The Best Lamb

I wrote this last year on Veteran's Day, but I feel like it has a message that needs to be shared again.  I will always be grateful to our veterans who have and continue to sacrifice so much to make our country what it is today, but I am most grateful for my God Who made the ultimate sacrifice for my eternal freedom.

I love it when I read to my kids and the story strikes me far more than it does them.  Especially when I'm reading a Bible story.  My favorite kids' book is the Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones.  Today's story was about Moses, Pharaoh and the Ten Plagues.  A seemingly harmless little retelling of the famous battle of wills between God and a very stubborn Pharaoh.  Until it got to the last plague.  You know, the one where the firstborn of all in Egypt would die?  But God had a plan to rescue His people.  Here's how Ms. Lloyd-Jones paraphrased it:   

God told his people to take their best lamb, to kill it and put some of its blood on their front doors.  "When God passes over your house," Moses explained, "God will see the blood and know that the lamb died instead of you."

 As I read that last sentence I could feel my throat start to tighten and my eyes started to water.  "God will... know that the lamb died instead of you."  All I could think about was God's "Best Lamb" that died for me.  "For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors. And the ransom he paid was not mere gold or silver. It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God" (1 Peter 1:18-19).  Jesus' blood has been poured over the door of my heart, and by it, God knows that The Lamb died in my place.  By His blood, I am rescued from my slavery to sin, my slavery to this world.


I wonder if, for the rest of their lives, the Israelites looked at their firstborn child and remembered that lamb who gave its life so their child could live.  I wonder if, every time they saw a lamb, their hearts spilled over with gratitude for the one that took their child's place.  I also wonder if on that dreadful night so many, many years ago, God paused at the threshold of each house in Egypt before He entered in.  Did He hesitate for just a moment, knowing the heartache and grief He was about to bring on the family who lived in that home?  All because one man refused to honor anyone as King other than himself.  Did God breathe a sigh of relief each time He came to a home that had the blood of the lamb painted across the door frame?


I'm certain, because I know that our God is a God of love, that His heart was heavy that night and for many more to come as the Egyptian families mourned the loss of their firstborn children.  I am just as certain that now it grieves Him each time someone turns their heart from Him and refuses to acknowledge Him as Lord, each time someone refuses to paint the blood of The Lamb on the doors of their heart.  For The Lamb has already been slain, the ransom already paid.  But without the blood, the sin stands uncovered and His judgment cannot pass by.


Today is Veterans Day.  It's a day for us, as Americans, to remember the men and women who have given their lives to preserve the freedoms that we have come to know and cherish.  How grateful I am that so many were willing to sacrifice their time, effort and even their lives for the sake of my freedom.  But today I was also reminded that long before America ever came to be, there was a Lamb who gave His life for me, so that I might have eternal freedom that I could never earn on my own.  Thank You, Jesus, for Your sacrifice.  Thank You for covering me in Your blood.  Thank You for allowing Your judgment to pass me by unharmed.  Thank You for being the "Best Lamb" and dying in my place.  For that I will truly be eternally grateful.

Face Value

Coupons have become quite the rage lately.  From the occasional couponer to those who call themselves "extreme," it seems nearly everyone has caught the bug these days.  I admit that I, too, have been sucked into this trend, and sometimes it's quite a thrill!  To walk away from the store having saved 40 or 50 percent or more is a good feeling.

 

One day I made the mistake of leaving my coupon binder at the register of our local discount store.  When I called the store later to see if that, indeed, was where I had left it, no one could locate it.  I got a sort of sick feeling in my stomach.  All I could think of was all that money that I would have saved if I hadn't lost those coupons.  To me, those coupons were as good as money, and a lot of it.

It's funny how how much those little pieces of paper were worth to me.  Some of them would save me 50 cents, some a dollar, and a few even more than that.  Cumulatively they may have even been worth a hundred or more.  But have you ever taken the time to read the fine print on a coupon?  Most of them say in teeny-tiny print that their face value is only 1/20 of one cent, or something like that.  The entire notebook may have only been worth a dollar or two at that rate.

