Joy Comes in the Morning

The preverbal straw that broke the camel’s back showed up last night. It’s silly really. This little thing that went wrong. But it’s the last in a string of bigger things that have gone wrong this week. I feel like I somehow have stuck a stick in Satan’s hornets’ nest… and they’re after me.

Then this morning I log on to Facebook to see that I’ve been tagged in a note from a sweet friend who is also being chased by a swarm of hornets.

Her take on life?

Be thankful.

Ouch. I’m telling you, reading her list of blessings my pity party came to a screeching halt. Conviction wrapped its loving fingers around my heart, and I knew… I knew that God would not be honored in my whining. He would not be glorified in my complaining. I knew that my response to any situation could only be praise.

So without further ado…

Today I am thankful for notes from friends that remind me of a gracious God. The perfect song at the perfect moment. Friends who know the deep dark secrets, and love me anyway. My sweet boy when he wraps his arms around me. Blue skies and white puffy clouds. Sprinklers and green grass. Teenage girls who are more concerned with their reputation with God than their reputation with their peers. A youth pastor who loves unconditionally and pushes students out of their comfort zones. Comfy pjs. Borrowing shoes from my daughters. My super-styling minivan (with the window that won’t roll up). Guacamole. Hagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche. Girls Night out. Mommas that didn’t birth me, but love me like they did. High school sweethearts that still love you when you’re all grown up. A job that matters. Facebook. Words. A good book. A king size bed that holds one mom and three daughters. Intimate conversations between said mom and daughters on said king size bed. Church. Pot lucks. (seems appropriate that they be together) My iPhone. Thunderstorms. Lakes. Woods. Peace and quiet. Libraries. Long hot baths where no one knocks on the door. Opening my Bible and finding comfort, every time. Texting. Teenagers. (those two go together as well) Theatre. Musicals. Sonic’s happy hour. Suffering with hope. Never knowing oppression, hunger, or war. Pedicures. Journals and the perfect pen. Blogs. Knowing He loves me, even when I’m acting crazy. Knowing that He knew. Before I drew my first breath, He knew me. He had a plan for me. He called me and anointed me. Knowing that suffering may come… but joy always follows.

"What ifs" and "you can’ts" are terrible things. They hold me hostage. Mock me.

What if I fail?

You can’t forget.

What if they laugh?

You can’t forgive.

They dig up my past and paralyze my today.

But what if I were free?

What would that look like?

What would that feel like?

Thinking about freedom brings to mind…

Little girls in spinning skirts.

Giggles. Dreams.

Cries of “push me higher” and “hold me daddy”.

Joy. Wonder.

Starry nights. Fairies and frogs.

Books under blankets.

Whispered secrets.

Buttered popcorn fingers. Sweet fizzy soda.

Popping gum and hopping scotch.

Prince Charming. White horses.

Castles. Queens.

Bedtime kisses and bedbugs.

Bare feet in the grass.

Ladybugs and fireflies.

Best friends.

Baby dolls.

Dancing. Skipping. Twirling.

Innocence.

But innocence has been lost. Childhood has been stolen. And the little girl’s dreams turned to nightmares along the way.

But what if…

What if innocence could be restored?

What if what was stolen could be returned?

What if nightmares turned to dreams?

What if Prince Charming was real?

I’ll tell you a secret… He is!

When you were a child, I loved you. I took you by the arm and taught you to walk. I led you with kindness and with love. But you rejected me. War visited you.

But I cannot let you go. I cannot give you up. My feelings for you are much too strong. I will heal you and love you without limit. I will be like the dew—then you will blossom like the lilies and have roots like a tree. I will lure you into the desert and speak gently to you. From that day on you will call me your husband. (from Hosea)

We’ve been locked in a tower. Our only company our fears. But there is a Prince. There is a knight in shining armor riding in on his white horse to save the day. He longs to rescue us. To redeem us.

To set us free.

Innocence restored. Dreams renewed. Princesses crowned.

Go ahead… twirl away!

