Sweet Sweet Days of Grace

"And You heard each one of
my cries for help and You came to rescue me,
Every prayer that I had spoken
reached Your ears and all my tears weren’t cried
in vain... You watch over me in the darkest valleys.
You’ve never left me alone
Never once have You forsaken me.
Even though I walk through this shadow of death
You will guide and defend me...
You’ll guard and protect me..."
~ Watch Over Me, By: Aaron Shust


A week or so before Christmas, I was on my way home, excited about an evening lounging on the couch with my man. I had just gotten off a call with him and was happily listening to the newest American Idol crazed “star” croon about a crush when suddenly I lost control of my car.

I hadn’t thought the roads were slick at all, but apparently I was wrong. I veered right and overcorrected, I spun my car (twice, I believe) and landed my car in a ditch. It nearly flipped over, landing completely on the passenger side of the car and then, thankfully because of the ditch preventing a complete flip, landed upright, hard with a jolt that nearly knocked my brains out.

My car was totaled, but I was fine – just bruised and sore from the blessed seatbelt that, had I not been wearing, would have brought a very different ending to this story according to the officer who spoke with my husband. I sat in the warmth of a stranger’s SUV until he arrived and I remember the incredible relief I felt when he opened the door and I saw his eyes fill with tears just before I threw myself into his arms and sobbed.

For the next few nights I was petrified of driving at all and when we went car shopping for a new vehicle, I didn’t want any part in it. I couldn’t even think about it. At night, Aaron would hold me, kiss me goodnight and I would burst into tears. I was so thankful to still be with him. When the accident was happening and my car felt like it was flipping and as though it was airborne, I didn’t think I was going to make it. I remember putting my hand on the car’s ceiling as it nearly flipped upside down and thinking, “I’m not going to get out of here.”

I’ve gotten better. I can drive more calmly now and I don’t cry about goodnight kisses, but I’m still petrified of less than ideal road conditions. It’s January in Southern Indiana . We had ice yesterday and snow this morning. It’s unrealistic to think I can avoid hazardous driving conditions completely. I stayed home yesterday because of the ice. I told one of my good friends that no one would be able to drag me out of the house. I received a devotional yesterday (that I just signed up for the day before) that made me catch my breath. It was entitled, “Say Goodbye to Anxiety”.

That’s what you would call a God-incidence.

I felt like I didn’t want to read it. What was God going to make me do now? Was He going to drag me outside to my car and force me to drive through my fear? I didn’t want Him to tell me that. I didn’t want to know He was right. I didn’t want to be told what I already knew. I glanced through the short reading and my heart got snagged on the following:

“If God cares for you, why do you need to care too? Can you trust Him for your soul and not for your body? He has never refused to bear your burdens…”(Quote taken from Truth for Life’s daily email devotional by C.H. Spurgeon and updated by Alistair Begg)

Ouch. So, He’s okay for my soul but not okay for my person? I hadn’t thought of it like that, but that’s honestly how I was approaching it. I know He has saved my soul and I know that He protected me in the accident and who knows how many times before. But I wasn’t living like He was protecting my physical body. I wasn’t living as though I trusted Him to keep the car from flipping or using the seatbelt to keep me safe and restrained. I wasn’t proceeding from this valley with faith. I wasn’t going anywhere. I was content to stay fearful and crouched in my home with my new car sitting shiny and locked up in the garage. The Lord and I talked a lot yesterday. Well – He talked. I listened.

This morning we had snow. “Oh this is just great…” was my before-thinking response. We checked the Weather Channel and my husband left the house first to scout out the driving conditions. He called me to tell me there was definitely a dusting of snow, but if I drove slow, I should be okay. I didn’t feel like I would be okay. I felt like blowing chunks. But I bravely told him, “I can’t stay in this house forever, I guess…” and loaded myself into the Malibu .

I backed out of the garage, stopped the car and prayed. Then I utilized our free year of XM Radio and tuned into the pre-set Christian radio station I had saved. I kept it turned down low, coasted down our street and white knuckled the steering wheel. I listened. I prayed. I watched my speed.

At one point, I noticed how there was still snow on the other side of the road, but thankfully my lane was snow-free. I asked God why this was and I heard Him say, “Because I knew you couldn’t handle it.” It wasn’t said in a condemning way, but in the way of love that says, “I know you’re doing your best and I’m not going to make it harder on you just because I can.” Grace. I thanked Him for knowing how hard this was for me. Miles down the road, as I neared my office, I noticed that snow was now on my side of the road as well. I barely got out, “But I thought You said…” to the Lord when He rushed in and consoled, “But now you can.” And I could. I did. Mercy.

I arrived at my destination and grinned like I had just got invited to prom. We did it! Fear lost its chokehold and I could breathe, again. He saved me. All of me. The hands that stole the keys of death keep me consistently in His palm; body, heart, mind and soul. He knows my comings and goings. He knows how many strands of hair I lost in the shower last night. He doesn’t miss out on one piece of me or my life. He never has. He never will. He simply can’t. It goes against who He is.