I started thinking about that this morning as I was sorting through a stack of coupons before I headed off to do my weekly grocery shopping.  (By the way, I did find my binder; it was tucked safely away at the service desk at the store.)  I started thinking about how something that could be worth so little to one person could be quite valuable to another.  Is value, like beauty, all in the eye of the beholder?  Is our value as human beings at the mercy of the people around us?

Fortunately, contrary to what much of the world tries to tell us, our value is NOT in the eye of the beholder.  Our value has absolutely nothing to do with the opinions of other people, no matter how strongly they voice that opinion.  Most of my life I have heard negative opinions about myself.  I know the positive opinions were there, too, but those negative words... wow, did they ever stand out.  I have been, and am still at times, highly susceptible to Satan's lie that if people don't approve of me, I am nothing.  But I am learning to hear the voice of the One whose opinion of me truly does determine my value.  His is a voice that carries no derision or disparagement, but instead speaks of the great love that He has for me.  And it is that love that makes me truly valuable.

A coupon, whose face value is only a fraction of a penny, is worth only what a business is willing to give in exchange for it.  If the same concept were true of people, then my life would only be worth what someone was willing to give in exchange for it.  Incredibly enough, God was willing to give the life of His Only Son in exchange for mine. 

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8) 

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us..." (1 John 3:16)

"For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life."  (John 3:16)

I don't know about you, but I'm not sure there's anyone on the face of this earth that I would be willing to sacrifice one of my sons for.  Maybe that sounds harsh, but I love all three of my boys more than life itself, and I can't imagine asking any of them to suffer and die the way Jesus did.  Perhaps I could give my own life, but certainly not the life of one of my children.  And yet God was willing to do that for each one of us because He values us so very much.  That is truly an amazing, awesome love.

I am so glad that God sees beyond the surface, beyond my "face value," and sees a person worth dying for.  I am grateful every day that He has claimed me as His own, that He paid the price for my sin.  I rejoice in the fact that His love for me makes me valuable beyond compare.  It is an "extreme" kind of love, indeed.

Created to Be Me

I love the movie "Ever After."  It is a humorous, whimsical retelling of the classic Cinderella story.  Towards the beginning of the movie, Danielle (a.k.a. Cinderella) dresses in rich clothing and poses as a courtier in order to rescue her dear friend and fellow servant who is being sold into slavery to pay for taxes owed by Danielle's wicked stepmother.  This is, of course, when she meets the prince, who soon falls head over heels in love with her.  When the stepmother discovers that Danielle has captured the Prince's heart and that her own daughter has lost her chance to become a princess, she exposes Danielle's deception and the prince abandons her.  He soon realizes that his love extends beyond social classification and rescues her from her bleak existence.  When he comes to profess his love for her, Danielle tells him something along the lines of, "I'm only a servant who dressed in nice clothes and pretended to be a courtier to save a friend."

I, like Danielle, am often guilty of pretending to be someone that I am not.  I want to be so many things, but God simply didn't design me that way!  The trick is learning who God DID design me to be, and not being afraid of it.  

For instance, my husband and I are in the process of redecorating our 85 year old home that we just moved into.  I want it to be beautiful and inviting and perfectly coordinated.  But I'm not an interior designer by any stretch of the imagination.  No matter how hard I try, I don't have the ability to envision a room and know what it takes to create it.  So I have to trust the people close to me whom God HAS given that gift to.  Which takes an incredible amount of self control on my part.

I have also come to terms with the fact that I am not a housekeeper.  No matter how hard I try, I will never be good at keeping my home spotless and clutter free.  My husband and I are both clutter bugs.  Add four young children to the mix and you can only imagine the mess!  Don't get me wrong, my home is not filthy.  It's just not picture perfect.  I like to call it "lived in."  Which, I guess, means it is loved.


