Today I was driving back home from a race.
The course was brutal.
I slept terribly.
Driving felt like I had been at an amusement park all day, standing in line for hours for a 5 second ride.
Sunburned and drowsy.
Head bobbling like it belonged on a business man's desk.
My fingers fumbled and cranked up the tunes I barely noticed for the last hour as I got lost in thoughts and the winding road.
"He loves us! Oh how He loves us! How He loves!"
My head rested back on the drivers seat as I whispered the lyrics to the familiar song.
Road winding.
Eyes glazed.
"Britney."
My eyes flickered.
"Love's like a hurricane I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy."
"Britney."
Fine. I'd sit up.
I was waiting like a child for his father to wave their finger and slap their hand.
"Yes? You wanted to speak to me? What? You're angry? Should I get a pen and paper to make a list of how I've handled things in all the ways they disapprove of? Bring it, God."
"Britney. Be silent."
"If Grace is an ocean, we're all sinking!"
"I love you. Britney, I love you."
"Oh yeah? I know a few people who 'love' me. I don't see them here, do You?"
"Them? They? Who? I am the Maker of all things. Do you not think I see you? Has my infinite love gone dry? Does a carpenter build his most prized piece and leave it unfinished? Does he forget the time and love he put into the piece? Does he let it collect dust and rot? No. The carpenter completes his work. The carpenter smooths his piece with time and sweat. Sometimes the piece doesn't take form like the blueprints say. Sometimes the piece is not understood. Sometimes the piece has to be taken apart and reassembled to the carpenters pleasure. You are my piece. You are my most prized possession. Why do you question Me? Am I not your provider? Am I not the Posessor of peace, understanding and possibilities? Do I not hold the Earth in place and yet still keep you tight in My grip? Tell me."
"You are all those things, but I am feeble and small. I lack. I possess the pieces but can't figure out how to place them. They say You won't use me now. They say You can't bless my ministry now. They say my call to missions is invalid. I've been slammed with curses and cut with unacceptance. What could You possibly do with a piece like me?"
"I AM. I AM. I AM. I am the beginning and the end. I am the author and perfector of your faith. I am your hope. I am your anchor. I am the Designer of callings and Writer of your dreams. I am the Alpha and Omega. I am the one Who used the dead, the sick, the lame, the leapor, the beat down, broken, no-good collector of taxes. I am the One Who tamed waves, lions, Satan Himself. I have seen and do see you then, now and on your death bed. I do not operate on the terms of 'they' or 'them'. I have no limits or boundaries to My ways. I create everything out of nothing. I heal when the doctors say no. I mend hearts torn apart by bitterness and hate. My ways are higher, further, deeper, better, stronger than 'they.' Who are 'they' to the Holder of the keys to Heaven and the strings to your soul? I take what 'they' label a set back and make it a stepping stone. Britney, I love you."
The spring wind whipped my blonde locks over my face.
My head leaned back into a resting position.
I let the windows disappear and my hand dance on the air outside my car.
Overwhelmed with grace.
Taken aback by love;
Not the love that waivers on my circumstances,
Not the love that flees and ducks when storms strike.
Not the love that is embarrassed of me.
Not the love that shakes its head and walks away.
Real, insurmountable love.
I am wrapped in it.
Engulfed in it.
Drowning in it.
Completely intoxicated with it.
"He loves us! He loves us! He loves us! Oh how He loves us!"
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Headwinds.
A few weeks ago I tagged along for a run with some friends for a good 13.5 mile long run. I was thrilled and anxious to get started that day and spend time with my good running buddies.
I woke that morning and packed all the things I'd need for my run along the country back roads.
Chunky water bottle, sexy fanny pack to hold beans and gels, you know, the essentials.
I swung open the door and jumped out in my church high heels with my running bag stuffed full.
Then the door swung back ferociously and smacked me in my face.
I stumbled and lost my balance on those ridiculously unnecessary 4 inch heels that I didn't even particularly like.
My carefully pinned back hair whipped and whirled and soon took on the character of a deserted squirrel nest.
I stumbled and fumbled and grasped my car door handle and threw my self inside.
I checked the rear view mirror and my mouth dropped at how 2 minutes in that wind had changed my appearance.
My stomach dropped.
The run.
The run.
This wind.
40+ mph winds on a long run was unthinkable.
I sat in church that morning, occasionally glancing out the side door only to find my hopes of seeing a still sunny day be swept away with the first Arkansan hurricane.
I tapped my foot ferociously as the minutes ran by me, reminding me I was about to trade my heels for a hat and my dress for dead legs.
But I'm no quitter.
But I'm no fear stricken child.
I always brave the run.
I always brave the consequences of going out on a run not knowing how nature or my own flesh will react.
That day the wind whipped my body back and forth on the road, so much it made me rethink skimping on food lately. Maybe that extra slice of pie would have made me less fragile and less moveable.
My hat flew off my head revealing my untamed pile of hair.
I groaned, grumbled and moaned with frustration.
It was cold, windy and I was running straight into winds that could move a car off the freeway.
I pushed myself up a good mile incline, wavering and rolling my ankle as I went.
My friends suggested turning back, the winds were too brutal that day.
We were at mile 8, there was no way I could do that.
If I had the bravery to dive into these conditions, I was not going to cut it short or take some detour.