And I’m so thankful that His character and goodness trumps my stubborn will, unsafe driving conditions and the evils that be every single time.


"I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father… has given them to me..." ~ John 10:28

This morning as I leaned against our kitchen sink and shoveled mouthfuls of Froot Loops past my lips before heading to the gym, my brain conjured up a graphic “What if?” scenario and I haven’t been able to shake it.

The sky couldn’t be more black at 5:30 in the morning if it wanted to. The backside of our house is littered with windows that open up into the back yard; windowed doors that open onto the deck where our beast of a puppy, Ruger, sleeps and slobbers and the window over the sink that was a must for any house that my boyfriend (now, husband) should buy. In the morning I catch my reflection in the glass as I move from the hall to the dining room to the kitchen and I wonder – what if someone was watching me? What if someone had learned my routine of sugared kid cereal eating?

I held my little bowl with the nifty built-in handle and leaned back against the sink. What if someone snuck into the yard and aimed a gun at the back of my head? What if they pulled the trigger and I fell, causing my husband to rush from the bedroom to the linoleumed kitchen floor to find me, damaged and surrounded by broken window glass, Froot Loops and my one true love: 2% milk? What if the bullet tore through my vocal chords and shredded my ability to sing? What if speech therapy brought no speech at all? And my line of thinking was this: If I was rendered speechless…

Would my husband know how much I love him?

If I couldn’t tell him throughout the day like I do or as I leave for work in the morning like I do… would he know? If he never heard my voice on his ears ever again, would he be convinced that my heart is totally his? That I want nothing more than to be loved by him and him by me? Would he know? My instant conviction was yes, of course he would know. If I asked him he would say yes, of course he would know. (He would also tell me to buy curtains if the black backyard puts thoughts like these into my head on any sort of a regular basis.)
But just because I know something (or he knows something) doesn’t mean we are removed from making the effort. To do more than just say, “I love you!” but to show it with patience when I walk in the door starving and he is craving to tell me a story about his day. Or to not roll my eyes when he pulls one of his OCD moves. Or to not pout when he wants to watch a ball game, but remember instead that he doesn’t pout when I pull out my hoard of scrapbooking supplies or am nestled deep in a book.

It’s amazing how good we think we are at something until we 1) have to do it every day and 2) have to do it with someone watching and 3) have to do it every day with someone who is watching and who frequently does it better. I am humbled by his love for me. I am moved by the tremendous depth of his devotion, patience and sacrifice. Is he a saint? Noofcoursenot. He’s just a man, but he’s my man and he’s the one God made for me. The one God uses in my life to dry my tears, hold my hand, get my sinus medicine and rush to Lowe’s to buy me a Christmas tree. All without saying he’s busy or stalls with the golden, “Just a minute.” All without his eyes rolling back in his head. All without keeping score. Hands on, full hearted love.

With no words at all.

My husband shows me on a daily basis how God loves. Sure, he does it imperfectly and there are definitely times when he gets irritated and blows a gasket just like I do. Neither of us are going to be able to love each other without fault 100% of the time. Just ain’t gonna happen. But what is happening, is that we are daily learning to love in a way that is bigger than our relationship or our feelings. It’s in the effort – big, small and missing-the-mark – that love is heard. It’s about what reaches the heart… not the ears.

And yes… I am sure he would be secure in my love even if words would fail me. Because I know that my love for him has reached past his thoughts and is driven deep into his heart. He knows he is loved by me, just as I know I am loved by him. We show each other all the time that our love goes beyond a lot of words. But if words are the means, we have already summed it up in two:

"I do."


"DEAR CHILDREN, LET US NOT LOVE WITH WORDS OR TONGUE BUT WITH ACTIONS AND IN TRUTH…" ~ I John 3:18

"It's gonna be love, it's gonna be great
It's gonna be more than I can take
It's gonna be free, it's gonna be real
It's gonna change everything I feel..."
~ Mandy Moore, "It’s Gonna Be Love"

"Why, why are you still here with me
Didn't you see what I've done?
In my shame I want to run and hide myself
But it's here I see the truth
I don't deserve you. But I need you to love me..."
~ Barlow Girl, "Need You to Love Me"

"Grant me a willing spirit..."
~ Psalm 51:12b



Love. What is it? Or better yet, what is love after you’re married? I’ve been married a whole 16 days and I feel like everything I thought I knew about love is supremely inadequate to fit the new understanding of love that I am currently experiencing. He’s the same boy I met a little over a year ago – isn’t he? I’m the same girl who talked his ear off the first time he called me – aren’t I?

Have we changed so much in two weeks? What changed? When did things shift so far into the unknown? Was it after the engagement ring? Was it after the 2nd date? How long have I been missing the dock in my little paddleboat, as I circle ‘round and ‘round the lakefront? I thought I had it, but now I’m beginning to think that I never even knew enough to have the right to think I had it when I thought I had it.

