persevering. I need to Keep Asking and give all my failures to God. In my weakness, I am made strong. When I focus on anything but Christ, I falter. We all do, and the Cookie Monster looks different for each one of us. But rest assured, we all have closet cookies hidden somewhere.

I can’t close this out without pointing out two things. I know that I do not have a serious weight problem. Those who know me and are considering driving to my house and beating me up a little, please put the car in reverse. It’s not about my body image; though being healthy is a good thing and smaller jeans are always a bonus. It’s about my heart image. I know that I put food before God many times. I know I run to the pantry after a bad day instead of scripture. It’s about taking care of my spirit first, and my physical health will follow along. God gave me this body and it’s only right that I do everything I can to take care of it, but more importantly my heart needs to be right. Second, in case you were thinking that Made to Crave didn’t help me, it did. It does. I keep it handy because I read through it often. Lysa addresses the fact that it’s not a mountain you climb, proclaim healing, and move on down the road ready to tackle the next Monster. I just chose to skip over that part because I was too busy doing a victory dance in my skinny jeans. This is the last paragraph of the last chapter “Live as an Overcomer”:

“Dare to set your toes firmly on the pathway of victory you are meant to be on. Whether we’re on the path toward victory or defeat is determined by the very next choice we make. Not the choices from yesterday. Not the choices five minutes ago. The next choice. May it be that of an overcomer. An overcomer made to crave God alone.” Lysa Terkeurst, Made to Crave

She said the path to victory, not the winner’s circle. So I leave you with this, because today, this age old passage I memorized years ago in Sunday School has a whole new meaning for me:

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12-14

Take that, Cookie Monster.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Lose the Lines


Facebook is good for a lot of things, not so good for others. One of the things I like the most about it is reconnecting with old friends. It’s neat to see how people I knew in high school and junior high, and goodness, even elementary school sometimes, are doing. I like being able to see where life has taken them. Some of these “online” friendships have really taken on a surprising depth for me. No, we don’t chat about our deepest fears or spend hours commenting back and forth, but I find myself gravitating to see what’s going on with some people that I never really would have expected.

There are lots of examples of people I’ve reconnected with, or connected for the first time, in small ways. People I lost touch with, people I never knew that well, people I knew in school but didn’t hang with much outside of class. It’s kind of amazing and I’m really grateful for it. I’ve read other folks blogs, chatted about organic gardening, traded recipes, received encouragement and parenting advice from people I haven’t spoken to in years. It’s all really humbling and such a blessing. I love, love, love the prayer community that’s built up on facebook. Because information is so easy to share, and comments are so easy to post, the amount of prayer requests that you actually KNOW about, not just hear through the grapevine, are overwhelming and an unsurpassed blessing. It’s really cool to see us rally around each other. But, especially with the women I knew before, but maybe wasn’t as close to growing up, as these relationships grow I keep thinking,

“ I wish I’d known you better when we lived in the same town.”

Today’s blog is a message straight to high school and junior high folks, mostly girls because we tend to be the worst about drawing lines where no lines should be, but boys are certainly capable of it too. I’m not talking about some of society’s more obvious lines; I’m talking about the subtle ones we may not even realize are there. We separate from each other because of common interest, comfort zones, hanging with kids we’ve always known, never bothering to get to know someone else because it takes a little effort. Lose the lines ladies, they’re stupid and pointless. I wish I could count how many times since high school I spent some time with someone who maybe didn’t know me that well back in the day, and vice versa, and they said something along the lines of, “You’re not really the bratty little princess I thought you were.” Ouch. Is that really how you saw me? Because I promise I was more scared, had way worse self image, and was more fearful of rejection and judgment than anyone. If I didn’t talk to you much, it had nothing to do with not wanting to be your friend; I probably thought you wouldn’t want to be my friend. I still struggle with my self- image and fear of rejection, probably worse than most people. Or am I really worse than most people? I’m seeing now, as an old lady of 34, that maybe it’s not only me. Recently our bible study group laid some fears on the table. You know what? We were all afraid of rejection. We all desperately wanted community, support, and friends. We all second guessed ourselves and often felt like we weren’t enough. When you get honest, we really aren’t so different.

One of the main advantages of getting older is mental clarity. The women of my mother’s generation are laughing at me thinking that I have mental clarity at age 34. I can hear them saying, “Honey, you know nothing yet”, and they’re probably right. But for now, though time is giving me gray highlights in my dark hair and my post-baby body is never going to be the same, it’s also giving me some pretty clear hindsight. If I could go back to my 16 year old self the first thing I would do would be to kick my own arse for thinking I needed to lose a few pounds. Really?  I would love to be able to rock a bikini again but I think spanx one pieces are probably what’s in store for me from now on. Ladies, you are young, love yourselves for how you look RIGHT NOW.

Second, and waaaaay more important than bathing suits, I would open my eyes. Look at my neighbor in class. She may not be my bestie that I’ve hung out with since 2nd grade but what do I really know about her? Maybe we do have some things in common, maybe we could be friends. Being different from each other, having different backgrounds, different parents, different home lives – that does not mean that friendship isn’t possible. For all you know you’re really not different at all, you just never took the time to get to know each other. We draw lines between each other, invisible ones, from such an early age. I’m not just talking about racial lines or social status, but even more vague lines based on things like talents, interest, people we hang out with, proximity, and yes, even fear. Fear of judgment, rejection, gossip, whatever.  We are only hurting ourselves, missing out on amazing friendships from people who can enrich our lives and we can do the same for them. God made us all different for a reason – not so we could separate from each other and narrow our worlds, but so that this world would be interesting, beautiful, colorful, and that we would learn from each other. Stepping out there is scary, and ya, you may get rejected. I wish we would all learn to be a little kinder to each other, but don’t think that I don’t remember how hard high school can be. I’m from a small town girls, I know what it is to be the victim of gossip. But I wish that fear hadn’t held me back so much. I wish I’d believed what Dr. Seuss said, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter, don’t mind.”

I look back at the friendships I might have missed out on, and it is my prayer that you won’t miss those things. Don’t get comfortable. Don’t only gravitate towards people you already know. Make friends with the new kid. Go try a musical instrument, even if you can’t play, with someone who can. Laugh at yourself. If I could have laughed at myself, basketball probably would have been a lot more fun. If I wasn’t afraid, I would have been in drama and not waited until college to realize I love to sing. I look at the people I’ve seemingly randomly connected to on facebook, and over and over again I think, “I wish we’d been better friends when we were in the same town.” We could have gone to Triple T and had a bacon cheeseburger and fries and a Wild Thing before we cared what the calories would do to our waistlines and had to arrange child care. And yes, I know that we can still be friends, we can still get to know each other. And this is not to say that I’m not incredibly blessed by the people I did know well, and did spend time with and continue to keep in touch with. I’m just saying that my adolescent world could have been bigger, I wish it had been. Yours still can be.

 Give each other a break, girls. Get out of your comfort zone. That girl sitting next to you that you don’t know that well is just as nervous as you are. Let your young life give you a multitude of friends that you spent face time with. Build a prayer community now, while you can hold someone’s hand and be literally, right by their side, when they need you. Then, when you’re old like we are, and live in separate cities, you can celebrate the memories instead of wishing you’d made more of them when you had the chance. 

Triple T Grill - Brownwood, TX. Doesn't look like much, best Wild Thing ever (Cherry, Lime, Pineapple Sprite)