Let Your Light So Shine

In the little Baptist church I grew up in, we were unabashedly conservative; our pastor used to say (to many shouts of “AMEN!”) that we were Independent, Fundamental, Bible-believin’, Devil-hatin’, Gospel-preachin’, Hymn-singin’, Good News Baptists, and we weren’t the least bit ashamed of it, thank you very much! 

My family became Messianic in my mid-teens.  I was old enough to understand what I was doing when I switched, and I was proud of the move.  I believed whole-heartedly what I was learning in the Messianic Church—it answered questions and made sense of some things that never had made sense before.  It resonated in my heart, and I knew it was right.  But the Messianic lifestyle, too, was very counter-culture—perhaps more so than even Baptist doctrine.

I grew up hearing a lot of sermons about persecution of Christians in other countries—how governments would hunt them down, citizens would make their lives miserable, how they’d spend time in prison with barely enough food to sustain them, get their churches burned down, the lengths they’d go to to sneak a Bible into the country—and I always counted myself blessed to live in America, where we don’t have to worry about being persecuted.

Well.  I was right—but I was also wrong.

I never had much sympathy for dramatic people who whined about how hard the Christian life is, how they’d get made fun of, mocked, hated, and lectured for standing up for what they believed.  Frankly, I had no experience like that—most people, when they learned what I believed, just left me alone about it, even if they didn’t agree.  Those who didn’t rarely gave me more than a cursory “you’re so very wrong and also crazy.” 

It hasn’t been until recently I’ve begun to understand what the Whiny Christians meant—although my intent here isn’t to complain.  Just hear me out.

Satan doesn’t much care how he renders us ineffective, he just cares that he succeeds.  In some places, that is most easily accomplished by physically persecuting God’s people and making them miserable.  Here—here it is more devious.  More subtle.

The battle for our souls—and after we’re saved, the battle for our hearts and minds—is a spiritual one, that takes place on a spiritual plane.  It’s not a physical battle.  This, I have come to realize, means that fighting for what you believe is right is difficult regardless of the physical consequences.  That’s not to minimize the persecution of Christians in other countries—their battle is legitimate, and difficult, and sometimes near impossible.  But it IS to say that the battle we face here is also very real.  Whether you’re being thrown in prison or being betrayed by a friend you trusted, the pain is just as cutting. 

I might even say it’s almost harder here.  To be honest, I’d rather be flogged for what I believe than systematically torn down, lectured, accused of being a “hater”, and rejected for it.  Emotionally, being whipped or thrown in jail or killed—that’s all external.  It’d only reinforce my belief and my stubbornness in holding to it.  But to be attacked from the inside—that’s more devious, harder to resist, and ultimately more devastating.  I would rather die a violent death than slowly crumble from the inside and become useless to the Lord, living on either extreme—either judgmental and bitter, or having abandoned my beliefs completely and lost my testimony.

Unfortunately, that’s what most of Christianity has become these days—we have people running around calling themselves “Christian”, and one couldn’t really tell by how they live; they’re dishonest, cruel, manipulative, angry, bitter, and undependable.  Satan has destroyed just as many Christians in America by crushing their hearts as he has in other countries by crushing their bodies.  Things like peer pressure, societal expectations, and political jargon have rendered much of the Lord’s body ineffective.  How can we maintain our identity in Christ with comments like these flung at us every day:

“Being with you would be one step short of dating a nun.”

“Don’t be such a square, there’s nothing wrong with drinking.”

“I love being a heathen, I can do whatever I want without worrying about judging or being judged.” 

“You’re a virgin, eh?  Well what’s wrong with you?”

“Christians are all hypocrites and judgmental prats.  They expect us to all be like them.”

I’m sure each of you have heard your own versions of these, and other, statements, intended to tear you down.  When coming from strangers, they’re annoying at most; but when they come from those you care for…that’s when the real damage is done.

So here’s my point to all this: when you’re reconsidering your faith, when you’re a hairsbreadth from deciding it’s not worth it anymore, when you’re on the edge of reason and thinking it’d be better to give up living to the standards God has set for you--remember that this is Satan’s way of rendering you ineffective.  He wants to destroy you and your testimony, break you, throw enough mud at you to obscure the light of Christ shining through your life. 

Don’t give him the satisfaction, my friends.

Lean on the Father, lean on each other, and keep your candle bright.

Help Thou My Unbelief

And [Jesus] asked [the boy’s] father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood.  It has often thrown him both into the fire and into the water to destroy him. But if You can do anything, take pity on us and help us!”  And Jesus said to him, “ ‘If You can?’ All things are possible to him who believes.”  Immediately the boy’s father cried out and said, “I do believe; help thou my unbelief.”  …..He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You deaf and mute spirit, I command you, come out of him and do not enter him again.”  After crying out and throwing him into terrible convulsions, it came out; and the boy became so much like a corpse that most of them said, “He is dead!”  But Jesus took him by the hand and raised him; and he got up.