This run was mine and I was going to fight for it, even if that meant the entire run was against headwinds determined to blow my tiny frame to Greenland.
Tears streamed down my face when I reached the point in the run where I was alone with myself and the wind.
It was too hard.
My arms were swinging 100 times per minute but I felt as if my legs had chains tied around them.
I was running in place, literally.
I was getting absolutely nowhere, so I decided to finally look up from the asphalt for the first time that day:
It was beautiful. The way the trees swayed to the beat of the wind and the waves of grass followed as a good dancing partner does.
Then I took a look at my body and felt myself moving to the same rhythm.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I smiled and shook my head.
This entire time I was concerned with the headwinds that I hadn't taken the time to see what was actually happening!
I stopped swinging my arms like an Olympic track star, I threw my head back and looked at the sky above me, arms spread behind me like a toddler about to run down a hill for the very first time and flew.
Britney, ready for take off!
I soared and the sunshine danced on my freckled face.
The wind was now a song of love and I was the DJ.
When I saw my car creeping up a small shred of disappointment swept over me.
That run was over, but my run wasn't.
I was saddened that it had taken me until the end of the run to bask in its goodness.
I remember the looks that people gave me as they drove by me that day on the side of the road.
Looks of disbelief and shock.
They were gripping to the interior of the safety of their vehicles and here I was exposing myself to dangerous elements.
But which was more dangerous?
Clinging to the comfort of your leather interior or braving the run.
So as useless is a ship in safe harbors is a person who refuses to face the headwinds.
At the end of the run, I looked up and saw figures standing at the end of the road.
They were the ones who started that run with me, braved it with me and ended it with me.
They were the ones who finished the run when I said I didn't desire to turn back because it was difficult.
On that day, they were my family, and we must take care of our family no matter where we find them.
I woke that morning and packed all the things I'd need for my run along the country back roads.
Chunky water bottle, sexy fanny pack to hold beans and gels, you know, the essentials.
I swung open the door and jumped out in my church high heels with my running bag stuffed full.
Then the door swung back ferociously and smacked me in my face.
I stumbled and lost my balance on those ridiculously unnecessary 4 inch heels that I didn't even particularly like.
My carefully pinned back hair whipped and whirled and soon took on the character of a deserted squirrel nest.
I stumbled and fumbled and grasped my car door handle and threw my self inside.
I checked the rear view mirror and my mouth dropped at how 2 minutes in that wind had changed my appearance.
My stomach dropped.
The run.
The run.
This wind.
40+ mph winds on a long run was unthinkable.
I sat in church that morning, occasionally glancing out the side door only to find my hopes of seeing a still sunny day be swept away with the first Arkansan hurricane.
I tapped my foot ferociously as the minutes ran by me, reminding me I was about to trade my heels for a hat and my dress for dead legs.
But I'm no quitter.
But I'm no fear stricken child.
I always brave the run.
I always brave the consequences of going out on a run not knowing how nature or my own flesh will react.
That day the wind whipped my body back and forth on the road, so much it made me rethink skimping on food lately. Maybe that extra slice of pie would have made me less fragile and less moveable.
My hat flew off my head revealing my untamed pile of hair.
I groaned, grumbled and moaned with frustration.
It was cold, windy and I was running straight into winds that could move a car off the freeway.
I pushed myself up a good mile incline, wavering and rolling my ankle as I went.
My friends suggested turning back, the winds were too brutal that day.
We were at mile 8, there was no way I could do that.
If I had the bravery to dive into these conditions, I was not going to cut it short or take some detour.
This run was mine and I was going to fight for it, even if that meant the entire run was against headwinds determined to blow my tiny frame to Greenland.
Tears streamed down my face when I reached the point in the run where I was alone with myself and the wind.
It was too hard.
My arms were swinging 100 times per minute but I felt as if my legs had chains tied around them.
I was running in place, literally.
I was getting absolutely nowhere, so I decided to finally look up from the asphalt for the first time that day:
It was beautiful. The way the trees swayed to the beat of the wind and the waves of grass followed as a good dancing partner does.
Then I took a look at my body and felt myself moving to the same rhythm.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I smiled and shook my head.
This entire time I was concerned with the headwinds that I hadn't taken the time to see what was actually happening!
I stopped swinging my arms like an Olympic track star, I threw my head back and looked at the sky above me, arms spread behind me like a toddler about to run down a hill for the very first time and flew.
Britney, ready for take off!
I soared and the sunshine danced on my freckled face.
The wind was now a song of love and I was the DJ.
When I saw my car creeping up a small shred of disappointment swept over me.
That run was over, but my run wasn't.
I was saddened that it had taken me until the end of the run to bask in its goodness.
I remember the looks that people gave me as they drove by me that day on the side of the road.
Looks of disbelief and shock.
They were gripping to the interior of the safety of their vehicles and here I was exposing myself to dangerous elements.
But which was more dangerous?
Clinging to the comfort of your leather interior or braving the run.
So as useless is a ship in safe harbors is a person who refuses to face the headwinds.
At the end of the run, I looked up and saw figures standing at the end of the road.
They were the ones who started that run with me, braved it with me and ended it with me.
They were the ones who finished the run when I said I didn't desire to turn back because it was difficult.
On that day, they were my family, and we must take care of our family no matter where we find them.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
The Spirit of the Marathon
Many want to.
Some try.
