tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87239708903279474412024-03-05T16:34:14.728-08:00MomentsIf we listen well enough, we will hear the voice of God through the little moments in life we tend to take for granted. Join me as I open my eyes, ears, and heart to God; and be inspired and encouraged through my journey of faith as I learn to be a woman of God through being a diaper-changer, nose wiper, teacher, entrepreneur, family chef, lover of a great man, and the many other roles a woman plays these days.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-25822532081745602592013-08-28T18:50:00.001-07:002013-08-28T19:21:39.733-07:00A Little Girl's HeroA friend's grandfather recently passed away and she wrote a sweet tribute about him, which inspired me to reminisce about my grandfather who just happened to pass away 3 years ago this week. <br />
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My grandfather (Pops as we called him) was a lot of things. He was a true war hero. He was a proud and faithful U.S. Marine who served in WWII and Korea. He was a brave and brilliant fighter pilot who completed many successful missions and earned all kinds of medals and accolades. He was also a national champion tennis player. He had cases of trophies for tournaments won. He was a middle school principal, a college tennis and basketball coach, a husband of 66 years, a father, a grandfather, and so much more. But of all the things he was, the thing that mattered most to me was that he was a little girl's hero.<br />
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My parents were divorced when I was a toddler, and my dad wasn't in my life as much as I would have liked. I had an amazing step-father who treated me as his own, and the times I did spend with my dad were valuable times, but my grandfather filled a void I never really even understood was there. I believed I was the most special girl in his life. He treated me like a treasured jewel. He was interested in every silly, senseless story I ever told. He watched intently as I showed him all the tricks I had learned - forward rolls, cartwheels, cheers... each one was amazing in his eyes. He sat by the pool for countless hours while I practiced my dives, performed synchronized swimming routines, and made him count how long I could hold my breathe under water. I made him judge every performance and give me a numerical score, even they were always a perfect 10. He was my pretend student when I taught school, even though I gave him detentions and sent him to the principal's office every day. He taught me how to drive and was a willing passenger as I drove his car all over town at 13 years old. He didn't seem to be the least bit worried that I would crash it. I twirled around in my new dresses, showed off my sparkly shoes, and modeled swim ware, and he thought I was the most charming little girl ever. He taught me how to play cards and played countless hours with me, even letting me win when I needed to. He took me on walks in the mountains of North Carolina and never tired of little-girl conversations along the way. He never told me to stop talking, he never told me to hurry up, and he never told me to come back later. He always had time for me. If he was building in the garage, he let me help. If he was gardening in the greenhouse, he let me plant. I was glued to his side much of the time, and that was plenty okay with him. He was so proud of his little granddaughter, and I knew he believed in me. He thought I could be the president of the United States one day if I wanted to, and I believed him. <br />
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Every little girl needs a man in her life that treats her like a treasure. Every little girl needs a man who loves her silliness, who believes in her, who thinks she hung the moon, who makes her feel beautiful, who lets her express herself without reservation, and who always has time for her, no matter what. My Pops was that man. I have a daughter now, and I pray that my little girl will find a real-life hero in her Daddy like my Pops was for me. Daddy's of daughters, don't get too busy or too consumed with the world that you overlook this invaluable duty to be your little girl's hero. Grandfathers of little girls, don't neglect making them feel like your treasure. It won't matter how much money you make, if you're a prized athlete, or even if you're a decorated war hero. What will matter is that you're HER hero. Never underestimate the impact you have on those little girls. It will stay with her. I promise. I am 37 years old, and my Pops hasn't lived on this earth for 3 years. But I still treasure every moment I spent with him. He will live on forever in the woman I am. <br />
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Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-56022589578333641022013-05-16T11:50:00.001-07:002013-05-16T11:50:22.215-07:0026 Minutes to Spare: My Birth StoryI have given birth three times. And each of those three times were completely different than the others. It amazes me how the body can do such different things each time you go through the same experience. I decided to record the memories of the experiences - especially this last one - so I would never forget the stories. Those experiences are part of me now. They were major events in my life that impacted me in ways I could never have predicted. So this is my "birth story".<br />
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When I had my first child, I was an excited first time mom-to-be and I was full of expectations and plans of how my birth was going to go. A bit naive, like most first-timers, I thought I had it all figured out and it was going to be just like I planned it. I was determined to do it without drugs because I assumed that real women give birth all natural. I mean, after all, women have been given birth for thousands of years. Our bodies were designed to do this. (There is nothing wrong with this way of thinking - it's true. But I didn't realize that the human body can override your best made plans.) So I planned to labor at home as long as possible (no one was going to tie me to a bed and plug me into an iv and a fetal monitor). I was going to eat, walk around, and whatever else I wanted to do. And I did. My contractions started in the early afternoon and I stayed home for several hours enduring my labor (which was not very painful at the time) until my contractions were 5 minutes apart, which was when I went to the hospital. On the way there, the contractions became very strong and painful, and I could hardly stand the pain anymore. A nurse checked me upon arrival and I was 9 cenimeters dilated! Normally, this would have been considered success since that is what I wanted. But my body did not cooperate with the rest of my plan. I got stuck in this stage of labor called the "transition" stage. That is the stage of labor when you are about 8-9 cenimeters just before you deliver. It is the most painful and intense phase, but it usually only lasts about 30 minutes to an hour. Well mine lasted 4 hours! I just wouldn't progress beyond it. I was too far along to get an epidural, but I wasn't far enough to push and deliver. The pain was horrific and indescribable. I remeber wanting to just pass out and go unconcious. And a few times I thought that would happen. I was screaming and crying and it was physically and emotionally traumatic. They finally gave me a spinal, which is a temporary shot of the same medicine used in an epidural and it gave me about 30 minutes of relief before I finally was able to push and deliver my baby. I had 12 family members and friends in that delivery room with me when I gave birth, and I think we were all traumatized by the experience. I vowed I would never give birth without an epidural EVER again. <br />
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With my second baby, I most definitely remembered my plan to do things differently. My water broke late at night, and although I was not having any contractions yet, I went straight to the hospital and asked for an epidural. I actually got the drugs before I had a single contraction so I never felt anything at all. Once I got the epidural, I went to sleep for a few hours, woke up, and pushed out my baby withouth ever feeling an ounce of pain. I'm not gonna lie - it was blissful. It was the best way I could imagine giving birth. No pain, no screaming... it was calm, and quiet, and easy. I had very little trauma to my body and a very easy recovery. It was the complete opposite experience from my first birth. And boy was I glad. THIS was the way I was gonna do it from then on. I didn't need to be anybody's hero. And I didn't need to be the all natural super woman I once thought I had to be. <br />
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When I got pregnant the third time, I was adament about having the exact same experince as the second one - an early epidural, no pain, and an easy delivery. I made my plans and thought I knew exactly how it was going to play out. It started out just as I planned - my water broke in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. The gush of water woke me up, but I was not having any contractions yet so I was feeling no pain. I left for the hospital early, determined to get my epidural just like the previous time. But this time, things took a different turn. On the way to the hospital, I suddenly started having painful contractions and they were very close together. It was like I had skipped the early stages of labor altogether and I had advanced to the later stages right away. When I got to the hospital (less than an hour after my water broke), I was having pretty intense contractions and they were only about 3 minutes apart. Still, I wasn't in horrible pain and I assumed I had plenty of time to spare, so we parked the car and I walked into the hospital and up to the labor and delivery unit without a wheelchair. I walked up to the desk and informed the nurse that I was in labor and that my water had broken about an hour ago, my contractions were 3 minutes apart, and that I had a history of fairly fast labors and I wanted an epidural immediately. She gave me some paperwork to sign and fill out, and I stood at the desk and filled them out (stopping every couple minutes to breathe through a contraction). The entire time I was on my feet, not in a wheelchair, and not giving much indication that my labor was progressing rapidly (which it was). The nurse put me in a bed in a holding room and checked my dilation, which was about 6 centimeters. We all assumed that meant I had plenty of time to get into a room and get my epidural before the baby would arrive. We were wrong. They put me in my wheelchair, wheeled me to a room and ordered my drugs. I got out of the chair without help and climbed into the bed, and I knew at that moment that my dreams of getting an epidural were dashed. Suddenly my contractions became super intense and about 30 seconds apart. I was in intense pain and not getting a break between contractions. I suddenly felt that all-too-familiar feeling from my first birth of a huge amount of pressure in my bottom and the burning feeling you never forget once you experience it. "This baby is coming right now," I thought to myself, "and I am not going to get my drugs!" I began to freak out at the thought of not having any drugs and I yelled at the nurse to hurry and put the iv in my arm so I could at least get some narcotics if the epidural was out of the question. But she didn't have time to get the iv in. While one nurse was checking for a vein and the other was trying to get the fetal monitor on me, I felt the pain go into over-drive and I had the extreme need to push. The baby was on it's way out and there was nothing I could do but go with it. The doctor looked between my legs (as she was getting ready to asses me again and was attempting to do a quick ultrasound to make sure the head was down in the pelvis). She did not realize that the baby was on it's way out and there was no time for any of that. I realized it, but was in denial, still hoping to get some drugs in my arm before I had to deliver. The doctor suddenly exclaimed that I was 10 centimeters fully dialated and that the head was visible! She looked at me and said, "You're gonna have this baby right now!" "No!" I yelled, "I need my drugs first! I can't do this without drugs!" My husband, who was holding my legs up, looked down at the crowning head and then at me and said these words: "You can do this. I see her head, it's coming out, one push and you got this." So I decided it was time to let go of my hope for drugs (the nurse hadn't even gotten an iv into my arm yet) and push the baby out. I had to end the pain and that was the only way it was gonna happen. So I pushed. A small, timid, little push at first. And then another one - a big one. I felt her little head pop out and then felt her body slide out fairly quickly. I barely had time to realize what was happening and I looked down to see a baby placed on my chest. There she was! I had just given birth to this baby, and it all happened so fast. No drugs, no fetal minitor, no iv, no nothing. I didn't even really do any work. She just came, and I just went with it. <br />
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I looked up at the clock and it was 5:26 am. I had walked into the hospital at 5:00 am. It had only been 26 minutes since I casually strolled into the automatic doors of Mission hospital and rode the elevator up to the 4th floor. Less than 26 minutes since I stood at the desk of the labor and delivery unit and filled out paper work that gave them permission to deliver my baby. It was only about 10 minutes since I was wheeled into my delivery room and walked over to my bed. And now I had a baby on my chest. I vaguely remember watching the doctors and nurses scramble as they realized my baby was coming out whether we were ready or not. The looks on their faces was unforgetable. The look on my husband's was great too. I think I was the most surprised of anyone though. I laid there looking at this sweet baby girl, stunned and in shcok. What just happened? What did we just do? I just had a baby. In minutes. It was a crazy feeling. But it was also so empowering. I was so proud of myself for doing it naturally, even though the entire thing took only minutes. <br />
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I had texted friends and called my mom on the way to the hospital, hoping they would make it to witness the delivery. But they were all as shocked as me when I called them a half hour later to tell them that the baby was already here. I still love remembering the events in my mind, and sometimes I go back through the whole experience in my head as I fall asleep at night. It was such a whirlwind of chaos and emotion. But it was so amazing too. Two days later I brouhgt home the most precious beautiful baby girl I've ever seen. Her name is Piper Leigh, and she made her debut with 26 minutes to spare. Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-54071935473962743082012-07-15T16:01:00.000-07:002012-07-15T16:01:21.543-07:00Crazy Little Place Called Church (He Makes All Things New)Two years ago, the city of Nashville, Tennessee experienced a catastropohic flood that devastated much of the city's structures and forever changed the landscape of the country music capital. As the rain fell and the rivers crested, homes were reduced to rubble and lives were drastically deformed. In the immediate aftermath, my husband and I went there to do a very small part in helping our "neighbors" to heal. We helped with clean up and rebuilding efforts, and most importantly cared for the spirits of those who were victimized, reminding them that God hadn't forgotten them. <br />
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When we visit Nashville today, we see very little (visible) evidence of that destruction that seemed at the time to be unrecoverable. Though the emotional scars undoubtedly remain, the physical healing and restoration is glaring. Houses have been rebuilt; businesses that were once underwater have now reopened; yards that were reduced to fields of mud and toxic sludge now have flowers blooming. Lives have been restored, and hearts have been healed. The old has been made new. There is now something where there once was nothing. <br />
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God is in the business of redemption. He is the master of making something from nothing. He spoke the universe into existence. He gave life to a body formed from dust. Restoration is His specialty. Jesus himself said, "Behold, I make all things new." Not some things - ALL things. It was hard to imagine it while standing in the middle of that devistating flood, knee deep in heartache and loss; but God would, in the wake of that disaster, make new the old, bring life from death, and bring beauty from ashes. And He did it in more ways than one.<br />
