My hope is in the wrong place and I'm not sure how to move it.
Two years ago, Beemer was in day care when he ran teeth first into a shelf. I know, I know, it takes talent to run yourself into a shelf and have it hit you directly above your front two teeth.
{Fast forward six months}
We visit our very well loved dentist to find that he now has an associate who is doing our exam. She takes an x-ray, comes back and says he has an infection and you're gonna need to pull his front tooth.
{Enter freak out mode}
I decide not to have his front two teeth pulled without a second opinion. Oh yeah, did you catch that discrepancy? I did too, after I looked at her paperwork and found that she actually wanted to pull BOTH his front teeth.
{Enter Bible Study prayer request}
I head over to a well respected, highly recommended dentist who told me she saw no infection. It did not need to be pulled, but to watch it for signs of an abscess (pimple on the gums, puss, pain, etc). If it ever developed an abscess it would need to be pulled unless, by a rare chance, antibiotics could kick it out.
{Fast forward 18 months}
Beemer heads to the dentist for his regular checkup. They find a couple cavities, one of which is in his front, dying, tooth. Since it's not bothering him and has shown no infection we go for having it fixed. This is going to require a minimum of 30 minutes anesthesia, most likely more.
So I hope. I hope for a minimum of 30 minutes anesthesia. I hope for no additional cavities. Neither of which happen. Additional cavities are there and we are sent into not only an additional 30 minutes of anesthesia, but an additional 60. The good news, that dying teeth no longer looks gray because it and the tooth next to it have brand new crowns.
{Fast forward 1 month and bookoos upon bookoos of dollars}
The crown isn't meeting up to the gums on the front, dying tooth so I take Beemer for a follow up at the dentist. He takes an xray and says "Good thing we xrayed it!" Not what I wanted to hear. He has an abscess. One month after surgery.
So I hope. I hope the antibiotics will kill it. I hope we don't have to have his front two teeth pulled. I hope to not have a 4 year old with a huge gap in his mouth. I hope to not drop a couple hundred more at the dentist, those that's like pocket change at this point.
{Fast forward three days}
My hope is squashed. He's woken up with pussy gums three days in a row. The doctor says we're probably going to need to take them out. We decide to ride it out over the weekend. Six days into the meds the puss goes away. I am convinced he has been healed by the Almighty.
So I hope. I hope that he is healed. I hope that when I call the dentist they will tell me he is probably going to be fine. But they don't and my hope is shattered like a broken mirror. They tell me we need to schedule it to have the teeth pulled. I don't understand, the puss is gone. He says it doesn't hurt. They say they will xray it first, but we schedule the pulling.
So, what am I left to hope for? When I think there's a fighting chance to keep his teeth I HOPE! When my hope is gone I lay on the couch bawling my eyes out as though they have told me something much worse. I'm actually considering family photos before the teeth are gone.
My hope is in the wrong place and I need to move it. I can't keep hoping in good outcomes. Good outcomes are faulty. I can only hope in God. I can hope and believe that somehow, some way this is part of a master plan to make us more like Him. I want to protect my baby from heartache and physical pain, but I have to let God mold him to be a grown man some day. A grown man who knows how to deal with heartache and physical pain. I can't hope for anything in this world, because this world will always let me down.
My hope is in the wrong place. I think I'm going to have to let go of all my perfect plans before I can move it.
"I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word." Psalm 119:47
"'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
Monday, September 24, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
I Don't Want Your Husband
No offense. I don't want your husband.
I want your house. I want your flat stomach. I want your hair that holds shape. I want your flawless skin. I want your overflowing closet. I want your makeup collection. I want your decor. I want your siblings. I want your car. I want your awesome natural birth story.
I want. I want. I want.
I would generally tell you that I don't struggle with envy and jealousy. Maybe I struggle with lying too and I just don't know it.
When I fall into this trap, I have to remind myself that I don't want your whole package.