                                                                                                                                --Mark 9:21-27

Having grown up in church and having read my Bible cover to cover multiple times, I’ve been familiar with this story for quite a while.  There are many like it throughout the gospels; Jesus did a lot of healing during His brief time here.  One phrase that makes this particular story stand out to me is one I’ve never understood and have never heard anyone talk about much—“I do believe; help Thou my unbelief!”  I don’t think there is any phrase in the Bible so fraught with internal conflict, or so seemingly contradictory on the surface.  I myself have tended to gloss over it, never able to understand what in the world this man was saying: 

“I do believe…”

Well, that’s fantastic then!  Stand back and let Jesus do His thing! 

“….help Thou my unbelief!”

……What??  You just said you believe!  How can you believe and NOT believe at the same time?! 

I suppose God has a way of answering questions we didn’t know we were asking, for I have recently begun to understand and echo this long-dead father’s plea.   Let’s take a look at his situation for a moment. 

This man had a son whom he loved dearly, who was very sick.  The boy had an evil spirit that would send him into seizures, often at inopportune times or in dangerous places.  Having been witness to a seizure before, I can tell you it’s one of the more frightening medical emergencies to see.  At least when there’s blood you can DO something about it, but the proper first aid response to a seizure is to move dangerous items away from the victim and let them seize (and call for medical assistance, of course).  There is nothing you can do for them, until the seizure passes.  This father had to watch his son go through this on a regular basis.  The spirit also made the boy a mute; so not only was he in regular, constant pain, he could not communicate well with anyone around him.  Imagine your son in a similar situation; tell me you wouldn’t be in agony about it.

I think I understand what the worst part about all this was for this man.  It wasn’t the fact that his son was in pain—although that was awful enough, to be sure.  It wasn’t the money he undoubtedly spent on physicians to help his son; it wasn’t the unfairness of it; it wasn’t even his own pain watching his son suffer that was the worst part.  The worst part for this father was the fact that he saw no way his situation would ever improve.  As he watched his son seize and anguished in the lack of communication with him, as he saw doctor after doctor and no one could help his boy, his hope must have dwindled away quietly until all that was left was a hollow acceptance that this was the way things would always be.    When he heard this famous Healer and Teacher, Jesus, was coming to town, I’m certain he must’ve had to muster up whatever was left of his hope to go see him. 

It’s plain to see, when this man meets Jesus, that he is beaten and grief-stricken.  He practically begs Jesus to do whatever He can to help his son, and Jesus tells him anything is possible for one who believes.  I can imagine this man’s disheartenment—had he not been believing all along?  Had he not held out hope until he had none left?  Had he not done everything in his power, and then some, to keep his faith and his family’s faith alive? 

Here’s where the seeming contradiction comes in.  The man wasn’t angry with God, he hadn’t even lost his faith.  He knew Jesus could help him; intellectually, and in his spirit, he still had faith.  At the same time, in his heart, he was tired, afraid, a broken man.  Hope felt like a dangerous proposition, and trying to imagine a better future took more energy than he possessed.  The man had not lost his faith; he simply couldn’t feel it anymore.  He had not lost his ability to believe; but he could only do so intellectually now.  Hope had no purchase, no hold in his heart. 

So he cried to Jesus, “I do believe!  I know you can help my son, I know you can restore him and heal us both!  I know this like I know the sun will rise tomorrow!  But help my unbelief—because I cannot feel it.  I cannot look at you and say with conviction that I have hope for a better tomorrow.  I do not.  Help me to believe—in my heart—again.”

This man was completely open and honest with Jesus, and Jesus honored that request.  He healed the man’s son, and I have no doubt He restored the man’s broken heart as well. 

I have no doubt that someone reading this is at a point where they feel like nothing will ever get better.  You may know in your head that God loves you and wants the best for you; you may still love Him more than anything, and have faith that He has your best interests at heart.  You may know all this, but be unable to feel it in your heart.  If imagining a better future seems impossible, if you literally can’t see a light at the end of your tunnel, if you try to avoid hoping because you can’t afford to be disappointed again—you too can pray the prayer this man did.  It’s not a contradiction, it is honesty.  And the Lord honors that more than He does false praise and a façade of “I’m fine.” 

Just be open with Him.  He knows what’s in your heart already; why try to hide it?  Or, if you’re like me; why acknowledge He knows it, but still insist on patching up your own heart before offering it to Him? 