My new husband has loved me more unconditionally than anyone I have ever known. And I have never loved anyone more fully than I love this man. When I think about him I feel like I’m gargling my heart – that’s how full of love and blessing this little girl is. Does he hurt my feelings? Yes. Do we fight? Sometimes. Does he do things that perpetually make me feel like knocking him upside the head? Youbetcha. He’s a real boy and I’m a real girl and we have our bad days just like we did before we were all grown up and married.

I’ve always known and believed that God has more in mind for marriage than simply happiness and procreation. It’s a growth tool. A method of refining that not only rubs you raw, but exposes your strengths… and your broken places, too. It’s humbling and it’s embarrassing and it’s strong and safe and terrifying. But in some ways I’m pretty sure I thought that things wouldn’t start to hurt until a little ways down the road. That I wouldn’t be tripping head first into life lesson after life lesson and too many ever brightening shades of change. Nor did I expect to be daily trying to pound away the question in my mind: "Am I really like that?"

I read once that our spouses are like the gift of a full-length mirror that God gives each and every one of us on our wedding day, accompanied by a tag that would read something like: "Congratulations! Here’s to discovering who you truly are!" We might read that and think that now, suddenly (finally) we are going to get things right. We’re being given the key that unlocks our true potential. And while that is true and without a doubt the necessity (and I do mean necessity) for growth is there… it’s not always a feel-good kind of finally getting to where you need to be. It’s a painful my feet are bloody from walking barefoot on tacks kind of get you where you need to be.

Not only am I discovering the humanity of my husband… the sinner and the prince… I am more often discovering the whiny little wench that parades herself around as royalty. Yes, that would be me. The princess in disguise. And when I say disguise, I mean disguise. If you saw me as I am beginning to see me, I don’t know that you would know the all American sweetheart is there. Forget the tiara, you’d be too distracted by the lice in my hair. Forget creamy skin and blushing innocence, all you’d see if pock marks and evidence of wrong choices, wrong steps, wrong feelings.

The irony of it all, is that I don’t feel ugly living with my brand new full-length mirror gift of a husband. I feel more beautiful than I ever have in my entire life. My flaws? I don’t see them, because he doesn’t see them. There’s something about truly looking through your lover’s eyes that makes you really understand that you are loved. Despite feeling like my security blanket was just fed through the shredder, I’ve never felt safer, more respected, more necessary. I’ve also never thought more about how selfish I am. How unnecessarily irritable. How defensive over the smallest criticism or suggestion. And how privy I am to applying the double standard to his actions but not my own. Oh I love the double standard.

It’s beyond amazing how many times I have thought something (and not a nice something) about my husband – whether it be a major infraction or just a simple, "Man, I hate it when he does that!" kind of moment – and in that wingspan of seemingly righteous indignation, I will get slapped upside the head with the memory of a situation where he was in my shoes and instead of casting stones, he responded with grace, love, patience or any number of qualities that feel a thousand times better than a rock to the skull. Let me tell you, it breaks you. It breaks your heart. It breaks your resolve. It breaks your meanness. It breaks your pride.

"Love is not selfish..."

So often I see, feel, hear and experience my husband doing what is right. Truly, honestly, Norman Rockwell kind of world right. And me? I’m more prone to do what everyone would say is right. And that’s wrong. I am beyond grateful for the gift God gave me on my wedding day: my handsome, snoring, stubborn, stand-by-me, husband. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving. His love has changed my heart forever already.

Thank, God.

Yesterday started out like any other Monday. I don’t need to tell you how Monday mornings feel. I’m sure you already know. So that’s how my Monday morning felt. And I talked myself out of Starbucks (which I later kicked myself for) and began my 40 minute commute to work. I was trying to get out of my blah mood and so I kicked on the radio and tuned into a sermon, which I typically listen to every day. The topic?

Be Grateful! Have an attitude of gratitude! Find that silver lining!

I wanted to puke.

I kept listening but not really. I was trying but it just wasn’t working this morning. I was tired, I was hungry – and why didn’t I stop and get Starbucks?! It was then I heard “the noise”. It was loud. It was obnoxious. I thought it was my sun roof. My first thought? “I’m trying to listen to a SERMON, here!” So I flipped the switch – open – close – still noise. What the….

And then like a bolt of lightening through my head, I remembered that what I was hearing sounded just like the sound my previous car had made when I had a flat tire. My eyes skirted to the side mirror and I saw cloudy smoke. I immediately pulled over, turned off the car and put on my emergency lights. (I should have also put on my emergency brake since I was precariously situated near a deep ravine, but I’m you’re typical girl. I know my car has four doors and it’s a Volkswagen and that’s about it.)