Keep Out

Lately I’ve noticed something in my heart that bothers me. It’s this innate reaction to keep people out. What is that causes me to put up a “No Trespassing” sign on my life?

In theory, I love people. And, in theory, I desire to be used by God to love people. But in reality, I shut the world out. I close the blinds. Don’t answer the phone. Look the other way.

Why?

Because I am afraid.

I’m afraid of meddling. Of butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong.

I’m afraid of not having the answers. Of being overwhelmed with the depravity of deep wounds.

I’m afraid of letting you down. Of letting you see my mess.

I’m afraid that I’m not good enough.

But then I read of one who wasn’t afraid. And one who was.

Jesus had no fear. He also had no walls. He loved people. Touched people. Meddled in their business.

Then there was Peter. He was afraid. He denied Christ. He ran away and hid.

And yet… Jesus called Peter. He sought him out. He appointed him as one to carry Hope into a Hopeless world.

And he did.

The man who denied Christ on the eve of his death, is the same man who proclaimed Christ on the day of Pentecost. The man who was quick to draw his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane is the same man who proclaimed to the cripple “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”

And therein lies my problem. My focus is on what I don’t have. And I easily forget what I do have.

I don’t have wealth. I don’t have a clean kitchen. I don’t have the right words. I don’t have it all together.

But I do have Hope. I do have Peace. I do have Life.

A few years ago God called me, like Peter, to proclaim the Good News. In fear my heart clung to Jeremiah 1:5-9. Today I was reminded of those words.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

Before you were born I set you apart.”

“Ah, Sovereign Lord” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a child’. You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you” declares the Lord.

Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, “Now, I have put my words in your mouth.”

The Lord says to me today…

Do not say,

I am afraid

I’m not good enough

I do not have

You must go. You must speak.

But don’t be afraid. You don’t walk alone.

I will rescue you. I will put my words in your mouth.

Tear down the “Keep Out” signs. Unlock the door to your life.

I know you. I set you apart.

Now… go!

I am a slinky...

OK, not really. But I’m aspiring to be a slinky. That is my goal. Right now I’m more like a Jenga tower.

This confuses you? Me too. Allow me to (attempt to) explain through pictures!

My life is like Jenga pieces:

Each block represents a different piece of my life. There is my public life. My private life. My life as a mom. My life as a wife. My life as a girl who gets irritated and wants to say mean things to the checker at the grocery store. My life as an aspiring writer. My life as a speaker/teacher. My life as a worshiper. My life as a housewife/maid/cook…. As you can see there are many pieces of me. For a while now I’ve spent lots of time and energy trying to figure out which part of me fits into which block. Does the funny interaction with the kids get filed under “mom” only? Or can it also be filed under “radio host” or “blogger”? And how do I make sure that the irritable girl never gets filed under “public life” or “worshiper”. I tell you its exhausting trying to keep everything categorized.

Lately I’ve been feeling like it’s time to bridge the gap between “public” and “private”. After all, I keep praying for God to allow my life to be effective. And how can I be effective for His kingdom if I’m worried about categorizing my life and filtering every part of me. So, I thought maybe I should build a tower.

I attempted to stack the pieces up. Instead of being spread out everywhere and trying to keep certain things “separate” I tried to bring everything together into one cohesive unit. There’s only one problem with stacking blocks. Especially when someone as clumsy as me is involved.

Inevitably, something will happen to upset the delicate balance of block stacking.

And when that happens…

You’re left with a big mess.

So maybe the tower isn’t such a good idea after all.

Thankfully God likes to send people into my life that are smarter than me. Recently I had an amazing conversation with someone who told me that God wanted me to be a…

That’s right a slinky.

Here’s the thing with slinkys.

They are made up of many parts:

But they are all connected:

Slinkys aren’t fragile.

You can stretch them:

Twist them:

And hold them:

You can even drop them:

And they’ll always bounce back.

Slinkys are fluid:

In motion:

Always changing.

Yet staying the same.

This is my slinky. It sits on my desk. Surrounded by pieces of me. My computer, my family, my calendar, my memory verse. It sits there as a reminder. A reminder of who God made me to be.

