How'd That Happen so Fast????

It is hard for me to believe where I am right now… Wisconsin. I am sitting at my computer in our new basement trying to figure out where to start with the story of how I got here. I guess I should go back to the beginning…

It was November 2010… Thanksgiving Day to be exact. We had lived in Texas for about 8 years and the few Thanksgivings we had spent at home were kind of sad. Just Ryan, Brett and I trying to make ourselves feel like it was a holiday. Without family around, that was hard. But in 2010, we were invited to join two very special families for food and celebration of the holiday. We jumped at the chance to surround ourselves with others, hoping it would at least feel a little more like a family holiday. It ended up being one of the most wonderful Thanksgivings of my life and I am indeed grateful for those wonderful people – and for their invitation to include us. There were 9 kids and 9 adults there that day and it was FUN!

That night when we got home, life felt a bit empty. There we were in this nice house with only one child and a feeling came over us… it was as if God had said, “There is more I want from you Ryan and Wendy. It’s time to step out of your comfort zone and into My will for you.” We struggled in prayer over what His will was for us and finally thought we got it figured out… God wanted us to share our blessings and love with another child that was not our own. God wanted us to be Foster parents. It was a scary, huge step but we embraced it and moved forward. We picked an agency and began all the paperwork, prep work and classes it takes to become foster parents.

In January 2011, I began to have some health problems. I lost 40 pounds in a very short amount of time and I was unable to keep food in my system. I was tired and grumpy but unable to sleep. I had headaches and tummy problems that wrecked havoc on my everyday life. Doctor after doctor did test after test with no answers as to what was wrong. There were lots of theories, but no real answers. Only trial and error and nothing seemed to be working. As my health faded, we decided to put a hold on our plans to become Foster parents. There was no way I could take care of another child in my condition.

In June, answers finally started to come… we discovered that I have celiac disease which is basically an allergy to wheat, barley and rye… gluten. Luckily, my allergy to gluten isn’t as severe it could be, but it is still very important for me to steer as clear of it as possible. Weeks after I deleted gluten from my diet, I finally began to feel better. My body began to heal slowly but I was still severely underweight. The challenge then became to figure out how to gain weight on a Gluten free diet… no small task. As a result of this health issue, I actually learned how to properly care for my body. Eating had never been a priority for me before. I rarely ate 3 meals a day and when I did eat, I would eat less than healthy foods. Having to watch all food intake and try to gain weight made me really learn to give my body what it needs. I have always cared too much what others say about me and perhaps God was using this as a way to try and break me from that. So, when the rumor that I was “anorexic” blew by me, I was disgusted, especially since I had been feeding my body better than I ever had in my whole life. I had to separate myself from some other unhealthy things, and work on relying solely on what God thinks of me instead of what others think. I don’t know if I will ever fully be able to do that, but I am getting better at it.

As my health began to improve, Ryan and I re-visited our plans to foster. To both of our great surprise, it no longer “felt” right. In fact, it felt really wrong and against what God wanted for us. Personally, I was very disappointed and ashamed when we made the final decision not to pursue fostering. I felt selfish and as if I had left yet another “idea” in my life unfinished. I was embarrassed I had told some people about our plans and now, we were going to have to tell them we weren’t doing it. Mostly, I was confused over my understanding of God’s desire for me. I felt so sure He wanted us to foster… and then for Him to turn around and say “No” made me question everything about the way I hear God. How could I have gotten it so wrong? Or worse, why did God change His mind? Were we not “good” enough to do the job? Luckily I have some very wise ladies in my life who were there for me and helped my make peace with those feelings. I wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between my understanding and God’s will, but I kept trying to hear Him correctly.

Ryan and I still felt like God was telling us we were supposed to provide care for a child that was not our own. Our next thought was that He meant for us to adopt. Excited, we looked into that as our next option. Quickly we discovered, we did not have the money we would need for adoption and soon we felt that door shut as God said, “Nope… that is not My plan for you either.” Ugh. I had been so restless about figuring out what God wanted and it seemed no matter what I did, He was saying no. It was frustrating! I finally just threw in the towel and said, “Hey God, when You’re ready to let me know Your plan for me just tell me… I’m gonna stop hunting for it!” That sounds so funny to me, as if it ever matter for one second that I was hunting for it. God’s timing is perfect and I should have been trusting Him all along to make His plan apparent to me instead of worrying about missing it.