I got out and my right rear passenger tire was blown out all over creation. It looked like someone had slashed apart my lovely little wheel. I had never seen anything like it. So there I am, in heels, in the misty rain, on a steep incline – and I just want to cry my eyes out. My mind was whirling. I work on a U.S. Naval Base – it’s not like I can just call a tow truck or have my fiancé come and rescue me. I was stranded. And my best friend (and co-worker) had the day off. AND since we’re in the middle of no-man’s-land – I get little to no cell reception. BEAUTIFUL!

Thankfully my cell phone (which had a dying battery despite being charged all night) worked for me to send a text to her and for her to call me to let me know her Dad (who thankfully works on Base as well) was on his way to rescue me. He was there in no-time, offered to put on my spare (which I thankfully had – I didn’t even know if I had one!) even though he was in dress clothes. He took me to work and in no time brought me my car – spare in place, blown-out-tire in the trunk. And thankfully Walmart was open until 8 p.m. and I got a new one put on that was thankfully half the price I was expecting.

The bad thing is I did a very poor job of being grateful yesterday. I stewed about it all day, because that’s what I do. Something goes wrong and I freak. I feel very faulty and poorly designed when it comes to such situations. I hate not knowing things and when I’m asked if my car is a V6 or a four-cylinder and if my rims are 14” or 16”… my mute response and deer-in-the-headlights look does absolutely nothing to make me feel mature and in control of the situation. I feel twelve and I want my Dad. So I was very insecure and grumbly yesterday. And even though I was trying to be grateful for how things had come together (and was relieved – don’t get me wrong!) I still wasn’t whole-heartedly thankful for the experience.

…Until this morning when I was forwarded an email from the father of my friend who saved the day for me yesterday. I burst into tears at my desk while reading it. On his way home, his truck swerved to the left. He pulled over, couldn’t see what was wrong and hoped he could make it home. (Thankfully he lives very near the Base.) Turns out the wheel bearing had totally come apart and was falling out in pieces (I have no idea what this is, but it sounds important.). Had it locked up, he could have either flipped the truck or been forced into oncoming traffic. He remembered that I had “ironically” (ie: God-incidence) told him yesterday about listening to my “Have an Attitude of Gratitude” sermon and proceeded to list out everything he could think of in the way of giving thanks… from having a neighbor who had the hex head wrench he needed to being grateful for his daughter who knew she could count on him when her friend was in need – and even that I didn’t suffer the blow out while I was on the curvy, high-trafficked highway before getting on Base.

It’s funny. The more I re-think over yesterday, the more I see to be grateful for – and the more I think positively and with a thankful little heart, the more I see links in the chain, snapping together to form a long line of God’s grace to me. Had my blown out occurred on the highway (while I was going 65+ MPH) I could have been killed or forced into traffic and harmed someone else. Not to be too dramatic, but had I died there would be no wedding in 2 months. Aaron would lose his girl. Had my friend’s Dad’s truck not held together until he got home – the same could have happened to him. It seemed like such a nuisance having a blow out in the middle of nowhere in the rain… but it was really a blessing. It all worked out in the end. We’re all safe.

And maybe the next time things start spinning out of control or forcing hazy smoke into the air, I’ll remember before I complain that maybe there’s a lesson in all of this mess if I’ll just hang on and give thanks quicker than I throw out curses. We talk so much of God’s faithfulness, but when we’re forced to swerve, we seem to think we’re in it all on our own. And we’re not. Maybe we need to stop being such little victims and start embracing life and the tragic, difficult and sometimes annoying ways God seeks to humble us and remind us that we think we’re so smart, but uh, we’re so not. And I’m pretty sure He has many more ways… and many miles of road left… to show us how great His love really, really is.


“… you keep close watch on all my paths.”
~ Job 13:27

I’m getting married.

In 73 days, I’m marrying the man I initially didn’t want to meet. The night before last he emailed me our flight itinerary for the honeymoon. It seems so surreal. In 11 weeks, I’m a wife. After years of blind dates, Mom set-ups (seriously, just say, “No!”), the internet (don’t judge!) and a really bad relationship that tore my heart out, slammed it onto the cold pavement and left it there to be rolled over by trucks and mopeds and busy feet…I really wasn’t sure this was going to happen.

This being true love. This being God thinking of someone our whole lives to pair me with. This being something so much bigger than anything I had ever known I really wanted. This being something that came faster than I had dreamed it would and it took so much longer than I had hoped. In coming up on the other side of the relationship quarry, I see how far I’ve come but also in looking back, I see my meddling and my distrust and my ignorant paths that circle over and on top of each other. So many wrong turns. So many same turns. I stand up here with the ring on my finger and wish with all my heart that I had trusted God more. And I desperately wish I could get everyone to stop going in circles so that they won’t get to the top, look back, and wonder if they couldn’t have done better in the waiting.

