If that’s not enough to get your attention then I’m not sure what else I can say to entice you. As Christians we are called to serve a great, all-knowing, all-powerful, holy God. That call means obedience, and sometimes that same obedience means a whole lot of pain.
You are guaranteed to find two things at our dinner table: Good food and a four year old looking for a race. Every night it is the same thing, “Mom, am I beating you?” And like the good Mom that I believe myself to be I usually respond with, “No, you’re not Michael”.
As I headed to the back of my garage to get change for a woman buying some clothes for her son, I turned around just in time to see grandma take a nasty fall. The wet cement had gotten the better of her and I rushed over to offer my help and tell her how sorry I was for her slipping. I kept talking nervously until I realized she wasn’t understanding a lick of what I was saying. And then it happened.
Standing toe to toe- with anger, offense, bitterness, betrayal, hurt, pain, loss or grief - is nothing uncommon. We do it several times a month, a day even, and when we aren’t the ones facing such issues it seems as though our friends are. Difficulty is all around us, and no one is out of its destructive reach. Through the many struggles of life we are faced with a decision, a choice that can only and will only be made by none other than ourselves… a decision that will alter our present and inevitably change our futures.
Last week was self injury awareness day, and for me that was a day that holds a lot of importance. For years I struggled with self injury and it will always be something that shows a great testimony of God’s power in my life that I have been freed from it.
Last summer I had the privilege of mentoring a young girl for an entire month on purity. We had met a few times for picnics, walks, and such but I decided that our last talk should take place on a train to San Fran. We would talk, shop, walk (I only add that because it rhymes- and there was a lot of it) and admire the beauty that is the ocean- it would be a great day I was sure of it.
As we prepared for the drama we would be performing that night I was told that I could do one of the segways (speaking parts between songs) and waited in anticipation for my turn to take the mic. That night I shared about my story in the shortest little five minute span, and being able to stand on that stage with that mic changed me. But I’m not sure for the better.
We live in a magical land of disappearing mountains… I wish I was kidding. We are fifteen minutes, at most, from the bottom of the Sequoia’s and on a good day I can see them from my front yard; giant, glorious, snow-capped mountains. And then there are the other 6 days of the week that I step outside and all I can see is the sky. And by “sky” all I mean is the color greyish blue. Which is far less exciting.
Almost a year ago now our youth group had plans to go to a paintball camp and we were going to let Michael go with them this time around. He was SO EXCITED that he barely slept for a week, which meant I barely slept for a week, and he reminded me EVERY DAY about how he was going. The night before their planned departure, however, things took a turn for the worst.
Have you ever seen the phrase "work in progress". I have and it reminds me of one of the many incredibly phrased lines in a worship song that my home church sang often before God called us to Stockton, CA. It says-“I’m not who I want to be but I’m not who I used to be”. I love that, isn’t it the truth?
"I'm bored" used to be my favorite phrase growing up. By being an only child and having nobody to play with, I would tell this to my Mom and to this she would sometimes give me the silly answer of, "go in the backyard and dig a hole all the way to China."
We all play it. Oh, we try not to, we really do. We say we aren’t going to play. We tell ourselves we’re “unique” and “one-of-a-kind”; we may even write the words “fearfully and wonderfully made” on our mirrors as a reminder. We never intend to play the game, but inevitably, we all do.
Can I tell you my least favorite part about playing an instrument. Besides the fact, of course, that by "playing an instrument" I mean playing a non-cool xylophone in the non-cool high school marching band at non-cool 6:45 AM in the morning. Those things are most likely the culprits of my not rising to popularity, but none of them had anything to do with the pit in my stomach I would get as I entered the band room doors. "Play louder" That's what the instructors would shout to us during rehearsal, "play louder". They would say.
For as long as I have read Philippians 4:7 (And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus) I have translated it to mean that the peace itself could not be understood. That the concept of God’s peace is just plain indescribable.
I don’t know about you, but there are a few stories in the bible where I find myself really questioning the characters. One of those stories has always been the story of Jonah. Ever since I was little, hearing or reading that story would always get me stuck on the fact that Jonah ran away from the Lord and thought that he could hide.
It’s time we talk about suicide. It’s time we talk about it now instead of when it is too late. In the next 24 hours almost 1,500 students across the world will end their life. I’ve put this heavy subject off for a while thinking it may scare a few readers away but it’s time.
A few months ago, I moved out into my own place and someone very special to me wrote “This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it!” on my bathroom mirror. Ever since then that verse has completely shaped every day for me. I would wake up and see it and say it to myself, and throughout the day I would think about it.
At the end of 2013, my husband and I had an “open house” night for students, friends, and family to say their goodbyes before we moved to Visalia, CA. It was an emotional night to say the least but it was full of love and laughter. When things had started to wind down, I noticed Rich had a certain look in his eye. I hadn’t seen this look in quite a while. It wasn’t anything you’d expect on a night like this. It wasn’t sadness, although you can be sure that there was sadness in the room. It wasn’t love, although there was much of that also. No… it was the eye of someone who was planning something both great and horrific.
