Thursday, December 22, 2011

Choose to Believe

A friend of mine indicated that she wasn't entirely sure where she stood on the matter of abortion. I'm choosing to seize that comment as an invitation to share some of my thoughts :)

She commentated that she was pro-choice because she doesn't believe that the government has a right to say what a woman can or can't do with what's inside her body.  I think a lot of people hold to this line of thinking, so I'm going to address that ideology first.

It's My Body
The government says a lot about what we can and cannot do with our own bodies. Drugs, for one thing are illegal. We cannot put them into our bodies :) However, if we're discussing abortion, then we are not talking about just our own body. There is another person involved-- albeit a super tiny one.

I have the freedom to swing an ax any where and any way I want, so long as it doesn't land in the skull of someone else. The minute that my God-given right violates someone else's right to live, their right to live trumps my right of choice.

Others would argue that a clump of changing cells isn't a person at all. They question its “personhood.”

A Peron's A Person No Matter How Small
Listed below are a few facts. They may not be new to you, but they are important to the heart of the matter of titling the sperm-egg rendezvous as a lifeless "embryo."

- A fertilized, implanted egg has a heartbeat at 18 days-- most likely before a woman would even know she has missed her period.

- By the time most mothers know they are pregnant (23-25 days), the huge mass of cells has developed a brain and spinal cord.

- At 8 weeks this allegedly non-living thing has all body systems present (respiratory, vascular, internal organs) and is the size of a thumb.

- While there's no legal cut-off date, most abortions are carried out around 12 weeks.  At this point, the "thing" has fingernails, fully functioning organs, spontaneous "breathing" motion, eyebrows, and weighs an ounce.  Some other things that weigh one ounce include the following: a piece of processed cheese, a stack of 5 quarters, 28 paper clips, a slice of bread.  Note: none of these things have heart beats, spinal cords, fingernails, or blood vessels.

Side Effects
Everything medical has side effects. The silenced consequences of abortion are heartbreaking. I found this compiled list of potential side effects on the website for Christian Life Resources, and I'll simply quote it directly:

Physical Effects:
- Miscarriages
- Ectopic Pregnancies
- Perforated Uterus/Infections
- Nervousness
- Frigidity
- Sterility/Stillbirths
- Shock
- Fever/Cold Sweats
- Loss of Other Organs

Psychological Effects:
- Unfulfillment/Sense of Loss
- Despair
- Loss of Confidence in Decision-Making
- Intense Interest in Babies
- Loss of Interest in Sex
- Feeling of Dehumanization
- Feelings of Being exploited
- Flashback of the Actual Abortion
- Guilt/Suicidal Impulses
- Mourning
- Regret/Remorse
- Inability to Focus (School or Work)
- Anniversaries (of Actual Due Date and Abortion Date)
- Eating Disorders
- Sleeping Disorders
- Low Self-Esteem
- Fear of Something Happening to One of their Other Children
- Cannot Forgive Themselves
- Trouble with Understanding and Accepting God's Forgiveness
- Nightmares
- Sighing ... Crying
- Hopelessness/Helplessness
- Anger/Denial
- Problem with Trusting Another Partner
- Fear of Never Being Given Another Pregnancy
- Depression/Anxiety
- Interruption of the Bonding Process with Present and/or Future Children
- Survival Guilt
- Alcohol/Drug Abuse

What Might God Say?
I have several biblical references to support the idea that God views "conception" as a person.

These first verses indicate that God plans things for people even before the egg and sperm meet.

Luke 2:21 ". . .He was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived."

Judges 13:5 "You will become pregnant and have a son whose head is never to be touched by a razor because the boy is to be a Nazirite, dedicated to God from the womb. He will take the lead in delivering Israel from the hands of the Philistines.”


These next verses show that God holds purpose for people even while in utero.

Matt 1:20 ". . .Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."

Gen 25:23 "The LORD said to her, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you will be separated; one people will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger.”

Jeremiah 20:17 "For he did not kill me in the womb, with my mother as my grave, her womb enlarged forever."

Galatians 1:15-16 "But when God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being."

These next verses show that we're not only human at conception, but that God Himself takes the time to craft each of us.

Psalm 51:5 "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me."

Psalm 139:13 "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb." (My personal favorite)

Job 31:15 "Did not he who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same one form us both within our mothers?"

Isaiah 44:2 "This is what the LORD says— he who made you, who formed you in the womb, and who will help you:"

My Soap Box
I'd like to ad a few other things that, quite frankly, we just don't hear very often.