What do you think; have you ever done either of these things?  Leaving your comment below may encourage someone in a similar situation!

Very Nearly Speechless--But Not Quite

For all that I love writing—journaling, blogging, writing stories and thoughts—I’ve found that when I feel particularly strongly about something, I usually have trouble translating those feelings into words.  It’s almost like I have to absorb the feelings first; take them and have time to form them into something that can be packaged and put out on a page (or in some cases, a screen, of course). 

Today I saw something that affected me on that level.  My feelings are still in a bit of a tangle in regards to it; normally I’d wait, think on it for a few days before posting, allow myself to calm a bit.  However, I think that what I read today is indescribably stupid and insulting enough that it deserves to be addressed in as unkind a manner as possible.  So, forewarning: If you a) can’t handle logic and never engage your brain before speaking, b) hate America, our troops, or our ideals, or c) are a general idiot, please don’t read this.  Better yet, do.  I’d love the opportunity to hold you up as a shining example of puerility.

So here’s how this will work:  I’m going to post the link to the blog post I read, so you can go there if you’d like to have your stomach churn and your blood boil.  If not, it’s all good—I’m going to quote and address some of the less ridiculous claims this writer makes.  Then I’m going to e-mail him a link to this blog post so maybe he can get a bit of an education. 

Here’s the original blog: http://mindprod.com/politics/iraqdisrespect.html

Idiot Point #1:” I explained in another essay why all Americans in Iraq are international war criminals subject eventually to prosecution and life imprisonment. I don’t find war criminals particularly deserving of respect. If you are an American soldier, and you are wondering why am requesting that everyone spit on you, read this essay [hyperlink on the original blog, I’m not going to include it here] to understand why. You deserve treatment no better than any other criminal on death row especially when you brazenly brag about your capital crime and encourage others to follow in your footsteps.”

                Wow, where to start?  I wonder if this guy has ever actually READ about a real war criminal.  Here are a couple:

                --Adolf Hitler. http://www.ess.uwe.ac.uk/genocide/docments.htm

                --Kim Jong Il: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kim_Jong-il

                --Mahmoud Ahmadinejad: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahmoud_Ahmadinejad_and_Israel

Compared to:

                --Michael Monsoor, Navy SEAL

-- Jason Dunham, US Marine Corps

--Ross McGinnis, US Army

--Jason Cunningham, US Air Force

--Their stories can be found here, and there are thousands of others just as heroic. http://www.nationalreview.com/articles/221056/lost-heroes-war-terror-jeff-emanuel#

                My solution to this writer’s obvious ignorance as to what a war criminal IS would be the suggestion that he quickly relocate himself to, say, North Korea or perhaps Iran, where he can personally meet one. 

Idiot Point #2: “Today’s soldier is not defending his country. Iraq had no WMDs. Iraq had no weapons at all with to threaten the USA. Bush Sr. disarmed it the end of the Gulf War. Iraq had not managed to hit a single plane as the US bombed Iraq between the two wars killing between one and two million Iraqis, mostly children. Today’s soldier is not fighting to defend, but to conquer and plunder.”

                There are several factually incorrect statements here.  Take the first sentence, for example: this writer evidently had his head so far up his rear on September 11, 2001 that he couldn’t see the horrific attacks that killed over 3,000 of our countrymen.  As to the last few statements: the fact that Iraq had an inferior air force to ours is not of our doing.  They did give us a bit of a fight on the ground, though our superior forces and expert training stood us in good stead and we were able to accomplish our goal—free the Iraqi people and disarm any WMD’s (yes, yes, I know we found none, but we DID find biological and chemical weapons that Hussein was testing on his own citizens—war crimes, anyone?)—quickly, and with only 66,000-100,000 civilian casualties (depending on whether you ask the Associated Press or the WikiLeaks Classified Iraq War Logs), not one or two million.

Idiot Point #3: “The motive for joining the army then can’t be defending your country. If the pay is terrible, why would anyone sign up? Very simple. Enlistees can kill people, mostly women and children. They can rape, murder and torture with almost no chance of legal prosecution. They are motivated by sadistic lust no matter what other crap they spout as a cover…. Any normal person when given the chance to slaughter children is horrified. Our young soldier leaps at the chance like a trout going for a grub. Any normal person, when told he ought to napalm children to death demands to know why. He will search for any possible way to avoid such mayhem. He will distrust those who ask him to commit such an atrocity. He will check and double check before considering such an act. Yet our young soldier can hardly wait. He does not even need a reason. He is horny for blood, anyone’s blood, though preferably non-white, non-Christian blood. He is overjoyed the government is giving him a license to act out his bigotry and sadism. He deserves no respect for indulging his dark side at the expense of people who did him or his country no harm.”