In actuality, few do.
It takes months of pain.
It takes hours of sweat.
It takes icing.
Taping.
Foam rolling.
Questioning yourself.
Injuries.
Tapering.
Hill runs.
Sprints.
Self-doubt.
Guts.
What is it?
The marathon.
26.2 miles.
Some think they're ready.
Some know they're ready.
Everyone deep down hopes they're ready.
To many this is just a distance to run.
To many this is just some crazy thing those crazy runners do.
For runners, it's spiritual.
In those months you are tried physically, mentally and emotionally.
You question your ability, your sanity, your confidence and hope in yourself.
You push your body to the limit and stretch your limitations to their brink.
One pain in your foot could devastate you and all your hard work.
One twist of the ankle on a training run makes your heart stop.
The months leading up to my marathon were rough physically and personally.
I had knee pain, heel pain, Achilles pain, whatever pain possible crept its way onto my body.
I had personal battles slap me in the face that many of you know already.
Yet there were many other deep spiritual and emotional battles being fought within myself and in my family before my run.
I ran through pain.
I ran when I felt like my world was crashing in on me.
I ran when all I wanted to do was scream, kick and cry on my bedroom floor because I was in so much spiritual turmoil.
I was questioning God and His promises.
His timing.
His love.
His mercy.
Where was my break, God?
Haven't I fought enough already?
Have You not broken me enough?
I ran when I didn't want to run.
I ran when I wanted to run away from the people who loved me most.
I ran when the doctor said, "you should probably chill out."
I ran when everything around me said to stand still.
I ran from my problems, my pain, my fears and myself.
I'd blare music in my ears on my runs to not think.
I'd cancel on my running friends and run alone so I could cry my eyes dry in solitude.
The marathon is different for every runner.
For me, it was the time in my life where I needed to prove to myself that I was strong.
That I was worthy of greatness.
That there was some sort of hope out there.
That Britney was not a victim of her life but a woman who is a victor in all she does.
That Britney is not fearful but fearless.
That Britney is courageous not a coward.
Through out the marathon I reflected back on every hill I've ever climbed, every storm I weathered and every person who had broken my spirit.
Why had I let life throw its huge stones and get away with it?
No more.
You're running 26.2 miles, Britney.
Victims can't do that.
The weak can't do that.
The hopeless can't do that.
This is your run.
This is your marathon.
Suck up the aches and pains.
Inhale the hard jagged breathing.
Embrace the wars you face and get up and fight back.
Oh, your eating disorder likes to come visit at your weakest moment?
Shut the door in its ugly no good face.
Oh, you feel like you don't fit in?
Make yourself known.
Oh, your dad is sick again?
Get your hope back and glue yourself back together.
Oh, you still sink back into that little girl that feels everyone is pointing fingers at her and whispering?
Tell those voices to shut the hell up. They're not welcome in your life.
Oh, you feel God turned His face from you?
Guess what? He's staring you straight in the eyes right in this moment.
He's applauding your every stride.
It's mile 25 and there's the biggest hill of the race. Will you walk it as a hopeless and broken spirited victim or will you run that damn hill as a fearless, hopeful, strong, full spirited grown woman?
I crossed the start line lost.
I found my spirit again in the marathon.
Some try.
In actuality, few do.
It takes months of pain.
It takes hours of sweat.
It takes icing.
Taping.
Foam rolling.
Questioning yourself.
Injuries.
Tapering.
Hill runs.
Sprints.
Self-doubt.
Guts.
What is it?
The marathon.
26.2 miles.
Some think they're ready.
Some know they're ready.
Everyone deep down hopes they're ready.
To many this is just a distance to run.
To many this is just some crazy thing those crazy runners do.
For runners, it's spiritual.
In those months you are tried physically, mentally and emotionally.
You question your ability, your sanity, your confidence and hope in yourself.
You push your body to the limit and stretch your limitations to their brink.
One pain in your foot could devastate you and all your hard work.
One twist of the ankle on a training run makes your heart stop.
The months leading up to my marathon were rough physically and personally.
I had knee pain, heel pain, Achilles pain, whatever pain possible crept its way onto my body.
I had personal battles slap me in the face that many of you know already.
Yet there were many other deep spiritual and emotional battles being fought within myself and in my family before my run.
I ran through pain.
I ran when I felt like my world was crashing in on me.
I ran when all I wanted to do was scream, kick and cry on my bedroom floor because I was in so much spiritual turmoil.
I was questioning God and His promises.
His timing.
His love.
His mercy.
Where was my break, God?
Haven't I fought enough already?
Have You not broken me enough?
I ran when I didn't want to run.
I ran when I wanted to run away from the people who loved me most.
I ran when the doctor said, "you should probably chill out."
I ran when everything around me said to stand still.
I ran from my problems, my pain, my fears and myself.
I'd blare music in my ears on my runs to not think.
I'd cancel on my running friends and run alone so I could cry my eyes dry in solitude.
The marathon is different for every runner.
For me, it was the time in my life where I needed to prove to myself that I was strong.
That I was worthy of greatness.
That there was some sort of hope out there.
That Britney was not a victim of her life but a woman who is a victor in all she does.
That Britney is not fearful but fearless.
That Britney is courageous not a coward.
Through out the marathon I reflected back on every hill I've ever climbed, every storm I weathered and every person who had broken my spirit.