In August, I took a weekend trip up to Janesville, Wisconsin for Ryan’s sister’s baby shower. I consider her one of my best friends and was so glad to be able to be part of her special day. Her first baby was due at the end of October! It was a quick trip, but a meaningful one. I got to spend some special time with both my sister-in-laws and I felt like we all really bonded. The shower was wonderful, the food was great and a friend of the family ended up stopping by unexpectedly… Chuck always has the best timing! It was Saturday afternoon after the shower and we were all sitting on the deck enjoying the sun and Chuck asked the mom-to-be, Marissa, what her child care plans were once the baby was here. He asked if she was going to be staying at home or going back to work… to be honest it was one of those side conversations that I wasn’t even part of, I just happened to be overhearing it. As I listened to the discussion unfold between Marissa and Chuck I heard God’s voice in my head as clear as a bell… “That is the child. You. Daycare.” I kind of chuckled at God, having to remind Him that I lived in Texas, not Wisconsin. If I was going to watch Marissa and Richard’s baby – that was gonna be a tough commute. God laughed back at me and said, “Move.” I was stunned in that moment… didn’t God know how much I hate cold weather? I’m pretty sure He did, perhaps He didn’t care. I bet if there had been a picture of my face at that very moment… it would be priceless. I thought of little else besides God’s words to me in the days that followed. I arrived home to Texas on Sunday night and Monday afternoon at lunch, I asked my husband what he would think about moving back to his hometown of Janesville, WI.

As they say, the rest is history. At the end of August we had our agents out to the house to tell us what kinds of updates we needed. We did the updates in 2 weeks, we listed our house, we had an offer in 8 days, we accepted in 10 days. We went on a house hunting trip a week later, looked at 12 house, picked one and made an offer, got accepted and came home to pack. October 31st we closed in Texas, November 1st and 2nd we drove to Wisconsin, November 4th we closed and moved into our new home.

So, the answer to "How'd that happen so fast?" is very clear... God. Only He could have orchestrated a move such as this. And one of the most beautiful things that happened was that little Grace Olivia was born unexpectedly while we were in Janesville for our house hunting trip. We got to meet her before we headed back to Texas to pack up. The minute I held her, I knew 100% for certain God had me right where He wanted me. Yep, God doesn’t need me to hunt for His will, He just needs me to do my best to listen and wait for it. In addition, God won’t let me make a huge mistake when I misunderstand Him (like fostering or adopting) because He has His ways of re-directing me. When a door closes, He is merely guiding me towards another door that is already open but not yet in my view. And, thanks God for sending down a tangible reminder of Your awesome "Grace"!

One Hundred and One Pounds

The air was cool and soft on my skin as I walked. I was gliding what felt like effortlessly with an inner energy I hadn’t felt in so long, maybe even never. The voice of Todd Agnew singing a modern version of the most profound words ever written in a song was passing through my eardrums…

“Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear…”

A memory hit me. It was February 24, 2007. Unknowingly, God’s Spirit within me (whom I can only guess was there through the miracle of baptism) had been chipping away diligently at the highly durable, heavy-duty,  strong, crusty Damn of my Denial. With one last blow from The Spirit’s chisel, the Damn I had built so meticulously to contain all of my secrets and shame came crumbling down. My soul became flooded with awareness of what an immeasurable wretch I was. I was consumed with recognition of the truth… yes… this was the person I had become. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I was indeed the wretch the song was written about. Consumed with inconsolable grief, loss and total fear to the consequences of who I really was, I lost all hope for a future. Life was too much to bear. Stifled by a type of fear that transcended terror, I knew there was no way I could face the truth before me, there was no way I could ever face anyone in my life again... or myself.

The very same Spirit who had just destroyed my Damn and exposed my eyes to the real nightmare of my life stayed, even though I didn’t want Him there. I wanted Him to leave me be and let me do this my way. “You’ve done Your job now get out!... Are You proud of Yourself? You’ve broken me… You’ve made my blind eyes see and I can’t deny it anymore.” He remained. “Go… I don’t want You here. I hate You.” He said nothing. I imagined it would only be a matter of time before He gathered His things and left so I hurled more insults His way wanting to hurry it along.  I just wanted Him gone. All this awareness was too much. “Fine, if You won’t leave… I will!” With all the disobedience and disrespect I could muster, I grabbed the pills and swallowed them, all of them. “See, You’re not so tough. It will only be a matter of time and I’ll be gone and there won’t be anything You can do about it. I’m in control. I’m NOT going to let You make me feel this way for another moment.”