                Okay, up until now, dear writer, you have been simply ignorant.  Now you’re most definitely in “crazy” territory.   Do you personally KNOW any members of the United States Armed Forces?  Even ONE of them?  Because I do—I’m not in the military, but most of my friends are, and almost every male in my family has been at some point.  My best friend is training to be an Air Force Pilot, and I know him better than anyone in the world outside my own family.  I assure you, he is none of the things you assert above; and neither is my father, grandfather, or any of my uncles or cousins.   Your accusations that every member of our military—or even most of them—are sociopathic rapist serial killer wannabes is….preposterous, bordering closely on deranged.  Delusional.  Mad.  Take your pick, they all apply.  The bit about non-white, non-Christian blood makes you sound slightly like a crazed conspiracy theorist.  Which you probably are.  You say the reason anyone would sign up for the military when the pay is terrible, is simple.  It is indeed, but it’s not a reason a raving fruitcake like you could possibly understand.  Words like honor, courage, patriotism, and service mean nothing to you, how could you understand why anyone would sign up to defend their way of life?

I’ve had enough.  The writer’s accusations get crazier as you go down, and yes, I’ve only addressed three—but after that last one, I’m feeling a bit ill.  Go read the rest if you like, but I’d recommend not.  They really are sickening.

I began this post wanting to write something as a tribute to the brave men and women who protect us, who sacrifice everything to ensure we live peacefully here in our homeland.  I saw this writer’s blatant disregard for that sacrifice, and I couldn’t help but respond.  I suppose my tribute can come later.  But before I close this out (I’m sorry, I realize it’s a bit longer than I usually post), I have to point out something that floors me every time I see it.  American military personnel, when faced with this kind of insane reasoning and unfounded hatred, do something I never can; they smile sadly and say, “This is why we fight.  So this guy can believe what he wants to believe without fearing for his life.” 

They defend us, yet refuse to defend themselves. 

But I will defend them, because I owe my entire way of life to them, and probably my life itself.

I will not stand quietly in the face of such disrespect and unreasonable hostility.

God Bless America.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Monday to all!  I know, I know, shame on me; it’s been over a month since I last posted.  I apologize and can only offer the feeble excuse that my life has been completely crazy lately.  But I’m here now! 

A little less than a year ago, I stood in a hospital corridor, pacing in front of a closed door.  Inside I heard shouts of pain that made me cringe, because they came from my little sister (I say “little” in the same way an 80-year-old parent calls their 60-year-old child “young man”).  Thankfully, it didn’t last long until I heard a cry of a different kind; the indignant wail of a baby, newly arrived into the world.  The implications of it brought tears to my eyes as I rushed to the waiting room to tell my dad and brother—I was an aunt!  My sister had given birth to a son, created a little life that we had been waiting to meet for months—ever since the first time he’d kicked, and as we caught glimpses of his active personality even in the womb.  When I was invited in a few minutes later, and Sam told me to come meet my nephew, all it took was one look at his tiny red face, eyes shut tightly against the bright light of morning, and I was a total goner. 

That sweet little nephew, Anthony Thomas (aka Squirmy), turns a year old in a few days, and what a year it’s been!  I’m extremely lucky to be able to see him several times a week, and having him around has brought indescribable levels of joy to my life.  It’s also taught me a LOT—who knew a newcomer to this world would have so much to teach a seasoned veteran?  (okay, okay, SORTA a seasoned veteran.  24 years makes me a veteran, right?)

First, I learned that I am a hopeless sap when it comes to little ones.  My poor friends have been subjected to Squirmy Stories probably every day for the last year, and they usually involve me either gushing about how adorable he is or being in tears because I love him just so dang much.  I stopped apologizing for it months ago, because I know it’s just not going to change.   

Secondly, I’ve discovered a love that I never really understood before—a love that makes me sentimental, as previously stated, but more than that, makes me fiercely protective.  I would literally do ANYTHING to ensure that little boy’s well-being, even if it was detrimental to me.  I’ve experienced love that would sacrifice for the happiness of another, but never a love like that coupled with the knowledge that the other party is, for all practical purposes, helpless.  It adds a level of emotion that is almost physical, it’s so intense at times.  We hear a lot about the love of a parent for their child; and while by no means minimizing that, nobody ever told me that the love one carries for their nieces and nephews is almost equally as strong.  So it frankly caught me off guard a bit.  O.o

Also, Squirm has shown me life lessons; that it’s possible to be cheerful regardless of your circumstances (I’ve seen that boy vomiting his little breakfast out and then turning right around and giggling at a silly face someone makes); that it’s the little moments that count, not just the big milestones; that falling down isn’t the end of the world, so long as you get right back up;  that learning can take place in the most mundane of places; and that, to even the best of us, diaper explosions happen.