I have such a hard time not comparing myself to other women.  I want to write like her.  I want to look like her.  I wish I could sing like that woman.  I wish my parenting style was more like hers.  But I don't, and I can't, and it isn't.  But I do write the way I was created to write.  I look the way God created me to look.  I sing with the voice God gave me.  And while my parenting style can be adapted and changed with very purposeful effort, I am the mother that God chose for my children.  I am ME, and I have nothing to be ashamed of.  According to Psalm 139:14 I am "fearfully and wonderfully made."  If God made me to be wonderful, then I must be!


I will, of course, continue to try to improve myself.  I will continue trying to rid my home of it's never-ending clutter, I will keep working away on the elliptical machine and counting calories, and I will always be looking for ways to become a better parent and wife.  But I will not be ashamed of who I am; I will not be afraid of the woman God created me to be.  And I will not pretend to be someone I am not.  I will trust that people will love and accept me the way I am.  Because the real thing is always much more love-able than an imitation.

My Own Encounter

"Nothing can ever – no, not ever! – separate us from the Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love of God He showed us in Jesus!”

That is a remarkable sentence.  I wish I could take credit for it, but I can’t.  Paul said it first, when he was writing the book of Romans, and then Sally Lloyd-Jones paraphrased it this way in The Jesus Storybook Bible.  I was reading it to my four-year old daughter yesterday and was caught off guard when tears welled up in my eyes.  “Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.”  Wow.  That is a truly amazing kind of love, a kind of love that I want to know and experience.

Speaking of experience…

My husband went with the group of guys last month to this great thing called a Men’s Encounter.  He came home excited and passionate about his relationship with God, more so than he has been in months and months.  He experienced God in a way that I will probably never fully understand.  I am thrilled that he got to go and have that kind of experience; I knew he needed it.  But I’ve got to tell you, I’m starting to get just a little jealous.  I want to have that kind of experience, too!  You know, the kind that reaches all the way to the bottom of your heart, that takes you through every emotion possible.  The kind of experience that fills you up with God’s love and leaves absolutely no room to doubt that you are God’s chosen.

A few weeks ago I helped out with a Women’s Conference at a nearby church.  I was all set to have this deep, moving experience that I have been hoping for.  But it didn’t happen.  The speaker was dry and shallow, the worship times unmoving.  And I was mad.  I told God how I needed that emotional experience, that connection, how I wanted to encounter Him and it didn’t happen! 

And when I finished throwing my tantrum, God began to gently speak to me.  He told me that I didn’t need an experience to encounter Him, and He reminded me that everything I need to know about this Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love of His is already right at my fingertips.  I just need to open His Word and read.

So I’m praying now for a hunger for His Word, a hunger that is never satisfied but always craving more.  I am praying that in the pages of this Bible I will find exactly what I need, which is a face-to-face encounter with our God and that I will experience first hand the wonder of this incredible Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

When There's Pain In the Offering

Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me.  When the world's all as it should be, blessed be Your name.

Blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering. Though there's pain in the offering, blessed be Your name.

I’ve been mulling over these words for a few weeks now.  We sang the song one Sunday morning in our worship time, and the words caught in my throat and my lips refused to form them.  But they’ve continued to roll around in my head and my heart as I’m trying to figure out their full implication.

The song is so easy to sing when I’m in that place where “the sun’s shining down on me.” It’s easy then to say that even in tough times, I can and will choose to praise God.  When God is “giving” and pouring blessings into my life I have no problem singing, “You give and take away.  My heart will choose to say, ‘Lord, blessed be Your name.’”  But when it comes right down to those tough times, those times when it seems like the darkness is overwhelming, it’s so hard to give Him that offering.  I know we’ve all had seasons of life that are, at best, less than ideal.  Some of us have lived through times of true hardship and heartache.  And during those times it is so difficult to find a way to praise God.  It is even harder to WANT to praise Him.  And when I dwell on my heartache, when I wallow in the pain of whatever tough circumstances I’m going through, I find it nearly impossible to say to God, “Though there’s pain in this offering, Lord blessed be Your Name.”