First, while I realize that the Partial Birth Abortion Ban Act of 2003 prohibits some forms of partial-birth abortion, it is still the most barbaric thing we “civilized” people have done. If someone was to take a puppy, pinch her back leg in forceps, jam a pair of scissors into the back of her skull, open the scissors repeatedly until the hole was big enough to suck out her brains. . . that person would be a weirdo outcast. He would be fined (up to thousands of dollars) and most likely jailed. If he did this regularly, the evening news would surely slap Americans in the face with the outrage. People despise a person who abuses helpless animals-- no matter the reasoning he would choose to defend himself with.

If a woman births a baby and throws it in a dumpster, she's a criminal. A murderer. If a doctor pulls out a baby and puts it in a bucket and sets it in a corner, he's simply doing his job well (site).

Secondly, as a stereo-typical whole, people who are in support of relabeling “babies” so we can kill them are the same people who are opposed to capital punishment. Regardless of my personal stance on capital punishment, is it really worse to painlessly, lethally inject an adult who misused his/her choices than it is to suck a baby from its mother's womb?

My third point is in the form of a story. You can listen to the broadcast here. It's from the perspective of a former Planned Parenthood clinic director describing her first witnessed abortion. It was an unusual “ultrasound-guided” abortion. She went into the procedure feeling excited. Not only would she witness a new type of abortion, but she would get to actually hold the ultrasound wand during the procedure. The 13-week-old baby on the ultrasound screen was perfectly-formed with all its organs and tiny fingers.

Still excited about the new learning experience, she watched on the ultrasound screen while the doctor insert the probe (which was not yet turned on). He bumped the probe into the baby, who then seemed to wake up and start kicking its legs and moving its little arms. “It was like the baby was trying to find a place to go.”

She suddenly realized that this wasn't just a learning experience, but that she was about to witness something horrific. Immediately she thought of her 3-year-old daughter and the excitement they had felt while watching their own ultrasounds. She couldn't bring herself to look away from the screen. And right before her eyes, the suction turned on. It twisted and turned the baby quickly into nothingness. The life that was under her hands moments ago was gone.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Whose Timing?

Last night, I was reading a bit of "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan-- ALWAYS a challenge. The chapter I read was encouraging me to stress less. He defined that "stress says that the things we are involved in are important enough to merit our impatience, our lack of grace toward others, or our tight grip of control." He went on to say that being stressed conveys that "It's okay to sin and not trust God because the stuff in my life is somehow exceptional" and that it reeks of arrogance. Man!

So I did something I don't usually do. I hand wrote 3 Bible verses, cut them out, and taped them up around my kitchen (aka my office). They are:

1) This is the day that the Lord has made. I WILL rejoice and be glad in it.
2) Rejoice in the Lord ALWAYS and again I say rejoice.
3) The joy of the Lord is my strength.

A few months ago, we emptied our savings to put a new engine in our only vehicle.

A week ago, that same vehicle's engine acquired a hard knock. So it's in the shop now, awaiting an official prognosis. We're not optimistic. Thankfully, our savings is up to where we could handle a pretty decent blow. Again.

This morning, I washed a load of towels in our sounds-like-death washer. When I put them in the dryer, it wouldn't spin. We had plenty of heat, but no turning action.

Really?

I remembered to those blasted verses I had posted no more than 12 hours earlier and thought about how God is a funny guy. But in all seriousness, I was able to take the hit in stride and with a sense of joy. I am worthy of testing :) And I'm excited to see how God pulls through.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Break the Mirror

I can't seem to lose this baby weight.
My teeth make me look like a redneck.
I have a "muffin top" that just won't seem to go away.
Stupid acne.
If only my teeth were straighter/whiter.
I hate hate hate my varicose veins.
Leave the house without makeup? Ha!
I have more stretch marks than the elastic in the pants I have to wear.
My hair is too frizzy.
Ugh, wrinkles.
I just can't seem to shed these last, stubborn 20 pounds.

Does any of this sound familiar?

Why do we want to change these things? Often, the things we hate the most about our appearance are things we can do nothing about-- the shape or size of your nose. The way your second toe is longer than your big toe. Dimples. Wrinkles. Freckles. The thickness of your hair (or lack thereof). Your crooked pinky finger.

I happen to know a sweet soul who has visible rolls of fat on her thighs, an abnormally big head, is bald, and has only gums to bear her smiles. I realize she doesn't sound pretty, but she is absolutely one of the most beautiful people I know. Her name is Ezra, and she's my 2-month-old daughter. Talk about perspective, huh :)

It's almost laughable to think of a baby's physical characteristics as ugly or inexcusable. But I have to wonder how God sees His girls. Maybe He doesn't see a few extra pounds, stretch marks and varicose veins, but instead sees a woman He called and equipped to motherhood. Or if maybe He views the woman who's morbidly obese as His precious princess who struggles with overeating or maybe is still unable to cope with the molestation she endured as a child.

