Collision

So, I'm approaching a place I'm kind of uncomfortable with. You know the place...where everything you thought you believed so wholeheartedly is put into action. That place where you aren't being asked "what do you think?" but instead are being asked "what are you going to DO?" Beth Moore defined it best: where your theology meets your reality.
I'm sorry, but I kind of thought when I became a Christian that God would just change me and my desires would always be to follow him and do the right thing, say the right thing and act out the right thing. I wasn't silly enough to think I wouldn't struggle...or maybe I was that stupid. I guess I overlooked that whole "dying to self" passage in the Bible. Or perhaps my mind wasn't ready to absorb what all that really meant.
So, God has been a real part of my life over the last eight years. And for the most part, when I think about it, I never really had to put into practice what I believed. It just sort of came...well...natural. Before that sounds totally un-Christian, let me explain. I spent a whole lot of time reading God's word, books, absorbing everything "Christian" I could to help me follow Him. But, not until the last few years has all of that really been tested. And tested in a way that doesn't ask "what do you think about God?" but rather "what are you going to DO as a result of what you think about God?" Because that's what really matters, isn't it? Our faith in action. The motives and desires of our hearts acting themselves out.
So, that's where I am. I'm caught in a collision with my theology (all my thoughts, perceptions, feelings, emotions, etc. I have about God) and my reality (my decisions, my actions).

secure by a thread?

Hanging on by a thread...we've all heard the phrase. Said the phrase. Used the phrase when we are out of things to say and we get frustrated, stressed or disapointed..."I'm hanging on by a thread here!"

So, in researching for a cute photo for my blog, I typed the phrase "hanging on by a thread" today in a search engine and what came up was both interesting and entertaining (and a little bit on the verge of disgusting). Here's just a couple of things that Yahoo defines as "hanging on by a thread" under their images search box - a picture of thread, of course, a photo of what I'd definetly say was a mug shot (a man hanging on by the thread of society maybe?), pic of a man sporting nothing but a kids' flotation device convivently covering his priviate square (still trying to figure out what that has to do with hanging on by a thread), photo of a little kids' tooth that was "hanging on by a thread" in hopes that it would later bring a visit from the tooth fairy, and my personal fave - a photo of some mysterious foot in which the toenail was "hanging on by a thread" - don't worry...I almost threw up a little bit in my mouth too.

So, lots of interpretations of what hanging on by a thread means. But, what it means to me is this: I am completely and totally secure with hanging on by a thread.

Here lately, I'm feeling like the only way I'm making it, the only way I'm surviving through some things I'm going through emotionally, is that I am hanging over a cliff, looking at the pit down below, clinging to a tiny piece of thread between my thumb and index finger, just hoping, praying that I'm hanging on to something that is bigger than myself, something that can hold on, even if the thread breaks.

And I know there is. Even if all I'm holding onto is a ragged piece of thread that connects me to God, I am still holding on. It's enough. Sure, he wants more. But, right now, I just need constant rescuing. Pull me up. Set me on the rock. And He'll use all the threads that I've thrown at Him to make a garment of praise for my heaviness. And what a beautiful garment it will be - because so many times in my life I've held on by a mere thread. He's got a lot of thread to work with.

I have no doubt that a thread is enough for God to rescue me. I'm still attached. And maybe, just maybe, he wants me hanging on by a thread (not always, but for now) to show me that He's gonna be my deliverer. It won't be me. It won't be someone else. The thread is only enough because of Him. Me and God are making history here. We're writing a story of extremes here. A story filled with "are we gonna make it?" moments and glorious "I'm so in love with you!" moments. One things is for sure - it won't be boring. And I'm looking forward to Him gathering all my threads, weaving them together with love, forgiveness, grace and mercy, and a single drop of crimson blood to make the most beautiful garment. And He'll wrap me up, cradle me in His arms and say "Look at all the threads - all the moments you didn't think you would make it, all the moments you wanted to give up and remain hopeless, the times you doubted me and wondered if I really had the best in mind for you. Yes. Yes. I did. I always did. I loved you when you were hanging on by a thread and I loved you when you were standing on the rock, secure and steadfast. I love you, not in spite of your threads, but because of your threads. Because you chose me when it was hard - even when you felt like all you had was a thread. You still hung on."