I don't want your husband. I don't want your bad health. I don't want your full time job. I don't want your stature. I don't want your children. I don't want your stress. I don't want your gas-guzzling SUV. I don't want your addictions. I don't want your personality. I don't want to live that far from my parents.
I don't want. I don't want. I don't want.
I don't want to be you. I want to be me. I might like to pick the parts and pieces of every soul around me and take what I want. But I can't do that and neither can you. So I'll stick with what I have.
I have my beautiful children. I have my family close-by. I have my great childhood memories. I have my church. I have my ministry. I have my body. I have my smile. I have my swing set in my yard with huge trees. I have my abilities. I have my husband who I am infinitely proud of. I have my relationship with God. I have my friends.
Some might say I have it all.
I want your house. I want your flat stomach. I want your hair that holds shape. I want your flawless skin. I want your overflowing closet. I want your makeup collection. I want your decor. I want your siblings. I want your car. I want your awesome natural birth story.
I want. I want. I want.
I would generally tell you that I don't struggle with envy and jealousy. Maybe I struggle with lying too and I just don't know it.
When I fall into this trap, I have to remind myself that I don't want your whole package.
I don't want your husband. I don't want your bad health. I don't want your full time job. I don't want your stature. I don't want your children. I don't want your stress. I don't want your gas-guzzling SUV. I don't want your addictions. I don't want your personality. I don't want to live that far from my parents.
I don't want. I don't want. I don't want.
I don't want to be you. I want to be me. I might like to pick the parts and pieces of every soul around me and take what I want. But I can't do that and neither can you. So I'll stick with what I have.
I have my beautiful children. I have my family close-by. I have my great childhood memories. I have my church. I have my ministry. I have my body. I have my smile. I have my swing set in my yard with huge trees. I have my abilities. I have my husband who I am infinitely proud of. I have my relationship with God. I have my friends.
Some might say I have it all.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Must have been an angel
"Well, did it lose the mobile home?" The ER nurse laughs to another as she inspects my cuts and scrapes.
"Are you kidding me?" I think, "You're worried about the truck was carrying?" It was, after all, a truck that should have had the large load of a mobile home.
An 18-wheeler has just come within inches of landing on my car. By nothing short of a miracle it has only flown slightly over me and landed behind me in the HOV lane on 635. Moments earlier I was driving in that lane. It was my lane to occupy, not his.
He is driving too fast for the usual 635 morning traffic. I am 4 lanes away, on the opposite side of the highway, listening to Stephen Curtis Chapman in my CD player. "I'm diving in, I'm going deep, in over my head I want to be." My friend Allison is with me, her eyes prepared with her glasses for a day of classes at Richland College.
I am minding my own business when I see something I'll never forget. From the other side of the freeway, an 18-wheeler is flying perpendicular to traffic. He has cut across four lanes without hitting anybody. I am his next stop. He doesn't carry a load, but his truck alone can do plenty damage. Thankfully there is a large barricade blocking him from directly flying into my car. It is just enough to slow him down as he bursts the concrete wall into pieces that make their way onto my car.
I do not have time to swerve. I do not have time to think. I only see him coming and immediately I am hit with an airbag as my car slams to a stop. I can't remember what happened. Nobody else can tell me what happened. I am wearing my retainer. I don't know what has possessed me to defy my 17 year old body and put it in my mouth today. My parents must be so happy. For the retainer that is. I, on the other hand, have just had my lip torn apart by a a nasty airbag/retainer combination. I vividly remember digging through the trash in elementary school to find a retainer. Maybe I should have left it.
In the moment, my last thought is the pain in my mouth or the airbag burn on my face. There is smoke in the car. There is glass everywhere. I look in the rearview mirror where I find blood on my face. I panic, I am trapped. "I'm going to climb out the window," I think to myself.
