Back to School

The last time I enrolled in college, I was 19, single, and highly independent.  In the fall when I pick up where I left off, I will be scarily close to turning 27, married, and will have a husband and a son who will continue to rely on me to do my part in providing a stable home life.

Weird.

Also, let's pause here to take a minute to scratch our heads over women not wanting people to know their age.  I just don't get it.  Age hits all of us in our time, and me?  I've always rather liked my age.  But I digress.

It'll be a tough transition at first, going from SAHM to College Student.  To say I'm excited, though, would be an understatement.  I am over the moon excited to begin the work it'll take to finish out my degree!  I know it will most likely mean burning the candle at both ends.  I know that I'll probably be chanting "C's get degrees" to myself over and over as I trade in my A's for time spent with my husband and son (and it'll kill me a little inside, but I know that in the long run I'll be so much happier for the family memories than the all revered A plastered on the top of a piece of shredded dead tree I turned in).  I know it'll mean fewer hours of sleep than my already shortened nights.

But I am so up for the challenge.

I am so ready to be sitting in the classroom again, drinking in the information that will be taught.  I am so ready to add studying to my daily routine.  I am so ready to complete this work that I began 8 years ago.

Let's do this.

Grace for the Postpartum Mom

NOTE:  I wrote this back in September and apparently never published it.  I have since lost 16 more of those stubborn pounds and am in my pre-preggo clothing again, but the principle remains the same.  :)


Full blown honesty session here.

I gained 45 pounds during pregnancy.  It's embarrassing to think about and admit.

25 of those came off real quick.

The other 20?  They're taking their sweet time.  No matter how diligent I am in cutting back and working out, they seem.... stuck.

So I'm doing my best to have grace with the fact that it's just going to take time.  And I'm learning to come to terms with and embrace my new, 20-pounds-heavier look.  I've come to terms with the fact that I wore maternity shorts all summer long and they still have yet to feel loose.  I've come to terms with the fact that I had to buy jeans a few pant sizes up from my old size, because if nothing else, they fit.

I'm not living the glamorous life.  I have circles under my eyes most days due to interrupted sleep, but it's ok.  The house is staying clean for the most part, the laundry is getting folded, dinner is usually hot when Josh gets home from work, and the baby gets fed and bathed.

I'm learning to let go of the old outward version of myself and wear the same smile I've always had.  It may create a double chin now, but I'm still happy and content with the way my story is panning out.  I have a family that I love to love.  They make it worth the intermittent sleep patterns, the rolling out of bed at 7 each morning, the cooking, the cleaning, the grocery runs, the doctor's visits... all of it.

Outward appearance can and will fluctuate, but the character stuff that truly makes or breaks a person?  That's what I'm choosing to focus on.  And when I do I find that I am a more content, peaceful person.

Fitness is important because God only gave me one body, but He never said anything about it needing to look like a supermodel.  I am choosing to be a good steward over it so that I can better take care of the family He lovingly gave to me.  It doesn't mean I will lose the pounds, but it means I will be healthy.  That's what matters.

Conduit of Grace

When I was growing up, my mom always had a lot to do with the atmosphere in our home.  She was the master of the reset.  If everyone was having a bad day, herself included, she would have us all pause what we were doing, turn on an upbeat worship song, and have us dance around in the living room til my brothers and sisters and I were laughing and in a much better mood.  When the song ended, she would usually say something along the lines of, "this day started on the wrong foot.  Let's reset and have a good rest of the day."  The amazing thing?  I think it always worked.

As I was praying over my family the other day, it hit me at how much I influence the atmosphere within my home.  That whole saying, "if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy," is a saying for a reason.  I can allow my thoughts, actions, and emotions to determine the mood in my home.  I can make it a horrible day for everyone, or I can use those God-given things as a means of spreading grace.

As I thought about it, I was struck with just how badly I want to make our home a center for glorifying God through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

We have a whiteboard hanging in our living room.  I bought it initially as a way for me to learn and study Greek.  Since having the baby, that's been put on the back burner for a while.  The point being, I have a whiteboard hanging in a room of the house where it can be seen by all.  Over the the last three weeks I have been writing one Scripture a week that communicates grace.  These Scriptures are ones I come across in my daily devotions.

With the Scripture being written where everyone can see it, my prayer is that we will read it and meditate on it, whether consciously or not.  I want Scripture to be my family's lifeblood.  I want us to chew on it, write it on our hearts, live by it, and have the Holy Spirit bring it to remembrance at the right times.

My husband will often tell me that it's easier for him to go through something tough if I'm not also having a hard time with whatever it is.  He needs me to be happy and to give him the hope that everything is going to be ok regardless of the situation.  It's not always possible for me to be happy, per se, but it is always possible for me to find my strength in Jesus and His Word, and it's possible for me to point my family in that same direction.