A multi-layered, transparent, flexible, fun, and whole woman.

My name is Keri. And I am a slinky.

Wanna play?

Something to Wear

Have you ever worn a jacket that doesn’t quite fit? Maybe the sleeves are too short, the shoulders too tight or the length just not right? I have. And I tell you, I turn into a fidgety mess. Pulling and tugging hoping that it will feel right if I adjust it enough.

Joy is like that for me.

It fits, but not quite right. It’s awkward, uncomfortable. But it looks good. When I go out I like to wear it. It makes others more at ease. But when given the chance I slip off Joy and hang it back in the closet. Then I slip into something a little more comfortable.

I wish this wasn’t so. I wish slipping into Joy was like slipping into my favorite pair of jeans.

I’ve tried to excuse it away. I’m a deep thinker, a ponderer, a reflector, a lover of stories and thus pain and sorrow are natural friends. I hold them close. Snuggle in them like a warm soft sweater on a crisp fall day.

But then I read of Jesus. Of Joy in suffering. Of Joy in pain. And I wonder… where can I buy this Joy?

Maybe it’s like a new pair of shoes. Maybe I just need to break it in. Wear it for a while. Maybe, then it will feel less foreign, more like me.

You May Say I'm a Dreamer

I have big dreams.

Big scary dreams.

Always have. Years ago a friend said I reminded her of Joseph. A dreamer who is often misunderstood. For a while I had Gen. 37:19 (Here comes that dreamer) tacked to my computer. I’ve lost the post-it note with the scripture on it, but I haven’t lost the dreams.

They’re still there.

Lately my dreams have felt like sand. Big and vast yet slipping through my fingers. I feel like I can’t grab hold of anything. Like the harder I try to hold on to it the more it slips away. It’s exhausting, this grasping at sand. I’m working myself into a frenzy trying to fill my bucket.

But dreams weren’t meant to be carried in buckets. Dreams are meant to carry us. They are the path we walk upon.

The Wild Ride

I LOVE roller coasters! I’m an official roller coaster junkie. We have actually planned vacations around new roller coasters. It’s sad really.

But there’s this moment…. you know the one I’m talking about. The moment between securing your seat belt and the first drop. It’s the giant climb up the GIANT hill. As the coaster click, click, clicks its way to the top of the hill I have me a “come to Jesus moment”. And it’s not a quiet, in my heart moment. No, this girl is making sure everyone strapped in with me is ready to meet their maker.

I don’t get it. I wait happily in line for hours. Grin from ear to ear when they strap me in. Then completely panic as we approach the crest of the first big hill. Every time I ride a coaster I have a moment of sheer panic where I am convinced that I. AM. GOING. TO. DIE!!!

I know it’s not true. I know that I’m not actually going to die. In fact I know that in about 3.2 seconds I’ll be having the time of my life. But I can’t help it. I can’t stop the panic from gripping my heart.

And right now, sitting at my perfectly safe desk in my perfectly safe office, I feel that panic. I can hear the click, click, click. I can feel the steady chug of the coaster pulling me to the crest of the hill. I feel the slight breeze, hear the nervous chatter, and see the clouds getting closer. In my heart the ride is just about to begin. And I am literally, physically trembling with anticipation.

I know it will be one wild ride. But, man, I’m sweating it.

Dear Miley, Rihanna, and Christina,

I’ve noticed a change in each of you recently. I’m pretty sure it was intentional. Freshening up your image as you release your new albums. And I have to say, you’ve each produced some high quality, creative music. You are all very talented.

I wonder though, why the need to change your image? Why the need to change lyrics from your former creative expressions to line upon line of sexual innuendos? Who told you that in order to sell records you need not be only talented but also a “sex symbol”? Why the sudden plunge into this world of "less is more" and "everything in excess"?

Do you not know that you are of infinite value? Has no one ever told you that you are loveable, not as an object, but as a woman? Haven’t you heard that you can be strong, and beautiful, and talented without selling out?