Why had I let life throw its huge stones and get away with it?
No more.
You're running 26.2 miles, Britney.
Victims can't do that.
The weak can't do that.
The hopeless can't do that.
This is your run.
This is your marathon.
Suck up the aches and pains.
Inhale the hard jagged breathing.
Embrace the wars you face and get up and fight back.
Oh, your eating disorder likes to come visit at your weakest moment?
Shut the door in its ugly no good face.
Oh, you feel like you don't fit in?
Make yourself known.
Oh, your dad is sick again?
Get your hope back and glue yourself back together.
Oh, you still sink back into that little girl that feels everyone is pointing fingers at her and whispering?
Tell those voices to shut the hell up. They're not welcome in your life.
Oh, you feel God turned His face from you?
Guess what? He's staring you straight in the eyes right in this moment.
He's applauding your every stride.
It's mile 25 and there's the biggest hill of the race. Will you walk it as a hopeless and broken spirited victim or will you run that damn hill as a fearless, hopeful, strong, full spirited grown woman?
I crossed the start line lost.
I found my spirit again in the marathon.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Flat Coke Christians
Many people use the term "lukewarm Christian" when describing someone who is neither completely on fire for God or against Him. They're in the middle. They're neither left nor right. The bible says this type of person is spat out of God's mouth. I mean, nobody enjoys warm drinking water. It's useless.
There is another type of person to be weary of becoming: the flat coke Christian.
What?
Okay, have you ever bought a cola and you're so excited about opening it, hearing the pssshhhthththttt of the cap turning, the sweet sugary carbonation slipping and soothing your throat, the inevitable "ahh" sound we all make after drinking that perfect soda...but then...as the liquid reaches your tongue, it's FLAT! Oh nooooo. You make that agonizing facial expression and stick out your tongue in disgust.
What a disappointment.
What a let down.
What a flat coke.
Just like nobody wants to drink a flat cola, nobody really wants to be like one either.
Flat coke looks just like a satisfying coke, sometimes it even makes the same sound when you open the bottle, but you know it's flat by its lack of carbonation when you take the time to taste it.
Just like this flat coke, sometimes we as Jesus followers are flat.
We dress the part.
We talk the part.
But we're flat.
We're complacent.
We're really good for nothing.
Often, we even look like we're busy doing important and holy things...but all the while we are really just mimicking and playing the part of a carbonated Christian.
We are doing absolutely nothing for Jesus.
Now hold up hold up...am I saying singing in the church choir or teaching that Sunday school class isn't a good thing?
No way!
But, what are you doing outside that choir loft and beyond those white church room walls?
Here are a few things Jesus DID tell us to do, actually, command us to do:
Deuteronomy 15:10 (NLT)
Give generously to the poor, not grudgingly, for the Lord your God will bless you in everything you do.
Matthew 5:43-44 (NLT)
"You have heard the law that says, 'Love your neighbor' and hate your enemy. [44] But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!
Luke 6:30-31 (NLT)
Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. [31] Do to others as you would like them to do to you.
Mark 11:25 (NLT)
But when you are praying, first forgive anyone you are holding a grudge against, so that your Father in heaven will forgive your sins, too."
Mark 16:15 (NLT)
And then he told them, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.
Love.
Give.
Serve.
Forgive.
Spread the Good News EVERYWHERE.
Love some more.
This is going to step on a few toes, but Jesus isn't impressed that you sit on the front row and get happy clappy on Sunday.
He isn't impressed that your choir can sing Tide on King Jesus in whatever key flawlessly.
He isn't impressed by your JBQ track record or how many lights your sanctuary has.
He isn't flattered by your constant Facebook posts bashing the leadership the King Himself allowed to step into office.
He isn't giving you a slap on the back when you speak out about how much God hates the gays (He doesn't by the way).
He isn't thrilled by how big your Christmad production is or all the different church functions your organized.
I know, you're hating me right now.
But, I simply can not let you keep thinking you're impressing the Creator of the Universe by being really busy but going nowhere.
Do we all have the call on our lives to be a missionary over seas?
No.
Do we all have the call to get off our big behinds and actually do something for Jesus?
Absolutely.
Often as Christians, myself included, get caught up in how much we can occupy ourselves with inside the walls of our church, we ignore the weak, needy, poor, lost, broken people just down the street.
We become flat coke Christians.
This blog hit me this morning as I sat in my friends' church service.
They didn't have a humongous Christmas display.
They don't have the amount of resources that many power churches tend to have, yet there they were, giving a Christmas gift to every single child in their church.
There they were blessing a family in need with a stage full of gifts.
There they were being run completely by volunteers.
When I asked my friends what they were getting each other for Christmas they replied, "we are giving presents to families in need this year instead."
What? This was incredible to me.
It touched me.
Even more it broke me, because as a child who grew up in church my entire life, I've never known such sacrifice, giving, or humble hearts.
It broke me because I realized many f us have become flat.
We have become superficial and selfish.
We have become stuck up and blind towards the poor.
We would rather complain about food stamps and welfare than go volunteer and feed the hungry.
We would rather be in the spotlight in the Christmas special than behind the curtains blessing the poor.
We have become our worst nightmare.
I want to never reach that place again personally.
I never want to choose my own comfort over the needs of those around me.
I never want to be...flat.
There is another type of person to be weary of becoming: the flat coke Christian.