Things are tough right now?  Let's look at some of God's promises in Scripture.
There are worrisome things on the horizon?  Let's steady ourselves with prayer.
Are we tempted to put ourselves at the center of the universe?  Let's worship Jesus and get our hearts right.

These are a few ways that I've been trying to be a conduit of grace within my sphere of influence.  It's not exhaustive, but it's a start.  I truly believe that stay-at-home moms have a unique opportunity to speak grace into the day for not only themselves but their families as well.

I want to be like my mom.  Her source of strength, hope, and joy rests in Jesus, and she always knows how to point us in that direction.  That's grace.

I want to speak that kind of grace and have a family that loves Jesus and knows where they can go to get a refill on strength for the day.  My prayer is that my home will have a grace-filled, God-centered atmosphere, and that all who enter will experience those things.

The Birth Story

I was sitting in a hospital bed holding my four-hour-old newborn son in the calm after the storm.  The room was abandoned of all life save the two of us.  I held my son and took a few steadying breaths as I tried to process the events of the day.  What the heck just happened?

Every woman has an idea of how their child's birth is going to go down.  With a textbook pregnancy like I had had, I naturally assumed labor, while being without a doubt painful, would last several hours, then I'd push for a bit and hear the first cries of my baby.  Then there would be peace and calm as Josh and I would revel in the miracle of life and bond with the newest member of our family.  All pain would be over and we would be able to just be.

Reality was entirely different.

We knew something was wrong when my water broke and it had a greenish tint to it, but I was still playing the optimist while Josh worried.  By the time we got to the hospital, it was a dark green.  It was at this point that I, the eternal optimist, began to worry as well.

We waited for about 20 minutes in the room before Josh finally hunted down a doctor (there were lots of babies being delivered that day).  When the baby's heart rate measured in the 50's, I knew for certain that the way I had mentally built up childbirth in my head was not to be. Instantly, the doctor began shouting down the hall for a labor and delivery nurse and the anesthesiologist.

Before I knew it, I was being wheeled into the operating room for an emergency c-section.  Thankfully we had an arsenal of people praying.  A couple of seconds after we got to the O.R., his heart rate skyrocketed back to normal.  The relief in the room was palpable.  I immediately requested that someone tell Josh so that he wouldn't worry any longer than necessary.  Not only did they do that, but since they longer needed to put me under, they allowed him to sit with me as they performed the surgery (which helped to calm this anxious mama).

When we first heard our baby's cry, Joshua and I both joined him.  The relief that our baby was ok was overwhelming. When all was said and done, we met our son 25 minutes after the doctor first saw us.  It was a whirlwind process.

While I was mentally prepared for recovery from a natural birth, I felt very off kilter with no idea what to expect from c-section recovery.  I will spare you the details of those first few days.  All I will say is that both Josh and I were grossly unprepared for how it went down.  Thankfully we had great support from family and friends, and a great resource in our sister-in-law who had a c-section with each of her 5 kids.  While it wasn't fun, we felt the love.  :)

Now, a little over a month later, I still have moments where I have to process through what occurred.  It all happened so fast there was no time to think about it in the midst of it.  In the past month I have struggled with envy as friends have had natural births and been able to enjoy smoother transitions than I was allowed.  "It's not fair," I have mentally cried out.  "I had to learn how to walk again and was told I had to get out of bed as soon as possible - which ended up being excruciating -  to take laps and work my muscles.  They get to at least spend a couple of days in bed resting and bonding with their baby!"

But then I remind myself of this truth: I may not have had the birth experience I planned, but it went precisely according to God's plan, and His plans are always perfect and for our good.  He showed great mercy during the c-section.  Not only did the doctor give me a horizontal cut making a future VBAC a possibility, He graciously spared my son's life just because He wanted to.  I entered this life as an enemy to God, and envying anybody else's birth story makes me very ungrateful for my own.  Not only did God plan my son's birth, He lovingly and carefully wrote it specifically for our family.  What great love is that?  Wow.

And so, I am well on my way to being more grateful for my own childbirth story.  While it may have been a more painful ordeal for much longer than I was planning on, my son is alive and well and adorable, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

God is good.  Amen.

Getting Closer

Y'all.  I'm 39 weeks along in my pregnancy as of TODAY!

I truly didn't think I'd ever get this close.  It's been a healthy pregnancy with only some aches and pains to complain of... which means I really can't complain because there are so many women out there who have it SO much worse than I do.  As for being due next week (I can say that now???), I'm thrilled, though not so thrilled about the hundred degree temperatures also headed our way.  All of this said, I married a wonderful man who bought me cold Pop Ices to help me survive these last few days of pregnancy.  Did I marry up, or what?  :)

When people try to schedule things around me these days, I just say, "plan what you want.  All I have on my agenda is make it to my weekly doctor's appointments and wait for Baby."  Seriously.  That's how close we are to the end.  Whaaaat?