I'm out of the car, screeching like a wet cat on the phone to my mother. She'll never forget the sound of my voice when she picks up the phone. I don't even know what I am saying. A man has come to help me wipe my face with a handkerchief. I believe he was in the lane next to me when the offending 18-wheeler made my Ford Taurus his destination. Allison gets out of the car after me. Her airbag has been torn on impact by a large piece of concrete that has hit her window. Her glasses have been torn off her face. Both windows on my side have been blown out on impact and my car is covered in something. Is it gas? We are not going to make it to school. In fact, nobody behind us will be making it to school either. We have successfully shut down the freeway for many hours to come.
On the other side of the metroplex my grandmother is sewing away. She is suddenly compelled to leave her sewing room and go to her Bible in the living room. When she gets there she has an overwhelming urge to pray for me. She is praying in the moment.
Back on the scene, a private ambulance has backed down the highway to get to us as. They were close by when Mr.Too-fast-for-traffic made his debut. Despite the fact that every one of us has walked away from the wreck, they load me up in the ambulance and drive me to the other side of the freeway where a hospital sits. I say something to the paramedic. He misunderstands me and says back to me "You're not lucky, you're blessed." He is right, though I did not tell him I thought I was lucky!
So here I lay, in the hallway of the Emergency Room, on a hard board with glass poking me in the back. I am complaining of the glass and of a feeling of suffocation. I am thoroughly inspected and nothing is wrong. I am simply in a state of panic. A pastor from my church arrives. None of us can figure how he got there so fast. Someone told him of the news, they turned around and he was gone. He has beaten my parents there. I don't realize at the time that he will counsel me for anxiety on more than one occasion after the moment. In fact, the moment, will launch me into several years of intense anxiety and panic attacks.
We leave the hospital. My biggest complaint is of the airbag tearing up my mouth with that darn retainer. "Mom, were close to The Galleria. Can we head over and get some new jeans?" My Guess jeans are now covered in oil, glass and blood. She figures I'm going to be ok!
I return home to phone calls from concerned friends and family. The one that stands out the most is from my grandfather. He has called to recount the morning and how my grandmother had been praying for me. She is unable to tell me herself because she has suffered a stroke and no longer has the use of her speech. I can't quite remember what her voice sounded like before she lost it. Her example of Godliness and prayer I will never forget.
In the heat of the moment, I had failed to tell the right people the right thing about where to take my car. This has resulted in a trip to the impound for my family. It isn't exactly the family vacation I was hoping for. Upon arrival, only one person is able to go in. It is a blessing in disguise, this event will be etched on my calendar long enough as it is. Dad bags up all my belongings in a black trash bag and says farewell to my trusty 'ole Ford Tauras. He is thankful for the switch we had made from my Ford Escort. He is convinced I would have been killed were I driving it. It is a fond farewell for me. My next car, which we will call the knee-jerk reaction car, is going to be a very nice and overly safe Volvo.
He comes back to my mom and I to take us home. He says to me, "Tell me again, how did you get out of the car?" I tell him again how I crawled out my window. He develops the pictures and brings them to me. I am rattled and crying, glad I didn't see the car in person. "You did not crawl out the window, and your door was jammed shut. Had you crawled out the window you would have smeared the oil that is sprayed down the side of the car" he says. "Did you go out Allison's door?" And the answer is no. She was out of the car after me. Come to think of it, I have no recollection of getting out of the car. I am certain of one thing, someone pulled me out. Someone who had something to do with the prayers of my grandmother. Someone who I cannot remember seeing, but wish I could. It must have been an angel.
"Are you kidding me?" I think, "You're worried about the truck was carrying?" It was, after all, a truck that should have had the large load of a mobile home.
An 18-wheeler has just come within inches of landing on my car. By nothing short of a miracle it has only flown slightly over me and landed behind me in the HOV lane on 635. Moments earlier I was driving in that lane. It was my lane to occupy, not his.
He is driving too fast for the usual 635 morning traffic. I am 4 lanes away, on the opposite side of the highway, listening to Stephen Curtis Chapman in my CD player. "I'm diving in, I'm going deep, in over my head I want to be." My friend Allison is with me, her eyes prepared with her glasses for a day of classes at Richland College.