What?
Okay, have you ever bought a cola and you're so excited about opening it, hearing the pssshhhthththttt of the cap turning, the sweet sugary carbonation slipping and soothing your throat, the inevitable "ahh" sound we all make after drinking that perfect soda...but then...as the liquid reaches your tongue, it's FLAT! Oh nooooo. You make that agonizing facial expression and stick out your tongue in disgust.
What a disappointment.
What a let down.
What a flat coke.
Just like nobody wants to drink a flat cola, nobody really wants to be like one either.
Flat coke looks just like a satisfying coke, sometimes it even makes the same sound when you open the bottle, but you know it's flat by its lack of carbonation when you take the time to taste it.
Just like this flat coke, sometimes we as Jesus followers are flat.
We dress the part.
We talk the part.
But we're flat.
We're complacent.
We're really good for nothing.
Often, we even look like we're busy doing important and holy things...but all the while we are really just mimicking and playing the part of a carbonated Christian.
We are doing absolutely nothing for Jesus.
Now hold up hold up...am I saying singing in the church choir or teaching that Sunday school class isn't a good thing?
No way!
But, what are you doing outside that choir loft and beyond those white church room walls?
Here are a few things Jesus DID tell us to do, actually, command us to do:
Deuteronomy 15:10 (NLT)
Give generously to the poor, not grudgingly, for the Lord your God will bless you in everything you do.
Matthew 5:43-44 (NLT)
"You have heard the law that says, 'Love your neighbor' and hate your enemy. [44] But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!
Luke 6:30-31 (NLT)
Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. [31] Do to others as you would like them to do to you.
Mark 11:25 (NLT)
But when you are praying, first forgive anyone you are holding a grudge against, so that your Father in heaven will forgive your sins, too."
Mark 16:15 (NLT)
And then he told them, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.
Love.
Give.
Serve.
Forgive.
Spread the Good News EVERYWHERE.
Love some more.
This is going to step on a few toes, but Jesus isn't impressed that you sit on the front row and get happy clappy on Sunday.
He isn't impressed that your choir can sing Tide on King Jesus in whatever key flawlessly.
He isn't impressed by your JBQ track record or how many lights your sanctuary has.
He isn't flattered by your constant Facebook posts bashing the leadership the King Himself allowed to step into office.
He isn't giving you a slap on the back when you speak out about how much God hates the gays (He doesn't by the way).
He isn't thrilled by how big your Christmad production is or all the different church functions your organized.
I know, you're hating me right now.
But, I simply can not let you keep thinking you're impressing the Creator of the Universe by being really busy but going nowhere.
Do we all have the call on our lives to be a missionary over seas?
No.
Do we all have the call to get off our big behinds and actually do something for Jesus?
Absolutely.
Often as Christians, myself included, get caught up in how much we can occupy ourselves with inside the walls of our church, we ignore the weak, needy, poor, lost, broken people just down the street.
We become flat coke Christians.
This blog hit me this morning as I sat in my friends' church service.
They didn't have a humongous Christmas display.
They don't have the amount of resources that many power churches tend to have, yet there they were, giving a Christmas gift to every single child in their church.
There they were blessing a family in need with a stage full of gifts.
There they were being run completely by volunteers.
When I asked my friends what they were getting each other for Christmas they replied, "we are giving presents to families in need this year instead."
What? This was incredible to me.
It touched me.
Even more it broke me, because as a child who grew up in church my entire life, I've never known such sacrifice, giving, or humble hearts.
It broke me because I realized many f us have become flat.
We have become superficial and selfish.
We have become stuck up and blind towards the poor.
We would rather complain about food stamps and welfare than go volunteer and feed the hungry.
We would rather be in the spotlight in the Christmas special than behind the curtains blessing the poor.
We have become our worst nightmare.
I want to never reach that place again personally.
I never want to choose my own comfort over the needs of those around me.
I never want to be...flat.
Flat Coke Christians
Many people use the term "lukewarm Christian" when describing someone who is neither completely on fire for God or against Him. They're in the middle. They're neither left nor right. The bible says this type of person is spat out of God's mouth. I mean, nobody enjoys warm drinking water. It's useless.
There is another type of person to be weary of becoming: the flat coke Christian.
What?
Okay, have you ever bought a cola and you're so excited about opening it, hearing the pssshhhthththttt of the cap turning, the sweet sugary carbonation slipping and soothing your throat, the inevitable "ahh" sound we all make after drinking that perfect soda...but then...as the liquid reaches your tongue, it's FLAT! Oh nooooo. You make that agonizing facial expression and stick out your tongue in disgust.
What a disappointment.
What a let down.
What a flat coke.
Just like nobody wants to drink a flat cola, nobody really wants to be like one either.
Flat coke looks just like a satisfying coke, sometimes it even makes the same sound when you open the bottle, but you know it's flat by its lack of carbonation when you take the time to taste it.
Just like this flat coke, sometimes we as Jesus followers are flat.
We dress the part.
We talk the part.
But we're flat.
We're complacent.
We're really good for nothing.
Often, we even look like we're busy doing important and holy things...but all the while we are really just mimicking and playing the part of a carbonated Christian.
We are doing absolutely nothing for Jesus.
Now hold up hold up...am I saying singing in the church choir or teaching that Sunday school class isn't a good thing?
No way!