Speaking of being close to the end, we are officially no closer to deciding on a name for the little guy.  I know, I know.  But it's ok.  I know he'll have a name very soon upon birth. 

At least I hope so. 

Hmm, what is his name?

The doctor told me that should I not have the baby soon, they'll go ahead and induce me at the 41 week mark, which means that by June 13th (just two short weeks from now), I will be holding my precious little baby in my arms and getting to study his sweet face in detail as I sit (or will I be lying down?) in awe of God the Giver of Life.  Two weeks.  That's the official end date.

Over these past several days, I've been pondering how God already has the baby's birthday planned out.  The day has been handpicked by God, and it's kind of a fun little anticipation I get to experience as I wait to see which day it will be!  Every night when I go to bed I think to myself, "will it be tonight?  Will we make a midnight run to the hospital?"  Every morning I wake up in my own bed and think, "well, there's always today!"  While I am so done being pregnant, I keep myself sane and amused by playing that guessing game.

And so, you have reached the end of my post.  I'm sure the next one will contain exciting details of a birth story.  Stay tuned...

Slow and Steady

I'm used to pushing myself to the max physically speaking.  I'm an athlete by nature, so rest is for the weak.  No joke.  When I ran cross country in high school, I would tell myself I could run just a little bit farther.  When I was tasked to clear the parking lot of carts at my job, I always volunteered to stay out there for the remainder of my shift because I had stamina (and working the register was boring).

Fast forward to my late teens/early twenties when I began to develop some physical problems.  When I was 22, the doctor told me I had the joints of a 45-year-old.  A few years later and I'm just not able to work with the same vigor I'm so used to.  While I still value physical labor, I'm realizing that my body has forced me to slow down, most likely because I pushed myself too hard. It's a frustrating thing.

Today marks 33 weeks of my first pregnancy.  I spent the entirety of yesterday painting half of my baby's room.  You read that correctly: half!  My palms and wrists were so worn out by the end of the day that I could barely chop veggies for dinner.  This morning I was in so much physical pain it was hard to climb out of bed.  I want so badly to finish the painting project today, but my body is screaming at me to have mercy and rest.

I'm not saying these things to garner sympathy.  I'm merely realizing the necessity of grace.  I have developed more grace for the people in my past who I thought were just making excuses and being lazy.  Some of them might have been, but I'm beginning to understand that there may have been more legitimacy to their need for rest than I was giving them credit for.

I'm realizing the need to give myself grace.  I've always held myself to a strict standard when it comes to life.  If you're going to work, give it your all!  If you're going to play, give it your all!  I'm an all or nothing sort of person.  It's hard to accept the fact that "my all" now is not as much as it used to be.

And maybe I need to have grace with myself for growing another human being.  I haven't let pregnancy slow me down too much until now.  Now I'm coming to accept that the closer I draw to my due date and the bigger my baby grows inside of me, the more tired I'm probably going to be.  And that's ok.  While I may begin to fall behind on my household duties, I am nurturing a tiny human being who fully depends upon me for survival.  That requires rest.

Rest is hard for me.

Grace is important.  Rest is important.

I'm learning a lot about both.

Radical Change

For no reason other than the fact that I love fresh flowers and that these particular ones happen to be gracing my desk, I share with you these spring-time flowers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My husband and I were recently discussing the current state of our country.  Everyone is just so full of hate!  There's not even a hint of trying to understand someone else's point of view, my husband lamented.  As we sat in silence pondering this, I thought about how change for our country cannot come from an elected office.  There are too many opinions, sides, and prejudices.  If only there could be some kind of activist group that could teach people how to treat people and show them how to love, I thought.

Then it hit me.

I'm so stupid.

Of course.

There is an activist group tasked with this and it's called the Church.  But how do we radically change a nation and really get at hearts? The answer came to me simply: the church has been commanded to make disciples.  But, but, but... how will that work?

And I realized that that's just it.  We, the members of the Church, were commissioned with making disciples.  We aren't the ones winning hearts for Jesus - Jesus is winning hearts for Jesus.  We are simply called to obey and be used as His hands and feet to reach the lost and hurting and hateful.  We are to be examples, and take those people under our wing.  But more importantly, as we do this, I truly believe that it is Jesus who will radically change the nation.

To obey is our task.

Let's get to it.

Mornings and Monsters

 Life around the H house can sometimes be comical in the mornings.