I am minding my own business when I see something I'll never forget. From the other side of the freeway, an 18-wheeler is flying perpendicular to traffic. He has cut across four lanes without hitting anybody. I am his next stop. He doesn't carry a load, but his truck alone can do plenty damage. Thankfully there is a large barricade blocking him from directly flying into my car. It is just enough to slow him down as he bursts the concrete wall into pieces that make their way onto my car.
I do not have time to swerve. I do not have time to think. I only see him coming and immediately I am hit with an airbag as my car slams to a stop. I can't remember what happened. Nobody else can tell me what happened. I am wearing my retainer. I don't know what has possessed me to defy my 17 year old body and put it in my mouth today. My parents must be so happy. For the retainer that is. I, on the other hand, have just had my lip torn apart by a a nasty airbag/retainer combination. I vividly remember digging through the trash in elementary school to find a retainer. Maybe I should have left it.
In the moment, my last thought is the pain in my mouth or the airbag burn on my face. There is smoke in the car. There is glass everywhere. I look in the rearview mirror where I find blood on my face. I panic, I am trapped. "I'm going to climb out the window," I think to myself.
I'm out of the car, screeching like a wet cat on the phone to my mother. She'll never forget the sound of my voice when she picks up the phone. I don't even know what I am saying. A man has come to help me wipe my face with a handkerchief. I believe he was in the lane next to me when the offending 18-wheeler made my Ford Taurus his destination. Allison gets out of the car after me. Her airbag has been torn on impact by a large piece of concrete that has hit her window. Her glasses have been torn off her face. Both windows on my side have been blown out on impact and my car is covered in something. Is it gas? We are not going to make it to school. In fact, nobody behind us will be making it to school either. We have successfully shut down the freeway for many hours to come.
On the other side of the metroplex my grandmother is sewing away. She is suddenly compelled to leave her sewing room and go to her Bible in the living room. When she gets there she has an overwhelming urge to pray for me. She is praying in the moment.
Back on the scene, a private ambulance has backed down the highway to get to us as. They were close by when Mr.Too-fast-for-traffic made his debut. Despite the fact that every one of us has walked away from the wreck, they load me up in the ambulance and drive me to the other side of the freeway where a hospital sits. I say something to the paramedic. He misunderstands me and says back to me "You're not lucky, you're blessed." He is right, though I did not tell him I thought I was lucky!
So here I lay, in the hallway of the Emergency Room, on a hard board with glass poking me in the back. I am complaining of the glass and of a feeling of suffocation. I am thoroughly inspected and nothing is wrong. I am simply in a state of panic. A pastor from my church arrives. None of us can figure how he got there so fast. Someone told him of the news, they turned around and he was gone. He has beaten my parents there. I don't realize at the time that he will counsel me for anxiety on more than one occasion after the moment. In fact, the moment, will launch me into several years of intense anxiety and panic attacks.
We leave the hospital. My biggest complaint is of the airbag tearing up my mouth with that darn retainer. "Mom, were close to The Galleria. Can we head over and get some new jeans?" My Guess jeans are now covered in oil, glass and blood. She figures I'm going to be ok!
I return home to phone calls from concerned friends and family. The one that stands out the most is from my grandfather. He has called to recount the morning and how my grandmother had been praying for me. She is unable to tell me herself because she has suffered a stroke and no longer has the use of her speech. I can't quite remember what her voice sounded like before she lost it. Her example of Godliness and prayer I will never forget.
In the heat of the moment, I had failed to tell the right people the right thing about where to take my car. This has resulted in a trip to the impound for my family. It isn't exactly the family vacation I was hoping for. Upon arrival, only one person is able to go in. It is a blessing in disguise, this event will be etched on my calendar long enough as it is. Dad bags up all my belongings in a black trash bag and says farewell to my trusty 'ole Ford Tauras. He is thankful for the switch we had made from my Ford Escort. He is convinced I would have been killed were I driving it. It is a fond farewell for me. My next car, which we will call the knee-jerk reaction car, is going to be a very nice and overly safe Volvo.