The Bible doesn't mention these things specifically. But through the eyes of a loving parent, I can begin to imagine what God may see.

Take, for instance, my 4-year-old daughter who has been richly gifted with external beauty. I can imagine her on the playground with her little girlfriends, scrutinizing their "flaws." All it would take is one little girl spreading the viral idea that "dimples are ugly" to send my daughter home in tears, thinking she is somehow worth less than her friends because of her dimples-- one of my favorite features!!

I think God winces at the entire concept of air brushing. We do it to people to make them look better (according to who?), and the effect is that none of us can ever equate to that standard. Feeling ugly because we don't look like the cover girl on Cosmo is as logical as my dog wanting to look like the star of Blues Clues.

God wants so much more than that for His girls. Proverbs 4:23 says, "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." How can we love other people and help them see what God sees if our own hearts are filled with disdain for ourselves? We don't allow even ourselves to see our created beauty because we're so wrapped up in the flaws we're told to look at. Our "dimples" if you will.

I was recently in a wedding as a bride's maid-- three weeks after birthing a baby. Talk about self conscious! Anyway, we carpooled to the salon in the morning to have our hair beautified. Until then, I didn't know my hair could look so way cool. It's a drab shade of dish water. And when it's not tied up for cooking, cleaning, or Play-doh, it hangs heavily down in a very boring, frizzy, no-layer-type fashion. But in its up-do, it had shrieks of highlights and twistiness. Very fun.

Then I had makeup applied to my face (since I don't wear it otherwise, and can't tell eyeliner from lip liner) with a subtle but flattering look. I was of course wearing a fun, pretty dress and had AMAZING Converse All Star shoes to complete the look of "Glam Meets Fun."

Adding all those things together should have granted me a sense royalty. And part of me did feel cute and wonderfully beautiful. But the few times my eyes met a mirror, my heart heaved a deep sigh if disapproval. Every bit of beauty that could be accentuated WAS, and it still wasn't enough. I observed attributes like the weird shape of my nose, wrinkles creasing my face, and other "flaws" that I've come to hate.

I found it impossible to give myself permission to just feel pretty. Even for the day.

The truth is that we have an enemy (and it's not Society :) ). There's a blanket of shame that he somehow gets us to hide behind. We can never get to a place where we feel truly beautiful. And if we ever do brush against the feeling of beauty, we dismiss the idea as fantasy or vanity. "Who am I to say I'm pretty?"

My encouragement to you today is to live like you're really His girl.

If my daughter has any "flaws," I truly don't know what they are. I love everything about her-- from her dimples to her moles and freckles to her little toenails. None of those things are imperfections to me. They're just things that are unique to her.

I myself need to stop looking at mirrors, and make the choice to look into His face and run to His arms instead. They are open, accepting, and will tell me I'm beautiful as much as I will hear it.

Psalm 45:10-11 "Listen, daughter, and pay careful attention: Forget your people and your father’s house. Let the king be enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord."

Monday, May 2, 2011

God doesn't actually like you more.

God loves everyone, right? Red, yellow, black & white. Rich, poor, sick & healthy. Presidents, kings, dictators & terrorists. Prostitutes, rapists, murderers & child molesters. Oh wait, that's uncomfortable.

Some things in life we have no control over, like ethnic background or royal bloodlines. Some things we claim to have no control over. And sometimes, we just make bad decisions. It's this last category that I'm addressing today.

God hand-crafts every baby. The Bible says He "knits" them together in their mother's womb. As a mom myself, this is an absolutely beautiful truth. I love being pregnant for many reasons, but one is knowing that God is literally, physically working His art in my body. So mysterious and incomprehensible.

When I think about my children, I feel overwhelming, unexplainable love. Even my newborn. They do nothing to earn my love, and could do nothing to squirm out of its grasp. I simply love them because they're mine. They mess up. They hurt each other. They even hurt my heart sometimes. But on the days when I'm most irritated with them, my passion for them is no less than when they wrap their tiny arms around my neck and whisper "I love you Momma."

When I consider that analogy, it's easy for me to make the connection with God's feelings toward us. Actually accepting it is still difficult, but I'm better able to sort the intellectual knowledge of His unfading love.

He loves me. He loves all of us. We're all His.

But what about Adolph Hitler or Osama Bin Laden? There are people we naturally hate. Surely God has left a clause in there that if someone is "bad" enough, they're worthy of death, hell, and torture more than I. He couldn't have "knitted" them in their mother's womb. God has hated "those kinds of people" their whole lives, right?

What a contradiction to wrestle with.

Think once about Osama as God's created being. He crafted him with the same loving care that He did you and me. With excitement for the new life and hopes of one more human friend to share relationship with.