I think of Job’s wife.  You see, when God allowed Satan to test Job, Job lost everything: his children, his livelihood, his possessions, even his health.  And we all remember him and the suffering he endured.  But what about his wife?  She lost everything, too.  They were also her children, her financial security, her home.  What Job suffered, she suffered right along with him.  And I, like Job’s wife, am tempted to cry out against God in my times of suffering, to blame Him.  But what does Job tell his wife?  “Shall we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?”

Last week I was reading through Ecclesiastes, and I stopped short when I got to the middle of chapter seven.  Verse fourteen of that chapter reads, “Enjoy prosperity while you can, but when hard times strike, realize that both come from God.  Remember that nothing is certain in this life.”  Realize that both come from God.  Like Job, Solomon was telling us that God does indeed give and take away.  That, in and of itself, does not describe the kind of God that I want to serve.  He seems cruel and unloving and self-serving.  But there is so much more to the story.  The Bible is filled, page after page, with the story of God’s unfailing and unselfish love for us.  And tucked in the pages of Romans 8, He tells us that He works through all circumstances to bring about good for the people who love Him.  We may not understand it and we may not see it until it’s all said and done, but He promises that He is acting in our favor.  And the best part is that He promises He won’t abandon us, even in our darkest hour.  (Hebrews 13:5-6, Deut. 31:6)

So I have a choice to make.  I can sit and dwell on my circumstances.  I can cry and get angry and blame God. Or I can rest in the knowledge of God’s unending love and grace.  I can offer Him true sacrificial praise – praise that is genuinely difficult to give – in spite of and in the midst of my circumstances.  And while the words may not make it past my lips, my heart can truly choose to say, “Lord, blessed be Your name.”

Packaging

I heard a message last weekend that really hit home.  So much so that I'm still contemplating it and rolling it over in my mind today, four days later.  It was a message on the life of King David, before he became king, and it was based on 1 Samuel 16.  The preacher's point in this message was that in order to go "all out" for God, we first have to know Him and pursue the things of His heart.  But as he spoke, here is one thing that so clearly resonated with me:

 "...The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7b).  The preacher said it like this: "The world values 'packaging' over the actual person.  The Lord examines the heart."

We've all heard it before.  "God is more worried about what it going on inside than outside."  We're told to ignore what the world is telling us about our "packaging" and focus on our internal health, spiritually speaking.  But let's face it: that's really hard to do, even among Christian circles.  We are constantly bombarded with images and expectations and sometimes it just gets overwhelming.  Sometimes I just want to scream, "You know what?  I KNOW I'm not good enough, so just lay off!"  (Who I'm screaming at, I don't know...)

Now, I don't consider myself to be a snob.  I've never thought of myself as someone who judges other people by their appearance or position.  I've tried to give people the benefit of the doubt and get to know them before I pass...well, my "judgement" on them.  But myself...yeah, that's another story.  I have had body image issues since I was a little girl.  I have struggled with my weight my entire life, and now that I've finally got it under control as an adult I still can't get past the "fat girl" mentality!  I really thought that losing 90 pounds would fix so many things about my self perception, but if I'm completely honest with myself, I have to admit that it hasn't.  If anything, it's only made things worse.  I'm so fixated on losing another pound or ten that it dominates my time, my thoughts, my disposition.  I still feel awkward, unlovable, and ugly.  Nothing has changed except the size of my clothes.  And it stinks.  But that's because I've changed the packaging without paying any attention to the gift on the inside.

1 Samuel 16:7 says, "...Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."  2 Chronicles 16:9 reads, "For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully commited to Him."  My heart has definitely NOT been fully committed to God.  Oh, it's been kind of committed...somewhat.  And I've been committed to church, even to service within the church.  But when you compare the dedication I have to diet and exercise with the dedication I have to studying and pursuing God...well, there's really no way to compare it.  This time, God loses.  And God never loses.