He comes back to my mom and I to take us home. He says to me, "Tell me again, how did you get out of the car?" I tell him again how I crawled out my window. He develops the pictures and brings them to me. I am rattled and crying, glad I didn't see the car in person. "You did not crawl out the window, and your door was jammed shut. Had you crawled out the window you would have smeared the oil that is sprayed down the side of the car" he says. "Did you go out Allison's door?" And the answer is no. She was out of the car after me. Come to think of it, I have no recollection of getting out of the car. I am certain of one thing, someone pulled me out. Someone who had something to do with the prayers of my grandmother. Someone who I cannot remember seeing, but wish I could. It must have been an angel.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I Didn't Change the World
Well, I didn't change the world today. At least that's how I feel. I wouldn't say I did anything spectacular, though I did have a fabulous day.
I told you yesterday I'd let you know how it went when I started my day with what I'll call the "How can I help you today, Lord" prayer. And, I'm here to tell you I didn't do anything big. But, I did start my day out with the prayer.
We ran late all morning, but I took the time to sit down with my kids at the breakfast table and go over Awana verses with Beemer, and I took the time to sit on my back porch with my eyes closed long enough to listen to one of my current favorite songs (This is our God, Hillsong). Forgetting all about gymnastics I chatted with my friend in the parking lot about her sister who is far from God. I prayed for her when I left. We really just caught up in conversation, but I hope I encouraged her in some way. We were late to gymnastics, Sister wasn't in a feeling gymnasticy anyway.
When we left gymnastics we had an hour to kill so I let Sister lead the way. I took the time to sit on a park bench with her and take a walk around the entire water park which is closed for the year. I even almost wished for summer to stay longer, but quickly changed my mind. We spent some time at the library and then headed to the park to meet up with several girlfriends.
After picking Beemer up I laid on the kitchen floor and read books to him and Sister for a good while. Then, on another whim, I decided to let him stay up late and bake cookies with me. We laughed and whispered secrets in each others ears. We messed up our cookies and ate way too much dough. Shhh, don't tell.
Like I said, I didn't change the world today. But, I gave God my day and this is what He had me do. Nothing spectacular. Or was it? I took care of the responsibilities God has given me. I gave my children the gift of my time, which God gives us endlessly. I dropped the things I was doing to spend time with them, God is never too busy for us. We talked about Jesus and danced to music in the living room.
So my question to you is "Why do we sell ourselves short?" Why do we think that to impact the world we can't do it through our own children? Why do we think that if we don't have a chance to minister to someone outside of our home that we have done nothing with our day? Our homes are a mission field, our children don't have a relationship with God yet. Books like Kisses for Katie tend to really stress me out, after all I'm not in Uganda adopting 13 children at the age of 19 and running a non-profit organization. So, I'm doing nothing right? Am I even saved, because I'm sure not following very well. That's the devil talking.
There's one thing I'm certain of, I AM in full time ministry and I'm doing exactly what God has called me to do right now. Like most ministry positions, it doesn't pay well. In fact, it doesn't pay at all monetarily. It pays me richly in satisfaction, in the tears I get because I am so overwhelmed with love, in the tickles in my ear when my son wants to tell me a secret. When my heart swells because he's telling me about how Jesus loves him to infinity and beyond and back. It pays because it's the right thing.
Here's the quote I'll leave you with for today "Most days, that didn't include anything other people would find impressive. It simply meant being faithful to the people and responsibilities God had given me." (Kisses from Katie, Chapter 6)
I told you yesterday I'd let you know how it went when I started my day with what I'll call the "How can I help you today, Lord" prayer. And, I'm here to tell you I didn't do anything big. But, I did start my day out with the prayer.