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Not only did He restore that great city and the lives that dwell there, but He used that experience to birth a vision deep with my and my husband's hearts. It was there that we felt the call of God to be part of a new work that would personify this vision for ministry that could be and needed to be accomplished in our own city. We began praying about being involved in planting a new local church - from scratch - and living out our desires that we believe God placed within us. Desires for a corporate body that didn't settle, didn't do things the same traditional ways everyone else did them (with just a different name and a different sign out front), and that wasn't satisfied with comfort, complacency, and status quo. Nine short months later, we (with the help and hard work of a few others who also had dreams) opened the doors to that new work. That flood had ignited a spark within us that quickly became a blazing fire that wouldn't be quenched.<br />
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Today, as I sat in church, I couldn't help but be amazed by the reality that what didn't even exist two years ago was now a living, thriving ministry in which I have seen lives radically changed. It's a work that fans the flames of my faith, because the fruit I've gotten to witness has not been a result of anything we could have ever done. I realize that as hard as we've worked and as much as we've given, we are simply along for the ride, and the Holy Spirit of God has been the force behind all of it. What I've been privileged to see and experience is so beyond me, my comprehension, and my abilities. God has done amazing work, and he's given us a front row seat. And oh, how I am enjoying the view! I often wonder why God would have me to be part of his plans and wonders, but He has made it abundantly clear that while He doesn't need me to help Him accomplish anything, He has given me the privilege of watching it up close. I'll never fully know why, but I'm grateful that He allows His creation - anyone who wants to be a part of it - to join in. It's humbling.<br />
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This morning, I walked into the dimly lit theater where we gather to worship and I was immediately overwhelmed. There was a team of musicians singing and playing their hearts out - not because of the hundred or so people in the "audiance", but because they had an audiance of One, and they were clearly focused on Him. There was an entire group of people down in front (between the stage and the first row of seats) just dancing with joy. They were singing and dancing with arms lifted high towards heaven, not caring who was watching, but spinning and jumping as the music loudly filled the auditorium. I know the sotries of some of those peoples' lives, and I know why they were dancing. It's the joy that comes with freedom. A few others were at their seats kneeling on the floor shedding tears, and a husband and wife were kneeling and praying together close by. Their hearts were in a different place than those who were dancing, but I loved that they were each connecting to the same God in the same place, just with diferent expressions. I just stood there singing, overtaken with gratitude, quietly thanking Jesus for his faithfulness in my life. <br />
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After the musical worship time but before the teaching time, our pastor asked if anyone had a testimony of God's faithfulness they wanted to share with the family. Several people shared briefly some of the work God was doing in their lives, but I was watching "Happy", who could barely stay in his seat. When Jay (our pastor) called on him, Happy jumped out of his seat and ran onto the stage to grab the microphone. His smile was piercing. I know Happy's story too, and tears came to my eyes as I watched his excitement. He talked about how he used to be homeless, and how he spent his days hiking and wandering from place to place, sleeping in tents. He talked about how someone from our church (during a street outreach) approached him as he mingled with people at the "Occupy" demonstrations and struck up a conversation. That person listened to his story and shared a little of their own story, and the next Sunday he showed up at church. Happy was very knowledgable about the Bible, but he had no plans to become part of a local church. But when he showed up - dirty and dishevled - and found a strange combination of unconditional love, diverse people, and an academic presentation of the Bible that challenged him, he knew he'd be back. As he struggled with depression and even suicidal desires, he continued to be drawn back to the place where he was making friends, learning more about Jesus, and finding an identity (and it helped that our pastor and a few others literally canvased the city and searched for him in fear that he would take his own life). Happy enthusiastically told the poeple at church this morning how God began to transform his life. He talked about redemption and the blood of Jesus that was shed at the cross to purchase his restoration. He talked about how he became our church "barista" and loves making coffee for people while getting to know them. He told the church that, through this transformation, he now has an apartment downtown and real furniture, and (this is the best part) how he now takes in other people off the streets and ministers to them! Every week people in the church bring him carloads full of donations of food, clothes, shoes, and suppplies - NOT for Happy, but for those he takes in and ministers to. As he was sharing about this new "ministry" that began in his new home, another man in the crowd chimed in and shouted, "Happy just gave me these new shoes this morning!"<br />
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I then glanced over at another man in our fellowship - we'll call him "Joe". Joe has been living a transgender life and has been in and out of jail. He has been coming to our church every week for several months now, never missing a week. On many occassions he wore a dress to church, and I'm sure he expected to either be kicked out or at least shunned by the people. Neither of those things happened and he continued to come, hearing the gospel presented every time. He later told us he was baffled by the love and acceptance of the people, and even though we preach an exclusive gospel and the truth of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection, he's drawn to our message. He's curious about our Jesus. He admittedly is still "on the fence" about this Jesus stuff, but he's open and wants to learn more. We laugh with him as we tell him we've "calimed his life" and are waiting for him to finally submit to the saving power of Christ. Today he wore jeans to church, and he told the entire body of people that he's never known anyone to love him the way our body has.<br />
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A few rows away from him sat a couple who were separated and on the brink of divorce not too long ago - he having an anger problem, and she having an extramarital relatinship. They are now happily back together, have renewed their vows, and come to worship every week with their beautiful children. And there are countless other stories that are similar. I simply don't have room to write all of the redemption that I see in those seats every week. From the guy who plays bass on the stage, to the guy with the felony record... to my very own household. <br />
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As I sat there a took this all in, my heart began to overflow. When this ministry was just a dream for me, I never imagined what it would feel like to watch lives change right before my eyes and witness such drastic transformations that could only be the work of a mighty God. I am no stranger to the life-changing power of God - I spent 15 years in a church in Florida where I got to witness it daily. But I wasn't a part of that work from the ground up, so somehow it's different this time. It's just sureal to me that two years ago none of this existed. These people who are now family didn't even know each other. People who were wandering the streets are now home. People who were deep in sin use are now free. People who were lost are now found. It's crazy to think about. But it's the redemptive power of God at work right in front of my eyes. It's the fuel that powers my faith every time I see it. It's the encouragement I need to get through the demands of ministry and the toll it takes on my family. It's the reminder that the God I've given my life to serve is real and working in my midst. And that there is more than just the here and now, and more than what we can see on the surface at play. There is a kingdom beyond this earth, and I get to see it, touch it, taste it, and take part in it every day. That will never stop amazing me. It's why I can't wait to get up every morning and jump into God's word. It's why I can't wait to lead our upcoming women's retreat where the topic is redemption and where some of these stories will be shared. It's why I can't wait to get to church every Sunday. It's why I love Jesus. It's why I want everyone else to know Him too.<br />
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God is in the business of redemption. He makes all things new. He brings life from death, something from nothing. I've seen it. I've experienced it. And it blows my mind.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-31370015347779615732012-03-13T21:24:00.010-07:002012-03-14T13:16:33.439-07:0025 Things You Don't Know About My Husband<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O7KO8O9lZ8u6xY5zKAtlKOJ7e1XOIetTCteb7Dxws1Lp8h-gGI4nwBz502rwd_JK-h0u4WTmc9Pt7pmCRI-emOA2gZe5acv5cqHlHp4BPl-lKQk1AiD9oZqHIYdi1WuOcAPrLIh1dnjg/s1600/IMG_0201.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0O7KO8O9lZ8u6xY5zKAtlKOJ7e1XOIetTCteb7Dxws1Lp8h-gGI4nwBz502rwd_JK-h0u4WTmc9Pt7pmCRI-emOA2gZe5acv5cqHlHp4BPl-lKQk1AiD9oZqHIYdi1WuOcAPrLIh1dnjg/s320/IMG_0201.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719604683904935234" /></a><br /><br />Go on, admit it. You clicked on this link because you thought I was going to give you something scandalous and salacious, didn't you? Well I'm not going to do that... but I will tell you 25 things you don't know about my husband. After my last blog post (25 Things You Don't Know About Me), I decided to do a follow-up post about my husband. If you read this all the way through, I guarantee you'll learn something about him. <br /><br />1. He wore a suit and tie to kindergarten most days.<br /><br />2. He had wavy, golden blonde hair until he was about 4 years old (and it was long, because his mom didn't want to cut it). <br /><br />3. His favorite pair of shoes as a child were pink Converse high-tops. <br /><br />4. He met and started dating his future wife (me) when he was 14 years old! <br /><br />5. He was a freshman in high school dating a senior. His friends thought he was cool, and mine thought I was crazy. <br /><br />6. Six months after we started dating, he bought me a tiny diamond "promise" ring, using money he made working as a bag boy at a local grocery store. <br /><br />7. For my high school graduation, the two of us took a trip (by ourselves) to New York City. I was 18 and he was 16. It was only his 2nd time outside of the state he was born in (Florida).<br /><br />8. He didn't get any questions wrong on the math portion of his SAT. And he earned the nickname "Rain Man" when he worked in Calvary Chapel's accounting department because of his crazy math skills. <br /><br />9. His original major in college was Biology (for a pre-med track), but after the first year, he switched it to accounting because it was much easier and he didn't have to study much.<br /><br />10. He gave his life to Jesus, got baptized (in the Atlantic Ocean), and proposed to me all at the age of 20 years old.<br /><br />11. When he proposed to me, he sent me on a scavenger hunt throughout our city. Each clue was a poem written by him and left at a location that was special to us (the restaurant of our first date, our church, a lifeguard stand on the beach...). The final stop on the hunt was a movie theater, where he had our song playing, pictures of us on the screen, and roses at my reserved seat. He emerged with a ring and asked me to marry him.<br /><br />12. He was as actively involved in planning our wedding as I was. He made many things by hand, stayed up all night putting our programs together, and he even got buckets of sand from the beach to use in our decorations.<br /><br />13. He had a specific moment in college while stopped at a red light where he felt a clear and specific calling to be a pastor. The crazy part was that he had not yet given his life to Jesus, so it didn't make any sense to him. (Two years later, he gave his life to the Lord and began working for a church/ministry.)<br /><br />14. He's been actively involved in ministry of some kind ever since. His biggest passion in life is to see people come to know Jesus and to help them grow in a relationship with Christ - especially children. He preached his first sermon in September of this year, and he loved it. <br /><br />15. He is a "helper". He loves to serve people. He will drop what he's doing at any time to help anyone with anything - rain or shine, winter or summer, day or night. And he enjoys every minute of it. <br /><br />16. His most embarrassing moment happened while we were in Africa for two months serving as short-term missionaries. He was battling stomach problems from eating African food, and had an 'explosive' episode as a guest in someone's home, whose toilet happened to be broken (unbeknownst to Luke). It was literally a scene right out of the movie 'Dumb & Dumber' (those of you who've seen the movie will understand). This post may be TMI, but I couldn't resist. And trust me, I left out the gory details.<br /><br />17. Although he likes sports, he doesn't pay much attention to them. We're college football fans, so he catches most of the Gator games, but other than that, he hardly ever watches a game of another kind, with the excpetion of an occassional Monday Night Football game. He has missed many Super Bowls and World Series to do something fun with me or the family. <br /><br />18. He gives me a foot massage every night, usually at the end of my shower or bath, and he doesn't do it half-hearted. He uses lotion and everything. <br /><br />19. He leads our family in 'family devotions' (and Bible discussion) at the dinner table 3 nights a week. And he puts the kids to bed and prays with them every night. <br /><br />20. He makes it a point to go to bed with me every night. He doesn't believe in doing things seperately. We even watch the same TV shows so we're not in seperate rooms of the house at night. He tells me at least once a day that I am his best friend and that he loves spending time with me. He is an incredibly loving and affectionate husband. <br /><br />21. Whenever the kids are sick, HE is the one to stay up at night with them and clean up vomit, etc. (Like I said before, he is a servant and takes joy in letting me off easy.) He also gets Jonah ready for school each morning and drops himm off.<br /><br />22. He is a "preaching junkie". He loves listening to other pastors' sermons - no matter their style or denomination. And he enjoys visiting other people's churches for fun.<br /><br />23. He wins every game he plays. Board games, billiards, mini golf, Scrabble on the iPad... it doesn't matter. If it's a game, he is winning. I beat him at mini golf once on our honeymoon, and he has never gotten over it. But he used to let me win at pool when we were dating in high school. That's how I knew he loved me, because he doesn't let anyone win - ever. <br /><br />24. He can rap Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" in its entirety, and he does it every chance he gets to do karaoke.<br /><br />25. He has a huge heart. He loves his wife, his kids, and pretty much everybody on the planet. It takes a lot to make him mad. In fact, in 18 years of being with him, he has never once raised his voice at me. Ever.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-72767177735692165862012-03-13T13:00:00.006-07:002012-03-13T14:23:29.627-07:0025 Things You Don't Know About Me<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxK-VGTJBmtbbAFBh0wl_GS0a2OiJxTQLmwYDT70A3DjnrwBgmvs_AtyWLcwUPew-w4apbJ-uWMkh6YDHj4qFxBXIff8AVIGhvJJ40tg0nQRFsXXgdpkyujmAMm3TNlPed8XyBNmtUsFh/s1600/IMG_0174.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxK-VGTJBmtbbAFBh0wl_GS0a2OiJxTQLmwYDT70A3DjnrwBgmvs_AtyWLcwUPew-w4apbJ-uWMkh6YDHj4qFxBXIff8AVIGhvJJ40tg0nQRFsXXgdpkyujmAMm3TNlPed8XyBNmtUsFh/s320/IMG_0174.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719474585036172770" /></a><br /><br />Occassionally I read 'US Weekly' magazine for some mind-numbing entertainment (don't judge me). Amidst the celebrity gossip and the latest news on 'The Bachelor' there is a section called '25 Things You Don't Know About Me' where someone famouse reveals their 25 things. I was reading one the other day and thought to myself, "could I come up with 25 things people don't know about ME?" I don't know that they exist. My life is pretty much an open book, and I consider myself to be fairly transparent. But am I? Or do I share selectively and hide the things I don't want people to know? Am I good at masking the secrets that make me vulnerable or are painful to reveal? As I contemplated, I realized that my husband knows everything there is to know about me, and some close friends/family know most things about me. And the rest only know what I choose to display. And I'm not sure that's a bad thing. Not everyone needs to know our deepest hurts, our biggest fears, or our most intimate details. I use discernment when I share myself, and all in all, I still think I'm pretty "knowable" (transparent). <br /><br />I was still challenged by the thought of coming up with 25 things people don't know about me that I'd be willing to share... so I put pen to paper and began to think. This is what I came up with:<br /><br />1. My parents divorced when I was 2 years old, and though I was very young, I still bear the scars of that seperation.