But, what are you doing outside that choir loft and beyond those white church room walls?
Here are a few things Jesus DID tell us to do, actually, command us to do:
Deuteronomy 15:10 (NLT)
Give generously to the poor, not grudgingly, for the Lord your God will bless you in everything you do.
Matthew 5:43-44 (NLT)
"You have heard the law that says, 'Love your neighbor' and hate your enemy. [44] But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!
Luke 6:30-31 (NLT)
Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. [31] Do to others as you would like them to do to you.
Mark 11:25 (NLT)
But when you are praying, first forgive anyone you are holding a grudge against, so that your Father in heaven will forgive your sins, too."
Mark 16:15 (NLT)
And then he told them, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.
Love.
Give.
Serve.
Forgive.
Spread the Good News EVERYWHERE.
Love some more.
This is going to step on a few toes, but Jesus isn't impressed that you sit on the front row and get happy clappy on Sunday.
He isn't impressed that your choir can sing Tide on King Jesus in whatever key flawlessly.
He isn't impressed by your JBQ track record or how many lights your sanctuary has.
He isn't flattered by your constant Facebook posts bashing the leadership the King Himself allowed to step into office.
He isn't giving you a slap on the back when you speak out about how much God hates the gays (He doesn't by the way).
He isn't thrilled by how big your Christmad production is or all the different church functions your organized.
I know, you're hating me right now.
But, I simply can not let you keep thinking you're impressing the Creator of the Universe by being really busy but going nowhere.
Do we all have the call on our lives to be a missionary over seas?
No.
Do we all have the call to get off our big behinds and actually do something for Jesus?
Absolutely.
Often as Christians, myself included, get caught up in how much we can occupy ourselves with inside the walls of our church, we ignore the weak, needy, poor, lost, broken people just down the street.
We become flat coke Christians.
This blog hit me this morning as I sat in my friends' church service.
They didn't have a humongous Christmas display.
They don't have the amount of resources that many power churches tend to have, yet there they were, giving a Christmas gift to every single child in their church.
There they were blessing a family in need with a stage full of gifts.
There they were being run completely by volunteers.
When I asked my friends what they were getting each other for Christmas they replied, "we are giving presents to families in need this year instead."
What? This was incredible to me.
It touched me.
Even more it broke me, because as a child who grew up in church my entire life, I've never known such sacrifice, giving, or humble hearts.
It broke me because I realized many f us have become flat.
We have become superficial and selfish.
We have become stuck up and blind towards the poor.
We would rather complain about food stamps and welfare than go volunteer and feed the hungry.
We would rather be in the spotlight in the Christmas special than behind the curtains blessing the poor.
We have become our worst nightmare.
I want to never reach that place again personally.
I never want to choose my own comfort over the needs of those around me.
I never want to be...flat.
There is another type of person to be weary of becoming: the flat coke Christian.
What?
Okay, have you ever bought a cola and you're so excited about opening it, hearing the pssshhhthththttt of the cap turning, the sweet sugary carbonation slipping and soothing your throat, the inevitable "ahh" sound we all make after drinking that perfect soda...but then...as the liquid reaches your tongue, it's FLAT! Oh nooooo. You make that agonizing facial expression and stick out your tongue in disgust.
What a disappointment.
What a let down.
What a flat coke.
Just like nobody wants to drink a flat cola, nobody really wants to be like one either.
Flat coke looks just like a satisfying coke, sometimes it even makes the same sound when you open the bottle, but you know it's flat by its lack of carbonation when you take the time to taste it.
Just like this flat coke, sometimes we as Jesus followers are flat.
We dress the part.
We talk the part.
But we're flat.
We're complacent.
We're really good for nothing.
Often, we even look like we're busy doing important and holy things...but all the while we are really just mimicking and playing the part of a carbonated Christian.
We are doing absolutely nothing for Jesus.
Now hold up hold up...am I saying singing in the church choir or teaching that Sunday school class isn't a good thing?
No way!
But, what are you doing outside that choir loft and beyond those white church room walls?
Here are a few things Jesus DID tell us to do, actually, command us to do:
Deuteronomy 15:10 (NLT)
Give generously to the poor, not grudgingly, for the Lord your God will bless you in everything you do.
Matthew 5:43-44 (NLT)
"You have heard the law that says, 'Love your neighbor' and hate your enemy. [44] But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!
Luke 6:30-31 (NLT)
Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. [31] Do to others as you would like them to do to you.
Mark 11:25 (NLT)
But when you are praying, first forgive anyone you are holding a grudge against, so that your Father in heaven will forgive your sins, too."
Mark 16:15 (NLT)
And then he told them, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.
Love.
Give.
Serve.
Forgive.
Spread the Good News EVERYWHERE.
Love some more.
This is going to step on a few toes, but Jesus isn't impressed that you sit on the front row and get happy clappy on Sunday.
He isn't impressed that your choir can sing Tide on King Jesus in whatever key flawlessly.
He isn't impressed by your JBQ track record or how many lights your sanctuary has.
He isn't flattered by your constant Facebook posts bashing the leadership the King Himself allowed to step into office.
He isn't giving you a slap on the back when you speak out about how much God hates the gays (He doesn't by the way).
He isn't thrilled by how big your Christmad production is or all the different church functions your organized.
I know, you're hating me right now.