Recently, I purchased activity trackers for my husband and I to wear in an effort to be more intentional about being active.  These trackers have a setting where they can evaluate how much sleep you're getting, as well as the quality of said sleep.  Further, you can set an alarm to go off so that only you can feel it (a quick buzz on the wrist), and without risk of waking up your partner.  That being said, my husband usually rolls over and to wake me when his alarm goes off.

Now that the important background information is out of the way, let's take a peak into what happened *this* morning.

We knew he had to be up and at it this morning to be at the church to meet a guy who was looking at the foundation.  --- As an aside, the church wall is sinking.  So that's fun.  But back to the story. ---  He also remarked how I was going to have a full day today given that last night he had listened as I rattled off a litany of things I wanted to do.  The point being that we both had things that needed doing, so we both needed to wake up and get going.

I despise mornings.  I force myself to wake up at a decent time, grab my coffee, spend time with the Lord, and go about my business... but I hate them.

I haven't slept well in a long while due to various aches in my joints.  This has been due more or less to pregnancy.  I often toss and turn, which means that my poor husband also hasn't been getting high quality sleep of late.  I feel bad, I really do.

This morning, I was in an odd awake-asleep-dead tired-but all too aware of my surroundings state.  My husband's alarm apparently went off.  I was aware of him getting up and leaving the room, but thought he was coming back to bed.

Then I heard his shower start.
Then I got grumpy because he didn't wake me up like he was supposed to.
Then I looked at the clock and got even grumpier.

Did he not hear me clearly last night when I told him of all that I wanted to do today???  I had to get going.

I was sorely tempted to waltz into the bathroom and tell him how disgruntled I was that he didn't wake me, when I thought better of it and marched into the kitchen to turn on my coffee pot instead.

This was God's grace on our marriage.

As I waited for my coffee to percolate, I considered climbing back under the warm comforter and starting my quiet time.  But it hit me that that might be a selfish thing to do (trust me, in this case it would have been), so I made my husband breakfast instead.

Um, that doesn't make any sense, you might be thinking.  I know, I know.  But even in my grumpy mood I didn't want to send him off to work without a hot meal.  It's been especially cold and damp this past week, so I wanted him to know I had still been thinking about him.

It was then, and only then, that I talked to him and said, "gee, thanks for waking me up this morning!  You have breakfast waiting for you when you're finished."  I assure you, it was said with a light-heartedness that I had not been feeling earlier.  He laughed and laughed when he heard my side of the story.  "I knew you hadn't slept well last night, so I was trying to let you sleep!"  "Yeah, well, I decided to love you instead of light into you.  So there's that," was my still-slightly-miffed-but-warming-to-him response.

We had a good laugh together.  I was then able to proceed with my quiet time in better spirits and a better conscience than had I done so before deciding to kill my selfish, grumpy, morning self and put him first.  I'm so thankful that I married a man who will care for his monster wife in the mornings.   She definitely doesn't deserve it.

Reclaiming Joy

Seasons come and go.  We all know this, but it's harder to remember that when we're in the throws of an especially tough one.  Last year was an especially tough one for me.

There were a lot of changes that went down.  If you know me at all, then you know that change and I do not necessarily get along very well.  Oddly enough, I myself had forgotten this, and I let those changes effect me in negative ways.

Fast forward to November, I finally realized that I needed to get my act together.  No more letting a little friction in a relationship get me down for the whole day/multiple days.  No more thinking poorly of circumstances that I couldn't change yet had to live with.  No more complaining, bad attitude, or long-term frustration.

No more.

This year I began a thankfulness journal.  I'm only a month in, yet the effect of such a practice has been, in short, reclaiming joy.  Now whenever friction arises between me and another, I thank Him for the way in which resolution was reached and/or the love that was expressed through working out a problem with others.  Other times, I thank Him for family, church members, my dear sweet husband,  cheesecake, a new-to-my-family car, gorgeous weather, etc. 

Everywhere I look there are things in abundance for which to be thankful.  The result has been an improved mood, joy inexpressible, and the ultimate sense that God is weaving together from the faded threads of my life a beautiful tapestry that displays the furtherance of His kingdom here on earth.  I love life again, and I have less shame to grapple with.

I feel as though I'm able to learn and grow again.  My daily devotions have a renewed life about them.  The Lord has been showing me His faithfulness and goodness, even in the hard seasons of life.  He is showing me that it's pointless to try to fix my life/mood/reactions myself, and that it is worth everything to entrust them to Jesus' safe keeping.  I'm no longer anxious, angry, or frustrated.  I have joy and peace.

Today is the final day of January.  I did not begin my journal til the second week of the month, but I tried to add to it on an almost daily basis.  Already I have accumulated 45 things in the month of January for which I could praise the Lord; 45 things in such a short span of time.  I cannot wait to see how God will show Himself worthy of praise in the coming months.  He is good.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
 ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Learning to Relate

Have you ever been thrust into a situation where you had to work among people who found it hard to relate to?  Like, really hard to relate to?