So here’s to my Lil Man, on this almost-one-year anniversary of his birth.  I love you, kiddo!  Being your auntie is more fun than I could ever have hoped for, and I look forward to watching you grow in the years to come. 

Happy Birthday, Squirt!

Please, By All Means, Label Me!

I recently read an article in which an Alternative band was mentioned, a band that does a song I happen to really love.  I won’t say who the band is, because I’m not interested in bad-mouthing them; rather I’d like to address something I see as a problem in Christian music. 

It seems to be a growing attitude amongst Christian bands that we “don’t want to be labeled as Christians.”  The prevailing thought behind this is that without the “Christian” label, they’ll be able to reach more people, who theoretically will be brought to Christ by being fans of their Please-Don’t-Label-Us music.  My response to that:

Who are y’all kidding?

Let’s face it, guys.  The world isn’t interested in feel-good Christianity.  They’re not interested in more of what they already have.  They don’t need a God who timidly tiptoes around the background, making sure His people aren’t “offensive” to those around them.  The Jesus I worship was a radical, counter-culture Jew.  And yeah, he offended people.  Important people. 

It’s a good thing He didn’t mind being labeled.

And before you protest that you ARE being radical and offensive, let’s be clear: rock music is NOT going against the norm, okay?  I’m sorry, it’s not counter-culture, it lines up WITH culture.  It just lines up with the wrong culture—the culture you’re supposed to be standing AGAINST.  (Relax, I like some rock music.  Just don’t stick a few “You”s instead of “Baby”s in it and try to say you’re winning people to Christ with it.)

In all areas of our lives, and specifically in our music, let’s quit trying to fit in.  We don’t, and we shouldn’t.  Everything about us should be different, from the way we dress and talk to the kind of music and entertainment we make.

I, for one, am proud to wear the label “Christian”.  I’d be insulted if the world didn’t label me that way.

“As for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.”—Joshua 24:15

Nonsensically Hopeful

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.—Jeremiah 29:11

As is probably obvious, I was raised in a Christian home and became a Christian at a very young age.  There were a lot of things that I grew up accepting that other people may not, and I’ve always been aware of that.  So I’m not normally surprised when the world around me rejects an idea I take for granted as true.

However once in a while, I’ll forget.  Certain aspects of my faith have become such a part of me that I sometimes forget people around me don’t know what I know.  Hope is one such aspect.  It’s just something I don’t think about; the deep set belief that everything is going to be okay, that it’ll all work out, that someday, we’ll all look back on whatever we’re going through and smile, understanding what it was we needed from that circumstance.

Now lest you think I have no empathy for the hopeless, let me share with you that I too, have lost hope before.  Until 2010, I didn’t actually know what it was like to NOT have hope for a good future.  The thought never even crossed my mind; I had a dream, a calling, a fantastic family, a couple amazing friends, a loving church clan….my future was bright, even if my present wasn’t quite what I wanted it to be.  Until an unexpected betrayal and an illness that struck WAY too close to home changed all that.  The next two years were the hardest of my life; full of fear, relief, anger, joy, resentment, bitterness, and growing pains like you wouldn’t believe.  It was the roller coaster of a lifetime, and while I LOVE roller coasters, I have to confess I’m not particularly thrilled about emotional ones.  It was probably the end of 2010/beginning of 2011 before I realized I no longer believed with complete certainty that everything was going to turn out fine.  Quite the opposite, actually, I was so bogged down with pain and fear I could barely see tomorrow, and when I did catch a glimpse of it, all I could see was more of what I was feeling right then.  More sadness, more ache in my heart, more exhaustion.  I barely had the energy to keep up the façade my life had become to keep anyone from suspecting something was wrong.

2011 wasn’t much better than 2010, and by the end of it, I had reached the end of my rope.  Circumstantially, my life was actually going quite well: an awesome family vacation in summer 2011, a new job, a couple new friends, reconciliation with some old ones, and the illness that nearly took someone very dear to me was stabilized if not beaten completely.  But inside, I was a MESS.  I had finally reached my limit, there was no way I could continue to act like I was fine.  Perhaps the cliché that God changes your heart when you come to the end of yourself has some truth, after all.  My parents, of course, had been well aware of how I was really doing for months (some kind of parent radar, I don’t know how they do it), and had been trying to get me to talk about it.  I, naturally, wouldn’t; but when everything finally imploded, they were right there to help me pull through it. 