I love my fiancé. Not just in the really serious, obvious, in-sickness-and-health way… but in the goofy, snort-on-your-neck-I’m-a-baby-dragon way. That sounds retarded, I know, but love is like that sometimes. I love him in the big ways and the little ways. I love holding hands in the truck and I love when he brings me flowers. I love singing to country radio with him and seeing his eyes fill with tears when he knows my heart has been broken and feeling his arms around me when I’ve been damaged by life’s unfairities. I love having a best friend who is a guy. I love having a man in my life who can fix everything from a clogged up garbage disposal to my hurt feelings. I love knowing that if something goes bump in the night, I have more than my cat, General Maximus, to protect me. I have someone to go adventuring with. I have a pal. I have a helper.

The beautiful thing about the marriage relationship is the way it translates into God’s love for us. Not only does He love me enough to give me the human full-length mirror of my future husband to show me who I really, really am in order to sharpen me and shave off my more unlovely pieces – but He also shows me more of Himself the deeper in love my boy and I get. Once when my car battery was deader than a door nail, my love sacrificed his relaxing Saturday to come rescue me. I was at the point where I was pretty convinced no one cared about me – but he did. And immediately the impression pressed on my heart was, “This is what God’s love is.” When the bottom falls out and when you’re left with no hand to hold – God’s there.

My most recent epiphany is the fact that I have a helper forever. I have someone to share in these earthly trials and joys. Someone to take vacations with and watch seasons of “24” with and to sneak kisses with when no one is looking. I have someone to help me with paying the bills, saving for the future and God willing, raising babies. For as long as God allows, I have a helper who is going to come home to me and be in this life with me. But the bigger picture?! The bigger picture is that God has already given all of us a helper forever.

The Holy Spirit is God and He is in us. Helping, guiding, interceding and growing His fruits in our lives. We aren’t ever truly alone. Whether we’re single or not, engaged or not, married for 50 years or not – we are never without true support. We aren’t left to figure out this crazy world on our own. Some days it may feel like it, but we haven’t been plopped in the middle of this creation to just thrash around. We aren’t as helpless as we sometimes think we are. God would not have left us that way. He has more in mind for us than just getting by.

And love and marriage is more than just having a line of good days splashed along with some make-up days. It serves a bigger purpose. And so does our walks with the Christ. There’s more to it than Sunday mornings. And the wider we open our hearts and eyes, the more breaths we will take in that are worth taking. When you start living like that, you fall in love. And falling in love makes things both difficult and easier at the same time. Following Christ and being filled with His Spirit is not always the easiest, most preferred or most understood route.

But it is definitely the sweetest.



“And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper,
to be with you forever, even the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot
receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him.
You know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.”
~ John 14:16-17

You can't buy me love. A penny saved is a penny earned. Love isn't love until you give it away. And if you want to be rich, count the things you have that money can't buy.

Love is a commodity that everyone wants, wants to have and doesn't want to give up. It's a coin that jingles in our pockets and makes our happy days happier and our miserable days more tolerable. The money of love can also clash together with other things we stuff in our pockets and l-o-v-e, for all of its benefits, can also rub us the wrong way and has the annoying ability to rub us raw.

Love bites.

A relationship is made up of two people with their own set of curses and gifts and the struggle to want to out-give the other while fighting with wanting what you want when you want it. That's how a relationship is – give and take, but more appropriately, give and give. In marriage you don't belong to yourself, you belong to your spouse. In a friendship, we are also to model Christ's behavior and are to "love God and love others." (Matthew 22:37-39). We are to "submit to one another out of reverence to Christ." (Ephesians 5:21) But what does that really mean?

Let's get down to the nitty-gritty.

Relationship means sacrifice. Not only the sacrifice of our time, our energies, our goods and our hearts, but of ourselves. Love is a lifestyle that is patient, kind and long-suffering, which means that it is not prideful, rude or harsh. Basically, love is not about you. And that's what hurts. We typically like things that are about us: fiestas, newspaper announcements, cupcakes (Mmmm, cake), – those are a blast and a half 'cause they give us an attack of the warm fuzzies. But true love that is not about self or foolish pride, love that is others focused and not inward dwelling, is a choice to both consider others before ourselves and brings us to a call to forgive when they step on our toes and smash our fingers in doors.

We make choices every day, all day long. Are we going to bring our lunch or are we going to risk reaching a ripe-old age by indulging in McDonald's? Are we going to cut that person off or slow down and let them in our lane? Will we make that phone call or put it off for another day, save or go in debt, or sit on our thrones of lies and cast judgment on our offenders? Will we choose to forgive? Will we choose to die to self? Will we choose to love?

Our two-sided coin of love is bordered with your face on one side and the other person in your relationship (whether romantic or friendship geared) on the other. You can flip the coin and see who gets to love who that day or you can add up all the "money" you've invested in the relationship and do a comparison chart and decide how the face on the other half could step up the giving. People are so like that. You and I are so like that. We make things all about us and totally shred the memo from God on it being all about Him and all about them. But many times we are rivers of give and oceans of take. We feel justified in standing this way.

That should be your first clue you're off God's game.