But, I simply can not let you keep thinking you're impressing the Creator of the Universe by being really busy but going nowhere.
Do we all have the call on our lives to be a missionary over seas?
No.
Do we all have the call to get off our big behinds and actually do something for Jesus?
Absolutely.
Often as Christians, myself included, get caught up in how much we can occupy ourselves with inside the walls of our church, we ignore the weak, needy, poor, lost, broken people just down the street.
We become flat coke Christians.
This blog hit me this morning as I sat in my friends' church service.
They didn't have a humongous Christmas display.
They don't have the amount of resources that many power churches tend to have, yet there they were, giving a Christmas gift to every single child in their church.
There they were blessing a family in need with a stage full of gifts.
There they were being run completely by volunteers.
When I asked my friends what they were getting each other for Christmas they replied, "we are giving presents to families in need this year instead."
What? This was incredible to me.
It touched me.
Even more it broke me, because as a child who grew up in church my entire life, I've never known such sacrifice, giving, or humble hearts.
It broke me because I realized many f us have become flat.
We have become superficial and selfish.
We have become stuck up and blind towards the poor.
We would rather complain about food stamps and welfare than go volunteer and feed the hungry.
We would rather be in the spotlight in the Christmas special than behind the curtains blessing the poor.
We have become our worst nightmare.
I want to never reach that place again personally.
I never want to choose my own comfort over the needs of those around me.
I never want to be...flat.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Condemnation and Car Rides
We've all heard this before: "there is no condemnation in Christ! Tell your past to be gone!"
What? Is this some sort of magic trick? I can just wish my struggles away? I can command my past to flee?
This is a joke.
Jesus doesn't mean that we will never struggle again once we are Christians. He doesn't mean that because we change our life that our old one simply disappears and all the baggage that comes along with it is no more.
No. The past is real. Your struggle is real.
Jesus says "There is therefore now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus; the old is gone the new has come!"
He doesn't mean, "Well, all the people you've hurt before don't remember that you hurt them and oh that eating disorder you had, I got that all covered you will never suffer from insecurity again."
Jesus knows we will fall.
He knows we will fail.
He knows we might take a small drink again.
He knows we might visit that website again.
He knows we might skip a day of eating again.
He knows we might hurt people again.
He knows we might lash out in anger against our spouse again.
He knows, but He has paid the price of your shame.
He sees His children as the small weak children we are, so desperately in need of grace and rescuing.
Jesus is like the father witnessing his child learn to walk on its own. It's so unsure of everything, yet gets into everything it can touch. It bumps into the precious heirlooms, breaking a few irreplaceable pieces of china along the way. It cries from confusion in its new ability and doesn't understand why dad smacks its hand away from the untouchables. The father helps the child around, holding its hands, steering it from harm, sometimes the stubborn child approaches danger despite its fathers subtle warnings. The child is confident in its own ability to walk straight and ends up face planted into the hard concrete.
The father does not leave the child screaming for help. The father does not pick the child up, spanking and scolding the child. The father does not say, "Son, I told you so! See, you fell now get back up on your own!"
No. No.
The father runs to his child, scooping him up in his arms kissing and cuddling the child into his neck saying, "shhhh...daddy's here. He's here. I know, I know."
We are like this child, learning to walk on our new spiritual legs. We ignore warnings. We trip. We fall. We get beat up.
But my God is not the God that turns His face from one of His children because they fell while learning to walk.
He knows we are weak.
He knows we need a Savior.
He knows we need mercy time and time again.
Sometimes the enemy comes in like a flood and bombards my heart with guilt, shame, fear, confusion.
But my Daddy comes in like a whisper while I'm riding in my car on the freeway.
The rain runs down my front window as I blare my music as loud as I can to shut out every demon that has its eye set on me that day.
My Daddy sits in the passenger seat and touches my face with His Grace and reassurance.
"You are MY daughter, not the daughter of shame. You are MY child, not the child of fear. You are captivatingly beautiful in My eyes, not an invisible insecure girl like you sometimes see. You are strong because I am. You are brave because you are mine. You are mine."
Jesus never promised easy.
He never promised we'd always love the Christian walk and all it entails.
He never promised the world would go soft on us.
He never promised the enemy would stop fighting to entrap our hearts.
Take heart, for He has overcome the world.
Take heart, for He has overcome the addictions only you know about.
Take heart, for you are worth far more than many sparrows.
I know my past is real.
I know my struggle is real.
But I know Daddy's here.
Romans 8:1-4 (NIV)
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, [2] because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. [3] For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, [4] in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
What? Is this some sort of magic trick? I can just wish my struggles away? I can command my past to flee?
This is a joke.
Jesus doesn't mean that we will never struggle again once we are Christians. He doesn't mean that because we change our life that our old one simply disappears and all the baggage that comes along with it is no more.
No. The past is real. Your struggle is real.
Jesus says "There is therefore now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus; the old is gone the new has come!"
He doesn't mean, "Well, all the people you've hurt before don't remember that you hurt them and oh that eating disorder you had, I got that all covered you will never suffer from insecurity again."
Jesus knows we will fall.
He knows we will fail.
He knows we might take a small drink again.
He knows we might visit that website again.
He knows we might skip a day of eating again.
He knows we might hurt people again.
He knows we might lash out in anger against our spouse again.
He knows, but He has paid the price of your shame.