The clocked ticked loudly and slowly.  Anger and unrest swarmed around me until finally I closed my eyes and began to get woozy.  I lay there awaiting my final act of defiance to become real, satisfied by my stubbornness yet somehow... sad.  I knew He was still there. My heart began to race a little and I began to feel a little strange. My satisfaction became unsettled and my chest fluttered slightly with nervousness.  As the moments began to slip by all the anger and fear I had been feeling began to transform slowly into something very different. Instantly, I was consumed with a new type of fear… one I hadn’t ever felt before. The fear was one of disgrace and sadness, longing and loathing, heavy and bottomless… and it was no longer pointing outward at He who forced reality upon me, it was now deeply entrenched within myself. I didn’t hate Him. I hated me. In what I thought were going to be my last moments of consciousness my pride shattered and I uttered the only words I knew to say… “forgive me.” They were only two words, but they meant much more.  With those words I excused Him from the room.  I let Him know it was okay for Him to leave me now.  I said I knew He had done all He could do to save me and I took full responsibility for it not working out. I told Him to discard me, for I knew I deserved it. I didn’t see it happen, but I felt it. He departed and I was left all alone with my fear.

“… And Grace, that fear relieved.”

Only moments later, my wooziness jolted and I realized I was not alone anymore. Yes, The Spirit had departed but Someone much more powerful had come in His place to be with me. God Himself was at my side.  He put His hand on me and said, "I will never leave you."   I knew whole-heartedly in those moments that He loved me in a way I couldn't fathom. I knew He was bigger than all of my mistakes and screw ups. My fear subsided, I don’t know how or why… but I believed.

“How precious did that Grace appear the hour I first believed.”

This was the hour I first believed… I mean really, truly, blind-faithfully, had no idea what it meant but knew it was real, believed. God had always been in my life but this was different. This was the moment of my conversion to Christ. That hour changed everything for me even though I didn’t understand it at all.

I was a frail, weak, feeble, scrawny, fragile looking woman for many months after my conversion. I am five foot six inches tall and should at my healthiest weight and body type be at about 135 - 140 pounds. At my lowest moment, the day He rescued me I only weighed one hundred and one pounds. But it may as well have been five hundred because I felt like the heaviest underweight person in the world.

My memory of that day was over and present time came into focus again. Four and a half years from that life changing night and many things have changed. I’ve been sober all of it, I live in a new house, my son is just about to finish his first year of Kindergarten, my relationship with my husband is amazing, my sister-in-law is now married and having her first child, I have a new church home, and a new recovery program. I have different friends, a different therapist, a diagnosis of ADHD and medication to improve my quality of life, I have new insight, I have a deeper Spiritual growth than ever before, I have new successes and new failures spreading out all over. I’ve lost some character defects and I’ve gained a few.

Just last week I realized there are a few things that haven’t changed in the years since God told me He would never leave me. I also realized that these things really needed to change if I was going to ever be able to accept the true gift of God’s Grace. In the years that had passed since then, my head knowledge was strengthening but, something else far more important had remained dormant. As if out of nowhere, knowledge and brain power joined with the essence of my spirit and the core of my heart and they began to converge together. It was a perfect storm which awoke me to some secrets within me. Secrets which had been meticulously hidden so far down below in my consciousness, that I had most certainly lived with them my whole life. These secrets had become such an intrinsic part of me that they weren’t really secrets at all. They were the defining facts of who I really was. They were me. But it didn't fit together anymore. God’s grace and those secrets didn’t go together at all. Upon further reflection, I recognized I had been holding onto things that could have only been placed there by one source, and one source only... the father of lies. Even through all the Grace I had felt and seen and heard in these years, I was still being bound by the biggest lies of all time….

I am a bad person.
I am not lovable.
I can not escape by past.