And yes, I truly believe that the new sexy image you have created is selling out. I’m disappointed that I have to explain your behavior to my daughters. They looked up to you. They admired you. But now you have joined your voice to the countless other voices shouting to our girls that women are not to be honored and cherished, but that we are objects to be lusted after, used and discarded.

And it breaks my heart… it breaks my heart to see you trying so hard, when you needn’t try at all. Some have said that you are young women trying to “find yourself”. I understand that. I too have traveled that road. I pray that you find what you are looking for. I have a sneaking suspicion that if you ever do find the peace that currently eludes you that it won’t be found in your fame, but in your value. And not your value as an artist, or a sex symbol. But in your value as a beautiful, loved, child of God.

Because under the makeup, extensions, and high heels… that is who you really are.

~Keri

The Time In Between

Francesca Battistelli writes:

Don’t take much for this crazy world
To rob me of my peace
And the enemy of my soul
Says You’re holding out on me
So I stand here lifting empty hands
For you to fill me up again

But it’s the time in between
That I fall down to my knees
Waiting on what You’ll bring
And the things that I can’t see
I know my song’s incomplete
Still I’ll sing in the time in between

I feel like this is where I am living right now. In the time in between. It’s a season of transition. Of change. Of sifting sand. My footsteps are unstable. The path before me dim.

It’s tempting to look back and cling to what was. It’s scary to look forward and anticipate what will be. So I wait, in between. Sometimes scared. Sometimes filled with wonder. Sometimes anxious. Sometimes at peace.

I know that this time, this in between time, is important. I know that it’s not about rushing to the “next thing”. I know that there is purpose for the grey space between the leaving and the arriving. This twilight of the soul, where darkness recedes and light begins to fill the sky.

Here I know that sunrise is inevitable. Here I know that morning will come.

Yet I linger. In the soft light of in between. Hushed and silent. Listening. Watching. Waiting.

Thankful, for the time in between.

... You can listen to Francesca's The Time In Between here.

All in the Family

Confession…. When it comes to the “family of God” I’ve always felt like an outsider. Like I don’t really belong. Almost like an illegitimate child.

I’ve always been envious of those with a deep heritage of faith. Those whose parents & grandparents served the Lord. Those that were born into the family of God.

See, I wasn’t born into God’s family. My parents & grandparents didn’t raise me in church. I joined the family later in life. And unlike those born in, I’ve always felt like I haven’t quite earned my place just yet.

But I realized something this week… no one can be born into God’s family.

Hear me out.

We are all illegitimate children. Whether we were raised by alcoholics or preachers, we are all separated from God. We are all born into sin. And the only way that any of us can become part of God’s family is through adoption.

Joining God’s family is not through birth, but through choice. We must choose to allow Him to be our Father. He must choose to accept us as His child.

Do you realize what that means?

That means that I am just as loved as the pastor who stands behind the pulpit and preaches in the shadow of his father, and his father’s father. I am just as wanted as the missionary kid born in a remote village on the other side of the world. I am just as much His as the little girl who prayed to receive Christ while still too young to remember life without Him.

I am His. Not because of my parents’ faith. But because He picked me! He saw me, alone and orphaned, stuck in my sin, and he signed the papers and paid the price to make me His.

It’s just the way He does things… for each and every one of us. Regardless of our pedigree or our parents. Being born into a family that serves Christ doesn’t guarantee our place at His table; and being born into a family that doesn’t serve Christ doesn’t exclude us from becoming His.

Whether we were born in a palace or a pit we must all choose. And once the choice is made, we are His. Equally, fully, completely… Praise God!

“Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure. So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son. He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins.” Eph. 1:4-7

I'd like to take 2/3 of married women out for coffee...

so we can have a little chat.

I found an article this morning. It has me good and mad. I was hoping to simmer down, but I haven’t yet.

Here’s some statistics from the article that have me all in a tizzy!

• 62% of women admit to fantasizing about having sex with someone other than their spouse, while one in ten has already done so
  
• 2/3 of married women would rather read a book, watch a movie, or take a nap rather than make love to their spouse

Let me get this straight… we’d rather read than make love to our spouse, but if Mr. Perfect were available we’d find the energy for him. Is it just me, or is this crazy?