He sees His children as the small weak children we are, so desperately in need of grace and rescuing.
Jesus is like the father witnessing his child learn to walk on its own. It's so unsure of everything, yet gets into everything it can touch. It bumps into the precious heirlooms, breaking a few irreplaceable pieces of china along the way. It cries from confusion in its new ability and doesn't understand why dad smacks its hand away from the untouchables. The father helps the child around, holding its hands, steering it from harm, sometimes the stubborn child approaches danger despite its fathers subtle warnings. The child is confident in its own ability to walk straight and ends up face planted into the hard concrete.
The father does not leave the child screaming for help. The father does not pick the child up, spanking and scolding the child. The father does not say, "Son, I told you so! See, you fell now get back up on your own!"
No. No.
The father runs to his child, scooping him up in his arms kissing and cuddling the child into his neck saying, "shhhh...daddy's here. He's here. I know, I know."
We are like this child, learning to walk on our new spiritual legs. We ignore warnings. We trip. We fall. We get beat up.
But my God is not the God that turns His face from one of His children because they fell while learning to walk.
He knows we are weak.
He knows we need a Savior.
He knows we need mercy time and time again.
Sometimes the enemy comes in like a flood and bombards my heart with guilt, shame, fear, confusion.
But my Daddy comes in like a whisper while I'm riding in my car on the freeway.
The rain runs down my front window as I blare my music as loud as I can to shut out every demon that has its eye set on me that day.
My Daddy sits in the passenger seat and touches my face with His Grace and reassurance.
"You are MY daughter, not the daughter of shame. You are MY child, not the child of fear. You are captivatingly beautiful in My eyes, not an invisible insecure girl like you sometimes see. You are strong because I am. You are brave because you are mine. You are mine."
Jesus never promised easy.
He never promised we'd always love the Christian walk and all it entails.
He never promised the world would go soft on us.
He never promised the enemy would stop fighting to entrap our hearts.
Take heart, for He has overcome the world.
Take heart, for He has overcome the addictions only you know about.
Take heart, for you are worth far more than many sparrows.
I know my past is real.
I know my struggle is real.
But I know Daddy's here.
Romans 8:1-4 (NIV)
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, [2] because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. [3] For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, [4] in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Bad Hair Days and Eternal Things
Ugh, my hair just never looks right.
Why don't any of my shirts look good on me?
Why is my skin so pale when my friends are tan?
Why do I have no curves?
Why can't I just look like _____ or ______?
Why am I focusing on the physical things and not the eternal things?
Sometimes God gives women a heart check concerning our high emphasis on the physical things and not the eternal things.
To preface this blog, I am by no means saying a woman shouldn't wear make up or fix their hair in the morning or heaven forbid not wear deodorant: I am saying that often as women, we focus all of our attention on how we appear to the world physically versus spiritually.
I am the guiltiest of all concerning this, which is why I felt the need to blog about it. God heart checked me recently on how much I pick His creation a part. It's been drilled into my brain over and over again that "God doesn't make trash," and apparently that's supposed to cure the Christian woman's struggle with self image.
It doesn't.
Every woman has to have an encounter with Christ on this issue to truly realize the magnitude of what a problem focusing too much on physical appearance really is.
It may be when a woman is 15 or 50.
It may be over how she hates her curly stringy hair or how she thinks her breasts are small deflated balloons.
But by golly, every Christian woman will get heart checked by God at some point in their walk and realize, "Wow...have I really been focused on the wrong things this long? Am I really so concerned with the way my thighs look in jeans that I've become consumed with body image and jealousy? What eternal things could I have been spending all this thought and energy on that I've wasted on self pity over my looks?"
Many people do not and may not ever view this as an issue.
I do.
It's very near and dear to my heart when I see a woman, not just a young woman, pick themselves a part piece by piece because they are unsatisfied with their looks.
You may have a thousand people call you beautiful in a day, but if you don't see yourself the way your Creator made you, you will never ever be satisfied or pleased with your reflection.
I'm no genius. I'm no therapist. But I am a young woman who has battled with her physical appearance since adolescence.
God says, "ENOUGH!"
God says, "PEACE!"
My spirit has been checked.
Where have I been making investments mentally?
Have I been focusing on all the things I need to change about myself to be physically appealing and for my flesh to be satisfied with itself too much and not enough on changing what's ugly on the INSIDE?
A bad hair day won't rob you of Jesus, ladies.
A heart that is lost and chasing after physical beauty instead of inner beauty...that mindset will rob you.
It will rob you of your joy, your confidence, your relationships and your true beauty.
Should we take care of the body our Lord gave us ?
ABSOLUTELY.
I love being fit and healthy.
I believe God desires us to be the best we can be in all areas including our health.
Just like we can focus too much on our appearance we can become out of balance and not focus enough.
We should cherish what God gave us and treat it with love and respect.
Will women struggle with confidence?
Yes.
Will Christian women still have days where they just wish they could change this or that about their body?
Yes.
Do we have to live inside the prisons we have made for ourselves concerning broken body images?
NO.
Must we continue to feel like failures because we don't measure up to our idea of perfection physically?
NO.
Make eternal investments.
Focus on being kingdom-minded.
Change the ugly on the inside not what you view as ugly on the outside.
A truly beautiful woman is a meek, modest, confident, humble, gracious, prayed up woman.
| |||
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)