I felt the cool, soft air on my skin as I walked. Again, I was gliding what felt like effortlessly with an inner energy I hadn’t felt in so long, maybe even never. The voice of Todd Agnew singing a modern version of the most profound words ever written in a song were passing through my eardrums…

“Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear…And Grace, that fear relieved.”

“How precious did that Grace appear the hour I first believed.”

And then came the next part of the song…

“Hallelujah, Grace like rain falls down on me…

Hallelujah, all my stains are washed away…

they’re washed away.”

Four and a half years after my conversion to Christ, four and a half years into my walk of trying to understand God’s Grace I finally felt His Grace upon me in a way I never had. This incredible gentle breeze of Grace touched my skin as I was gliding on this energizing euphoric walk. I felt hard, dark pieces from deep inside of me begin to unwind from the places they had been stuck for years. Stains were rising to the surface of my skin and were lifted by the movement of the air around me. It was like the past was being freed from my soul and all of its residue was being cleansed from my inner spirit. I began to feel lighter as it happened. I could envision the mist and vapors dissipating off of me, peeling off, blowing backwards into the wind with great swirls, stirring and rolling, being left in the wind never to be seen again. My skin felt fresh and new, my body felt so light and free. I felt a peace and calm within me I never knew existed. Four and a half years into my conversion I knew with all certainty that I was finally allowing God’s Grace to truly free me from my past. As the air tingled my skin, I surrendered to the only truth I ever need… His Grace Is Sufficient For Me.

With absolutely no desire to look back and see where all of the junk and lies of the devil that had been pulled up out of me were going, I turned the corner of my walk and committed to never ever look back there again. I saw the slight incline of the sidewalk ahead of me and had to smile. I’m ready God. I’m ready to finish this conversion thing with the rest of my life journey. I’m ready to believe what You want me to believe about me.

It has taken a health battle to bring me to this point in my surrender to God. The night of this walk of Grace I looked in the mirror and saw a frail, weak, feeble, scrawny, fragile looking woman, not much different than the woman I saw in the mirror back in February of 2007. Still five foot six inches tall with an ideal weight of 135 - 140 pounds, the mirror couldn’t lie. Seeing every rib easily, viewing the bruising and skin discoloration of a body that has been fighting to become healthy again made me sigh. I stepped on the scale, just out of curiosity. The number that appeared was no coincidence, one hundred and one pounds. But this time, the load felt a lot lighter. This time, the past wasn’t getting to weigh in with me. It was somewhere outside blowing in the wind. I may be standing frail, weak, feeble, scrawny and fragile but His Spirit is strong in me. My flesh will fail, but my God, You never will.  My conversion to Christ is continuing and I have most certainly, turned the corner. 

(Amazing Grace written by John Newton, Grace Like Rain by Todd Agnew)

Slow Driver

I never thought it would happen to me… no… never. But it has. I am embarrassed to admit that I have become one of those dreaded… slow drivers. I’m not 100% sure how it happened but I have my guesses and I suppose when I sit down and put it all together, it does make a little sense. Looking at my past driving record, it's probably a good thing!

I think it started back in November 2010 when my therapist told me I needed to learn how to slow down and learn to take care of myself and relax. Since slowing down was not my forte, it really took a large effort for me to do this. I supposed slowing down even seeped into my driving skills a bit back then.

In December, someone got mad at me on the highway for driving too slow in the left lane. When I looked down at my speedometer I realized I was going only 75 in a 70... only 5 mph over the speed limit. I got out of his way as he flashed a nice finger gesture at me and sped off. Three things happened in my mind that day.

1.  Anger: I got a little angry as the self-righteous part of me awakened and said, “Hey… my tax dollars pay for this road too! The law says the speed limit is 70 and if I want to drive in the left lane going 70, that is my right!”
2. Realization: I realized that when other people are in a hurry… it has absolutely nothing to do with me. We are all responsible for our selves and if he was late… it wasn’t because I was driving the speed limit in “his” lane. It was for completely unrelated reason.
3. Grace: Certainly not grace from me... but a heavenly gift of grace from God... a glimpse into His way of doing things came over me.  I became acutely aware that everyone we come across everyday has their own battles and secrets. Instead of flaring up, I said a prayer for the hurried driver's safety and the safety of the people around him. I asked God to give him peace.