Don't rationalize. Don't justify. Love God, love others. Forgive just as God through Christ forgave you. You know what was sacrificed for your bond from Hell to be paid. If you truly know and are grateful for what Christ has done for you, then how can you not follow His example? Has He not loved more than you ever will? Has He not put up with more, been broken hearted in more ways, been grieved more about you than anything anyone has ever done to you? Have we not done more to Jesus? And has He not done more for us than we can ever repay?

I think we've really got it wrong when we talk about how different people are and seal things up with the neat, little bow-tie-fact that "it's just how they are". You're right. It is how they are. But it isn't how they have to be or even necessarily how they are meant to be. It's how they choose to be. And the only reason we don't want to recognize that it is a choice is because if we did, then that would mean that we acknowledge the necessity and the opportunity to change. Ooh, I'd rather stay right here, please. It's so cozy! And bring me some lemonade while you're up.

This isn't about personality, although we've made it about that. I forgive people easily – that's just how I am. You hold a grudge until the day you die – that's just how you are. We need to be grown-ups here and admit that we have the ability to be more than we currently are. You aren't set in some mold just because you are the middle child. Just because I forgive easily doesn't mean I always forgive when it's necessary. My pride can get in my way as much as yours can trail you. It's not about something being easier for one person than the other. If it's what you're supposed to do, then it's what you're supposed to do.

We can hold onto old hurt until the cows come home. We can let our wounds fester and leave our hearts and lives scarred and emotionally damaged. We can allow pride to trample over welcoming someone home with open arms. We can forget that we are sinners, too. People will fail us. People will disappoint us. And people will cruelly and unfairly make us bleed. It's happened to you and the probability is that you've inflicted some other form of lasting torture on someone else's life. We can stand on our soapbox, point and say, "Thank God I'm not like that sinner!" or we can hobble alongside them, knowing that we've stepped into just as many potholes along the way. We're all damaged goods (Romans 3:22-24).

The blood of Jesus was obedience to His Father. The blood of Jesus was a sacrifice of Himself. The blood of Jesus was the denying of His own flesh to survive and to die. The blood of Jesus was love towards the lost and the least. It is Christ who lives in us – we no longer have ownership to our own devices. When it comes to loving someone who is hard to love, or offering forgiveness when you know you should but don't, ask yourself: What would Jesus do? I mean, really. Because if we say we mean what we say, then what are we doing?

Actions speak. That's all I'm sayin'.

----------------------------------------

"His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him,
'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.'

"But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown
into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants
saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and
went and told their master everything that had happened.

"Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant,' he said,
'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to.
Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as
I had on you?' In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to
be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.

"This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless
you forgive your brother from your heart."
- Matthew18:29-35

Discovering that your world is more than just you puts the hurt on an already aching heart.

A wise person once said that selfishness is at the root of most (if not all) discontent and self-centered seeking. In other words, the more you isolate yourself, the more you focus on what you don't have. Many people spend the majority of their waking existences tallying up all their wants and classifying them as needs. Like a kid drugged with Saturday morning commercials that turns every cartoon watching break into a premature Christmas list, turning our focus inward only magnifies the gap within and feeds the obsession to fill it and to be filled. Happiness is unwisely defined by the abundance of what (or whom) we possess.

We scoot things to the top of the importance list that maybe should be kept a notch or two below the rest. We praise love over wisdom, forgetting that wisdom teaches us how to love. We want success over patience and wealth of every sort over poverty of any kind. We would rather be faithless than judged—would rather be in a relationship of an unhealthy bent than alone and deep down; dreamless if it would prevent the ache of desire from sneaking up and staying behind. Avoid pain, avoid loss, avoid need. Always forgetting that we are vessels, not simply pure content. "We" aren't in our depths.

Like a glass that has been emptied, rinsed and dried, we are sparkling and clean and ready to go—to be offered to another and to serve by what we bring to the table. We were not made to sit behind a door, stacked neatly in the dark. Sometimes we would rather rush the process, fill ourselves to the brim and sloppily carry ourselves to the table. But in doing so we forget that we are an instrument of service and not the guest everyone has been waiting for. In our efforts to carry ourselves, we become damaged and awkward. We were made to do more than hobble. We were made to be presented. We are not the prize.

We are the offering.

Like Christ before us, we are to pour ourselves out for others. This does not mean becoming a doormat. It means that when it is truly all about Him, it is even more truly all about them—and not about us. It is not about how bright and shiny we are, but it is about what is so bright and shiny within us. We struggle so long and so hard for things that don't last. We build up treasures on earth that will not follow and that frequently do not bless. They are there just to be there, but are not necessary or beneficial. And we should think about that.

Why do we have what we have and for whom do we have it? Blessings are good. Love is good. It’s not that you should live in a box on a cool and shady corner. But life on earth is about more than filling our toy boxes, and it is definitely about more than survival. Open, open your eyes … and live.


In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father Philippians 2:5-11, TNIV.



This article also published on Relevant Magazine's website here!