Don’t get me wrong… I’m guilty. That book is quite appealing after a long crazy day. And temptation is something we will always wrestle with. Which is why it’s so important to deal with our run away thoughts. But the truth is; sex is important to our marriages.

Yes it can become a routine; yes we can be overwhelmed and not have the energy for it. But, ladies, if we’re going to invest our time and energy into something shouldn’t it be the guy we chose to love for eternity?

Fantasizing about Mr. Perfect isn’t going to strengthen our marriages. And for the record, the only difference between Mr. Perfect and your hubby is that he doesn’t live with you. Trust me the super sweet, compassionate guy at work or the gym or in the movie leaves his dirty underwear on the floor too.

There is no such thing as the perfect guy. One who will magically make your heart sing and all the cares of this world disappear. No, relationships don’t work like that. They take work. Lots and lots of hard, selfless, painful work. But it’s sooo worth it.

I love books. Really. I do. I collect them, treasure them, devour them. But sometimes, most of the time, the book needs to take a backseat to my lover.

Fantasy is so overrated. But a marriage that is filled with passion, now that’s something worth investing in.

Book Review~ Thin Places

I'm too tired to think, much less blog. But I did just finish an amazing book that everyone needs to read.

I love to read! Books are treasured friends. And to be honest, I fall in love with most every book I read. So I'm a Publishers dream reviewer! :o)

But then there is the rare gem. The book that captivates you from page 1 and leaves you better than it found you. It's a book that doesn't leave your heart once you've finished it's pages.

"Thin Places" is one of those books.

Mary Demuth is an author, speaker, wife and mom. Her parenting books are perfect for any first generation Christian parents trying to find God's way in this crazy world. But the majority of her books are novels. Artfully written, compelling novels. This book is different. It is her memoir. Her story, in her words.

And let me tell you.... this lady has a heck of a story to tell. Abused, neglected, and lost Mary reaches back into the thin places of her childhood to search for the fingerprints of a Holy God in the midst of a tragic series of events.

If you've ever suffered. If you've ever questioned why circumstances happened to you, you need to read this book! I promise you will find healing for your soul from a girl who has "been there"!

If you read it I'd love to hear your thoughts! I hope it is as powerful for you as it was for me!

Details:

Mary's web-site: http://www.marydemuth.com/index.php

Thin Places preview: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LImEJ8om2qo&feature=player_embedded

A Letter

We found an interesting question that we plan to use tomorrow morning as a fun conversation starter. It’s supposed to be lighthearted, but somewhat serious. The question is:

If you could travel back in time to when you were five years old to impart a single message to yourself that would enrich your life what would it be?

My short, fun answer would be: invest in Google. But I have a hard time with short and fun. I’m more of a “ponder till you find depth” kinda girl. So, my entire afternoon has been filled with thoughts. Permit me to write them down in letter form. Call it cheap therapy.

Dear 5 year old Keri,

Life is pretty good for you right now. You are deeply cherished by your family. Life is fun and carefree. But it won’t always be that way.

In about 10 years your family will disintegrate. It will be sudden, unexpected, and ugly. Instead of processing the destruction of your parent’s marriage, you will pretend that nothing happened. You’ll stuff your feelings, and put on a smile. This is the beginning of a habit that will stick with you into adulthood.

High school will pretty much suck. You’re dad’s drinking will get worse, your mom will be absent, and your brother will need you to take care of him. You’ll have to grow up really fast. And you will. You will step up and take care of the men in your life.

It’s not all bad though. While home life may be a mess, you do meet someone to help you. Jesus. You know all those questions you have about life and meaning? Well, Jesus is the answer. And when you finally meet Him... it will all make sense.

Another good thing happens in High School. You’ll meet someone and fall in love. Shortly after High School you will marry him. And you will be given ample opportunity to put those marriage vows to the test. There will be a lot of “worse” before there is a glimmer of “better”. You will push him away, afraid that he too will abandon you. Things will get really dark. So dark that you’ll want to give up. But don’t! Because one day you will find the light again. And something amazing will happen. You’ll discover a love that you never thought possible. A love that you’ve only read about in cheesy romance novels. One day you’ll quit pretending that you have a wonderful marriage, because you will actually have one.