So...are you hanging on by a thread? Hold fast. Cling to the thread. It's gonna make for a pretty awesome story.

One

Every day is just one day.

So many times I get hung up on things I didn't do right. I start making these crazy things up in my head like...it's been 21 days since (insert stupid things I do here). And then, I screw up and I'm back at one. So, in retrospect, I've spend a large majority of life at one. That day where you have to start everything over. So, what number am I trying to get to? Thirty - well, that would be a month and that's pretty good. Or, what about one hundred? One hundered - yup, that sounds like an accomplishment. But, here's my question - what about after day 100? What if I screw up on day 101? Then guess what? I'm back at one. Boy, if that doesn't suck, what does? But what about the 100 days of success? Sure, they count for something...but all I see is day 101 - the day of failure. So, to me, those 100 days are total voids...because I am back at day one. I had to start all over again.

But what if I saw each day as starting over - no matter what happened the day before? No matter if I achieved the greatest thing - that was yesterday. Today is day one again. No matter if I totally screwed up - that was yesterday and today is day one again. Another chance to do something. To stop trying to accumulate my days into some false sense of accomplishment.

So...what if every day was one? What if every day counted for itself and nothing else? I'm not saying what we do one day doesn't affect other days - I'm saying we start seeing our successes and failures as a day at a time. What if I chose to count up the days I succeeded and not the ones I failed? Here's the crazy thought: What if I just stayed at day one? What if every day started at day one? I think I'd be a little more motivated rather than trying to make it to day 15, 30 or 48 or 100 or whatever.

When God doesn't write your love story

Okay - I'm not about being fake. Well, at least I'd like to think so. This has been a crappy last two days. Maybe not that bad, but as we all know, any bad usually trumps all the good. So, if you are reading this hoping for some words of inspiration or new insight, I'm afriad you may be left wanting. But, if you are looking for real-ness...well, my friend, you've come to the right place. So, let's just get to the point...
I have lost most of my hope in men. (Geez, that sounded so feminine-mystique-ish.) Notice I said most. I realize there are good men out there - I work with two of the best men in the world. And kudos to you men out there who are doing right! You should be.
But for the most part, I look at the men who have walked in and out of my life - through relationships, friendships, family, etc. and I'm disapointed. Every sterotype about men has been fulfilled through them. I know you can't base an entire sex population over a few bad apples. I'm not that naiive. But, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jaded. I've seen it all - men cheating on their wives in some cheap rent-by-the-hour motel, men choosing to live out their unrealistic fantasy lives through pornography and strip clubs (and that's better than a real relationship? Oh, get over yourself!) Men who, at the moment of bordem, begin trying to find other things to fulfill their void. Take it from the Beatles, boys: You can't always get what you want. Abusers who verbally assult the ones they say they love the most - tearing them down and destroying any ounce of self-esteem or confidence that existed within themselves. Those who rape the innocent -while society says it's our fault. Sick-os who sexually assult children - not even having the slightest idea that one decision can, and will, affect the course of their lives. Men who treat their wives like an inconvevience rather than a blessing. Fathers who leave - while their daughters cleave to any man they can because they never had a father figure. Guys who don't ask you out because you don't look like Gisele from the Victoria Secret catalog (guess what? She doesn't look like that either...it's a little tool called airbrushing!) Husbands who leave because they got bored and found a new internet friend. Oh, have I lost faith? Heck yes I have.
I'm tired of hearing about relationships. I'm tired of looking at Christian books that promise if I do this or that, that God will bring my prince charming. I don't need any more feel-good converations. Just give me a big bite of reality and I'll swallow that just fine. (But I don't mind if it's seasoned with a little bit of tenderness and encouragement.)
Some times I just want to sit down and have a "good talkin' to" to all of the men who did stupid things to contribute to my already messed up and complicated ways. But, I have a feeling, they'd just walk away wondering if I forgot to take my Prozac.
So, there. I got it out. I am frustrated. Upset. Angry. But I know because I am a girl, that tomorrow...hope can be restored, forgiveness granted and prince charming...found.

apples & bananas? OR passion fruit & kiwis?