Think of the sadness the had to have wrenched God's heart as He watched His creation take turn after turn in the wrong direction. He watched him take the free will he was granted to hurt and kill others. I cannot begin to imagine the pain He deals with on a "daily," continual basis. I'd rather not think about it, to be honest.

The hard part is that we don't understand "bad" in the same way God does.

Because I've never stabbed someone in the heart and taken their life, it feels like I'm better than an imprisoned murderer. But He says in 1 John 3:15, "Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer." I personally know a child molester, and the child he molested. And I can tell you that until I was able to come to terms with real forgiveness, "hate" wasn't a strong enough word for my emotions toward him.

So the whole "I'm a pretty good person" thing? Yeah, that's out.

God's standard is perfection. One thing wrong equals failure. We all hit that before we could even talk. I heard it put this way once. In school, anything below a 70% gaves you an "F." So if you got a 69%, you failed. If you got a 69% and I got a 39%, would your F be any better than my F? Of course not. WE'RE BOTH FAILING. It doesn't matter that you're failing "less" than I'm failing.

We were invited to join a champagne/sparking juice "Osama is dead" celebration this evening. I thought that was an awesome, fun idea. But this morning, I was presented with this verse, posted by a Facebook friend:

Ezekiel 33:11
"As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live."

It's sobering enough to jolt me from my selfish place of small understanding and force me to see people just a little more like God might. I thought I'd send the challenge your way too :)

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Blanket

I had a baby last week. My third. Grocery shopping has now become a fear of mine. Not because I'm afraid of germs or crabby cashiers, but because I don't know how to transfer three wiggly, rambunctious, disruptive kids through a store with only one butt-holder per cart.

But you have to do what you have to do. So today I "manned" up and went out while the oldest one was in school. We left later than I wanted to. So in a rush, I buckled my little ones in their car seats and drove off, worried that the baby would NEED to eat in the slot of time we were there. Of course I can't modestly accomplish that task while walking the aisles. So the alternative is to let her cry it out while all the non-parents in the store glare us down like we're Iraqi rebels.

Regardless, we needed cereal. And milk. And other obnoxious things that shouldn't run out as fast as they do.

So we arrive. I haul the 97-pound infant carrier and guide the reluctant, wandering-sheep-of-a-two-year-old across the parking lot and into the doors where we're greeted by Ray.

Ray is a half-toothless, short, stocky, white-haired man who never fails to shout out his usual, "And how are the three of you today?" Of course the number in his greeting fluctuates based on the number of children tagging along. Sometimes the question is followed by a comment about the weather, and sometimes the conversation dies, leaving an awkwardness while kids get situated for their trip through the store.

Today I snapped the baby into the cart, plopped the toddler into the basket (with a firm warning about staying seated) and brushed past Ray, as he squeaked out a "May I?" We jerked to a stop. I peeled my mind from its focus on speed, precise efficiency, the list, and getting the heck out of there before the baby woke up. And since I was already nearly through the doors, I rewound my steps until I was standing by Ray. I was feeling a bit impatient, but everyone deserves to take a gander at my perfect baby, right?

He started pulling back on the crocheted blanket I had draped over her. And as her face became easier to see, I heard a lady behind me let out the typical "Awe," and I knew she was in on the peep show. I proudly declared that she was "one week old today." It was at that point I realized that he wasn't really looking at the baby at all, but at the blanket.

"Oh, my mom made that for her."

He nodded his head in affirmation. He said he could tell by the skill that it was hand made by someone who loved her. He said it's the colors that were chosen and the stitches that were sewn that tipped him off. His wife used to make things like that all the time, he said.

"I just lost my wife."

Suddenly all my cares about the shopping trip or the potential to have a screaming baby in the store completely dissipated. It didn't matter if my baby was one week old or five years old.

His eyes were glazed with a sad fondness. My expression must have given away more than I was intending because he quickly reassured me that it's a good memory and something great to be reminded of. His compliments to my mom.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

GKB Folder

I hate when I have hang-ups with God. I already know who's right and how it's going to end. I wish sometimes He would just hit me upside the head with some baseball bat of acceptance, replacing emotional turmoil with healing, physical pain. But He doesn't work that way. Boo.

It's been about a year now that I've been unable to put a certain issue to rest with God. It's something I was never personally faced with until then. For the most part, I had accepted it and tucked it away under the file "God knows best" (GKB) and moved on.

It resurfaced itself last weekend, and I was surprised at the amount of emotion and bitterness it pulled from my heart. Usually things in the GKB folder are safe and laid completely to rest. They're matters I've encountered, dealt with, and identified as being out of my control and simply in His hands. People can challenge my thinking, but if it's there, it's sealed.