You know all those things that you’re afraid of? Those things that keep you from sleeping at night? Most of them will never happen. Some will. You’ll lose your Noni to cancer. And you’ll miss her. You’ll miss her more than you can imagine. You’ll be broke. You’ll bounce checks. You’ll lose a job or two. You’ll be in a few car wrecks (your biggest fear at five). But you’ll survive it all. You’ll sit beside hospital beds of loved ones, stand beside graves, and wonder where God is. You’ll lose friends. You’ll be a crappy friend. But through it all, you will grow.

I wish I could tell you not to worry so much about what others think. You’ll waste a lot of time trying to make your parents proud. The truth is, for many years they’ll be too wrapped up in their own pain to even notice you. But they’ll come around. And they will one day tell you all the things you’re longing to hear. And those girls, the ones with flat tummies and perfect hair. Well, you’ll forget all about them. Those boys that look through you and the nights without dates, you’ll treasure those times. It’s the boys you’ll cling to to find your worth that you’ll regret.

Friends will be few and far between. The pattern you start in High School of keeping people at arm’s length will continue for many years. As a defense mechanism you’ll lock your heart up in a fortress, and you’ll push a lot of people away. But there will be a few who stick around. A few that will see through the pain enough to love you, in spite of you. Hold on to them. Trust them with your heart.

They’ll be good times too. You’ll get to be a momma. And it’s even better than you think it will be. You’ll get the “happily ever after”. Only it won’t look like what you think it will. It won’t be a perfect life. There will be no wealth, no picket fence, no elaborate vacations. But it will be a full life. Full of meaning, and joy, and love. Full of life. And it will be beautiful.

I’ve learned something recently about beauty. In the absence of the ugliness of life beauty is simply common. It is nothing to behold. It will not inspire you or take your breath away. But in the presence of lack, in the midst of the dark, ugly places in life... beauty is glorious. It is magical.
So I say to you, precious girl. Don’t hide your eyes from the darkness. Don’t try to avoid the things you fear. Because God will see you through and it will all be worth it one day.

Love,
Keri

Inspire Me

I’m an information junkie. Always have been. I love to read and do research. I follow countless blogs, subscribe to too many podcasts, read magazines while waiting in line, keep a dictionary and thesaurus next to the bed…. It’s official, I’m a nerd.

Case in point…

Lately I’ve been wrestling with “information” verses “inspiration”. In true nerdy fashion I grabbed the dictionary.

Information- knowledge gained through study, communication, research, instruction, etc.; factual data; to supply oneself with knowledge of a matter or subject

Inspiration- to produce or arouse a feeling, thought, etc.; to influence; to animate; to guide or control by divine influence; to prompt or instigate utterances, acts, etc. by influence; to give rise to, bring about, cause; to breathe into or upon

It’s a lot easier to get information than to get inspiration. To get information I need only open a book, click on Google, listen to a podcast. I can gain knowledge while busy, distracted, or tired. I don’t have to plan for it. I don’t have to put much effort into it.

Inspiration, on the other hand, is a lot harder to come by. You can’t just decide to be inspired. You have to pursue it. Make time for it. For me it usually involves turning off computers, turning on some great music, and searching out beauty. Inspiration comes in moments of solitude. It comes in places filled with wonder.

Information awakens my mind.

Inspiration awakens my soul.

I long to be inspired.

Abandonment

The last few months I’ve been fighting an overwhelming sadness about my children growing up. It’s like I’m being followed by a dark cloud that constantly reminds me that my time with them is almost over. It’s been such a strong message to my heart that I’ve subconsciously pulled away from them, protecting my heart from the separation to come.