Let us take a quick look at the community in which my husband currently pastors.  Drugs are a big deal out here, which means a lot of mental problems for whole families.  There are a lot of broken families.  It is a very poor area.  Those who have hit on hard times out here have really hit on hard times.

As a way to involve myself in ministry, I agreed to teach the 1st-6th graders on Wednesday evening.  Given the size of our church (anywhere from 50-65 regular attendees on Sunday morning), I never know if kids will actually show up on Wednesdays.  I could have zero kids, or I could have six kids.  Each week is different, and there is no such thing as advance warning.

There are a couple of different crowds who tend to show up.  One consists of well-mannered, sweet brothers who are interested in learning and listening to what I have to say.  The other crowd is, to put it quite simply, not.

Let me briefly describe the background of this other set of kids.  They come from broken homes, have less than ideal living conditions, and are rough around the edges.  They would much rather play than listen to the lesson, and they have very little Bible knowledge whatsoever.

I confess, whenever I hear them outside in the church parking lot, I pray fervently for grace and lots of love to show them as I gear up for what I know is going to be the longest hour of my week.

This Wednesday, I found myself praying over and over again, "Oh, Lord, please help me love them," as I felt the frustration rising within me when I had to tell them yet again to put the stapler away and pay attention.

It's hard to love someone who isn't just like me.  It's hard to be understanding and have grace for where they're coming from if their history isn't similar enough to my own.  And yet, I am called to do hard things.  Loving those who don't look just like me is specifically something I am called to.

Matthew 4:47 says, "And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others?  Do not even the Gentiles do the same?"

That's a high standard to attain when it seems you have absolutely nothing in common with the people with whom you are interacting.  But attain it we must, for the very next verse tells us to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect. (vs. 48)

I come from a big family with parents who love each other and have remained married for the past 30 years.  I was taught from birth to love Jesus.  Every week, my family went to church to learn, and were then quizzed on what we learned on the car ride home.  Every.  Week.

When I have this rougher crowd in my classroom on Wednesdays, I have a really hard time relating to them.  We have practically nothing in common aside from the fact that we are all created in the image of God, and that He is gracious to all of us.  I didn't get to pick my background, family, living conditions, etc., and neither did these kids.

It is imperative to remember that we are all the same before God.  We are all sinners in need of a Savior.  We are flawed, broken members of the human race in desperate need of love.  We have very stark outward differences, but inwardly we are all the same.

And so, even if I spend my Wednesday evenings trying my hardest to get those kids to stop getting paint on the table, or to not throw bean bags at each other, this could be the most meaningful hour of my week.  They may very well not be recipients of Christ's love at home.  If I can meet them where they're at and be gracious and loving, then it is an hour well spent.

Oh, Lord, transform my heart and attitude

Starting the New Year off Right

On this day, I have found myself being thankful for various seemingly small things.

I'm thankful for laundry to fold, because it means my family has clothes to wear
I'm thankful for dishes to wash, because it means my family has food to eat
I'm thankful for a house to clean, because it means my family has shelter
I'm thankful for old vehicles to maintain, because it means my family has transportation
I'm thankful for illness, because it shows me that my husband loves me when he does various chores that are usually mine so that I don't have to today
I'm thankful for cold weather, because it means there is a God in heaven ;)

These are just a few of the things I've been meditating on and thanking the good Lord for today.  Thinking on these things has the ability to calm an anxious heart and allows me to enjoy today for today.  :)

Sanctification and God's Great Love

Sometimes life is all rainbows and unicorns, but more often than not it's a tough season in which many of us find ourselves.  Lately it seems as if nearly everyone is in a period of serious growth.  This growing, though a means of achieving richer, fuller lives, brings with it much pain.  It's uncomfortable and often makes us want to throw in the towel and say, "enough!"

Over the last several months there have been several in my life, including myself, who are dealing with growing pains.  Sometimes it feels as if there is no light at the end of the tunnel.  Sometimes, we see glimmers that alternate between being nearer to us and farther off depending on the day.

The pain is very real, but I would like to offer a bit of encouragement.  God uses difficult trials to mold our character into something that better reflects His glory.  It is through difficult times that we should be praising God for His constant care for our lives.  Does that make the pain any less?  Not always.  But sanctification should bring to mind that God has not forgotten us by any stretch of the imagination.  Rather, He is very much actively involved in the minutest of details in our lives.  Yes my friends, He cares that much.

When we look at it that way, how can we help but to recognize His love for us?