I have since spent more time driving in the middle lane to avoid making others mad but hey… my tax dollars do pay for the road too so you might still catch me in the left lane from time to time.

In January, as I drove my son to school in the mornings, I became keenly aware of the people who were using our neighborhood as a cut through to avoid the stop signs and a school zone on their way to work. It began to annoy me. Not because they were using our neighborhood roads, but because these “cut-thru-commuters” were speeding and ignoring our stop signs. In addition, if one of them got stuck behind me, they would get mad because as I stated in my title – I have become a slow driver. In my neighborhood I especially drive slow since there are lots of kids, bikes, dogs, cats and families. Why wouldn’t I respect my neighborhood, especially on my drive to take my son to school? I recently wrote a letter to our mayor and city counsel asking what could be done about the cut-thru artists. That is so not me.

In February, I got really sick. One thing I have noticed about myself through the years, even as a young lead-footed whipper-snapper… when I was sick… I drove slow. In fact, that was one of the ways I would judge how ill I was. “Oh man… I must be sick. I’m driving under the speed limit!” As you probably know, I have remained ill for quite sometime, I am working at my recovery from a bad bacteria infection but it is a long, slow and tedious process.  I stopped looking at my speedometer to gauge how sick I was feeling because... I was feeling sick all the time.

I guess through all of this, driving slow has just become my new normal.  I said in the beginning I was embarrassed about that but now that I'm typing this, I don't think I really am embarrassed.  I think I'm thankful.  Driving slower shows me that I am doing something right in my attempt to listen to God and slow down my life.

I went to the post office to mail two packages a few weeks ago. The line in the main area was really long, 15 or so people, and there were only two tellers so I decided to use the self-service postage machine. It’s pretty cool and I’ve done it many times so I knew I could fly right through the process without much trouble. As I began to weigh my first package, a man came and got in line behind me. As I progressed through the machine prompts he began to sign louder and louder to show his impatience, as though his noticeable displeasure would make me go faster. I was definitely in his way. Another woman got in line behind him and then another… so I was at the machine with three people behind me. I zipped right through the first package and started my second one. The man sighed more, and began commenting about how long I was taking. Seriously though, it had only been maybe 90 seconds. I ignored him, and neither of the people behind him in line said anything either. I was literally about to push my last button to retrieve my postage sticker when the impatient man behind me said, “I’m just going to go get in the other line… you are taking entirely too long!” then stepped out of line and huffed off to the main postal area line. Right then, my sticker popped out of the machine and I was done. I turned and looked at the lady who was next and said, “His impatience is your gain… I guess its your turn now.” She smiled and said, “Yep!” I let my son put the packages in the super cool alien-esk package eater and we began to leave. I decided to look over at the main postal area to see where Mr. Impatient-Pants was in line. I counted the people in front of him in line now… 22. He was going to be there for awhile. I’m not going to lie… I did a little evil laugh in my head… but only for a moment (okay, maybe two).

As I drove home from the post office, God really spoke to me through this experience. I have lived most of my life in an extremely impatient state. I want what I want and I want it now. I don’t want to wait in line, I don’t want to have to work too hard, I don’t want to be obedient… I want immediate gratification. I want to cruise right down the highway as fast as possible so I can just get where I’m going and get on to the next thing. God has been telling me to slow down for awhile. But I realized, that wasn’t all He had be asking of me… He was also asking me to enjoy the journey along the way.

I went to a class called “Renewal In Christ” several months ago. One of the big pieces of wisdom I took from that was how important it is to remove hurry from my life. I realized hurry and busyness have become the devil’s playground in my life. I had been working at slowing down… did pretty well at it for a time but then got right back into hurrying, worrying and trying to keep myself busy. I believe God allowed me to become ill so He could MAKE ME slow down. Because of the illness, I had no other choice.

The only treatment for my illness is complete diet change... gluten free, casein (dairy) free, wheat free, caffeine free and most importantly… SUGAR free. And when I say sugar free… I mean all sugar, not just plain white sugar. Even the natural sugars in fruit are a no-no for me right now. And it’s not a quick fix… it’s a long tedious process that is going to take time and patience. I will have good days and I will have awful days. And for me, a person who wants what I want and wants it now, a person who doesn’t want to wait in line, a person who doesn’t want to have to work too hard and a person who definitely has difficulty being obedient… this is hard work. I have had to learn that immediate gratification means nothing. I have had to begin to find the joy in the journey. 