Last night my husband called me on the carpet. I didn’t even realize how my heart was feeling, but he, in great wisdom, suddenly turned to me and said “You know, they’ll always be your girls. Just because your mom abandoned you doesn’t mean that you will abandon them.” Ouch. Sometimes the truth hurts. Always the truth heals. And my heart is both hurting and healed this morning.

Hurting for the little girl in me who still can’t process the why. Healed because of a God that’s big enough to give me lasting relationships with my own girls. Relationships that won’t be severed at 15, or 18, or any age.

God has done a lot of healing between my mom and I. And I am so thankful for the relationship that we have now. But nothing can bring back the years when things weren’t good… when she was absent in my life… the milestones of teenagehood that I walked through alone. And twenty years later it still hurts. Not all the time, and not to the degree that it did when it was fresh and raw… but it does still hurt.

The truth is… no child should ever have to process divorce or abandonment. But they do. The good news is… there is healing. For my heart, for my relationships, and for my future.

Light and Shadow

(I promised more on Vegas... I got distracted, but here's my final thought)

The only difference between what happens in Sin City and what happens in my small town is location.

In Vegas sin takes place right out in the open, on street corners and public spaces. Here sin takes place in the shadows.

OK, so there aren't prostitutes on every street corner and strip clubs at every turn. But we have our fair share of sin. A national report just concluded that the state I live in tops the list for consumption of on-line pornography.

Sin is everywhere. Some communities just do a better job hiding it than others.

Or... we allow it to be in the open, we just don't call it sin. We call it gossip, or white lies, or looking out for ourselves. But God doesn't make distinctions between different kinds of sins. They all separate us from Him, they all damage our souls.

Here, in Northwest Arkansas, I may be able to hide my sin from you. But I cannot hide if from God. He sees. He knows. And He cares.

He cared enough to do something about it. The question is: What will I do? Will I accept the freedom He purchased for me and go and sin no more? Or will I reject the freedom He offers and continue to hide in the shadows.

Pursuit... Part 2

(there will be more on Vegas... but today a side trip to expand on a previous thought)



In my last blog I made the statement that we were created to chase. And I believe it's true. Scripture confirms it. We all run after something.





Yesterday I was challenged by a scripture in 2 Sam. 18 "Come what may, I want to run." The person speaking those words had been discouraged from running. But still, he wanted to run. He knew he had to do what was in his heart regardless of whether his running was accepted by others, or if it meant running alone.





I too am called to run. God has put a passion in my heart that simply will not go away. This passion calls to me to leave the comfort of the sidelines and chase after Him.





It's hard sometimes. I'm a baby. In the physical world I can guarantee that you will never see me running (unless there's a very angry mama bear chasing me). I hate to run. Running involves work, effort, and my least favorite thing... sweat! Yuck!





In my spiritual life, sadly, I am much the same. I want to run for God. But, when the going gets tough, I'm looking for a hammock and a glass of lemonade.





Is it too much to just want a break? A little time out? A recovery period?





In the midst of my questioning I stumbled across this in Hebrews:

"Let us strip off every weight that slows us down especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. So take a new grip with your tired hands and stand firm on your shaky legs. Mark out a straight path for your feet. Those who follow you, though they are weak and lame will not stumble and fall but will become strong."

Tired hands


Shaky legs





Yep. That pretty much sums it up. I'm tired, my faith is shaken. And all I want to do is sit on the sidelines. But I can't. Because I'm called to run this race. There are people following. And I have to take a new grip and stand firm.





The good news... God promises that we will not stumble and fall, but we will become stronger. If we don't quit running.





I have to confess... I hate the sweat, I hate the leg cramps, I hate that sometimes I have to run all by myself. But I can't stop running. Because in the running I find joy. I find life. I find my reward.

Pursuit…

(more thoughts from Vegas)





One thing you can’t help but notice in Vegas is the pursuit. Pursuit of what? Well, I’m not sure. I don’t even think the people pursuing it know what it is that they are chasing. But they chase it none the less.


Whether it was alcohol, gambling, sex, or entertainment everyone seemed to be in pursuit. Crowds of people spending thousands of dollars searching for… something. Something to satisfy them. And unable to find it they continued their pursuit… to the next slot machine, the next drink, the next club. And on and on and on.