Anger, which is the nasty, hooky thorn that burrows and lodges itself in our souls, is a parasite that gnaws and forces a deterioration of our hope, our patience and poisons multiple other fruits that should be bright and shiny, soaking up the sunshine. It is easiest to be angriest and it seems to be one of the most, if not the most justifiable emotion. We feel justified in our hurts, our betrayals, bad days, and interrupted schedules.

We beg, as the heroine in a popular television show: "Pick me! Choose me! Love me!" It's the sob that tears from the heart with a bottomless hole, but pay attention: the abyss is intentional and purposeful. It's for Christ to fill and as we well know by either looking at the world or by gazing in the mirror, filling the depth with whatever we can find is the first line of defense but ultimately a very poor one. If we are not aware, the fungus that is an ugly attitude will encourage a rapid decay, that if left alone, will eventually consume.

It's nasty, isn't it? The idea of something eating away our cores or filling us up with an unbreathable stench? It's undesirable and yet it is readily available and vastly embraced. No one is immune. Those with the sweetest dispositions may have an underlying layer of bitterness that is stewing and eventually they will blow their cover and their gentle demeanor will be shattered when they finally blow a gasket. Others have mannerisms that are easy to spot and tag and we readily delegate healing measures for their horrible, rotten, good-for-nothing day. We topically care for the symptoms of the rot, forgetting that the issue is a heart issue and must be dealt with by the One who knows it best.

When seeking out references for Biblically exampled anger, grumbling and the like, the Israelites are a group that probably come to mind to most. For a brief recap, they were initially unhappy as slaves, then discontent with the journey that redeemed them from the life they knew and because of their sin (by way of a bad attitude), God let them wander. After that they found reasons to be angry at Moses and Aaron, ultimately God who had brought them out of slavery with promises of a new land.

They wanted water, they wanted meat, they wanted to, once again, walk like the Egyptians. And even after bread was provided, they wouldn't trust God to still care for them - they exhibited this distrust by gathering more than they were commanded and were forced to deal with stench and maggots. When they wanted meat, they received it, but even Moses questioned how God would feed so many. The Lord God's arm has never been short. There is nothing He can't reach, withhold or give.

In chapter fifteen of the book of Exodus, the Israelites are found dying of thirst after three days without water. When they finally arrived at Marah, they could not drink the water because of the bitterness. The rabble began to rumble against Moses and he in turn cried out to God. The Lord provided a piece of wood that Moses then hurled into the water. The bitterness was soaked away and sweet, blessed water was available. A piece from a tree, given by God, removed what was poison and unpleasant.

We have also had a sacrifice on a tree for our souls. When evaluating our anger management or lack thereof as the case may be, we need to always bring to mind what is truth. What is the big picture? What is the necessity that I get from point A to point B and subsequently am "forced" tailgate this person the entire trip? What is good, what is worthy, what is God-glorifying? We are sacrifices. We are a royal priesthood and we are temples with Christ dwelling within.

If we want, we can continue pouring acid into His sanctuary, but know this: the burn ultimately ruins you and damages the testimony of Christ in your life. How is that? Well, according to I Peter 3:15 we are to be always ready to give a reason for the hope we possess. Being angry shadows joy. It's that simple. And because anger is such an easy habit to become entangled in, I believe it's one of Satan's main cuisines for us to be captivated by... one small bite. Just one.

Sounds eternally familiar, huh?


"A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." - Proverbs 19:11

"That you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God; strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy; giving thanks to the Father who has qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in the light." - Colossians 1:10-1

Tonight I crawled into bed, turned towards my window and began to pray. And as I began to pray, I began to hurt and then I began to cry. And that's when I started getting really honest and unafraid. He already knows my fears and how every bruise came to be. It's not new to Him or surprising and even if I'm angry, He knows that, too. I try to be very real with everyone. It's almost easier to do with anyone but Him. Tonight He gave me a reminder that comforted and stopped the salt in my eyes.

I told Him that I am tired of spinning my wheels. I'm tired of being shallow. Not so much in the way I think about things, because I oftentimes think very deeply, but in some ways, in the ways that I see it, I see myself as being a very shallow, very small pool. I do the same thing expecting different results, always forgetting an old saying from my former youth pastor: "Do what you always do and you'll get what you always get." That's something I seem to keep not getting.

But I do realize my mistakes and my wrong turns and all the times I get hung up in the mud. I'm not blind. Why do we do that? Why do we spin, spin, spin our wheels for so hard and for so long and for why? For what? We don't get anywhere. We're not accomplishing anything. We're just throwing the worst that we can dig out from deep beneath us onto everything that we are and onto everything and everyone that finds us.

We keep squealing the tires and flinging what we do into the air. Covering our true selves. Covering the back window so we can't see the past. Never looking out ahead of us, because we don't believe there to be a future anyway. And with everyone who steps close, we lock the doors - keep us in, keep them out - and then we throw the nastiness that we are dancing in on them, hiding who they are truly meant to be. Hindering who we are meant to be.