We ran late all morning, but I took the time to sit down with my kids at the breakfast table and go over Awana verses with Beemer, and I took the time to sit on my back porch with my eyes closed long enough to listen to one of my current favorite songs (This is our God, Hillsong). Forgetting all about gymnastics I chatted with my friend in the parking lot about her sister who is far from God. I prayed for her when I left. We really just caught up in conversation, but I hope I encouraged her in some way. We were late to gymnastics, Sister wasn't in a feeling gymnasticy anyway.
When we left gymnastics we had an hour to kill so I let Sister lead the way. I took the time to sit on a park bench with her and take a walk around the entire water park which is closed for the year. I even almost wished for summer to stay longer, but quickly changed my mind. We spent some time at the library and then headed to the park to meet up with several girlfriends.
After picking Beemer up I laid on the kitchen floor and read books to him and Sister for a good while. Then, on another whim, I decided to let him stay up late and bake cookies with me. We laughed and whispered secrets in each others ears. We messed up our cookies and ate way too much dough. Shhh, don't tell.
Like I said, I didn't change the world today. But, I gave God my day and this is what He had me do. Nothing spectacular. Or was it? I took care of the responsibilities God has given me. I gave my children the gift of my time, which God gives us endlessly. I dropped the things I was doing to spend time with them, God is never too busy for us. We talked about Jesus and danced to music in the living room.
So my question to you is "Why do we sell ourselves short?" Why do we think that to impact the world we can't do it through our own children? Why do we think that if we don't have a chance to minister to someone outside of our home that we have done nothing with our day? Our homes are a mission field, our children don't have a relationship with God yet. Books like Kisses for Katie tend to really stress me out, after all I'm not in Uganda adopting 13 children at the age of 19 and running a non-profit organization. So, I'm doing nothing right? Am I even saved, because I'm sure not following very well. That's the devil talking.
There's one thing I'm certain of, I AM in full time ministry and I'm doing exactly what God has called me to do right now. Like most ministry positions, it doesn't pay well. In fact, it doesn't pay at all monetarily. It pays me richly in satisfaction, in the tears I get because I am so overwhelmed with love, in the tickles in my ear when my son wants to tell me a secret. When my heart swells because he's telling me about how Jesus loves him to infinity and beyond and back. It pays because it's the right thing.
Here's the quote I'll leave you with for today "Most days, that didn't include anything other people would find impressive. It simply meant being faithful to the people and responsibilities God had given me." (Kisses from Katie, Chapter 6)
Monday, September 10, 2012
How can You and I allow it?
I've been captivated tonight by the story, Kisses from Katie. This is going to go on my must-read list so check it out if you haven't heard of it! It's written by Katie Davis.
How can God allow starving children in Africa? I've seen questions so similar to this a lot recently. And, many people seem to be realizing that the question really is "How can I allow it?"
You don't even have to go as far as Africa, there may be someone sitting in your Bible study without food. Maybe it's not food. Maybe it's school supplies, maybe it's a new pair of shoes, maybe it's clothing. Maybe it's a neighbor who needs a friend. Maybe it's that one mom at the new school who stands out as different from the rest, like she doesn't fit in. Whatever it is, those people are there. I've sat next to them before.
Am I watching closely enough to recognize it? Am I asking God to show it to me? Here's a bold prayer "Break my heart for what breaks yours." Pray that and you might be surprised who He puts in your path. Be ready to do something for them.
This line in Kisses for Katie fascinated me:
"God did not make too many people and not enough resources to go around."*
She goes on to quote Deuteronomy 24:19-22 and Acts 2:44-45; 4:32-35 where the people are commanded to leave extra olives in their trees and grapes on their vines for the widow, the alien and the fatherless, and in Acts where the believers are selling their possessions and giving to the poor. She says gave "to the point that the poor aren't so poor anymore."*
Here's what I wrote at the top of the page in my book:
"God doesn't allow poverty. We allow poverty. He has shown us the solution."