I often have a difficult time resting in the love of Jesus.  I know it's there.  I know it's real.  But my emphasis has always been on His discipline in my life.  However, it is wrong for me to separate His discipline and His love.  The two go hand in hand!  Being the loving Father that He is, how can He see poor behavior or a faulty mindset and not correct it?  It is challenging for me to see the loving side of His character.  When I'm going through an intensely trying period where I know I have character flaws that are being corrected, I sometimes have to make myself pause and see His great, steadfast love.  When I take the time to do that, I am humbled.  The God who did mighty works in the Bible is alive and well and still working with His people, not once leaving them to their own devices.

Do you not see how the sanctifying trials that God is leading you through today are expressions of His love?  He desires that we become more like Him.  Our sanctification is how He makes that a reality.  

Isaiah 43:1-3 says, "But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.  For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior..."

Be encouraged today.  If you're going through a sanctifying trial right now, take a moment and meditate on the reality that God does not yank you around but that He has a very defined purpose behind having you walk through the fire.  He loves you and wants you to be like Him.  That is His heart's cry for His people.  He wants us to be holy as He is holy.

Take heart and know that you are hidden deeply in His love.  There is no escaping it.

Romans 8:38-39 says, "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Rest in that today and be refreshed.

Hope in the Midst of Darkness

94 O Lord, God of vengeance,
    O God of vengeance, shine forth!
2 Rise up, O judge of the earth;
    repay to the proud what they deserve!
3 O Lord, how long shall the wicked,
    how long shall the wicked exult?
4 They pour out their arrogant words;
    all the evildoers boast.
5 They crush your people, O Lord,
    and afflict your heritage.
6 They kill the widow and the sojourner,
    and murder the fatherless;
7 and they say, “The Lord does not see;
    the God of Jacob does not perceive.”

8 Understand, O dullest of the people!
    Fools, when will you be wise?
9 He who planted the ear, does he not hear?
He who formed the eye, does he not see?
10 He who disciplines the nations, does he not rebuke?
He who teaches man knowledge—
11     the Lord—knows the thoughts of man,
    that they are but a breath.[a]

12 Blessed is the man whom you discipline, O Lord,
    and whom you teach out of your law,
13 to give him rest from days of trouble,
    until a pit is dug for the wicked.
14 For the Lord will not forsake his people;
    he will not abandon his heritage;
15 for justice will return to the righteous,
    and all the upright in heart will follow it.

¹⁶ Who rises up for me against the wicked?
    Who stands up for me against evildoers?
¹⁷ If the Lord had not been my help,
    my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.
¹⁸ When I thought, “My foot slips,”
    your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
¹⁹ When the cares of my heart are many,
    your consolations cheer my soul.
²⁰ Can wicked rulers be allied with you,
    those who frame injustice by statute?
²¹ They band together against the life of the righteous
    and condemn the innocent to death.^[b]
22 But the Lord has become my stronghold,
    and my God the rock of my refuge.
²³ He will bring back on them their iniquity
    and wipe them out for their wickedness;
    the Lord our God will wipe them out.

My Grace is Sufficient

My grace is sufficient for you

How often have we as believers heard those words?  I'm sure that many among the conservative homeschool crowd have embraced their pioneer wannabe-ness and slapped it on a sampler of some sort as they learned how to cross stitch.  Sorry.  I felt the need to throw that in there.  :P

How many believers know the context of this verse?

Aha!  Ok, now we can have a real discussion about real life applications.  Boom!  Excited yet?  I sure am!  Alright, let's dig in...

My last post was focused on how poor my attitude had been of late.  And as I'm well aware, this is the one lesson that I have to continually revisit.  But I went to a speech and debate tournament this past weekend!

What in tarnation does that have to do with diddly squat?  Please. Allow me to explain.

I judged many different speech categories while I was there.  Among these was apologetics, where the students have 4 minutes to prepare a 6 minute speech for the judges.  One young lady worked 2 Corinthians 12:9 into her speech, and she did a phenomenal job of applying it correctly.

The context of the verse is that Paul was given a thorn in his flesh, so to speak, to keep him from becoming conceited.  That is, he had a weakness that he pleaded to be removed from him three times.  God's answer?  "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  To which Paul responds, "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

For the first time in my life, I heard that verse as a rebuke of sorts.  God leaves no room for question.  That's it.  His grace is what we get.  But if we realized how much grace we're surrounded in, I think perhaps we'd have the understanding that of course His grace is sufficient!  How could we possibly desire anything else?

And with that perspective, it doesn't matter what terrible task we've been commissioned with, what job we're working, how many unlovable people we find in our lives, or what sort of place we may be living in.  His grace is sufficient, because at the end of the day, it's really not about you anyway.  It's all about Him.  And it's through those dreaded instances that He makes something that looks more like Him in you.