So, I'm not a huge fan of telling other people's stories, ideas, revelations from God and so forth and so on... But, this was just too good to pass up.
So, I'm doing a bible study with some friends on Sunday nights. And of course, like any true Southern bible belt gal - we are going through none other than a Beth Moore study. It's over "When Godly People Do Ungodly Things" (Not that I have any personal experience...only testimonies of others. Wink. Wink.) So, this is strictly Beth's idea - I cannot and will not take credit for it. I, however, will add additonal thoughts, but it's mainly her ideas...But, I will pass it on.
I would venture to say that Christians - we're bored. There's no exctiement. No freedom. Just a big list of "don't do this" and "do this". Committee meeting after committee meeting, deacon meeting after deacon meeting. Same songs. First, second and fourth verses (we don't dare sing the third verse...who ever heard such a thing?) Same announcements. Same church bulletin. And don't forget to pay for your Christmas poinsettas. They were due a month ago. We're sitting in the same pew - middle row, piano side...and we are bored out of our minds. And we keep the secret to ourselves, hoping no one will figure us out. We're feasting on the "apples and bananas" of our faith. Not even realizing there's much more to be had - kiwi's, pineapples, mangoes, passion fruit and even fruit cocktail for crying out loud. But, just give us our apples and banannas and we'll eat them quietly. Secretly wishing for something more.
In Genesis, Adam and Eve were told of one tree they couldn't eat from. The rest were theirs to feast on. God gave them a variety - but they were too focused on the one they couldn't have. We do that too, don't we? Are we really eating from all the trees in the garden? Or are we focusing on the one that God said no to? We believed Satan's lie that said all we could have was the apples and bananas. And we feed it to our children. We feed it to the new believers in Christ. Sometimes even force feed it. And they look at us like "What is this? Apples and bananas? Well, these are good, but isn't there more?" We look at them (with a puzzled and confused face) and say with a sarcastic tone, "Yes, they are apples and banannas and you will like them. Today. Tomorrow. And every day after that."
But the problem is, God created more. More to be had. More to be seen. More fruit to eat of in the garden. But we've got our faces filled with apples and banannas thinking we better get used to the taste because that's all there is.
My friends, that isn't all there is. There's papaya hanging from the branch of a tree on a beautiful tropical island. There's fuzzy kiwi. There's starfruit. There's juicy pineapple - and I don't mean the stuff from the can. And let's face it - we're scared to death of it. It's different, weird and strange. We're used to the apples and bananas of our faith. It's comfortable. It's home base for most of us. But, somewhere, deep inside. We're curious. We may be scared, but we want to know...is there more? And if there's more - do I dare taste? Oh, yes...taste and see that the Lord is good. There's more out there. Taste it.

Who the heck am I?

Hello friends and/or weird people out there reading some girls blog that you don't even know... I hope to enlighten you with my words of small wisdom and funny insights. I want to warn you - I'm still figuring out who the heck I am. But this I do know - I am 27...and in 58 days that number will go up one more only to remind me that it's been another year that I'm NOT married, I DON'T have kids, I HAVEN'T picked out a career plan, I still own a 96 Ford Taurus that makes noises only God can understand, and I don't have a dime in my savings. Pretty much, I defy all the rules the world says about things you should have accomplished by the age of 27.
I think I spend most of my time NOT trying to figure out who God made ME to be, but rather trying to be someone else, have someone else's talents and be cool. I have a feeling I'm not the only one out there who's still trying to figure out who they really are. So, maybe one day when I'm 85, sitting in my rocking chair, yelling at my great-grandchildren "No!" and "Stop That!" (Some of you will get that later), I will finally arrive at my destination: "Who the heck am I?"