But it was a couple months into 2012 before I really got my mojo back—actually at the time I was starting this blog.  And when I finally came back, I came BACK.  It was like waking up from a horrid dream and remembering who I was before—but with a bit more maturity and experience.  My hope, faith, joy, contentment all became as much a part of me as if they’d never gone. 

Which was why, as I tried to talk a friend through a really tough situation the other day, and they accused me of feeding them “hopeful nonsense”, I was slightly taken aback.   It got me thinking on hope and whether it really is nonsensical.

I came to the conclusion that yeah, it really is.  Knowing the stats, knowing how the world works, knowing that bad things happen ALL the time to good people….it is logically a crazy idea to honestly believe everything will work out in the end.  And that’s where hope and faith come in.  Hebrews says faith is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”.  And it’s all based on Jeremiah 29:11—God’s promise that He has good plans for you, not evil ones. 

Oh.  And I have one thing to say to those who call faith a crutch: I’ve been on both sides of this thing now, faith and hopelessness.  Giving up hope is easier.  Holding on to something you can’t see is no crutch; it takes more strength than simply throwing one’s hands up and saying, “my life is going to hell, whatever.  I don’t care.”  So next time you’re tempted to call someone weak for believing in something they can’t see or hear or touch:

DON’T.

They’ll just laugh at your ignorance.

All that to say, yes.  We should be nonsensically hopeful.  You know why?  Because we have an “in” with the Creator of the Universe.  He loves us passionately, unconditionally, deeply; He wants the best for us.  And He can make it happen. 

So hope.  Have faith.  Be crazy in your determination to never give up believing.  Go make them wonder why the heck you’re still certain of your future when everything is falling apart.  Then when they ask, tell them of the God who loves you more than life itself, and Who gives you hope that is completely crazy, it’s so strong. 

Give It Up

There’s a type of monkey that is easily trapped—it’s kind of an ingenious idea, really.  The trap involves  a jar of peanuts that is just large enough for the monkey to get his hand into.  He grabs a handful of peanuts—and refuses to let go.  Then the monkey is easily caught or killed, while all he has to do to escape is let go of the peanuts and withdraw his hand from the jar.

Isn’t that how we are sometimes?  We grab hold of something we want—a dream, a desire, a possession—and we steadfastly refuse to let go, no matter WHAT.  Society has even glorified the idea for us—the concept of “not letting go” of something important is considered a noble one.  Don’t get me wrong, determination is an admirable trait, and it has its place; but I’d like to suggest a radical, maybe slightly crazy idea regarding our desires and dreams:

Give them up.

You heard me right; let them go.

I can already hear the clamoring of angry protests: what about hard work?  What about accomplishment?  You honestly think we should all be lazy and apathetic? How can you even consider the idea of asking people to give up their deepest desires and lifelong dreams??

Before you stone me, let me explain.

Remember the monkey and the peanuts?  Often we hold so tight to what we want that it does us harm.  It distracts us, traps us, leaves us open to attack from the Enemy of our souls.  I know; not because I’ve witnessed it, but because I’ve experienced it.  I have grabbed on to a particular dream and steadfastly refused to let it go, trying to make it happen whenever possible—and becoming more and more discouraged every year that passed without that dream coming true.  I have neglected other vastly important aspects of my life while chasing something I cannot right now HAVE.

I have been that monkey.

And here is what I have recently learned.  Everything comes down to trust: if we are close to our Father in heaven, if we are constantly tethered to Him by prayer, praise, and His Word, if our will is HIS will—then the desires we have have been put there by HIM.  What does that mean?  It means those desires are very likely part of His plan for us, and will probably come to pass at some point.

But WE have to stay out of the way.

We have to let go and trust.  Because like Abraham and Sarah, if we try to jump the gun and make it happen ourselves, we’ll only make a mess of our dreams.

Give them to your Father, He’s much better at making dreams come true than you are.

And when He gives you that dream, that opportunity, when it’s time, and He tells you to move, NOW: that’s where determination comes in.  When you feel His release, His blessing on an opportunity, take it and run, and don’t you dare stop until you accomplish it.

Don’t stop working, don’t stop hoping, and don’t stop obeying.

As to MY particular dream, I’m still waiting.  So I’m not telling you to do something that I’m not right in the middle of struggling through myself.

Be encouraged, friends, He has your best interests at heart.  Give your dreams to Him; He is a better caretaker and smarter strategist for them than you could ever be.

Trust Him.