<br /> <br />2. I gave my life to Jesus and was baptized at 8 years old, even though my parents did not know Jesus before that and my dad staged a protest of my baptism and tried to talk me out of it.<br /><br />3. That same dad gave his life to Christ almost 30 years later (in his 50s) when I brought him to church. And now he convicts me with his discipline to study the Bible and tell others about Christ. <br /><br />4. I went to a Catholic middle school and got an 'F' in religion because I argued with my teacher and refused to do work I disagreed with. <br /><br />5. I was a cheerleader in school, but I got kicked off the team for bad grades.<br /><br />6. I drove my mom crazy by being a poor student in all of grade school. I was more interested in my social life at school than studying. <br /><br />7. I was such a bad student that my parents warned me often that I would never graduate or get a good job. Ironicaly, I became an excellent student in college and made the Dean's list many times. I graduated from the University of Florida with a 3.5 average (probably just to prove them wrong - I'm a bit stubborn, but everyone knows that about me). <br /><br />8. At 15 years old, I told my mom I was going to a movie with a girlfriend and sleeping over at her house. I really went to a club in Miami Beach with some random guys I didn't know (and that girlfriend). We missed curfew that night, but we used the excuse we got caught at a long train. It was worth getting grounded for. <br /><br />9. I was the world's biggest Pearl Jam fan in high school, and I came late to my step-grandmother's funeral so I could go to the Lalapalooza concert to see them. <br /><br />10. I met and started dating my husband in high school at 16 years old. <br /><br />11. I knew after 6 months of dating him that I was going to marry him. <br /><br />12. I was a competitive gymnast as a young girl, and I quit gymnastics to take up dance (ballet, tap, and jazz). I continued dancing into my mid 20s.<br /><br />13. My husband and I gad our first 'real' date at a restaurant called Lester's Diner. Six years later, he proposed to me by sending me on a scavenger hunt around town. One of the places I had to go to get my next clue was Lester's Diner. <br /><br />14. I love to travel. I've been to 42 out of 50 states in the U.S. and also many other countries and continents (Africa, the Carribbean, Mexico, Canada, England, France, Switzerland, Austria, and more).<br /><br />15. My husband and I took our 4 year-old son to spend two months in Uganda, Africa living at an orphanage. It was one of the most amazing, life-changing experiences I've ever had. <br /><br />16. When I had my first child, I arrived at the hospital already 9 cm. dialated and delivered with no epidural. It was horrific.<br /><br />17. When I had my second child, I arrived at the hospital before even my first contraction and got hooked up to the epidural right away. It was blissful.<br /><br />18. I have a Bachelor's degree in Health Science Education, and I teach Reproductive Health (sex ed) part-time. <br /><br />19. Right after college, I did outreach education for the health department in the ghettos of south Florida, where we walked the streets and taught prostitutes and drug addicts how to prevent STDs and HIV/AIDS. This sometimes included showing them how to use a condom. <br /><br />20. I have a huge fear of rejection. I will avoid rejection at all cost, even if it means never going after something that is not a guarantee.<br /><br />21. I have two recurring dreams - one is that I'm on a plane that crashes, and the other is that I show up for my final triginometry exam in college and because I never went to class all semester, I don't know the material and I fail. I wake up relieved that I did in fact graduate college... and I am deathly afraid of flying (although I fly all the time).<br /><br />22. I have been to Disney World close to 100 times. <br /><br />23. I have a passionate love affair with food. One of my favorite places to go on a date with my husband is the Melting Pot. I also love Thai food, Italian food, Mexican food, and... who am I kidding - ALL food. The only thing I won't eat is chicken livers.<br /><br />24. I LOVE studying and teaching the Bible, and I have big dreams of writing books, speaking at conferences, and teaching God's word all over the country. But since I fear rejection and allow my insecurities to overwhelm me, I don't know how I'm going to make those dreams come true. <br /><br />25. There are a lot of things I like about myself and a lot of things I don't like about myself. I am a work in progress, and I ask God to change me on a daily basis. <br /><br />Wow, that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I think that once we start giving it some thought and peeling back the layers of our hearts, there is a lot more to us than we think. I desire to be a more transparent and genuine person who openly shares myself - good and bad - with others. It's not easy, but it's good.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-85670140156009163612012-01-16T12:11:00.000-08:002012-01-16T13:37:54.700-08:00My Strength and My SongToday I stumbled upon a box under my bathroom sink that immediately gripped my heart. I had forgotten it was there, but when I was looking through the cabinet under my sink for lotion, I saw it; and it stopped me in my tracks. It was the pink "First Response" (pregnancy test) box that I bought back in December. It contained 3 pregnancy tests when I bought it, and all 3 tests - though now used - were still in it. Each time I took one and it came out positive, I put it back in the box under my sink. <br /><br />I took all three of the tests this time, even though I only took one test with each of my previous two children. I don't know why I took all three this time - it was as if I didn't really believe it when I saw the two lines appear. I remember the excitement that came over me each time I took a test and saw the positive result. My heart leapt for joy with each one. I had wanted that baby so badly. It was going to be my third and final child, and after two boys, I was hoping for a girl. I had names picked out, a stroller pattern picked out, and even a few pieces of infant clothes hanging in my guest room closet. I was thrilled. I was so busy making preparations for a new baby and coming up with creative and clever ways to tell our family and friends, and I had just tucked those positive tests away in a box under my sink and forgotten about them.<br /><br />About four weeks after I took those tests and found out the joyful news that I was going to be a mommy again, I got the news that my pregnancy was ectopic. That meant my 7 week-old fetus was growing and developing normally, but in my fallopian tube instead of my uterus. An ultrasound confirmed that it was in the wrong place, and it could not survive there. In fact, it had to be removed or I would likely not survive either. So an immediate surgery was scheduled to remove my baby from my body. <br /><br />The next couple days were a blur. An overwhelming emotional roller coaster ride left me confused, sad, angry, lonely, and empty. One day I was pregnant, and the next day I wasn't. One day I was nauseous and symptomatic, and the next day nothing. One day my body was intact and healthy, and the next day I was wounded and scarred. One day I had a working fallopian tube, and the next day it was gone from my body. It was one of the strangest experiences I've ever gone through. My baby was forcefully taken from me when I desperately wanted to keep it. <br /><br />I honestly didn't imagine that it would affect me so deeply. I've been pregnant two other times, both of which resulted in live healthy children. And I never imagined that losing a pregnancy would hurt much at all. I never "bonded" with my previous babies until they were actually born and I was holding them in my arms. So I just thought that a lost pregnancy would be little more than disappointing. I knew I would be sad, but I didn't realize the turbulence of other emotions it would bring. I felt everytihng - from less of a woman to grief stricken and barren. <br /><br />Almost two weeks have passed since I lost my baby. And I've been steadily getting stronger and better. My wounds - physical and emotional - are healing. Scars remian where the inscisions in my belly once were, and scars also remian on my heart that once housed the love and excitement for a new little life. Over the past week, I've been able to smile and even laugh at times. I've been comforted by the unlimitted love of my husband and great friends, who have cared for me so much during this time. I've been showered with love and prayer, and I've had a delicious homemade meal brought to my door from loved ones every single day since the surgery. I am blessed. And overwhelmed by the love of others. My strength is returning, and the past few days have been the best ones yet. I've even had times where I almost felt completely normal again. Until I opened the cabinet and saw that box under the sink.<br /><br />The flood of emotions quickly returned and sadness washed over me. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the excitement and joy that was contained in that box that has since been ripped away from me. I cried for a moment. My husband held me. And then I brought myself to throw the box away. It was a brief moment, and then I was back to caring for my boys and going about my day. I'm sure those moments will come and go as times passes, and they will get easier and easier. The healing process will continue thanks to the Great Physicain who heals me from the inside out. <br /><br />Moments before I stumbled upon that box under my sink, I stumbled upon this verse: Isaiah 2:12 ~ "The Lord is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord is my strength and my song."<br /><br />God's timing is so perfect. Right before I was reminded of my pain, He reminded me that He is my strength and my song. He fills my heart with music and because of Him I can sing. He holds me up when I am weak, and He puts a song on my lips when I don't feel like singing. One of my favorite worship songs has always been the song by Third Day that says, "You are beautiful my sweet sweet song, and I will sing again." <br /><br />He is my sweet song. And He is beautiful. And I will sing again.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-62694348321118211392011-12-15T12:39:00.000-08:002011-12-19T12:15:15.715-08:00I'm Glad Jesus Isn't SantaAs parents, my husband and I decided when we had children that we were not going to teach our kids to believe in Santa Clause. It's not that we're against Santa... or people whose holiday does include him, but we just decided that was not a tradition we were going to follow in our home - for several reasons.<br /><br />The main one was this: We were teaching our kids about Jesus, a supernatural being who is omicient (all-knowing), omnipresent (all places), and sees your heart. We didn't want to teach our kids about a fictional character with similar attributes (Santa)only to one day have to say. "just kidding, he isn't real"... but maintain that Jesus IS real. We thought that would be confusing, and we didn't want our kids to know us as parents who mislead them. We also wanted to keep the focus of Christmas on Jesus (the Savior who came to redeem the world) rather than on commercialism, getting stuff, and thinking of self. It was as simple as that. No big deal. Unlike some other people with strong religiious convictions, we don't bash Santa or call him evil. We just simply tell our kids that he is a fun, make-believe character like Mickey Mouse. A fictional character that represents the holiday, but is not real. My kids get it, and they are not the least bit deprived because of the lack of "magic" in our home. They know that their gifts come from people who love them, and they are greatful.<br /><br />The other day I was riding in my car listening to Christmas music on the radio, and I heard "Santa Clause is Coming to Town". You know, the one about making a list and checking it twice - finding out who's naughty or nice. As those lyrics began to sink in, I found myself a little dismayed. Minutes later, I was at Barnes & Noble and saw a popular new book/toy called the "Elf on the Shelf". The stuffed elf acts as Santa's spy and sits in various locations in your home watching your kid's behavior, and then reports back to Santa so he'll know who to put on the 'naughty list' or the 'nice list'. <br /><br />Then it struck me. I didn't like the song, and I didn't like the elf on the shelf, and I finally realized why. Santa opperates on a system that I (as a Christian) can't relate to. It's a "works-based" system, and it's foreign to me as a Jesus-follower. My entire faith is built around the idea of grace. Your works don't save you. Jesus doesn't weigh your good and your bad and decide what reward/punishment you get based on your behavior or your performance. He gives on a system of grace - we mess up all the time, don't earn or deserve any favor, but we get it anyway, because He loves us unconditonaly. That's the definition of grace - getting something you don't deserve. Not because of anything we have done, but because of the never-ending love and generosity of the Gift-Giver. That's the foundation of my faith. That is what I teach my children. And that is the culture in which I'm used to existing. That's why the whole Santa thing strikes me as "off". The works-based system of getting gifts because you behaved good enough, or getting overlooked because you didn't meet the mark goes against everything my faith represents, my Bible teaches, and my Savior proclaims. It's contrary to everything I teach my kids about Jesus. And quite honestly, I think it's even a little cruel. Can't we just teach our kids to be obedient and respectful without threatening to take away their Christmas? Shouldn't we expect good behavior from them simply because it's what we value as a family, and it's necessary for success in the world? And shouldn't we bestow gifts on them at Christmas simply because we love them and we're thankful for God's blessings?<br /><br />I'm glad Jesus isn't Santa. I'm thankful that my Savior doesn't weigh my good and bad deeds and gift me accordingly. I'd have a lot of scarce Christmases. I'm so thankful for the unconditional grace of my Savior, that gifts me with forgiveness of my sins and eternal life - not because I earned it, but because of His endless love. Yep, I'm sure glad Jesus isn't Santa. Merry Christmas!Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-7801394726730698192011-08-21T12:42:00.000-07:002011-08-22T11:14:15.058-07:00It's Bigger Than BreastsI gotcha with that title, didn't I? Some of you clicked on this link just because you saw the word breasts and you were curious about where I was going with this one. Well good, I'm glad I have your attention.
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<br />I saw one of the dumbest things I've ever seen today in downtown Asheville, and my initial anger turned to sadness and pitty as I realized what was really going on. A group of women decided to stage a protest this afternoon in the middle of downtown - topless. That's right, you heard me correctly. They were topless - as in no shirts, breasts exposed, nude from the waist up. What on earth were they protesting you ask? They were demanding the right to be topless in public. They are tired of the double standard that allows men to walk the streets with their chests uncovered while women are forced to cover up. They want equality. They want the same rights men have to bare their chests.
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<br />I'm sure you're laughing as hard as I was when I first learned of this ludacricy. And I'm sure you're also thinking "only in Asheville"... But it was actually part of a national protest that was taking place in many cities all over the country. The reason we find it so humorous is because they seem to be overlooking the obvious. "Are they serious?" I asked myself as I pondered the statement they were making. "Do they really not understand the difference between a male chest and a female chest?" Why do they seem to be missing something that's incredibly obvious to most of us? The fact is, men and women's chests are different. They look different; they function differently; and they produce very different physical and emotional responses in those who view them. It didn't seem like rocket science to me, so why was it so hard for them to accept - men and women are DIFFERENT.