Sometimes I wonder even, if I can credit myself with the gift of faith/trust because it comes so easily to me. I don't have trouble believing God will pull me through anything. I know my plans aren't His. I know that He knows (and wants) what's best for me. He's proven His love and trustworthiness to me over and over again. So even if I don't understand why or how things happen, why doubt? He's got my back.

This morning, while we were singing in church, I was reminded of another thing I wrestled Him on several years ago. I pined over it, but He continually told me to wait, rest, and trust Him. He never did give me an answer or a reason for His decline of my request. It too had been sorted into the GKB section of my life. And when it crossed my mind today, I became confused all over again, and asked the dangerous (and often un-answerable) question "Why?"

I began to think more about that GKB folder. How many things could I really fit into there without it tearing or bleeding out? Did I really trust Him?

Can I really trust Him?

Why would He hide things from me? I am His bride, His love. I have given my life to Him, and He gave His for me. Would He really just demand that I "suck it up" when I don't like what He's doing? As His beloved, that seems cruel.

While I was scanning these thoughts (and consequently crying like a child), they sang one of my favorite songs: "How He Loves." And nothing, no trace, of my mind doubts His enduring love for me. How can I believe so solidly in His love and yet deny its truth all in one breath of emotion? I'm still stumped.

Then I thought about how He's also my Father, which opens a completely new perspective. My 4-year-old doesn't necessarily deserve to know (nor would she understand) my reasons for every thing I do or don't allow. That concept resonates easily with me.

THEN I remembered that He's majestic and holy. And what business do I have demanding answers from Him? That concept always shuts me up.

Add to all that the grace He has extended to me. My friends, house, life, kids, health, marriage, talents, on and on. All that in addition to my forgiveness and eternity promised with Him?

"And all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory."

That is a line from "How He Loves." The song also talks about Him being a hurricane, and "I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy." It reminds me of the conversation Rodney and I had with our valet driver in Puerto Rico about the ocean being analogous with God's love-- always, constantly coming at us, leaving us powerless to stop it.

I wish I could say that today's encounter cured me of the big hang-up I'm shoveling through. That my mind and hurt have been super-naturally healed. In fact, facing these thoughts surfaced more issues that I have placed with trust into the GKB slot. I have a feeling that's the enemy though.

The funny part is that this was all throughout communion. The time in my life where I thoroughly and honestly search my heart for resentment or bitterness toward anyone. Never would I have thought He was the one I would need to hash things out with.

It was interesting to me to learn that while I'm His love, I'm also His daughter, and I'm also simply part of His total creation. It's almost like a trinity of my own existence. They're all part of me, but they serve different roles in my communication with God. Maybe the next leg of this journey is to see how they can and do all work together. We'll see what kind of blog post THAT turns out to be :)

Friday, April 1, 2011

April Fool's Blessing

April 1st. The nemesis of my happiness. The only day of the year that is intentionally set up to ruin peoples' day and make them feel stupid. And by "them" I'm referring to myself. I like being tricked, or "fooled," like a momma bear likes people messing with her cubs.

I do like seeing other people get it though. Like the year my sister-in-law handed a positive pregnancy test to my I'd-rather-cut-off-my-member-than-have-another-baby brother. *evil snicker* Or the year Google said they'd print off all our pictures for free with the "catch" of including ads on the back. Those stinkers.

Well I had an idea this year. I don't remember who came up with it, but it was several months ago, and I've been very excited to do it.

If you don't know, I'm due to have a baby tomorrow. I set my alarm to wake up at 2:30 this morning so I could post this on Facebook:

It's the ultimate "misplace your keys circumstance." Long story short, we didn't make it to the hospital. Baby was in a HURRY. And not a girl either! Healthy, hardy, Beck Hannity Holum was born at 1:12 am-- at home. We measure him at 23-1/4 inches. We're going to get some rest before heading to the clinic for weight and all that jazz. Please no phone calls for a bit :)

I even typed it up last night so all I would have to do is copy and paste it into my status and head back to bed. Did I mention I was excited? :)

But I laid in bed, restless. For one thing, I know how much I hate being duped. Secondly, have you ever heard the line from the movie Big Daddy, "We wasted the good 'surprise' on you!"?

In addition to that, I know my friends and family. And they're awesome. They'd be praying. They'd be planning meals. They would offer to help. They would look at sacrificially rearranging their schedules so my family could be cared for.

Around 1:30, I shut my alarm off.

God has put some incredible people in my life. I'm undeserving and selfish. Thank you all for sticking by me despite my quirks and junk :) I am SO very loved-- which isn't at all how I expected to feel on April Fool's day.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Sunday Mornings

I live in "Central" time zone. That leaves me 6th from the end. When my clock displayed 12:00 to start today, part of the world had already been in this day for 18 hours.