The Light of the World

I look the part, blend in with the rest of the church crowd/
I know the routine, I could list all the bible studies in town/
Watch Christian TV, I know all the preachers and their clichés/
I’ve been born again, without a doubt I know I'm saved/

I try to speak faith, never give the devil one inch to get in/
I do worship and praise, let everybody know just where that I stand/
On the back of my ride is a fish and a cross for the world to see/
I know God is good, all of the time, yes there's no doubt for me/
But sometimes I hurt, and sometimes I cry/
Sometimes I can't get it right no matter how hard I seem to try/
Sometimes I fall down, stumble over my own disguise/
I try to look strong as the whole world looks on/
But sometimes alone I cry/

                                                                ---Sometimes I Cry, as performed by Jason Crabb

To me, this song represents a fundamental part of not only Christian life, but of life for any human being.  The necessity to hide one’s true feelings, to struggle alone, to present to the world the face they expect to see, regardless of whether it is a true face or not.  But the struggle is slightly different for a Christian; slightly more….intense.

We’re taught from an early age (if you grow up in church) that Christians are “the light of the world”.  We’re supposed to point the way to Christ in a society full of darkness and evil.  It’s an epic struggle on a spiritual level that we’re not only supposed to engage in on a daily basis, but also in such a way that the rest of the world doesn’t see and think we’re completely off our rockers.  Don’t believe me?  Just try it.  Go tell a nonbeliever you’re engaged in a daily battle against the devil and see what happens.  They’ll laugh you to scorn, I guarantee it. 

I am not a supporter of going around and spilling your guts to every person who asks the question “how are you today?”, and I understand the need to speak carefully to unbelievers.  But I think most of us get the whole concept of “Light of the World” wrong in two distinct areas.

First of all, to be a light to a dying world does NOT mean refusing to interact with said world.  It does not mean acting like an untouchable superhero.  It does not mean judging their every move.  Most of all, it does NOT mean being so “perfect” they can’t relate to us at all.  Part of our light IS the reality that there is darkness in us, that we still struggle with some of the same things they do, that we are not perfect lights. Our message isn’t that Christ solves all our problems and after we get saved we are perfect.  People are not stupid.  They’ll never buy that, nor should they.  Our message is that once the spark of faith is lit, the darkness no longer holds power over us.  Our message is that God is the ultimate Light, and when we allow Him into our hearts, He shines through us, flaws and all.

Secondly, we should not have to hide this struggle from each other, from our brothers and sisters.  Those of you who are Christians understand that it can be wearing, this daily battle to live in a world that not only disagrees with us, but hates us a good majority of the time.  We really must support one another, not kick one another while we’re down.  And no, I’m not one for “CHRISTIAN UNITY!!! WE SHOULD ALL JUST AGREE AND SING KUM-BA-YA TOGETHER!!”  But I am one for supporting each other through thick and thin.  Disagreement is one thing, judgement another.  Let’s stop wounding each other, we get enough of that from the rest of the world.  It’s time we started acting like Christians—acting Christ-like—to one another as well.  Love your brother.  Support them.  Be there when they need a helping hand.  Do not judge them for their mistakes.  And always be ready to reconcile when they’ve done you wrong.

The only way we’re ever going to be a light to this world is if we are REAL.  We cannot expect the world to buy a lie.  We’re not perfect.  We’re not always happy.  We’re not even okay sometimes.  We’re not invincible, untouchable, always strong.  Face it, guys, we’re just like them.  Except for one vital difference: we have God. 

And that makes all the difference in the universe.

THAT is what they need to see.

Frying Pans, Who Knew, Right?

When you see someone doing something you don’t want them to, when you really REALLY need to get their attention, when they’re as dumb as a post and nothing else is going to make them stop what they’re doing, what do you use?

Well, okay, honestly we all know one smack from one of those would cause permanent brain damage and they probably wouldn’t remember you, BUT.  You get the drift. 

Ever had one of those experiences where a truth from God hits you so hard it knocks you on your backside?  A friend of mine calls them Spiritual Frying Pan Moments.  I think its appropriate. 

I had an especially staggering one last weekend.  It’s still smarting a bit.  One of those ones where you realize you’ve been going about something wrong for YEARS, the ones that result in a complete paradigm shift because you know the only way to correct your mistake is to turn totally around.

I’ve known I’m destined to be a musician for years.  Those of you who know me know it’s a dream, a calling, and an eventual career.  Southern Gospel music is what I grew up on and it’s what I love.  But even as I’ve worked at it, dreamed of it, and prayed for it; there’s always been a nagging thought at the back of my mind that has prevented me from giving my whole heart to it: “A song?  God, look at the world.  Look at it!  People dying, getting sick, hurting; they’re afraid, the world is twisted and evil and horrifying.  I want to help, and you want me to SING a SONG?  How exactly does that change the world??”

Yes, in response to your gasps of horror, I did in fact BERATE the creator of the universe.  I also feel really stupid about it.  Just for the record.  But He’s forgiven me, so should you. 