But that takes a right understanding of what grace is in the first place - unmerited favor of God

I think if I spend a decent amount of time reminding myself of God's grace, what it is, and how it changed/is changing my life, I would never complain again of anything else.  That is what is key to a right attitude.

Oh God, help me begin to understand how much grace you offer and how truly sufficient it is.

One Sinner's Hope

I bet if you're reading this you are human, and by nature of being categorized as such can sympathize with me in a certain area.  Over the course of your life, I'm willing to bet money that you've had at least one week where everything seemed to fall apart.  Got your attention yet?

This past week was perfectly riddled with imperfection -- my own imperfection

It seems that from start to finish, I managed to fail a million times within each day.  As my little list of failures continued to grow, so also did my frustration with myself and others.  From there it was one easy step to slip into the blame game.

Work, family, and relationships were all incredibly difficult for me.  Once I had struggles in one area, I let it bleed into another and build upon the other struggles that were non-existent until I let that first area infect the rest.  Craziness, I tell you!

Those are the things that threatened to undo me this week.  Every time I turned around I had a new attitude to change, a new perspective to fight for, and a new resolution to kill my terribly inward focused attitudes.

If you don't struggle with this, my hat goes off to you.  Truly.  My personal bane is my constant need to fight for a proper outlook (See?  Even "outlook" connotes looking outside of oneself) when it comes to life.  I know it's not about me, but I'm so good at forgetting.  So very, very good at it.  I think I've attained expert level.

This week has been a sad string of bloody battles that I have lost more than won.

But I have hope.  I have hope that Jesus isn't done sanctifying me.  I have hope that His plan for my life doesn't end in the despicable mire of my own sin, but rather in freedom from it that is final.  I have hope that this too shall pass.

I pray that God would continue to burn away my dross.  I know that I have quite a lot, and I'm aware that it's painful in the moment, but I also know that it's utterly worth it in the end.  And so my journey continues.

Soli Deo Gloria

Numbering our Days

The smell of brewing coffee and cooking eggs filled the air.  Waiters and waitresses hustled and bustled about serving their customers cheerfully.  I looked across the table at my mom as she and I considered a portion of Scripture together over breakfast.

Psalm 90:12, "So teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom."

As my mom shared her thoughts, I immediately saw a timeline in my head.  At birth, everyone is given a timeline that will be filled with various events and decisions, big moments and small moments.  The catch is, though, that each person only has so many years to accomplish these things before time runs out.

I thought back on my own life.  I have already spent 22 years of my timeline.  22 years that I will never get back.  How many more years do I have to complete my part in history?  Life is so fleeting, and my desire is to live with a passion for righteousness.  But have I accomplished that?  I think in some ways I have, and in a lot of ways I haven't.

If we are taught to number our days, it's as if there is a level of urgency in our lives that may not otherwise have been there.  We only have so much time left on our timeline... are we using it wisely?

I think that's where the heart of wisdom comes into play.  If we are numbering our days, doing a countdown of sorts, then it forces us to realize that we MUST live wisely.  We must decide on our priorities, and not lose ourselves in worrying over things that hold zero value.  We must devote everything we've got to a job well done, and avoid foolish mistakes and distractions as much as possible.  Time is oh so precious and therefore something that we can't afford to waste.

At the end of all things, I long to hear my Savior say, "well done, good and faithful servant."  In order for something to be done, I have to do it in the first place!  I don't want to look back on a life filled with regrets and worries over things that don't matter.  I want to be able to look back on my life and say that I was faithful with things that the Lord entrusted to my care.

Personally I believe that numbering our days should inspire us to live humbly, faithfully, and wisely.  After all, this life that we are living is not going to last forever.  So with the time that we have, let's live in such a way that we may hear, "well done, good and faithful servant."

C'est La Vie

Today I picked up the phone in the hopes of hearing my little brother's voice.  It rang a few times before he answered.  We spent the better part of the next hour catching up on all things life.

It's amazing how quickly life can change on a person.  One minute everything's exactly how you've placed it, and the next leaves everything completely rearranged even though things were perfect the way you had them.  And yet, sometimes it takes a while for the new arrangement and it's functionality to sink in.

Over the summer, we said goodbye to the old way of life and welcomed the new.  Luke got married.  He's the first of the 11 to start a family unit of his own, and as much as I wanted to process it at the wedding or in the days following, it didn't happen.

I and several of the other older ones in the family were there for the little ones as they learned to let go of the only life they knew how to live, one where an older brother came home for holidays and summer vacation.  It was hard to watch them grapple with a change that was out of their control.  And yet, it was amazing to see how well they adapted shortly thereafter.

I was there as friends we grew up with dealt with their buddy being a married man.  I was there to help them think through it.  I was there as they recounted old memories, and I wished with all my heart I could have joined them fully.