I could go on a deep tangent about how people there have made mistakes today. Mistakes I could learn from and change my day to fix. A "turn your destiny" kind of thing. But it's irrelevant, and so I won't. But it's interesting. To me :)

Anyway, each day runs pretty much the same. By the time I start my job, other people have gone to work, come home, and are back in bed. Granted, some people are vacationing or traveling or at home sick. But for the most part, people are working the entire 24 hours-- somewhere. Yes, yes, there are factories and hospitals and 24-hour places just here in the US. It only adds to my point that people are constantly working.

I recently re-joined a church with a congregation around 1,000. I have thought many times about what it's like to sing with that kind of number and about the kind of glorified freight train-ish roar heaven will sound like. I've also considered how many other churches are full of people singing worshipful praise to our King at the same time.

I think about how that makes God smile. For Him to see us proclaiming the love we feel all week but keep to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I don't walk around my house saying "Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me." But to be able to say those words and reflect on His goodness and how undeserving I am of it is a healthy sort of searching. And declaring things aloud like "You're beautiful," or "I adore You," pushes me to channel further into my heart and immerse myself in truths I'm usually too busy overlooking. AND it's singing! In a quick search of just the words "music, song, sing, and instrument," over 400 references pop up. God LOVES music.

And God loves people. So put together His people making music just to thank Him for being Him (some peoples' singing may be a stretch to deem "music" to our ears :) ), and I really think we've got a good thing going Sunday morning.

Here's the kicker.

By the time I start work any given weekday, people around the globe have been working for 18 hours. So by the time I'm sitting in my first service Sunday morning at 8:30. . . people around the globe have been singing praise for 18 hours. Eighteen straight hours of praise to the King of Kings!!! People complimenting my Daddy :) And it continues for 6 more!

People in China risk sacrificing everything to meet together in secret for His Name and the spread of His love. What higher honor could we give our King?

It's like Father's Day every Sunday for Him.

So this Sunday, whether your alarm goes off or your kids jolt you from sleep or the dog drapes his leash across your face, try to wake up thinking about how God's day is going. Know that you have the opportunity to join in heaven's eternal song to Him and earth's one, ongoing day of praise.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Walking Amongst the Lampstands

This morning my quiet time brought me to Revelation chapter 1. To be honest, I was reluctant to read it. Revelation is a heavy book shrouded in mystery that cannot be decoded with any certainty. But I figured I would read it anyway. And guess what. At church this morning, the sermon was from Revelation chapter 1. So maybe I should be listening.

The author of Revelation is John. He was closest to Jesus' heart and ministry while He was here. Even so, when Jesus approached him to communicate the revelation, He was in His glorified form, and John couldn't handle it. Verse 17 says that John "fell at His feet as though dead" from fear.

Let me take this opportunity to point out that we take Him too lightly.

John describes what Jesus looks like, but also notes that He was "among the lampstands." This picture has a lot of Old Testament temple history behind it, but he tells us that the lampstands represent 7 churches. A few sentences later, we're told that the churches are represented by 7 stars as well.

We see light from lamps at night. We see light from stars at night. It is dark at night.

So where then should the church be shining? We get together once or twice a week and brightly illuminate each other in a big room. Is that why we're lit? Or could it be that we're to search out the darkness with intent to pour healing light over it? And do we need to find sinking abysses of darkness to be effective? Or could it be that the person in the cubicle beside you can't see her hand in front of her face? What about the haggard mom holding up the line at Wal-Mart?

That isn't to say that we shouldn't come together with other believers and "trim our wicks" or sharpen one another. God longs for us to have that kind of community and has even built into us a need for it. But the challenge is to step away once we've been filled and pull someone else up from their pit. What the heck, why not just climb into the pit with them to help? After all, even Jesus ate with "sinners." Maybe His followers should give it a shot. Myself included.

Friday, January 21, 2011

The Happiest Man on Earth

Rodney and I are in Puerto Rico right now (which everyone knows RIGHT NOW, but won't if they ever look back to read this). We flew in last night and walked around the beach some. But we woke up this morning and both ran to the hotel window with Christmas morning passion to see the ocean in daylight.

We got ready and strolled down to breakfast and watched waves lick the sand while we casually ate our bagels and sipped Puerto Rican coffee.

At that point in the morning, neither of us felt ambitious enough to swim or do the touristy things we're looking forward to doing, but we still wanted to drink in some warm ocean air. So we decided to bask on the front steps of our hotel. He with his laptop, and me with my journal. We spent nearly 2 hours sitting on those steps.