Maybe you're like me and you feel overwhelmed at the great need in our society and overseas. I mean, how could we really make a difference in a world this big? The great thing is, I don't have to figure it all out because God already has.
Here's where I am going to start. By praying this simple prayer tomorrow morning, "Okay Lord, what would you have me do today? Whom would have have me help today?"** I'll tell you, the last time I prayed that prayer was right before heading to the park for a pizza dinner with a good friend of mine and our kids. As soon as we got there we came across a little girl. It was her fourth birthday and her parents were smoking weed with a friend at the park while she played alone. We invited her over to have pizza with us. It was no big deal to us, but I hope it had an impact on her family and her. Right after praying that prayer I felt like I couldn't ignore the calling to invite her in to be a part of our group so I trust that the Lord was up to something.
I'll let you know what tomorrow brings!
*These quotes are from Chapter 3 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.
**This quote is in Chapter 4 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.
How can God allow starving children in Africa? I've seen questions so similar to this a lot recently. And, many people seem to be realizing that the question really is "How can I allow it?"
You don't even have to go as far as Africa, there may be someone sitting in your Bible study without food. Maybe it's not food. Maybe it's school supplies, maybe it's a new pair of shoes, maybe it's clothing. Maybe it's a neighbor who needs a friend. Maybe it's that one mom at the new school who stands out as different from the rest, like she doesn't fit in. Whatever it is, those people are there. I've sat next to them before.
Am I watching closely enough to recognize it? Am I asking God to show it to me? Here's a bold prayer "Break my heart for what breaks yours." Pray that and you might be surprised who He puts in your path. Be ready to do something for them.
This line in Kisses for Katie fascinated me:
"God did not make too many people and not enough resources to go around."*
She goes on to quote Deuteronomy 24:19-22 and Acts 2:44-45; 4:32-35 where the people are commanded to leave extra olives in their trees and grapes on their vines for the widow, the alien and the fatherless, and in Acts where the believers are selling their possessions and giving to the poor. She says gave "to the point that the poor aren't so poor anymore."*
Here's what I wrote at the top of the page in my book:
"God doesn't allow poverty. We allow poverty. He has shown us the solution."
Maybe you're like me and you feel overwhelmed at the great need in our society and overseas. I mean, how could we really make a difference in a world this big? The great thing is, I don't have to figure it all out because God already has.
Here's where I am going to start. By praying this simple prayer tomorrow morning, "Okay Lord, what would you have me do today? Whom would have have me help today?"** I'll tell you, the last time I prayed that prayer was right before heading to the park for a pizza dinner with a good friend of mine and our kids. As soon as we got there we came across a little girl. It was her fourth birthday and her parents were smoking weed with a friend at the park while she played alone. We invited her over to have pizza with us. It was no big deal to us, but I hope it had an impact on her family and her. Right after praying that prayer I felt like I couldn't ignore the calling to invite her in to be a part of our group so I trust that the Lord was up to something.
I'll let you know what tomorrow brings!
*These quotes are from Chapter 3 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.
**This quote is in Chapter 4 of Kisses for Katie by Katie Davis.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Are You Getting Fat?
Spiritually fat that is. And maybe you aren't, but many of us are. I write this as much for myself as I do for anyone else.
In the last three days I've come across these three things that really bother me.
1. I invited a friend to Bible study, but due to the rapid growth in my church, there is a waiting list for child care. I hope she gets in.
2. For Wednesday nights, our small groups use the church as a resource for child care. Again, due to the rapid growth (which is a very exciting thing by the way!), they are having to start charging for child care Wednesday nights. It will be minimal, but I can't help but notice that there aren't enough workers for the amount of children who will be there.
3. The fabulous church I grew up in is asking for help in their Awana Cubbies program. They are at risk of having to cancel the Cubbies portion of the program or start turning people away. The Awana program had great impact on me as a child, the thought of it not being there for someone else makes me so sad.
There aren't enough workers.