I had wanted to cry, to miss him right away, and to wish for the days when playing cops and robbers was our highlight.  But I couldn't.  I couldn't bring myself to tears, and as hard as I tried, the memories just wouldn't come.

This past week was the first time I felt the twisting of the heartstrings that comes with the winds of change that cannot be undone.  It finally began to hit me that some of our habits as siblings will never happen again.  There are chapters in our story that we won't be able to revisit.

I can't go downstairs and expect Luke to be sitting there waiting to cook up a midnight snack.  I can't simply lace up my running shoes and go for one of our walks where we share our hearts.  I can't tune in to one of his outlandishly dramatic and hilarious tales whenever I feel like it.  Not anymore.

But I do have the memories.  And I lived to remember and soak in the moments for a reason.  Now that he's establishing his own family and coming into his new role as husband (to a fantastic sister-in-law, I might add), I may not be able to reenact the things we used to do together, but I can sit back and relive the memories that I have stored up all these years.

I've said it before, but I will say it again: life is bittersweet.  I love that I was given 20 years to make memories with my brother.  I love that while we once walked through life together as kids, we can continue to walk through life together as adults.  And I love that I'm finally able to fully enjoy this new season of life.

And you know something?  Life is a beautiful, beautiful thing.  

The Whole Armor of God

¹⁰ Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. ¹¹ Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. ¹² For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. ¹³ Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. ¹⁴ Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, ¹⁵ and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. ¹⁶ In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; ¹⁷ and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, ¹⁸ praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, ¹⁹ and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰ for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

Ephesians 6:10-20

This was my prayer today.

And So I Run

Working out.  It's tough.  I love it.  I hate it.  It's not a competition.  But it kinda is.  Working out is where you find that you are your own worst enemy.

This morning I woke to my brother nudging my shoulder.  "Time to go!"  Biting back a moan about how it would be so much nicer to stay in bed for another couple hours before work, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pulled my messy bed-head hair into a pony tail.

I am not a morning person.  Not in the slightest.  But for my brother, I'd do almost anything, including getting up before the sun to take him to the airport.

The plus to getting up early?  A quiet and still house to come home to in which to have my coffee with God.

After I got home from work, I wanted to do nothing more than either curl up with my book or simply take a nap.  However, I knew if I didn't run right then that I wouldn't get my exercise in.  Sometimes, you've just gotta force yourself to do the uncomfortable.  For me that means sometimes running a few miles in the heat of the day when I would rather be doing anything but.

Life is tough.  Suck it up.

One of the things I've found, though, is that my runs have become super important to me.  Do I enjoy them?  Not particularly.  I can't breathe, I get tired of running the same routes, my legs hurt, and my little brother is not so subtle in his "you should probably get a shower now" hints.

That being said, part of me enjoys them and they have quickly become important to me.  Running allows me to get out of the house, do something good/productive for myself, process life, and most importantly, pray.  Yes, my runs have quickly turned into my prayer time.  Why?  Because I am very clearly reminded in a very tangible way that when I am weak He is strong.  With that very much at the forefront of my mind, I find that I get a lot of ground covered both spiritually and physically.

That's part of the reason I force myself to run 5 miles regularly or try new routes and switch it up, or simply push myself harder.  It's a good reminder of the work that needs doing in my spiritual walk/run with the Lord.

And so I run.

Hosea

I've been reading through Hosea recently and I gotta say that I had to force myself to take it slow.  I finished it yesterday, but I found myself reading back through the passages that caught my attention again this morning.  There is so much to chew on that I might have to park here for a bit and just reread it.

Hosea 11

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.  The more they were called, the more they went away; they kept sacrificing to the Baals and burning offerings to idols.  

Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk; I took them up by their arms, but they did not know that I healed them.  I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them.  

They shall not return to the land of Egypt, but Assyria shall be their kind, because they have refused to return to me.  The sword shall rage against their cities, consume the bars of their gates, and devour them because of their own counsels.  My people are bent on turning away from me, and though they call out to the Most High, he shall not raise them up at all.  

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?  How can I hand you over, O Israel?  How can I make you like Admah?  How can I treat you like Zeboiim?  My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender.  I will not execute my burning anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and not a man, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.  

They shall go after the LORD; he will roar like a lion; when he roars, his children shall come trembling from the west; they shall come trembling like birds from Egypt, and like doves from the land of Assyria, and I will return them to their homes, declares the LORD.  Ephraim has surrounded me with lies, and the house of Israel with deceit, but Judah still walks with God and is faithful to the Holy One.  

This particular passage has my head spinning.  So much of God's character is portrayed here and I don't think that I, with my finite mind, can comprehend all of it.  Yeah, I'll definitely be mulling over this one for a while.