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<br />But this particular group of women did not want to be treated as if they were any different than men. They wanted to pretend that men and women are exactly the same, therefore leaving them no room to feel inferior or less than equal. But just because they ignore the truth, doesn't make that truth any less true. I (unlike them) understand that different doesn't mean unequal, and equal doesn't mean the same. We can be different AND equal at the same time. But this issue was actually bigger than just breasts - There was a deeper issue at play that went beyond the desire to walk around topless. Underneath these ladies' outer facade calling out for "equality" was an insecurity and a dissatisfaction that caused them to not be content with who God designed and created them to be. They claimed that they were being treated as substandard, but really they simply cannot accept and embrace the design and role that God created uniquely for them. And that's what made me sad.
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<br />I wished that these women could celebrate their differences rather than resent them. I wished that they could see the beauty in the hand-crafted design of our Creator that would cause them to glory in their uniqueness rather than wish that they were made in someone else's image. I wanted so badly to tell them that we can be equal in value while being different in appearence and even function. All we have to do is look at God Himself to see this truth illustrated. God exists in the form of the Trinity - three distinct persons equal in value, but very different in form and function. The Father, Jesus, and the Spirit all look different and perform unique roles, but I can't imagine the Holy Spirit protesting that he doesn't get to walk the streets in fleshly human form and therefore isn't being treated fairly.
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<br />There's no way around it. Women have breasts, and men don't. Women have a unique ability to feed a child with the pure milk of her own body, and men cannot. As a result, their chests look different. And because breasts have a uniquely feminine role (having to do with reproduction), they are viewed by men as desireable, pleasurable, and sexual. That is why women cover them in public. That is why they are usually reserved for the one who partners with them in the sexual and reproductive process (and their babies of course). This protest seemed as silly to me as a gorup of men protesting their right to feed their babies with their own bodies like women can, and feeling unequal because of that inability. They could protest all day long, but it wouldn't change the fact that if they tried to feed their baby on their nipple, the baby would die of starvation.
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<br />It's time for us (especially women) to start embracing the way God specifically designed our bodies, our minds, and our hearts, and realizing that they are different from men's for a reason - a divine purpose. If we would only put our whole hearts into becomming the woman God designed us to be instead of trying to become more like men, I believe we would find so much fulfillment and satisfaction. Because after all, He knows us better than we know ourselves. And He created us to fulfill a purpose that only we can. The Bible says it this way: "We are His masterpiece. He has created us in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago" (Ephesians 2:10 NLT). The word for 'masterpiece' in the original Greek language of the Bible is "poema", which is where we get our English word for poem. God's literally saying that we are His work of art. We each have a unique and wonderful role to play in this life, and I happen to love the role I play as a lover to my husband and mommy to my children. I enjoy being the steward of a man's vision and a leaver of a legacy to the next generations through my boys. That is who God designed me to be. I understand that not every woman will have the exact same roles and desires that I have, but don't be afraid to be who God uniquely made you to be without feeling inferior to someone else. Just be the best "you" that you can be, and don't wish that God had other things in mind when He knitted you together in your mother's womb.
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<br />Those of us who are in Christ sometimes struggle with a similar identity crisis. We may not mind being uniquely male and female (and I doubt any of us want to roam the streets baring our breasts), but we sometimes envy the roles and positons of other members of the Body - especially those who are more recognized and glamorous. Romans 12:4-6 reminds us that, "Just as our bodies have many parts, and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ's body. We are many parts of one body and we all belong to each other. In His grace, God has given us certain gifts for doing certain things well." The foot shouldn't want to be the hand, and the hand shouldn't want to be the eye. We should simply desire to be nothing more and nothing less than who God designed us to be. It's when we strive to be anything else, that we find ourselves beating our heads against the wall in frustration, becoming increasingly unfilfilled in our service to Christ. We become weary and burned out, eventually giving up.
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<br />For years I struggled to "find myself". I grew up never being quite sure of who I was, or who I wanted to be. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I never had any female role models who actually loved and embraced womanhood with elegance and grace. I was taught to buck against the system that told girls to stay home raising babies, serving in charities, and cooking for their men. I was caught in the middle of an inner struggle between growing into the woman God created me to be and running in the other direction. I didn't relate well with girls, and consequently didn't have many deep friendships with females. To this day I am afraid to raise a daughter because of that long season of discomfort in my female relationships (thankfully God in His infinate wisdom gave me boys!). I was being told I shouldn't be too "girlie", but there was something deep in the fiber of my being that loved the idea of being a picture of femeninity. It wasn't until I fully surrendered my life to Christ in my early twenties that I began to let Him mold and shape my heart in His hands. He cultivated deep desires within me to be every bit of the wife, mommy, sister, daughter, and girlfriend He created me to be. He surrounded me with strong, beautiful, godly women who taught me the immense value in being such a woman. Ironically, today I lead a women's ministry and devote much of my time to teaching, mentoring, and counseling women to fit comfortably in the roles God has chosen for them. I love my ministry, and I love the women I am privileged to serve. It amazes me what God can do to our hearts when we stop looking elsewhere and start embracing and surremdering to His grand design. I am finally right where I am supoosed to be, and I've never been more satisfied in life.
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<br />It is right in the middle of His purpose that we find our deepest fulfillment in life. When you find that sweet spot right at the intersection of who God designed you to be and using your gifts to further His Kingdom - stay there.
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<br /> Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-39018422406480073882011-01-17T12:07:00.000-08:002011-01-17T14:30:52.325-08:00Country Club ChristianityLet's play a game called "Where Am I?" (And I'm going to warn you up front that there may be hints of sarcasm throughout this blog entry... but it's not because I mean to offend anyone - it's that when I'm passionate about something I tend to lose control a little. I'm working on that.)<br /><br />So here's how we play the game: I describe a place to you, and you guess where I am. Easy? Ok, good, here we go. I'm walking into a polished white building. There on the announcement board in front of me is a notice about the monthly ladies gathering for crafts. Then below that is another announcement for the upcoming men's biking trip. A calendar is also hanging on the wall that schedules the regular pot-lucks and "Community BBQ/Pic-nics". There's an aerobics class on Tuesday mornings, and childcare on Fridays for "Mother's Morning Out". A baby shower is being planned for Susie, and I can sign up to bring a lunch item if I wish. As I walk a little further I see a board with the names of perspective members listed along with their pictures. And the new member directories are out on the table for anyone to take. I walk into the ladies bathroom and hear a few girls chatting quietly about how they heard that Janie's husband cheated on her and has moved out of the house. As I leave, I put my name on the sign-up sheet for the ladies craft event and I jot down the name of the person I need to call to sign up to volunteer for next week's river clean up. <br /><br />Where am I? Well, someone might say, "Oh I know... that's my local country club." Another might say, "No, no, I know where she is... it's my local church." Which one is it? My heart breaks at the thought that, for some, it may actually be hard to differentiate between the two. I'm not trying to pick on anyone's particular church here, but I do think we need to take a serious look at our mission as church-goers and evaluate how that mission is being carried out. And if we can't tell the difference between a church and a country club, then something has gone astray since the first church began back in the day of Acts.<br /><br />I want to say that I've been to many excellent churches that don't look anything like this example I gave, and I am impressed by the growing number of ministries that are right on target with the true mission of Jesus for His church. However, I've also seen some that sadly look more like an exclusive social club than anything Jesus ever implemented. Why is that? How did we get so off track that we got the idea that church is supposed to be a place for meeting social needs and learning how to knit? I run the risk of offending with my sarcasm here, but I just can't imagine the early church - or the church Jesus went to - having a craft night for ladies. Is that what some people's Christianity has been reduced to? I just can't help but wonder how the point is being missed.<br /><br />In some countries, Christianity is illegal and people cannot worship God freely and openly without fear of persecution or death. They go to underground churches and risk their lives to open a Bible and tell others about the saving grace of Christ. As those Christians sneak into dark apartments to meet in secret to pray and read their Bibles by candlelight, I just can't imagine them breaking out the crafts or enjoying a game of Bingo. They have serious work to do, and they can't afford to waste any time on frivolous social gatherings. <br /><br />I'm not suggesting that we can't have fun and be social at church, or that every time we get together it has to be all serious work and no play. The fact is, we are free to worship and we don't face persecution, so we don't have to act like we do. But let's not take that so for granted that we neglect to do God's business either. Church is a family - after all, we're brothers and sisters in Christ. And we all have an automatic bond based on that truth. It's perfectly fine to enjoy that bond by having fun together - I've had some of the best times of my life hanging out with my church family. But we can't get so focused on ourselves that we forget what we're there to do. We have a mission, and Jesus should be the forefront of everything we do. He should always be the reason we gather. If we're not making disciples - either by growing in discipleship ourselves or contributing to the discipleship of someone else - we shouldn't call it church.<br /><br />If the ladies are going to gather every month - great. But open a Bible and talk about God's plan for being a godly wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, employee, etc. Spend some time praying for one another's burdens and strengthening/encouraging one another as you run the race together. Then others can look on at your life and your character and hunger for what you have, which is the spirit of the living God dwelling within you. You learn to live out the gospel by wearing it as a display for the world to notice. My life was changed on a women's retreat (vacation) with my church when I was in my early 20s. That was because we spent just as much time (or more) as we did lounging on the beach, intensely studying God's word, learning from the experience of other wise women, worshiping without distraction, and evoking the power of the Holy Spirit through prayer and laying on hands. There was shopping, and tanning, and it was a lot of fun. But more discipleship happened than anything else. Jesus was the focus, and my life is different today because of it.<br /><br />I remember when I worked at my church years ago, someone called the church to see if we offered aerobics classes. I thought, "Oh you're looking for the gym - this is a church." It seemed silly to me that anyone would expect the church to be the gym. I know of another church who does have a work-out class for women, but they spend half the time in Bible study (building their spirit) and half the time working out (building their physical bodies). After all, the Bible does say, "Bodily exercise profits a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, holding promise for both the present life AND the life to come" (1 Timothy 4:8). I think the Bible makes the point that the things that benefit us in this life are fine, but not nearly as important as those which benefit us eternally.<br /><br />So if you want to do crafts or go camping, great. Go and have a blast. But don't call it church. Call it what it is - hanging out with friends. And make church look less like a country club and more like what Jesus built His church to be: a hospital for the hurting, a refuge for the outcast, a school for those hungry for wisdom, a house of prayer for those needing healing, a place of counsel for the sinner, a temple for those who want to worship with their whole hearts, and a place of love for the unlovable. A place where the Spirit of God leads in everything that is done there. A place where disciples are made. A place where life transformation is the main event. In our society, we don't suffer from too little time to socialize. We suffer from too little time to worship. So why do we go to church to do more socializing and less worshipping? It's time we get back on track. Time is short, and we have a mission before us: "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you" (Matthew 28:19).<br /><br />If I've offended you with my sarcasm, I am sincerely sorry to have hurt you. But the Bible (and Jesus) is an equal-opportunity offender. At some point, everyone who reads it will have their toes stepped on a little. And that's a good thing. I hope my passionate exhortation of truth has pushed you a little further out of your comfort zone, and you respond by evaluating your current mission as a Christian. I am passionate about the things of God, and for that I do not apologize. Now let's go and get some work done!Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-11473404386929963682011-01-06T13:49:00.000-08:002011-01-10T15:38:52.420-08:00Life Is a Roller CoasterYou know the song, "Life is a highway, I want to drive it all night long..."? Well, I've never found that to be true. Life, in my eyes, is more like a roller coaster than a highway. Highways are usually long and straight and mundane. My life has never resembled that. I think life is more like a short, crazy ride full of ups, downs, twists, turns, fun and fear. So I think the song should have said, "Life is a roller coaster, I want to ride it all night long." <br /><br />A few years ago, when my oldest son Jonah was five years old, we went to Disney World. He was just starting to enjoy "grown up" rides, and he still had some reservations about some of the scarier ones. It was a fear of the unknown - he didn't know what to expect. He was walking into something that he had never been through before and he honestly wasn't sure what would happen to him. It was dark inside the "Pirates of the Carribbean" and there was fire. He didn't understand that the fire wasn't real and the entire ride was being controlled. He didn't quite understand that it was meant for our enjoyment and there was no real risk of getting hurt. His concerns were very real to his childish mind. What if he got captured by the pirates? What if the fire burned him? What if the boat sunk? He didn't quite understand the concept of "rides", and he was genuinely worried for his safety and well-being.