There are times, like today, when I want to give up and just say “Screw it… I’m having chocolate pie!” but then God helps me remember Mr. Impatient-Pants at the post office. Hurrying will get me nowhere. In fact, changing my well-thought out, God-directed path purely out of impatience will do nothing but delay my results. The temporary joy I may get from instant gratification is a short-lived lie of the devil. Real joy comes from obedience to the God-guided journey.  I’m glad God has made me slow down, I’m glad God has made me change my ways and I am even glad I have become a slow driver. I don't think I could have begun to learn this any other way and now that I see it, I don’t want to miss a moment.  Not even the sucky ones like today when I have zero energy, a headache and a huge poison sumac rash all over both arms.  Can I just tell you, poison sumac is not fun at all... but I hear God in the back of my mind saying... "be obedient... don't scratch... be patient."

(yes... thats me in the picture... do you like my new hairdo??? )

What a Waste

I went to a church design conference in Arkansas last year. It was called DIRT… it was about how to make something out of nothing. This was a great tool for church design ministry since most churches don’t have a ton of money they want to spend on media and design. At the conference, they also taught us some great ways to recycle things… so nothing ever has to be wasted. It was a great conference, although it did have a few unexpected moments I have wrestled with that had nothing to do with the conference.

It was only a 5 hour trip so we drove. The conference ended in the evening so we drove home at night. I was sacked out in the back of the car listening to my MP3 and staring out the window. I had one of those moments I hope I'll remember for a long time.

Staring out the window, I watched as a big Mack truck passed us slowly. He was hauling a load of livestock, specifically… chickens. This truck was loaded… I mean wow… that was a lot of chickens. So many chickens were stuffed in each cage they couldn’t move. Their faces, wings, feet were pressed up against the sides of the cages. The wind from the highway travel was harshly blowing around them and feathers were flying out of the wire openings. As I watched, it seemed they were passing in slow motion. I knew where they were headed… to their doom no doubt… so I stuck my bottom lip out to pout. I was sad for them. Stuffed in cages; trapped with no control over their future. It made me sad, even though they were just chickens.

Something about that impacted me…I saw them and thought of the sacrifice they were part of, their life traded for my nourishment. I’m an animal lover but I’m not over the top, and I’m not a vegetarian… in fact, I enjoy meat. But, I don’t think I could be part of the ugliness behind getting the meat to the grocery store. I’d rather just not know so I can enjoy my fresh meal in peace and quiet with no guilt.

Seeing that truck with the chickens on it brought me great guilt though, but not for the reason you think. I usually purchase huge packages of raw chicken to split into small baggies and freeze. Earlier that month, I had taken one of those bags out of the freezer and put it in the fridge to defrost so I could make it for dinner on one of the coming days. I waited a few too many days to make it though, and when I opened the bag the smell that hit me in the face told me if I made this chicken for my family… none of us would feel very good for a few days. I ended up throwing it in the garbage – 5 large chicken breasts gone… just like that.

What a waste.

Back to the truck… it hit me like a Mack truck full of chickens how irresponsible I had been as a living being. I not only wasted precious food… I wasted those chicken’s sacrifice and life. Everything they had been through had been for nothing. Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not over here projected human emotion onto a chicken, I realize they don’t have a sense of things like we do – but even still… whether they realize it or not… they are still a living creature, a creation of the Father and I have a responsibility to be accountable for their place in my world. I should not waste them, or anybody or anything else for that matter. I felt disrespectful. I felt irresponsible in that moment…

What a waste…

But it was the kind of emotion that was productive, I didn’t waste my wastefulness. It made me want to do better and be more conscious of my actions, or lack of action. I realized I have an opportunity to be disrespectful and irresponsible with every single thing I do and have in life. The opportunities to fail at protecting the most important things in life are there all the time. I could easily put my attention on a man who is not my husband because of my ego… I could easily turn my back on a friend I care about because of the crowd or a lie… I could easily let a good deed turn sour by being selfish and judgmental… and I could easily snap at my child and tell him he is acting like a baby just because I’m in a bad mood and not realize how that may effect him for the rest of his life. Disrespectful, irresponsible…

What a waste.