Parking around San Juan is pretty sparse, so this hotel utilizes valet parking. The driver stands outside the building to help intercept patrons as they arrive. Since he was waiting out front, and we were sitting out front, our 2 hours of leisure activities were interspersed with conversation with him.

His English was really quite good, and he had one of the best, most optimistic attitudes I've ever encountered. He is the self-proclaimed "happiest man on earth." He said someone else could be as happy as him, but not happier.

He is in love with God and is excited to talk about it. He goes to ghettos and the jail and to where the drug dealers and prostitutes hang out to tell them about Jesus and about how there's a better life to be had. His voice broke at one point when describing how these people are caught and stuck and can't see their way out.

He told us that God knew what He was doing putting him in Puerto Rico. He's lived here his whole 56 years and loves the ocean and the sky. He told me that I need to write this analogy down and tell my kids:

The ocean is like God's love. It's vast and deep. Like His love, you can see where the ocean starts, but not where it ends. And like the waves effortlessly and constantly come into shore, His love is coming at us continually. We can't control it or add to it.

Rodney also pointed out that if you saw a guy carrying water from a lake to the ocean or pouring in the purest bottled water because he thought he could improve the ocean, you'd say he was crazy.

The general concept of that analogy isn't new to me. But it's something that he knows. Not just an idea. He has breathed it and truly known it throughout his life.

His passion shames me. He didn't know anything about us or our "religious" background, yet he unapologetically shared his love for the highly controversial God that he worshiped. He wasn't pushy or even bold, necessarily. He was as much like a giddy child as I imagine God would want us to be about Him.

He thanked God for crossing our paths and told us he was blessed to be talking with us. I told him he had that backwards :)

Puerto Rico Facts and Stories

The temperature in Wisconsin this morning was -21. On the coast of the Atlantic, where I'm sitting now, it is 93. We woke up this morning at 7:00 to the blazing sun slicing through our white curtains like they were no more than cellophane.

I journaled this morning, and it was physically difficult write out the word "January" while sitting in the humid air, filled with the voices of birds and the swish of palm trees. I felt like I was lying to my own journal. I misspelled the word, in fact.

I have found it difficult to write about the beauty of this place because I'm so distracted by it that I can't focus on a paper page. I love being wowed by our Creator.

The people here are incredibly nice. We haven't engaged in conversation with locals just strolling around. Everyone we've met has been working at the places we patronize. But they're wonderful. Not rushed, but smiling and patient with our communication barriers. And they're not slow by any means either. It's as if we're authentically guests everywhere we go.

Despite the kindness we've encountered, properties are walled off with razor-wire-topped cement, often 8 feet tall. The area is also laced with a STRONG police presence. We've traveled around the US a lot, and we have never seen so many emergency vehicles or heard such a stream of sirens.

I asked someone about it, and he credited drugs. He said that when he was a boy growing up here, people would sleep with their doors and windows open and think nothing of it. He mentioned that he could leave his bike outside and it would stay there. But once drugs move in, they bring out a whole new group of people. People to deal them, people to use them, and people to commit crimes to get them.

On a lighter note, when we first came into town, we passed a place called "Steak and Sushi." Rodney commented that it sounded good, and my CFO-of-the-trip brain said it sounded expensive.

Last night, about 9:00 local, we decided to go out walking in search of food. I had forgotten about the place by then, but he walked us straight to it. I knew that if I said "No," he would hound me all week. So why not get it out of the way?

First off, there were no forks or knives. That turned out to be okay, because there was no steak-- or beef of any kind. Instead, we were given menus filled, front and back, with sushi. Everything from spicy crab or tuna to octopus and even spider sushi. I managed to find a non-seafood avocado salad. An avocado is $1, and my salad was $8, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. But i really like raw avocado, and it seemed like a better option than $15 sushi I would hate.

Off subject, everyone here only serves bottled water. I was a little concerned, but after talking to someone who spoke English well enough to ask, I learned that Puerto Rico's drinking water is indeed safe. So now you know.

Our food came quickly, and Rodney got down to business with his sushi. My bowl of lettuce and avocados DOUSED in teriyaki waited for me to try outsmarting the tiny wooden sticks in my hand. I think I cut years off the non-arthritic life of my hands trying to eat my distasteful, small, overpriced salad that I didn't even finish.