<br /><br />I, on the other hand, was not afriad at all. Why? What was the difference between his fear and my ability to enjoy the ride without any fear at all? It was our understanding of the situation. I knew that I was not going to die. I knew the ride wasn't going to hurt me in any way. I knew it was carefully crafted and orchestrated by experts who planned every little detail of the ride. I also knew it was short and would be all over in a matter of minutes. And when it ended, I would walk away, unharmed. It was just a ride. My son, on the other hand, didn't understand that the designers and engineers made the ride in such a way that it was completely controlled and harmless. He didn't realize that nothing in the ride was actually as it seemed. That there were workers sitting at computers controlling every operation. I had been on the ride several times - I knew exactly what to expect. It was all new to him, so he didn't know what was around every dark corner. I not only had no fear, but I was able to enjoy the ride - even the parts that seemd momentarilly scarey. My son and I went on the exact same ride, but we had completely different experiences. Mine was relaxed, easy, and fun. His was feardul and stressful, and he couldn't wait for it to be over. <br /><br />Life with God is much the same. We have a maker - an engineer - who is at the controls and carefully orchestrates every operation. He knows exactly what is going to happen to us and when. When we're going through a trial or a situation that seems scarey and turbulent, we're actually still on the ride and He is still very much in control. He knows it's just a short ride and we'll be off it soon. He also knows we're not really going to be harmed. But so often we walk through it in fear and stressed out about what's around every next corner. <br /><br />Just like me and my son on the ride at Disney World, two people can go through the same situation in life and have completely differnet experiences. The Christian who knows that God is in control and keeping him safe will ride through a trial or struggle with no fear. He will simply take in the scenery along the way with a comforting realization that he'll be out of it soon enough and he's not going to die (at least not spiritually, since a physical death would only result in everlasting life with God in heaven). That person may expereince discomfort, but not terror. he may even be able to enjoy God's presence along the way, knowing that it's just a ride. Another person, however, who doesn't have the same perspective will be consumed with fear and worry with every twist and turn. <br /><br />My son is eight years old now, and he's learned to love amusement park rides. In fact, the scarier the better for him. I, too, have been walking with God long enough to have learned to like the ride too - even if at times it's scary. I've learned to be confident in the ride Operator and the fact that He upholds the entire universe in His hands. "I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord; plans to prosper you and not harm you; plans to give you a future and a hope." If we really believe Him, we can sit back and enjoy the ride, even when the 200-foot drop causes our stomaches to rise up into our throats. I can almost hear Him saying, "it will be over soon - you will walk away unscathed - I am in control." <br /><br /> <br /><em></em><em></em><em></em>Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-37596618506507559402010-12-15T11:10:00.000-08:002010-12-15T13:18:02.057-08:00Mary, How Did You Do It?It's Christmas time - my very favorite time of the year. It's the time when my home is decorated to be festive and joyful, and Christmas cards from loved ones take over my fireplace mantel. It's the time when the white lights of my 12-foot tree sparkle every night as my husband and I snuggle under a blanket to keep warm. It's the time when hot cider waits on the stove and fills my home with a delicious aroma, and our guest room is filled with gifts and wrapping paper as we prepare to shower our loved ones with generous affection. It's the time of parties, family gatherings, and memory-making. And it's the time when both my home car stereo has nothing on except Christmas music!<br /><br />I was driving in my car the other day listening to Christmas songs on the radio when I heard a cute little song they play all time called "Mary, Did You Know." It's a sweet song with thought-provoking lyrics that asks things like "Mary, did you know that your baby boy would someday walk on water? And did you know that when you kissed your little baby, you kissed the face of God? And did you know that the child you delivered would soon deliver you?" But I find myself getting slightly bothered every time I hear it. Mostly because I want to answer the question. I want to yell out into the radio speakers in hopes that the singer hears me say, "YES! Yes, of course she knew! She knew it ALL... and the fact that she had never had sex when she became pregnant probably gave her a really big clue! And the fact that an angel appeared and told her what the deal was, likely filled her in too. So YES, she knew!" <br /><br />I'm sure I'm the only person on the planet who thinks those sarcastic things when I hear that sweet Christmas tune, but try not to judge me. I do understand the sentiment of the song. And I do appreciate the thought it provokes. But I can't help but think of a more realistic question when I think of Mary, the mother of Jesus. As a mother myself, my heart connects with Mary as I try to fathom what she went through being the mother of the Messiah. And as a woman, her situation resonates with me as I wonder how she did it. So the question I would have for Mary is not "did you know," but more importantly, "how did you do it?"<br /><br />I can't imagine having a child who's under my authority, but has authority over the universe. I mean, what would it have been like to raise a child who could command the weather? How do you teach him to memorize the scriptures when he was the one who wrote them? How do you even relate to him as a mother knowing that he has the power to forgive your sin? And do you feel like you have special privilege in his life? For example, when you're facing an impossible situation, do you ask him to supernaturally change it for you, knowing that he could? We know Mary did this at least once because it's recorded for us in Matthew's gospel in the story of his first public miracle at the wedding feast. Mary was at the wedding and the hosts had run out of wine (which was an embarrassment to them), so she asks her son, Jesus, to do something supernatural and provide more wine. He of course does that time as he turned the water into wine, but wouldn't it have been easy for her to do that kind of thing all the time? Wouldn't you if Jesus was your son? I can see myself now: my car doesn't start - I go get Jesus; I have a migraine - I go get Jesus. I can't imagine what it would have been like for Mary to be the mother of a son who was supernaturally powerful. How did she do it? How did she act as an authority in his life while submitting to his ultimate authority over all life? Nobody else in history has ever had that unique role that Mary did.<br /><br />I also can't imagine what it was like for her to watch him die. Putting the fact that he's Jesus aside, I can't imagine what it would be like for ANY mother to watch her son be brutally beaten and executed. Mary, however, had to watch her son be tortured and killed for a crime he did not commit, and knowing that he had the power to get down off the cross at any time he wanted to. Can you imagine? Having to listen to your boy - the one you gave birth to - crying out in pain as they whipped him with leather and metal, stripping his skin off his body like a torn rag? She looked on in what had to be absolute torture as her innocent son was mocked, ridiculed, and punished for something he didn't do. I just don't think I could have done it. And I think the worst part of it had to be that she was watching him die to atone for the sins of the world - including HER OWN. That's the part that I just cannot fathom as a mother. She knew he had to bear the weight of God's wrath and take the sins of the world upon himself as he paid the price for them. All sin - including hers. She had to realize the fact that she (in her humanity) was part of the reason he was up there on that cross. Her sin, along with the rest of the world's, was what put him there. He had to suffer so she could receive ultimate forgiveness and spend eternity with him. <br /><br />I can't help but think it's a lot easier for us to accept that he died for us than it was for his own mother. For us, he's our Savior. We only know him as God. For Mary, he was her son. She knew him as God AND her little boy. I can't imagine how difficult it was for her to watch her boy die for her sins, knowing that she needed a Savior too. Put yourself in her shoes. If you're a mother, imagine that your child had to be tortured and executed in order for you to be forgiven and spend eternity in heaven. Crazy, isn't it? To me, it's unfathomable. But that's what Mary went through. <br /><br />So when I see Mary in heaven, I think I will ask her how she did it. I can't wait to hear her recant the story in her own words, from one mother's heart to another. And then I will thank her for being willing and making herself available to God's unique plan so that we all can experience the forgiveness of a Savior. And in the meantime, I will allow Mary's experience to inspire me this Christmas to submit to and be available to God's unique plan for MY life - no matter how difficult the road seems or how little I understand. In the end, her experience ended with unmatchable glory, and she would say it was all very much worth the pain. When our difficult experiences bring glory to God, they are also worth the pain. Let's keep Mary's perspective all year long - not just when we celebrate the most wonderful time of the year. Merry Christmas!Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-41072300824898706572010-08-26T12:18:00.000-07:002010-08-26T14:18:52.352-07:00A Little PerspectivePerspective. The dictionary defines it as "a mental image". It's the way you see things - your reality - your view on life. While truth is absolute, and reality isn't relative, perspective definitely changes. Mine has changed a lot in the last week. Whenever I start to see my situation a certain way and develop thoughts and feelings about my state of being, God has a way of opening my mind and showing me a slideshow of life outside my little world. He changes my perspective for me. It's His way of saying, "You may see it this way, but I see it that way." And when God gives me a new perspective, it's usually because He wants me to stop seeing things the way I see them and start seeing things the way He sees them.<br /><br />For the past two months, my husband and I have been dealing with a season of unemployment. It's the second time in the last year that the economy has taken its toll on my family's livelihood and caused my husband to be laid off. Both times he was out of work for several months while he scrambled to find any and every job he could apply for and watched our bank account dwindle down to nothing. We barely had time to get back on our feet financially when it struck us again - like lightening out of the blue. While we have confidence in a God whose hand has always provided for us and who promises to meet our every need, I can't help but wonder... worry... fear. I'm bothered my the uncertainty. How much longer can we go without income? I'm shaken by the possibilities. Will we lose our home? I'm painfully aware that my life as I know it is changing by the day, and I don't know when or if it will ever return to "normal". Most of the time I am able to remain cheerful and hopeful, but there are times when the fear hits me and I cry. There are times when the sorrow hits me and I sulk. Sometimes I just wonder how much longer I'm going to have to endure all of this.<br /><br />Then about a week ago, God got tired of the condition of my heart and my skewed view of reality, and He began to open my eyes. In similar fashion to Scrooge's encounters with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, He began to show me all the things I was neglecting to see. It started at the mall. After letting my kids play at the indoor playland and satisfying my latte craving, I strolled out to my car, put my beautiful healthy toddler in his carseat, and secured my stroller in the trunk of my SUV. As I got into the front seat, I saw another mother in front of me. My heart immdeiately sank. She had to park her large handicapped-accessable van in the far corners of the parking lot where there were no other cars so she could have plenty of room to extend her metal ramp and unload her son's wheelchair. She slowly lowered the chair out of the van, which held her son who looked to be about the age of my 8 year-old. Mine was happily strapped in my backseat playing his handheld video game. Hers was strapped into a chair, unable to move or speak. By the time she unloaded her son's chair, replaced the heavy ramp back in the van, and got her extensive bag of equipment secured on her shoulder, it took her at least 15 minutes just to start heading towards the mall. I sat there and watched the entire process. "Wow," I thought. She has to go through all that just to go the mall. She has to go through that any time she goes anywhere. I looked back at my two boys - perfect and vibrantly smiling - and I silently thanked God in that parking lot for the incredible blessing of healthy children. <br /><br />Today I sat with a friend who has cancer - again. She was diagnosed and treated for cervical cancer two years ago and thought she was in the clear. Then she got the dreaded news - the cancer was back and it had spread to her femer bone. As she faces the reality of surgery, more radiation, more chemo, more hair loss, and more sickness, I listened to her tell me how thankful she was for her redeemed life in Jesus Christ. She talked about her troubled past and where she had come from. She talked about how Christ rescued her from danger and dispair. She told me she wanted to shout from the rooftops that Jesus has saved and changed her life. She was so optimistic about her treatment plan and so thankful that the new tumor was only in her leg and not spread throughout her body. She was thankful about the stage of her cancerous tumor. "Wow," I thought. That's impressive. As I prayed for her in her living room, my heart began to overflow with emotion. I am healthy. I don't have cancer. My children are healthy. They can walk and run and play and shout with joy. My life is pretty easy. I come and go as I please with no trouble and virtually nothing to worry about. Suddenly my problems seemed very small. So I don't know where my next paycheck will come from. So what. <br />Thank you God for putting things into perspective for me. Forgive me for being so wrapped up in myself that I couldn't look away from my self-centered tunnel vision long enough to realize how incredibly blessed I am and how wonderful my life really is. Teach me like Paul to be "content in all things," never giving thought to what I don't have. Help me to "give thanks in all circumstances" like Your word tells me, realizing how much I have to be thankful for. Thank you for perspective.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-18039311087528699882010-08-15T19:59:00.000-07:002010-08-15T20:11:53.911-07:0010 Things I've Learned in 10 Years of MarriageEvery Sunday night, Luke and I have what we call a “Spiritual date night.” We set aside about an hour to get together for a time of Spiritual intimacy. We do different things like do a devotion together, talk about what we’ve studied in God’s word all week, listen to one of our favorite pastors, partake in communion, etc. Tonight we went down a slightly different path and did a fun little exercise that we could share with others. We got inspired by Seattle pastor, Mark Driscoll, who in celebration of his 18 year wedding anniversary posted on his facebook page “18 Things We’ve Learned in 18 Years of Marriage”. He and his wife each came up with 18 things they’ve learned about marriage in their 18 years together. So Luke and I thought it would be fun to come up with our own list. We just celebrated 10 years of marriage this summer, so we each came up with 10 things we’ve learned in 10 years of marriage.<br /><br />Mandi's List:<br /><br />1. Don’t let more than a day or two go by without coming together for physical intimacy. Satan loves to turn physical separation into emotional and spiritual separation… and besides, sex cures a multitude of problems!<br />2. Male brains are very different than female brains. Don’t expect him to see the things you see, think the way you think, or even fully understand your feelings after you’ve explained them to him.<br />3. When you say “I do” at the alter, you don’t just sign up to be a wife – you are also signing up to be mental health counselor. Embrace that role, don’t resent it. <br />4. Men thrive on admiration. Be his biggest cheerleader, not his biggest critic.<br />5. He loves it when you watch football with him, but not when you talk football with him. He appreciates that you can enjoy the game, but he still wants you to be a girl. <br />6. Being the “woman behind the man” is not demeaning, demoralizing, or suppressing. It’s an honor to be the steward of his vision, so help him to shine and let him get the glory. It will make you feel more valuable than any of your own accomplishments.<br />7. Make your home a sanctuary – a tidy, organized, comfortable place filled with love - to come home to after the world beats him up. He will always love to come home. <br />8. Forgive, forgive, and forgive some more, And when you think you can’t possibly forgive another thing – forgive again.<br />9. Let him know you meant it when you said “until death do us part”. Don’t threaten to walk out at any sign of trouble. Forever means forever, so be loyal and faithful, enduring the tough times together. Don’t let them tear you apart, let them bond you together and make you stronger. If you don’t have struggles, you aren’t close enough.