We'd rather press on the gas with all our might rather than switch gears and get out of the pit. We become mesmerized by the dancing of the keychains and the windchime-like music they make. We like the roar of the engine, the pain that we can delve deeper into and the people we can force out, keep out and try to not remember. We have that option.

Or we can turn off the engine and find a true passion to drive us. We can take our foot off the gas and find something else to press forward in. The option is there to leave the pretty keys and go off in search of new ones. We can say we are sorry. We can say we forgive. We can even admit we still love. And we can set off to clean the faces of the ones we've tried to keep away.

It's true that in keeping others out that we only keep ourselves in. Tonight on Grey's Anatomy Meredith realized the ridiculousness in aspects of her life when faced with death. "I have intimacy issues! How dumb is that?!" She realized that she had people that loved her and that would fight for her (last week Derek said he was her "Knight in Shining whatever") and all she could see herself as was ordinary all because of the words of one person. She gave up trying because she focused on what was in the rearview mirror.

All the love she was given in her present was impossible to see or truly embrace all because she was spinning her wheels. She had trust issues. She had abandonment issues. She has difficulty trusting men. She had fears and hurts and wounds that kept getting pulled open. And why? Because she was spinning her wheels. Staying in the same old tin can, with the same old set of keys, never shifting out of park. Never trying to get anywhere new. Never believing she could. Never believing it would make a whole heck of a lot of difference if she did.

It feels like the easiest choice to just stop going off-roading and stay on the straight and narrow. It would seem, to the logical person, that all flying sand and the wasted time would be a clear indication to get going on an adventure. Grab a map. Make a friend. Go chase the wild blue yonder. But the easiest choice is the hardest choice.

When we were little, my sister and I would climb this tree in our neighbor's back yard. He didn't mind. His name was Ted and he loved us. That tree made us brave, because we were able to get up there and get down all by ourselves. But sometimes we would tackle other trees, thinking they would be just the same. But they weren't. And I remember getting hung up in them more than once (or too scared to drop from the monkey bars) and my Dad would hold out his arms and tell me to jump to him. And that was more terrifying than being stuck in the tree all afternoon. I knew he'd save me: he always had before. I knew he wouldn't hurt me: he never did. I knew I could trust him, because I knew he loved me. All that stood between me and the dinner my Mom had prepared inside our cozy little house was just inches away. Daddy couldn't pull me out. He had to wait until I leaned forward and fell into him.

I always did. (Obviously because I'm here typing from my desk, not from an old magnolia tree!) But it was hard and I was scared and I often burst into tears. It was a massive leap of faith for a little girl, even one like me who had a pretty much fairytale life, to throw herself into the arms of the man God had provided for her rescue. It is still hard, sometimes. It is still hard to climb out of the truck or lean away from the tree limbs and reach into air and trust that when I am caught and when I am held tight, that it will be okay.

But God has provided a man. The Man. And it makes me want to want to fall....

Society. And wasted funding. And mismanaged funding. Basically, throwing money at a problem and fooling ourselves into thinking thats a real solution.

What further serves to drive me up the wall are those that think thats exactly what the State, the Feds and the local Christian organizations are there for: to provide ongoing solutions to their ongoing problems, which are really a result (at least nine times out of ten) of poorly taken steps and many years of sad and misguided decision making abilities.

If you're a chain smoker and your baby needs diapers, what do you think your priority should be? Is it your responsibility to care for your offspring to the best of your abilities, or is it up to the State in which you live or the Federal Government for which protects you or the local church full of nice people who will surely take pity on you? If your two year old is eating paint chips for a snack, because you have nothing else to offer, do you maybe think you should give up the two packs a day or the meth using or the turpentine snuffing to take care of someone small, defenseless and completely dependent on you for their survival?

I'm not against being compassionate. But I am very much against throwing money at a problem, thinking thats the answer to the worlds problems. A wise man once said that such an action is not compassion it is merely compulsion. And he was right. I dont have anything against individuals being provided public assistance (housing, food, etc.) when they need it and when they are trying. I believe that assistance should be available to assist not sustain.

The bigger truth is that this is not how things were supposed to be. The Federal Government's job was never to encompass education and healthcare. State government, as far as I know, was not put into effect to enable people to continue to live as they always have, without requiring them to make healthy changes for themselves, their children and society as a whole.

But the biggest truth, and maybe this is where we get uncomfortable, is that if the Christian community stepped up and did as we are commanded - for instance caring for the widow and the fatherless, perhaps we would see a change, instead of generation after generation tunneling down into the same abyss. Maybe if we were more like Jesus and not so simply stinking nice there would be a tide turn.

I suppose, though, that this is where we will go back to arguing that it IS the State's job or the big, bad Feds job, because God forbid that we would have to step outside of our perfect little lives and actually get our hands dirty or love someone who is difficult to love or give up some of our own funds so someone can go to bed with a full stomach. And on that side, maybe its not society's fault at all that things are how they are.

Maybe it's ours.