We walked from there to a Taco Bell where we were preceded in line by a pile of drunk, American teenagers-- maybe college age. They were trying to be funny, but in so doing, I think they insulted the sweet kid behind the register. Their ring leader then noticed the kid wearing plastic bags over his shoes and asked why. His English was poor, so he simply pointed to the kitchen floor and tugged up on the legs of his pants in a gesture one would make if walking through muck. None of us completely understood, so he bent down and slipped off one of the Taco Bell bags to reveal the crisp, black Pumas he was protecting form kitchen gunk. The Americans let out a simultaneous, universal "Ahhh" of understanding. We later snapped a picture of the bagged cashier. It was pretty funny-looking :)

I recommend getting a GPS with your rental car, if you visit this paradise. I have never seen people drive like they do here. It's still on the right side of the road, like home, but the understood rules are just a little different. For instance, when turning left, it is common to see people pull out and completely block all traffic while waiting for the far lane to open up. Also, windy roads have dashed lines. And people pass cars without visibility of more than a car-length ahead. Add to these types of changes the fact that you don't have a clue where you're going or what the signs say/mean, there are no exit numbers or road signs, and a GPS becomes what we might call useful.

Restaurants around here are primarily outdoors, and they cook with wood.

San Juan has never been above 100 degrees or below 65. A few weeks ago, a "cold front" came through, angering the ocean and knocking the temps down to 75. The guy we talked to said that was considered "cold" around here.

We were told about ferries that you can pay $3 and ride to the Virgin Islands.

The rain forest is nice, but it requires lots of hiking up and down, so at 30 weeks pregnant, we will need to let that wait for a future trip.

There is snorkeling, jet skiing, bioluminescent cave exploring, parasailing, kayaking, and so many many other things to do here. We do not have enough time to do or see the things we want to. This is a place I would recommend to anyone-- but plan for more than 4 days :)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

A man challenge

This particular post is bring written primarily to men. That being said, I'll put my main point first and add the supportive fluff second.

You should read and do the Love Dare.

Do you want to know why? Okay well first, do you know what it is? There's a movie that came out a few years ago called Fireproof. It has cheesy acting, but it's good. The movie revolves around a dissatisfied, argumentative married couple with a very disrespectful wife. Like any good movie, it of course lets the couple overcome their differences. Awe. But a main tool in the husband's ability to win his wife and rekindle his own feelings is his willingness to try the Love Dare that his dad gives him.

The movie is fictional, but the book used in it is real. You can pick it up at Barnes & Noble or half.com or wherever. It has a "dare" to complete every day for 40 days. Some are as simple as doing something thoughtful for your wife. Some are as tough as choosing to let her win (and burying) the thing you most often disagree about.

But it puts her at the front of your thoughts every day for 40 days (or longer if you take off "Dare" days for vacations, traveling, holidays, etc). This thinking process helps to transport you to your youthful dating era when she was your crown and when the one thing you wanted was to have her as your own.

It seems like once you've walked her down that aisle, your desire to woo her dissipates. You no longer plan date nights or think of ways to pursue her. The hunt is done.

Guys, here's a freebie: women always want to be pursued. I can't give you a reason, except that we've been wired for that desire. Our hearts are tender and needy and demand constant attention and fine-tuning.

Your hearts are a little like weed-whacker engines. They need fuel and oil (sex in your case) and to be utilized (respected). Our hearts are more like jumbo jet engines requiring precise alignment and constant tweaking. If you leave us without proper maintenance, another curious mechanic will inevitably wander by and start to tinker.

This is not a threat. It's something I've seen over and over. Your wife needs to KNOW that you love her and want her in your life.

Maybe she's pushy or nags a lot. You don't get "guys night" enough. She wears the pants.

Let me ask you, when did you take them off? You gave her a ring and then sat back to gradually let her take on most of the relationship's responsibility. She cares for you and tends to the house, bills, meals, kids, dance classes and soccer practices. The heavy load of planning, preparing, and running things was shifted to her shoulders.

Guess what. We don't want your stinking pants! Every woman, no matter how strong she is, wants to be led by a courageous man of integrity. The problem is that for year now, Society and the Media have beat you guys down like an old rug. You've been generalized into a group of unintelligent thugs worth only the paycheck you hand over before plopping your proverbial worthless butt on the couch.

I'm not going to pretend like I know how to change that image. Other people have written books on THAT topic.

But your wife wants to be treated special. She longs to be cared for and protected. By you!

Going through the Love Dare forces you to treat your wife as you did when you were dating. I would encourage you to give it a shot and notice how her heart turns and softens. Wait and see what happens to your marriage.

I also think it's a good idea to start the Dare with a friend to help keep each of you accountable. Like I mentioned earlier, some of the dares are rather difficult, and it's helpful to have someone to bounce ideas off of AND help you not slack off and quit.

One last thing: don't tell your wife you're doing it. It's exciting to watch your spouse's attitude begin to change without her being clued in to the fact that you're going through a stupid book. It's a really neat endeavor, and I would LOVE to hear feedback in March about how your marriages have changed.

Good luck!