Let’s go deeper… to even more important things in life.

Jesus died to give me life. Jesus died so I could have a personal relationship with God. Jesus died so I could be forgiven. Jesus died so I could live in eternity with God.

I realize when I don’t live in a way in which I am moving towards God, I’m tossing Jesus’ raw flesh in the garbage. When I don’t take advantage of the one-on-one personal relationship with God that I have been gifted, I’m tossing Jesus’ raw flesh in the garbage. When I don’t forgive others who have hurt me or wronged me; when I continually beat myself up over something I have done by not allowing God to forgive my mistakes, I’m tossing Jesus’ raw flesh in the garbage. When I live my life in a way that indicates this life here on earth and what others here think of me is more important than the eternal life I will have later with God, I’m tossing Jesus’ raw flesh in the garbage. Talk about feeling irresponsible and disrespectful.

What a waste.

My nature being what it is makes it impossible for me to walk through life without being disrespectful, irresponsible and wasteful. Even when I am trying my hardest, I simply can not help it. In recognizing this I have a few choices. I can choose to just do whatever I want knowing that I’m going to fail anyway so why not just have a good time and fulfill my needs as I go. I can choose to deny the whole thing; pretend all is well so I never have to face it. I can choose to beat myself up continually for my failures and live in a lowly place, ducking my head down in shame, living in fear of wrath, never fully accepting the freedom Jesus gave through His sacrifice. I can choose to accept the fact that no matter how hard I try, I will fall short – BUT also accept I am covered in God’s grace so I don’t need to beat myself up. I just need to keep trying. In my opinion, the only one of those choices that reestablishes respect, responsibility and honor is the last one. To the other choices… all I can say is… what a waste. I leave you with this question, is there an area of your life in which you are tossing Jesus’ raw flesh in the garbage? If so… what are you going to do to reestablish respect, responsibility, honor and stop being wasteful of the King’s flesh?

Chat

I learned a valuable lesson last night, one that I hope I won’t soon forget. I had a “date” to chat with a friend of mine. I had been looking forward to it all day and was excited when it was time. Unfortunately, another circumstance arose and when it was time for us to get together, we didn’t. I was bummed. First I must say, I don’t deal with changes in plan very well to begin with, but add on some extra sensitivity and wow… I got some very silly hurt feelings. I felt let down and disappointed. I felt unimportant and silly… I felt sad. My heart kinda did this achy thing it hasn’t done in a long time and at that point I thought it was really strange for me to be so hurt over something so simple. I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep but couldn’t. I started talking to God and asked Him what my deal was… why was I so hurt over something so simple and ridiculous? And that was when He showed me something that made me understand Him just a little bit more.

I love my friend… but she owes me absolutely nothing. We are friends to the end… and I’d do anything for her. My friendship with her is based on nothing other than kindness and respect and love. Our plans to chat didn’t work out, for a reason I understood and support but it still hurt.

I love God… and I owe Him everything. He never leaves my side. He created me, He gave me everything I have, He has saved me from so many terrible things and I am sure there are more to come. He forgives me every time I ask. He holds a special place for me in His kingdom. He calls me daughter. He sends His Spirit to me often to guide me and tell me things. He gave me His only Son with no strings attached. My plans to chat with Him change all the time and usually for reasons that escape any understanding (messing around on Facebook or watching re-runs of Seinfeld).

So… how much more does it hurt God when my plans to chat with Him “don’t work out” because I decide to go watch television or take a nap. How much more than my little heartache does it pain God when I consciously choose something else instead of time with Him? After all, He created me… and I owe everything I am to Him.

Tears came to my eyes when I really thought about this. But not in a beat-myself-up-forever, I’m-such-a-terrible-awful-person, how-could-You-love-me kind of way. It was more of a thank-You-for-showing-me-that-I-need-to-do-better, thank-You-for-Your-grace kind of way. I am truly humbled today… and so very thankful to my friend for this lesson she helped me learn, even though she has no clue. Thank you.

Overwhelmed by Grace

I heard an amazing sermon message at Saturday night service this week and I just HAD to write about it. The idea of what I am going to share with you is not my own, but these are my experiences and my interpretation of what the pastor shared with the congregation. I have to say a light bulb went off for me… and I am so very grateful.