My point is, I realized the other night just HOW wrong I was, not only to question my Heavenly Father, who knows everything; but how wrong I was about music.  I’ve always been incredibly encouraged by gospel concerts, they remind me who I am, call out the best of me—the musician and the Christian.  But I always attributed that to the fact that I’m weird, figured that wasn’t the case for anyone else.  For the first time Friday night, I saw what gospel music does for OTHER people.
and I

The same thing it does for me.

I saw people who were hurting laugh.  People who were broken smile.  Families who were otherwise splintered singing together.  I saw old and young people respond to the music, the humor, and the ministry the same way: hungrily.  People—even Christians—NEED to know they’re not alone.  They NEED to laugh, to be encouraged, to be reminded that even though the world is harsh, God is still in control.

And God has asked ME to be one to tell them.

What an honor. 

If you take nothing away from this post, please take this: if God has given you a talent, asked you to do something, rest assured it is meaningful.  You may not be the superhero, running around in a cape and tights (or more realistically, a uniform of some kind) saving people’s literal lives.  You may not be a powerful politician writing legislation.  You may not be a rich company owner, able to donate money to worthy causes.  It doesn’t matter.  God needs everyday people to work in areas that don’t seem important but really are. 

You are important.  What God has called you to do is IMPORTANT.  You’re an irreplaceable part of His plan.  Don’t waste years wondering like I have.  Throw yourself into His work with all your heart, and make the difference He has created you for!

Reflections

A tree, a star, a park---

These are small reflections of a beauty nearly forgotten by probably 85% of humanity, especially the ones who live where I do. Their concerns are of shopping, theaters, coffeepots potentially left on; a smorgasbord of daily worries and activities that consume our attention nearly constantly. But somewhere in my mind, beyond all these concerns, beyond the convenience of living near a Wal-Mart, beyond the everyday grind; there is a place in my heart that remains empty here. A place that yearns for something….LESS. And yet so much MORE.

A place filled only by being in the Colorado Rockies.

Or, as I can sometimes arrogantly think of them, MY Rockies. MY Rockies, where the sound of one vehicle is rare enough to warrant a look toward the only road in sight; gravel, of course. Where simple amenities like toilets, running water, and electricity are missed, in their turn; but not enough to keep you away. Where “exercise” doesn’t mean driving to the gym and running in place on a treadmill for an hour—it means hiking to the top of a mountain, where your reward is not only lost inches around your waist, but the sheer grandeur of the panorama around you.

Countless trees, bright myriads of stars, national parks so big it would take days to traverse them on foot---

These are the originals to the reflections in the city.

There’s something humbling about standing on a summit being completely dwarfed by the miles of valley, hills, and forest around you. Something fulfilling about puffing your way to the top of a rock outcropping at over 9,000 feet above sea level that makes touching the sky seem like less of a dream and more of a possibility. There’s something healing about sitting in a glade beside a stream, wondering if anyone has EVER been here before, it’s so untouched. And there’s something incredibly therapeutic about sitting round a campfire with people you love and respect, just talking and laughing together.

Yes, my Rockies are the most beautiful place in the world, but more than that—they heal and fill the hearts of those of us who love them.

This is why I love Colorado.

What about you? What makes you feel completely at ease and utterly content? What makes life’s killing pressures disappear, if only for a time? Comment below!

Does Silence Dogood?

Most everyone is familiar with the false persona that Ben Franklin created--a middle aged widow named Silence Dogood --in order to get his opinions published in his brother's weekly publication. Fortunately, for us, these days there's not much need to create a separate person in order to be heard. I honestly considered adopting a nom de plume for the purpose of avoiding any consternation directed toward what I may say; but the more I thought about it, the less I liked the idea. I'm not ashamed of what I have to say, why hide behind a made-up name? Keeping that in mind,the purpose of this blog is to write about whatever I have something to say about: there will be some politics, some moral issues, some faith, some entertainment, probably music and movie related. I feel it only fair to warn you: I am a Christian, Messianic specifically. I am conservative. I am a Republican. I am white. I am female. If any of those things bother you, dont bother reading. I welcome differing points of view on the comments section;the person who can't defend what they believe has no business believing it....BUT I will not stand for hate speech, personal attacks, or general rudeness. If you have something to say, feel free to say it politely or not at all on my blog. Thank you. I'll try to update at least once a week of, but you should know; I'm the world's worst procrastinator, so it may not always happen. :) "As all human beings are, in my view, creatures of God's design, we must respect all other human beings. That does not mean I have to agree with their choices or agree with their opinions, but indeed I respect them as human beings."--Stockwell Day Couldn't have said it better myself.