Except for me. There was no pull for me to gamble, to drink, to indulge. Because I’ve found the object of my pursuit. He lives and reigns in my heart. And while the lures of this word may still entice me, they have no hold on me. I can tell them “no”. I can walk away from temptation, completely satisfied in Christ alone.


Millions of people chase after things and experiences because there is a longing in their heart for something they can’t explain. I chase after God because He has filled the longing in my heart in ways I can’t explain.


Our hearts were created to be filled. We have the choice of what we fill them with, but anything we choose outside of God will quickly leave us filling empty and longing for more.


It seems as if we were created to chase. And if we have to spend our lives pursuing something… I plan on pursuing Him.

A stripper pole and a cross

This week I was in Vegas for work. We stayed at a Hotel with a casino (I’m pretty sure that all hotels in Vegas have casinos). After a very long day of walking I decided to do one of my favorite things while vacationing…. people watch. If you love to people watch as much as I do then you MUST go to Vegas! Wow!

The Mezzanine level of the hotel overlooked the casino floor and was dotted with posh couches, the perfect place to rest my feet and indulge my eyes. As I scanned the casino floor lights and sound assaulted me. People were everywhere! From every walk of life. It was chaos.

As I continued to scan the room my eyes landed on something I wasn’t expecting... a dancer and a stripper pole. I immediately averted my eyes, but then I heard a gentle whisper, “Look at her”.

I assure you; I had no desire to look at the girl in the sequined hot pants and push-up bra hanging from a pole. But sure enough I heard it again, “Look at her”.

“God, why on earth would you want me to look at her?”

“Because I love her. Because I think she’s beautiful. I love her just like I love you.”

Just like me. He loves her just like me.

And I tell you, I sat in that casino and cried. Cried for a girl who doesn’t know that someone loves her so much that He chose to be beaten, chose to be mocked and scorned, chose to hang on a bloody cross and die so that she might live.

As I cried for her with the realization of how much the Father wants to cover her with righteousness I noticed others... watching her. A young family man at the slots stealing glances. College co-eds whistling and clapping. A middle aged drunk sloshing his drink all over himself as he glared, glassy eyed.

And I thought God must be mad at them, lusting after his daughter like that. But then I realized… He loves them too. He loves them just like He loves me. Even though they’re lost and broken, searching for something to satisfy them, oblivious to their own depravity.

Jesus bled for them too.

It was midnight. The girl’s shift at the pole was over. I wanted so desperately to talk to her. To tell her about the man who loved her enough to die for her. I tried to find her, to follow her, but she disappeared. Another girl took her place. A new group of college co-eds, drunks, and dads moved closer to the bar. The music continued to play. The moment passed.

But I will always remember that moment, where a stripper pole and a cross met in my heart.

Broken

I'm broken.

That's hard to admit. But it's true.

It's nothing new. Hurtful words and broken promises cracked and shattered my heart.

When you look around you and find that you are surrounded by shards of glass you become fearful, timid.

My heart related to Humpty Dumpty.

He sat on a wall, had a great fall. And all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put him together again.

The same is true of me. I tried to put myself back together. I tried to let others put me back together. But nothing worked.

Exhausted we all gave up, me... the horses... the men.

That's when He came. The King Himself. He said He could put me back together, but it would take time. I would have to trust Him with all the broken pieces. I would have to give Him permission to poke and prod and fit the pieces back together.

It's painful stuff. Hurts sometimes. He says it's worth it. I think He's right.

I thought we were done. Recently I stepped back and looked at His work, it looked pretty good. I was impressed. Finally, we could move on.

But then... the rain came. And I realized that while I looked like I was just fine, there were cracks everywhere. Water spilled out faster than I could catch it.

I'm still broken.

But I'm better. No longer am I shattered shards of glass, now I am a vessel. Granted, I'm a cracked vessel, but a vessel none the less.

And this is where the healing begins. When you can admit the brokenness. When you can allow the light to penetrate the darkness.

He that began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. Phil. 1:6