That's pretty amazing considering the size of our churches these days. In the era of the mega church I think it is easier than ever to slide by unnoticed. To feel like you don't have to get involved because somebody else will do it. It's kind of like the emergency situation where everybody thinks someone else is calling 911, but nobody is. It's easy to show up and get fed, become spiritually fat, but do nothing with it.
Was it this way when we were kids I wonder? I really don't know. Either way, it makes me sad and leaves me pondering what I can do about it. It will take a sacrifice on my part. Someone sacrificed for me and for you. Many people did, so that I could hear about Jesus...
As a baby
As an infant
As a toddler
As an ugly 6th grader
As a junior higher
As a high schooler
As a college student
As a single
As a new married
As a pregnant mom
As a new mom
As a young adult
As a member of the church
As a visitor of the church.
The list goes on.
I am certain that hundreds of people have sacrificed so that I could know Christ as well as I do today. So that I could have His Word in my heart and on tap in a moment's notice. So that I could receive counseling and learn how to pray. It wasn't easy for them and it isn't easy for me to do for someone else. But it's so important and so much more useful than many of the other weekly commitments I have.
Something I have to remind myself of often in serving is this:
"It's not about me."
I will miss socializing with my friends because I'm greeting at the door. I will miss easing into my chair next to my best friend because I'm trying to reach out to someone sitting alone. I will miss my sleep when I'm there early. But, what will be missed if I don't do those things? Someone else who doesn't know Christ needs to hear the message more desperately than I do.
What if every single member in our church just gave a little? There are many who give a lot, and many who give nothing. Couldn't we have so much more of an impact if we balanced the scale a little? Think about it. What can you do?
In the last three days I've come across these three things that really bother me.
1. I invited a friend to Bible study, but due to the rapid growth in my church, there is a waiting list for child care. I hope she gets in.
2. For Wednesday nights, our small groups use the church as a resource for child care. Again, due to the rapid growth (which is a very exciting thing by the way!), they are having to start charging for child care Wednesday nights. It will be minimal, but I can't help but notice that there aren't enough workers for the amount of children who will be there.
3. The fabulous church I grew up in is asking for help in their Awana Cubbies program. They are at risk of having to cancel the Cubbies portion of the program or start turning people away. The Awana program had great impact on me as a child, the thought of it not being there for someone else makes me so sad.
There aren't enough workers.
That's pretty amazing considering the size of our churches these days. In the era of the mega church I think it is easier than ever to slide by unnoticed. To feel like you don't have to get involved because somebody else will do it. It's kind of like the emergency situation where everybody thinks someone else is calling 911, but nobody is. It's easy to show up and get fed, become spiritually fat, but do nothing with it.
Was it this way when we were kids I wonder? I really don't know. Either way, it makes me sad and leaves me pondering what I can do about it. It will take a sacrifice on my part. Someone sacrificed for me and for you. Many people did, so that I could hear about Jesus...
As a baby
As an infant
As a toddler
As an ugly 6th grader
As a junior higher
As a high schooler
As a college student
As a single
As a new married
As a pregnant mom
As a new mom
As a young adult
As a member of the church
As a visitor of the church.
The list goes on.
I am certain that hundreds of people have sacrificed so that I could know Christ as well as I do today. So that I could have His Word in my heart and on tap in a moment's notice. So that I could receive counseling and learn how to pray. It wasn't easy for them and it isn't easy for me to do for someone else. But it's so important and so much more useful than many of the other weekly commitments I have.
Something I have to remind myself of often in serving is this:
"It's not about me."
I will miss socializing with my friends because I'm greeting at the door. I will miss easing into my chair next to my best friend because I'm trying to reach out to someone sitting alone. I will miss my sleep when I'm there early. But, what will be missed if I don't do those things? Someone else who doesn't know Christ needs to hear the message more desperately than I do.
What if every single member in our church just gave a little? There are many who give a lot, and many who give nothing. Couldn't we have so much more of an impact if we balanced the scale a little? Think about it. What can you do?
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