Orphans
I had a loving family growing up, but I have stilled lived the majority of my life as though I were an orphan. In many ways I orphaned myself; it was not necessarily done for me. No matter what I did or where I went, I simply didn’t feel like I fit in. I jumped from school to school, friend to friend, job to job, relationship to relationship, place to place trying to find the place I truly belonged. I made a willful decision to leave college and my family in the United States to follow a boy to another country. I was never more orphaned than at that point in my life… I had no one. The boy I left it all for turned out to be… just a human being, flawed and orphaned himself. I expected a lot more and ended up extremely hurt. Years later, my self-imposed orphan status led me to alcoholism. I had been silently crying out to the world, “Someone… please… adopt me… I need to be loved… I want to belong… I want a daddy who accepts me just the way I am.” McGlynn’s Pub became my “daddy” for a few years. I went there every night drinking with strangers who soon became my family. No matter what I did, I was accepted. They knew my name, they knew my drink and they saved my bar stool for me. I felt loved. Getting sober made my “family” and acceptance disappear. I found a new family at AA. That worked for awhile but soon I had to face reality… I was still an orphan in my mind. Last night as I listened to the message I realized a part of that orphan still lives inside of me… I am unable to commit to a church family. I’ve told myself that it’s because I want to have the freedom to go where I wish, that I can’t choose between the two worship styles my husband and I disagree on, that churches are too eager to have you join and it is a turn off but I think the truth of the matter is… I still see myself as an orphan and I am afraid. Admitting this makes me tear up.

Slaves
I’m a mother. It’s a job I take very seriously. I attend a Christian parenting class once a week in an effort to do it right. One of the things I have learned in class is the importance of letting my son know that no matter what happens, no matter what he does, even when I’m angry or disappointed with him that I still love him. He must know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I love him unconditionally. Now this doesn’t mean he can walk all over me, it just means that hopefully he will sleep soundly at night with the knowledge that he is truly loved by his mother. Perhaps it is a generational thing, but this concept seems to be quite different from the way a lot of people my age were raised. Now, let me say this clearly… I am not blaming my parents or saying they did anything wrong in what I am about to say. I grew up thinking that love hinged on my good deeds. Somehow I ended up with this perception that the only time I was loved was when I had done something to make me worthy of love. On the flip side, when people were upset with me, I truly believed I was hated… yes, hated. I have many friends that grew up feeling the same way so, like I said, perhaps it was a generational thing… and as a result of these perceptions, I essentially became a slave for love. I have spent my life working diligently at earning the love of others. To this very day, I do not handle conflict very well. While my head now understands that real love doesn’t work that way, my habits and heart are easily led astray. I find myself working for love in almost every aspect of my life. The biggest aspect this affects is my relationship with God. I realized last night that I am continuing to diligently attempt to earn the love of my Father with everything I do. Yes, when I become still or even step backwards slightly my flesh begins to panic, afraid that the favor that God has rested on me will be ripped away and given to someone else who is more deserving. The devil is readily waiting at my ear, whispering confirmations of this incorrect belief. I have believed satan for far too long. It’s time to change. It’s time to step into God’s grace and believe with all I have, with total faith that I am truly loved regardless! I must accept that I am spoken for because I believe… that I am truly His daughter. Typing this makes me tear up for a different reason.

Daughters
A daughter of the King was created to enjoy all the kingdom has to offer. She was not created to be alone or to be enslaved. She is lovingly disciplined when she screws up, but never punished. She is fully aware of the responsibilities she has to be the best daughter she can be but she also knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that her Father’s love is not dependant on her performance. She is fully and awesomely aware of His grace. She is conscious of His presence and knows she is never alone. She is not an orphan, nor is she a slave… she is a rightful heir. She is confident… she accepts her family responsibility proudly and wears her families crest with honor never doubting where she belongs. How does she do this? She answers two questions honestly. I have asked them of myself: What do I know to be true about God? He loves me. What do I know to be true about me? I believe He sent His son Jesus to die for me. Today I start a new life. It isn’t the life of a lonely, confused and frightened orphan and it’s not the life of a workaholic, worried slave… but it is the life of a confident, responsible and humble daughter. An heir to the eternal kingdom of heaven! It’s only by grace that I understand this… and I am in fact… overwhelmed by grace. This changes everything.