<br />10. Keep your love life adventurous. Don’t let it get mundane or routine. Try new things, surprise him, and don’t be afraid to add a little element of “risk”. Remember that men are visual creatures, and they thrive on adventure, so appeal to his senses – smell, taste, touch, sight. You are God’s provision for him in this area, and you and God both expect complete fidelity. So make it worth it. <br /><br />Luke's List:<br /><br />1. You are the Spiritual head of your home - Your wife is the "artistic director". Learn what a duvet cover, a valence, and a throw pillow are, and be prepared to buy them.<br />2. Pottery Barn, Williams-Sonoma, and IKEA are your friends.<br />3. Strong decision-making skills are a turn on to her.<br />4. Your wife is a better cook than your mother.<br />5. "Guys night out" will never beat "couple's night in"!<br />6. Satan is your enemy - your wife is not. She is there to sanctify you, protect you, and help you - let her.<br />7. Be the man God called you to be. She deserves better than mediocrity, complacency, and half-hearted efforts.<br />8. Pray early - pray often.<br />9. The Bible is an aphrodesiac to her. Learn it, live it, love it.<br />10. The husband wears the pants in the family, but the wife tells him which pants to wear.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-22279779399961326332010-07-08T07:14:00.000-07:002010-07-08T09:28:49.873-07:00Living WaterLuke and I have been talking a lot about water lately. I think the conversation started when we first went to Nashville after the worst flood to ever hit that region devastated so much of that city. We went there to help the people who had lost everything and tangibly show the love of Christ to strangers who we considered to be neighbors. We showed up just days after the waters receeded and were in absolute awe of what we saw. It was shocking. Entire neighborhoods had been submerged under a sea of muddy river water, raw sewage, and toxic sludge. Piles of debris stood taller than the homes. People were dragging their ruined treasured posessions out of their homes and piling them into giant "trash" heaps on the sides of the roads. Appliances, toilets, couches, mattresses, photo albums, toys, dishes, carpet, and drywall littered the streets as people gutted their homes to try to salvage the shell and foundation of a home they may someday be able to rebuild. It was a warzone. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Luke and I were speechless as we drove through the town just gazing on the destruction. "Oh my gosh," was all we could say - over and over again. Then silence. Then, "Oh my gosh." <br /><br />That was when our conversation began. We were amazed at the power of the water. Water had done all of that damage. A powerful rush of water flowed through that city, submerging homes, piling cars into stacks ten high, overturning sheds and trailors, uprooting trees, and destroying everything in its path. That force of water made everything in its path conform to its direction, and it left nothing in its wake unchanged. The entire landscape of that city was altered - all because of the water.<br /><br />As the shock wore off and we began to observe the massive volunteer effort that arose almost instantly, we were impacted even more intensely. People came from all over and just started working wherever they saw a need. Neighbors who were spared walked through neighborhoods with their tools and cleaning supplies and began working on any house they saw. People like us traveled from other states in cars filled with supplies, found devastated homeowners and just started working. Some walked the streets with food, feeding the victims and the volunteers. Others passed out bottled water to ease the burden of those enduring the scorching summer temperatures. Some walked into random houses with dollies and started hauling out ruined appliances and furniture, never having met the person who lived there. Women found children wandering aimlessly around their yards and began to care for them while their parents worked in the toxic and dangerous environment that used to be their living rooms. More women collected salvagable clothing and began doing laundry wherever they could find a working machine. People whose homes were spared opened their homes and spare bedrooms to victims and strangers like us coming to help. Churches from all around banded together to pour thousands of volunteers into this devastated community, organizing work days and coordinating relief efforts. <br /><br />It was all so natural. Nobody had to be told where to go or what to do. There was no government intervention and no visible leaders making things happen. No structure. No order. It was just a natural flow of loving people filling gaps and meeting needs for hurting people. It was countless volunteers flowing through a community filing into every available space and picking up a task. You couldn't tell where it all began or where it ended. it was just so... fluid. Like water. It was an amazing sight to see. I was deeply impacted by what I saw on that trip - in both the massive destruction AND the incredible movement of sacrificial love. And it all started with some water.<br /><br />After we got home, we began evaluating the supernatural work of the Holy Spirit of God and how he is the source of life-changing phenomenons. It was the Holy Spirit who sparked a flame in our hearts and prompted us to go to a flooded city. It was He who called us to go and share the love of Christ to heart-broken people. We answered that call, and in the process, lives were transformed - both the victims we helped and even our very own. Something happened as we wrapped our arms around those who had lost everything and prayed to Almighty God on their behalf. We were able to love those strangers like we had known them forever. I saw a spark of hope in their tear-filled eyes. We felt something supernatural at work as God connected our hearts together and joined them with His in a moment of grace. It was the work of the Holy Spirit. It was something that far too many Christians miss in their daily routines of simply going to work, going to church, and going to potlucks. It was empowering. Faith-building. Energizing. Electric. It was awesome to be right in the middle of something God was doing. It was amazing to watch Him work. It was something I wanted to experience over and over again. <br /><br />As Luke and I began to look closer and deeper, studying and reading about the Holy Spirit together, we were reminded that the Bible refers to Him as "Living Water". In John 7:37, Jesus says, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink." He goes on to say that out of the hearts of those who believe and follow Him will flow rivers of "living water", refering to the Holy Spirit. God's Spirit in us satisfies us and causes us to thirst no more. It's a supernatural drink that quenches not only our own thirst, but the thirst of others as "living water" pours out of our hearts and into the lives of those we encounter. <br /><br />No one can live without water. It's essential. Water sustains life. Water satisfies the thirsty. Water is powerful. Water nurishes. Water causes growth. Water is constantly moving and never stagnant. Water flows with purpose and direction. Water fills every empty and available space. Water has the power and force to turn things upsidedown and change the entire lanscape of a city. I want my life to be filled with living water. I want to be part of a liquid church. I want this world to be filled with streams, rivers, and oceans of the living water that flows from One source - the Spirit of the living God.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-61482378997597542792010-06-21T19:17:00.000-07:002010-06-21T20:50:29.329-07:00To Forgive Is DivineHave you ever had one of those moments in life when God just pins you down like a scrawny wrestler on a mat with with a heavyweight and so clearly drills something into your mind that it seems like He's shouting it from the heavens directly at you? I have those moments fairly often, but that could be because I'm so stubborn that I need a little more intervention than most of His children. God, being the ever-so-pateint gentleman that He is gives me plenty of chances to catch His drift before He has to resort to such measures, but for reasons I cannot fathom, I tend to ignore His still small voice and gentle nudge until He has to bombard me with a visual picture. <br /><br />It's kind of like when David committed adultery with Bathsheba and had her husband killed in order to cover his indescretion. David was swimming in his own sin and was so blinded by it that he couldn't even see how wrong he was. So the Lord sent Nathan to David to paint a picture for him so clear that David would recognize his sin and become angered by it. Nathan told David a fictional story about a rich, powerful man who had everything stealing one poor man's single little lamb. David became angry at that fictional man's sin and said that man deserved to die. Then Nathan gave him the clincher: "You ARE that man!" That was a clever way for the Lord to show David the reality of his own sin. He knew that while David was having a hard time recognizing his own sin, he would easily recognize the same sin in someone else. Why do we do that? Why is it so easy to ignore and justify our own sin, yet become so angry when someone else commits the exact same sin?<br /><br />Every now and then, the Lord sends a "Nathan" into my life to show me my flaws when I have a hard time seeing them in myself. And it happened to me this week. My husband had done something to make me angry (I know - it's shocking that my human, broken, sinful husband would do something to offend me... but he did). I became particularly mad a this offense because he did something that he has done many times before, and he knows very well how much it offends me. I've begged him for years not to do what he did, and while the sin has become less frequent, he still does it from time to time. Shortly after he committed this offense last week, he was convicted by the Holy Spirit, felt guilty, and confessed it to me. While I appreciated the confession and saw that as a mark of maturity, I was still so mad at what he did. I didn't want to let him off the hook so easily. I couldn't believe he would still do what he did after all these years of my begging him not to, and I just couldn't seem to forgive. He kept apologizing and asking for my forgiveness, but I wasn't willing to extend it. He kept apologizing, and I kept being mad. I shamefully admit that this went on for a couple days. I felt the prompting of the Lord to forgive him several times. I was reminded of what Scripture says about forgiveness and my own sinful state, and I was reminded of my love for him and the wonderful husband he is... but I just wouldn't let it go.<br /><br />Finally, a couple days later, I was driving down the street alone. I was a little distracted (and in a bad mood because of the turmoil in my home) and not paying much attention to the cars around me. I started to get over into another lane, and I hastily made the move without really looking to see if there were any cars next to me. Now in my defense, the lane I was getting into had just begun so there shouldn't have been anyone in the lane, but a tiny little car sped into the lane from behind me and happened to be right beside me when I started to merge into his territory. I swerved into his lane and almost hit him when I saw his little car inches away from my larger SUV. I narrowly missed him, swerved back into my original lane, and then properly merged in behind him. Even though he probably got over quicker than he should have and was speeding, it was my responsibility to look for him before I got into his lane and I almost hit him. It was my irresponsibility, and I was sorry for almost causing an accident. I waved to him and mouthed the word "sorry" so he would know I was sorry. He threw his hands in the air and yelled at me with a disgusted look on his face. I rolled my window down to let him know that I was truly sorry for my mistake - maybe he couldn't see that I was sorry. This time I said, "I'm SO sorry," and he again made rude gestures and yelled obscenities at me. That made me furious. There I was trying so hard to apologize, and he wouldn't accept it. Then I spoke these words aloud, "What a miserable little man - HE WON'T EVEN LET ME BE SORRY!" <br /><br />That's when my very own words pierced my soul like a lightning bolt from heaven. I was that man! Oh how ashamed I felt when I realized that he was my Nathan and I was David. I was so disgusted that this man (a stranger) wouldn't accept my genuine apology while I had not accepted my own husband's for 2 days. God used that simple situation in my day to show me my hypocrisy - and it worked. I did forgive my husband. And I'm ashamed that it took that kind of knock over the head to get it. When will I ever start heading the still small voice of the Spirit that says, "Do this?" Oh how I long for the day when I will have the maturity and the wisdom to both recognize my wrongs AND correct them, without the Lord having to send me a Nathan to spell it out in a real-life, kindergarten-level scenario. But oh how thankful I am that He loves me so much and so wants me to grow up into Him that He takes the time to teach me on my level. Our God is an incredible Father. And I am thankful for the way He parents me. But most of all, I'm thankful for His undying, unending, never-failing love for me that transcends my stubborn heart and covers for my many weaknesses. Now if only I could learn to love like that.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-85305317547204346162010-06-02T10:21:00.000-07:002010-06-02T12:49:36.691-07:00Choose Your BattlesWhen I had my first child, almost 8 years ago, I was determined to tackle the parenting role with flawless precision. I prepared myself by taking every class offered, reading every book written, and learning everything I could about being a great parent. And it's a good thing I did, because that first child turned out to be about as strong-willed and difficult as they come, and I needed every bit of ammunition I had acquired. <br />One expression I had always heard other parents say was "choose your battles". In other words, some things are worth fighting and some things are not worth the time, effort, and emotional strain. Well I got where they were coming from, but that just wasn't my style. To me, those people who "chose their battles" just didn't have the stamina and determination to stand up and fight every fight. But I did. I was not down with choosing the battles - I was the Commander in Chief, and I was not only going to fight every one of them, but I was going to win them. And I did. I used every ounce of my being to control that child and make sure he did everything the way I wanted him too. No matter how hard the task or how strong his opposition, I dominated his will and shaped him into an obedient, respectful little person who didn't dare step out of line. Now don't get me wrong, I loved him abundantly and showered him with affection during this process because I strongly believe that rules without relationship lead to rebellion. But through all the hugs and kisses, I won the battles, and I won them decisively. All that hard work paid off. I now have a well-behaved child who is a joy to be around, excels in school, and actually enjoys following the rules. Mission accomplished.<br /><br />Strangely, the rules seems to change when I had my second child. I was six years older, no longer had the energy I once had, and now had twice the work load raising two kids instead of one. There was homework and lunch-packing added to the diaper changing and spoon feeding. Twice the laundry, and twice the mess. Let's just say I soon realized what it meant to "choose my battles". <br />I just don't seem to care as much anymore. I love my youngest son equally, and I devote as much care and attention to him, but I just don't seem to have the drive to win that I used to have. I'm still a firm believer in discipline, but perfection is no longer my goal. I've let myself (and him) off the hook a little more. I must admit, I surprise myself sometimes with the way I react to a situation: I've even said to myself, "Aren't you going to do something about that?" only to walk away in sheer surrender. Don't tell anyone, but I've even committed the worst "mommy sin" ever (in Mandi's parenting Bible) - I've shoved a cookie in my one year-old's hand just to shut him up. I know, I know! It pains me to even write that! This morning while walking through the grocery store, my youngest refused to sit facing forward in the kart. He kept turning around backwards with his feet sticking out above the child seat. Now if that was my oldest child, I would have turned him around as many times as it took until he was sitting up straight, facing the proper way, with both feet in the right holes and a smile on his face. This time, however, I looked at the little misfit (with cookie in his hand by the way) and said, "Fine. Sit backwards if you want. Hang your feet over the edge. I don't care." That battle was just not worth fighting in that moment. I just wanted to get out of there with my groceries and my sanity. <br /><br />Amazing what 6 years can do to one's parenting style. Oh how we change as the years go by. And oh how different we are from God - the ultimate parent. He was the same parent in the beginning of time, and He will be the same at the end of time. He never grows weary, never loses stamina, and never gets overwhelmed by His workload. His philosophy remains the same. His style remains constant. And we can count on His consistency day after day after day, until the end of the age. Nothing we do is going to throw Him off or cause Him to have a bad day. We can't exhaust Him. And even better, we can't exhaust His love for us. And thankfully for me, He will never throw His hands up and say, "Fine, do what you want, I don't care!" His level of care remains the same, no matter what we do to exhaust it. So the next time you think you expended your resources with your heavenly Father, think again. His account never runs out. He has just as much time and energy for you today as he ever had and ever will. And the great thing is He WANTS us to use Him. His word says, "Cast your cares on Him because He cares for you" (1Peter 5:7). There's no limit. You can never cast too much. He can handle all the burdens you give Him and then some. And He does it with delight. <br />Are you carrying a burden that you were never meant to carry, simply because you've neglected to cast it upon Him? Are you worried that you've somehow exhausted Him and He doesn't have the energy to keep dealing with your "stuff"? He gladly wants to deal with your stuff, so go ahead - throw it His way. And remember, no matter what kind of strong-willed, hard-headed child you are, he will never grow tired of parenting you. And here's just a little side note: He created you that way, so He knew exactly what He was getting. Thank God that He never changes. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever... and we can count on His perfect parenting no matter how we stray. So these days, I will keep choosing my battles and trying to make it through raising my second child with my sanity in tact... while God keeps choosing to fight every battle on my behalf with the guarantee of victory. Amen to that!Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-91290791977165255752010-01-26T20:50:00.001-08:002010-01-26T20:53:15.483-08:00Desperate for a DateA couple years ago our then-church hosted a Red Cross blood drive. The Red Cross people came in and transformed the fellowship hall into a mobile blood bank, and people from the church and the community came to donate blood. I volunteered to help recruit donors and made phone calls to countless people asking them to come out and donate blood. I’m not real enthusiastic about giving blood myself – only because my veins are tiny and it’s usually difficult for anyone to get blood from them on the first stick of the needle. Most of the time, the nurse has to dig around a little bit before she gets blood flowing, and it’s just not a fun experience. My husband, however, has perfect veins and donates often. Since he is such a good sport about it, and I had spent my whole week convincing people to come give blood, I figured we should show up and support the event. I wasn’t sure I was actually going to donate, but I would at least show my face. Besides, our son was going to be with us and someone (me) had to keep an eye on him. So after Luke got home from work, we headed over to the church. We got there shortly before they were going to wrap up and it was a very slow time. There were no donors in the chairs and the room was quiet. There was a table full of goodies – juice and cookies – and we hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so they looked very tasty. Our youth pastor’s wife had the kids outside playing volleyball, and she took my son outside to play. <br /><br />As the nurse handed us the forms to fill out and asked us if we were ready to donate, I still felt a little hesitant so I kind of motioned for her to pass them on to my husband and skip me. Then all of the sudden, it dawned on me. My son is off playing in the care of a wonderful lady… there is no one in this room but my husband and me and a few nurses…it’s quiet and relaxing in here… there’s free snacks… they’re asking me to sit in a chair right next to my husband for the next twenty minutes strapped in the chair with no way to get up, no phone to ring, and no distractions of a television or a four year-old…. This is a date! I instantly became thrilled to donate blood and began looking forward to the opportunity to sit with my husband in a quiet room for twenty minutes with no distractions and a free babysitter! I walked in hesitant to give blood, and I was now gleaming at the prospect of having a date with my husband at a make-shift blood bank. I asked the nurse if I could scoot my lounge chair right next to my husband’s so we could sit together. She looked at me strangely but agreed. I was all set to go and looking forward to having her stick a big needle in my arm and draining out a pint of my blood (no matter how many sticks it took)! As it turned out, my dream date didn’t happen because during the pre-screening process we discovered that we were not eligible to donate blood because we had been to Africa within the past year, making us at risk for blood-born diseases such as malaria, which is unsafe for the U.S. blood supply. I was so disappointed when they told us we could not donate. There went my date night – right out the window. Luke and I laughed at how pathetic it was that we were actually looking forward to giving blood just to get a date night. You know you’re desperate when you’ll let someone stick you with a needle just to get some good quality quiet time with your spouse. It’s amazing what parents of a four year-old will do to get a free babysitter, some Little Debby’s brownies, and twenty minutes of peace and quiet! <br /><br /> <br /><br />I was willing to do just about anything for a date with my husband. But God knocked on my heart and caused me to ponder what I would do for a date with Him? With God? Yes. God wants to spend good quality time with us every day too. He wants regular dates with us. He wants to talk to us, hear what’s on our hearts, have us get to know Him better, and just spend some good time relating with us. That’s what relationship is all about, and He has made it very clear in His word that He wants a relationship with us. He is our Father and we are His children. Doesn’t that signify that there is a relationship between us? What parent doesn’t relate to his child? God also uses the marriage union to symbolize His relationship with us as He calls the church His bride and Himself the groom. Search the scriptures and you will see all over the Word of God references to the church as the “bride of Christ”. We the church – His followers, His children, His beloved – are called His bride, and He wants an intimate relationship with us as such. Jesus even says before his resurrection that he is going to heaven to prepare a place for us and then come back for us when the time is right. That was symbolic of the Jewish wedding tradition of the groom leaving his bride at her family’s home while he went off to build a house and prepare a dwelling place for them, and then coming back for her when he was ready to bring her to their new life together. Jesus uses the wedding illustration and the reference of the bride and groom to refer to His relationship with us more than any other illustration. It’s clear that He wants a relationship with us that is reflective of the marriage relationship, and that means He wants regular dates with us. <br /><br /> <br /><br />What would we do to have a date with Him? Would we turn off the TV… or get up a little earlier in the morning? Would we ignore the phone… or put off the housework for just a few minutes longer? Let’s even take it a step further: would we risk our lives like some Christians do in other countries where praying is illegal and Christianity is punishable by death? In this very day, there are countless Christians all over the world who risk their lives to read a Bible. They could be killed for speaking the name of Jesus, but they risk it all to have a relationship with Him. What would we do for a date with that God? How quickly do we pass up the opportunity and throw aside our chances to converse with the Creator if the universe as if it were no big deal? We have the privilege of having the God of all nations, creator of all, almighty and powerful God wanting to have a date with us – who He calls His precious children, objects of His affection, His beloved bride. And we have the freedom in this country to do it. Why would we want to pass that up? We have unconditional access to God, and so often we take that for granted. If He wants to have dates with us, why would we deny Him?<br /><br /><br />I’ve asked the question, and we’ve considered what we would do for a date with God, but we must also consider what He did for a date with us? He wanted so badly to have a personal relationship with us; an intimate connection; and access to our hearts so He could have regular dates with us… that He sacrificed it all. He gave everything. He gave His life. He was the one who gave His blood so that we could have dates with him whenever we want. He ultimately shed His blood and died as a sacrifice so our sins would no longer separate us from Him – so we could have access to Him anytime, anywhere. He paid the ultimate price. He wants dates with us. And oh how I want to crave those dates with Him. If we are willing to do just about anything to spend time with our spouses, friends, and loved ones, how much more should we want to spend time with our Savior? Plan it – schedule it – look forward to it… even get a babysitter if you have to. But have a date with God. And may it be a wonderful intimate loving time between your God and His precious beloved bride.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-82393316315929212732010-01-20T09:21:00.000-08:002010-01-20T09:30:29.136-08:00What’s Different About Me?<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CMCCAWL%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CMCCAWL%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link 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mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>My son Jonah likes to play a little game with us sometimes that he calls “what’s different about me?”<span style=""> </span>He leaves the room and comes back “different” and then asks us to guess what that difference is.<span style=""> </span>For example, he may be wearing some different clothes… or he may have a sticker on him he didn’t used to have… or he may be making a silly face.<span style=""> </span>Then he asks us, “What’s different about me,” and we have to guess.<span style=""> </span>The other day, the three of us were lying in my bed (as we often do on Saturday mornings) just enjoying being lazy, when Jonah jumped up and said, “Let’s play what’s different about me!”<span style=""> </span>Before we could even answer, he was running out of the room to become “different”.<span style=""> </span>He came back a few minutes later wearing his Daddy’s shoes.<span style=""> </span>He could barely contain his giggles as we “guessed” what was different about him.<span style=""> </span>He ran out again and came back with a napkin on his head.<span style=""> </span>When we finally guessed that one, he ran out again and came back a little less obvious.<span style=""> </span>We couldn’t tell right away what was different, but we studied him a while and figured out that he was holding his hands in fists.<span style=""> </span>“Your hands are different,” I exclaimed as he laughed at how hard it was for us to figure out.<span style=""> </span>That game can go on and on for hours if we let it.<span style=""> </span>He just loves to try and fool us.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Jonah likes to play that game often, and even though it can get a little tiresome for the rest of us, he’s got the right idea.<span style=""> </span>What do I mean?<span style=""> </span>Well, I’ve realized that as Christians, we really should all be playing that game all the time – without necessarily knowing it.<span style=""> </span>When we give our lives to Christ and accept Him into our lives to be our Lord and Savior, we experience some changes in our lives.<span style=""> </span>When the spirit of God comes to take up residency in us, He immediately starts a transformation process that doesn’t end until we’re taken home to heaven.<span style=""> </span>Some changes are instant, and some are a longer process.<span style=""> </span>Some are drastic, and some are barely noticeable.<span style=""> </span>But either way we are being changed.<span style=""> </span>As soon as we give up our own rights to our lives and give complete authority and control to God, He begins the process of molding and shaping us into the image of His son Jesus.<span style=""> </span>His goal in everything we go through in life is to make us more and more like Jesus, who was the perfect representation of Him.<span style=""> </span>The longer we engage in our relationship with Christ, the more changes we undergo.<span style=""> </span>The more we come to know God, the more like Him (and less like the rest of the world) we become.<span style=""> </span>So those of us who have walked with the Lord for any length of time should be used to constant changing, and we should be very different than the “world”.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The <i style="">world </i>is just a term used to describe a society of those who don’t have Christ – those who are living for this world rather than eternity. <span style=""> </span>It’s those who still hold onto authority over their own lives and live according to humanistic standards rather than yielded to God’s spiritual authority… unbelievers… people who are governed by society and human values rather than governed by God.<span style=""> </span>The Bible refers to <i style="">the world</i> often and distinguishes it as those who are not walking under God’s authority.<span style=""> </span>You know them well.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The Bible tells us that although we are <i style="">in</i> the world, we are not supposed to be <i style="">of </i>the world (2Corinthians 10:2-4).<span style=""> </span>That basically means that although we live here among the worldly and godless, we are foreigners in this society and should be noticeably different from the others.<span style=""> </span>We are not to conform to the world’s standards.<span style=""> </span>We are not to behave or even think like they do.<span style=""> </span>Our minds and spirits have been transformed away from their faithless ways, and we should reflect God more than we reflect this world.<span style=""> </span>We should feel like foreigners here, and I don’t know about you, but I feel extremely out of place sometimes!<span style=""> </span>We are different.<span style=""> </span>And we should act different.<span style=""> </span>We should essentially be behaving as God’s children and Christ’s followers and unconsciously asking the world every day “what’s different about me”.<span style=""> </span>And you may not think it, but the world does notice our differences.<span style=""> </span>We behave in ways that leave them wondering what we have that they don’t.<span style=""> </span>Our ways should make them hungry for the God we serve.<span style=""> </span>They should be able to look on at how we conduct our lives or how we handle a situation and say “how do they do that”.<span style=""> </span>That’s how we testify to the amazing grace and power of our God.<span style=""> </span>Our transformed lives are the world’s evidence that God exists and actively works in our personal lives.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">When the world holds grudges, we forgive.<span style=""> </span>When the world complains, we are content.<span style=""> </span>When the world cheats and lies to get ahead, we are honest and wait on God’s promotions.<span style=""> </span>When the world looks right past the poor, helpless, outcasted and needy people, we reach out to help.<span style=""> </span>When the world uses profane words and blasphemes the name of God, we praise Him with our lips and edify with our words.<span style=""> </span>When the world aborts babies in the name of convenience, we embrace and nurture our children with love.<span style=""> </span>When the world uses drugs and substances to escape the reality of life, we remain sober and completely satisfied as we get “high” on the fact that we’re heaven-bound.<span style=""> </span>When the world engages in pornography and casual sex and treats people as objects, we cultivate deep loving relationships with a spouse we love unconditionally, faithfully and sacrificially.<span style=""> </span>When the world gives up on marriage and allows divorce to break apart families, we continue to selflessly love and rely on God for healing and help.<span style=""> </span>While the world sits back and demands others to serve them, we are busy serving and giving.<span style=""> </span>While the world cares about status and position, we are happy to be humble servants of a living God.<span style=""> </span>While the world worships superficial things like entertainment, money, and <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Hollywood</st1:city></st1:place>, we spend out time, efforts, and money worshiping a God who saves, heals, and changes lives.<span style=""> </span>While the world seeks careers and power at the expense of their families, we put family first, often sacrificing monetary gain.<span style=""> </span>When the world loses its temper, we remain calm and self-controlled.<span style=""> </span>When the world abandons morals and values to advance a progressive society, we cling to our God-given guidelines and standards in order to leave a legacy of values and faith to our next generations.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>You see, we are (and should be) very different from the rest of the world and our differences should be getting more and more evident every day.<span style=""> </span>If we’re not, then we’re not yielded enough to the Spirit of God, and we’re not turning away from our sin regularly and <i style="">asking</i> Him to change us.<span style=""> </span>Because if we do that, the Bible promises that we will see results.<span style=""> </span>I once heard a pastor ask this compelling question during a sermon.<span style=""> </span>“If you were accused at your workplace of being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?”<span style=""> </span>Think about that.<span style=""> </span>If someone – anyone – in any situation (your workplace, your neighborhood, your social circle) accused you of being a Christian, would there be enough hard evidence to convict you beyond a reasonable doubt, or would it simply be circumstantial?<span style=""> </span>Are you different enough that people can figure it out?<span style=""> </span>When the world looks at you, do they see behavior that is remarkably unlike theirs, leaving them with the notion that your God really does change people?<span style=""> </span>We need to be playing the game with them.<span style=""> </span>We need to be asking, “what’s different about me,” and give them the answer that the difference in you is Jesus.</p> Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-33972931300014421262010-01-14T14:22:00.000-08:002010-01-14T14:27:35.437-08:00There's a Board in Your Head!<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" 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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/> <w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:.8in .8in .8in .8in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><i style="">First remove the plank from your own eye, before you try to remove the speck from your neighbor’s (Matthew 7:5)<o:p></o:p></i></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><font size="3"><o:p> </o:p></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">A couple years ago when Jonah was 5, we took a short drive over to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tennessee</st1:place></st1:state> to meet up with some good friends who had moved there from our home town.<span style=""> </span>We hadn’t seen these friends much since we moved out of <st1:state w:st="on">Florida</st1:state> to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">North Carolina</st1:place></st1:state>, so we were excited to catch up.<span style=""> </span>These friends are the kind you just “click” with and can talk to for hours while time flies by without notice.<span style=""> </span>As soon as we arrived in town we took the kids to a park to play on the playground, and we adults found a good spot to sit and chat.<span style=""> </span>There was so much to catch up on.<span style=""> </span>We women perched ourselves on a bench in the shade, and the men found their own spot where they could talk about “manly” things under a pavilion.<span style=""> </span>We were all keeping one eye on the kids as we chatted, and anyone who knows the four of us knows we are probably the most attentive sets of parents one could meet.<span style=""> </span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">My son was playing on a swing, minding his own business and having a good old time when a whiny little girl came over and started to remove him from the swing.<span style=""> </span>“I want to swing on that swing,” she squealed as her mom came over to intervene.<span style=""> </span>I was watching intently, but I didn’t get up because I assumed the other mom was going to correct her daughter and handle the situation appropriately (as any reasonable parent would do).<span style=""> </span>I was wrong.<span style=""> </span>Apparently the mother didn’t have much control over her aggressive daughter, and she was trying desperately to persuade the little girl to leave Jonah alone and wait her turn.<span style=""> </span>“Please,” she begged the little girl, “Let’s find a different swing to play on.”<span style=""> </span>But the girl kept yelling, “I want THAT one,” and she continued to try to force Jonah off.<span style=""> </span>Finally, Jonah just got off the swing and left, and he walked away with a bewildered look on his face.<span style=""> </span>He was probably wondering why that mother let her daughter get away with behavior like that, because he knows his mommy would certainly never have tolerated it!<span style=""> </span>Both my friend and I had the same thought… “Brat,” we mumbled under our breath.<span style=""> </span>We couldn’t believe what we had just seen.<span style=""> </span>“I just can’t stand it when parents can’t parent their children,” I complained.<span style=""> </span>She agreed.<span style=""> </span>She’s on top of her child just like I am, and we tend to agree on those kinds of issues.<span style=""> </span>“There’s just no excuse for a parent to be ruled by her 4 year-old like that,” I continued, “And she didn’t even rebuke that child’s behavior… I would have taken her to the car and given her a swift spanking!”<span style=""> </span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">I finally finished my judgmental remarks and went back to chatting with my friend.<span style=""> </span>Some time went by, and we kind of got caught up in conversation and unintentionally stopped paying much attention to the kids.<span style=""> </span>The men had walked away a little and taken a phone call, so they weren’t really watching either.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t know it, but Jonah had climbed up on top of something that was too high for him to jump off of.<span style=""> </span>He was stuck up there and couldn’t get down, and he was calling for me to help him.<span style=""> </span>I was so engaged in my conversation that I didn’t notice his predicament.<span style=""> </span>Finally, another mother came walking over to the bench we were sitting on and asked me, “Is that boy over there your son?”<span style=""> </span>She was pointing to Jonah, and before I could say “yes”, she informed me that he was stuck and calling for help.<span style=""> </span>“I tried to help him down,” she said, “But he said he wanted his mommy to help him.”<span style=""> </span>“Oh my goodness… thank you,” I said as I jumped up to go rescue him.<span style=""> </span>I got him down and he was fine, but as I walked back over to my bench, I realized that the mom who tried to help him was the mother of the bratty girl who I just finished criticizing.<span style=""> </span>Here I was accusing her of not being a parent while my son was stranded on the top of the monkey bars calling for my help while I chatted away!<span style=""> </span>The bad parent was trying to help my child while super mom (that’s me) was too busy chatting to even notice he needed me!<span style=""> </span>Boy did I feel dumb.</font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">God took the opportunity to knock on my heart and remind me that I can’t sit in arrogance like that very long before He steps in and intervenes.<span style=""> </span>I was reminded of a scripture I have to confront often (apparently it’s one of my weaknesses).<span style=""> </span>“<i style="">You hypocrite.</i><span style=""> </span><i style="">First remove the plank out of your own eye, and then you can see clearly to remove the speck from your neighbor’s eye (Matthew 7:5)”,</i> the Lord reminded me.<span style=""> </span>That little girl may have been a brat, and the mother may have not handled the situation or the discipline properly, but I am far from being a perfect parent, and my sins are just as big as the next guys.<span style=""> </span>Too often we spend so much time trying to pick at the faults of others while we ignore our own faults, and this scripture reminds us that we’re nitpicking at someone else’s tiny speck while we walk around with huge planks.<span style=""> </span>I love the visual picture of this scripture.<span style=""> </span>Picture yourself walking around with a huge 2x4 board sticking out of our head while you’re chasing after someone else trying to remove their little splinter.<span style=""> </span>That would look really silly.<span style=""> </span>That’s how silly we look to God when we do that with sin, faults, and flaws. <span style=""> </span>Why are ours so easy to ignore and others’ so easy to spot?<span style=""> </span>God’s word tells us that if we would just concentrate on removing our own iniquities, we’d be able to see better and judge situations more clearly.<span style=""> </span>And yes, sometimes we do need to help others remove their specks, but we can only do it properly if we’ve first dealt with our own.<span style=""> </span>If we judge the situation arrogantly as if we are so much better than someone else, we are certainly not going to be able to produce anything godly or fruitful.<span style=""> </span>Why even bother to try to make someone else’s heart right if ours is not even right?<span style=""> </span>Shouldn’t we care just as much - or more - about the condition of our own hearts?<span style=""> </span>That’s clearly what God wants us to do.<span style=""> </span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">Everyone sins.<span style=""> </span>So we will always be surrounded by people who sin and who don’t conduct themselves in a Biblical manner.<span style=""> </span>And there will always be people who struggle, mess up, and make mistakes.<span style=""> </span>There’ no doubt we will come in contact with these people, and sometimes we will be those people.<span style=""> </span>If we all worked just as hard removing our own sins as we do trying to correct others, we’d probably be OK.<span style=""> </span>In fact, we’d likely be too distracted to even notice their sins as much.<span style=""> </span>This is the idea Jesus had as He spoke those words in Matthew’s gospel.<span style=""> </span>It’s fine (and even good) to try to help someone overcome sinful habits, and it can be very helpful to counsel someone and use the word of God to correct someone’s wrong behavior.<span style=""> </span>But it should always be approached with humility and love, with an understanding that we ourselves are guilty and no better in God’s eyes than the one we’re trying to help.<span style=""> </span></font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">In fact, we should be just as humble and teachable when someone tries to help <i style="">us</i> overcome sin by pointing out <i style="">our</i> wrong behavior.<span style=""> </span>Do you have someone in your life who can do that?<span style=""> </span>Do you allow your spouse or a good trusted friend to be brutally honest with you and tell you where you may be straying?<span style=""> </span>Do you get defensive when he or she approaches you with loving critique, or do you humbly thank them for their exhortation and pray for God’s help to overcome it?<span style=""> </span>Think about it honestly.<span style=""> </span>If you are truly sinning (and I’m not just talking about making an honest mistake – but truly sinning) and a godly friend or relative you trust points out that your behavior is unpleasing to God and needs to change, how do you react?<span style=""> </span>Do you immediately think, “How dare they say that about me… who do they think they are… how can they judge me like that when they are no good themselves!”<span style=""> </span>If you do, that is wrong.<span style=""> </span>The Bible says to have a teachable spirit, and it also says <i style="">faithful are the wounds of a friend (Proverbs 27:6).</i><span style=""> </span>You know how Jesus feels about hypocrisy, so if you’re not humble enough to take the criticism, you certainly should be slow to dish it out. <span style=""> </span>And you should have a friend or relative who you allow the privilege to honestly point out your iniquities with the intention of holding you accountable to your own godly standards.<span style=""> </span>For me, it’s my husband who has that role.<span style=""> </span>And sometimes it’s a good friend and sister in Christ.<span style=""> </span>But there are people whose judgment I value who I permit to be that honest with me.<span style=""> </span>Trust me, it keeps you humble!</font></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><font size="3">This is something I’m constantly struggling with, but I believe God has taken me a long way in my walk so far.<span style=""> </span>I do, however, realize I still have a way to go.<span style=""> </span>There are certain things that I do well (as we all do).<span style=""> </span>But there are other things I do not do so well.<span style=""> </span>I can’t let my strengths make me so arrogant that I prey on others’ weaknesses.<span style=""> </span>That is ungodly and unbiblical, and I have to let scripture remind me of that often.<span style=""> </span>I learned a good lesson on that playground that day, and God didn’t waste any time putting me in my place (He never does).<span style=""> </span>I’m thankful for that.<span style=""> </span>Faithful are the wounds of my Friend… my best Friend… Jesus… and I’d much rather hear it from Him than have to hear it from someone else.<span style=""> </span></font></p> Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723970890327947441.post-89064026671566818272010-01-06T07:56:00.000-08:002010-01-06T08:44:40.438-08:00For the past couple years, I've been writing about the things that impact my heart, my mind, and my life. Little things - average experiences - that end up impacting me in a big way. As I've looked into my every-day "moments" as a woman, a wife, a mother, a homemaker, and a citizen of my country, I've learned to see beyond the surface experience and see a life lesson. I've realized that God has taught me so much about myslef, about Himself, and about who He wants us to be... just through little "moments" in my life that could have easily been glanced over. When I take the time to analyze the deeper meanings of my moments, and look deeper into the spiritual significance of the little things that happen in my day, my eyes are opened to a whole world of wisdom and heart-felt "moments" with God that I could have missed altogether had I not been listening for the still small knock on my heart's door. <br /><br />I started writing about these moments a couple years ago when I moved to the mountains of North Carolina in 2006. As a stay-home mom with a son just starting pre-school, I had time on my hands, new experiences on my horizon, and new scenery outside my door. Writing became my passion, and I began writing spiritual devotions, Bible studies, and just every-day short stories about little things that happened in my day that ended up translating into things that impacted my life in a big way. These "moments" as I call them, have shaped who I am, how I live my life, and how I've developed an intimate relationship with my Creator. They were just regular little moments in my average mundane day, that I began to realize were actually teachable moments orchestrated by God Himslef to connect His heart to mine. These moments have turned into a collection of writings that I hope to one day make into a book - one that inspires average, every-day women like me (wives, moms, daughters, sisters, and private citizens) to look deeper into what seems like their mundane daily experiences and allow God to open a whole world of insight into His beauty, His character, and His love for us. <br /><br />If you learn to look for it, God can use something simple that comes out of the mouth of your 4 year-old to be the profound words that make you realize just how He feels about you in that moment. If you slow down and begin to look at life through your God-given spiritual "glasses", you can learn to see Him in a way that you never have before. And you'll realize that He truly walks with you - every moment of every day. <br /><br />The writings in this blog are ones that I will use to eventually compose my book called "Moments". I will post my earlier writings, on this blog as well as continue to write about and share anecdotes from my current daily experiences. My prayer is that it will inspire readers to develop a more intimate relationship with Christ through their own daily expereinces... or at the very least, encourage them to enjoy life a little more.<br /><br />I am a wife - married to my first love for 10 years - and a mother of two boys (ages 7 & 18 months). I am a homemaker who occassionally works part-time outside the home to get adult-interaction and away from diapers. However, I absolutely love caring for my family and managing my home. I love spending time with my husband (who is the love of my life and my best friend), cooking, raising my boys, worshipping God, reading, writing, being outdoors, decorating, and of course shopping! I live in Asheville, North Carolina, and there is no other place I'd rather be. I graduated from the University of Florida (go Gators) with a degree in Health Science Education.Mandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11080999568881026545noreply@blogger.com0