I want to be fully commited to God, but I'm afraid to say that I am.  I'm afraid because I know that it will take time and dedication and effort.  And I'm afraid because I know how many times before that I've said I was commited only to fail monumentally.  I'm afraid because I know there is no "trying," I will either be commited or I won't and I just don't want to fail again.  But I'm tired of trying to make myself into a beautiful package with nothing but a bunch of dusty old bones on the inside. (See Matthew, chapter 23.) 

I'm ready to cling to the promise of Isaiah 40:31: "but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar with wings like eagles.  They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  I'm ready to be changed...really changed...from the inside out.  I'm ready to live my life and be happy about who I am, what I've become.  I'm ready to stop worrying about what other people think about me.  I'm ready to stop feeling inadequate and awkward.  And I think all of that will come when I honestly let God take hold of my heart and shape it into His image,  when I know Him well enough to be called His friend.  I want my heart, my spirit, to be as beautiful as I've been trying to make my body.  I want to be more than pretty packaging.

God, help my heart to be fully committed to You, and may it be so by the strength only You can provide.  This is my honest prayer and plea:  Lord, claim my heart today and forever as Your own.  Overcome my fears and my many failures to make me a woman after Your own heart.  Help me to be as You are, more concerned with the gift on the inside than the wrapping, the "packaging," on the outside.  Amen.

Choosing To Trust

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7

Anxiety is frequent guest in my heart.  I'm a worrier; always have been.  But I've had more than several occasions in my life to learn to trust God through the big and small upsets, and I really thought I had become quiet proficient in trusting Him in spite of my propensity toward worrying.  Until last week. 

Last week my family's life was turned topsy-turvy when my husband experienced what our doctor now believes was a seizure.  He lost consciousness in the middle of the night, and I honestly thought I could be watching the love of my life die right in front of me.  It was probably the most terrifying experience either one of us has lived through.  After three hours in the ER, we were sent home with no answers and few instructions.  The next night, as both of us attempted rather unsuccessfully to sleep, fear took hold of my heart and refused to let go.  I was terrified that it would happen again and that this time I would be unable to help him.  Scenes from the night before played through my mind as I prayed, begging God not to let it happen again.  If by some miracle I did manage to drift off into semi-sleep, I would jerk myself awake if I felt Scott move or if I heard him make any kind of a noise.  It was a long, miserable night.

Sunday morning I sat at the kitchen table reading a chapter from our Sunday School book, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else in the house was still asleep.  The chapter is titled, "Choosing to Trust God," and it spoke of casting our anxieties on God and trusting him to be sovereign in every situation.  Tears flowed down my face as I read these words:

"We are invited in the words of Peter to 'cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you' (1 Peter 5:7).  God cares for you!  Not only will He never leave you -- that's the negative side of the promise -- but He cares for you.  He is not just there with you; He cares for you.  His care is constant -- not occasional or sporadic.  His care is total -- even the very hairs of your head are numbered. His care is sovereign -- nothing can touch you that He does not allow." (Italics mine.)*

The author then went on to explain that trusting God is a matter of choice; it required a conscious effort.  Trusting God does not come easy.  "It is a vigorous act of the soul by which we choose to lay hold on the promises of God and cling to them despite the adversity that at times seeks to overwhelm us."*  I sat there, exhausted and terrified, knowing that this event could easily overwhelm me and wanting desperately to be able to trust that God would somehow make everything right again.  And from somewhere deep within my soul, this prayer surfaced: "God, I know you don't promise that this won't happen again.  I know you don't promise that everything will be okay.  But God, I pray that you will give us the ability to handle whatever does come.  Oh, how I pray that it WON'T happen again, but if it does, give me the strength to do what I need to do for Scott and for our children."

The coming days and perhaps weeks will be filled with waiting and tests and conversations with the doctors, and each day is a new opportunity to trust God to be sovereign in this and every situation.  God is providing the ability to go about our regular routines and finally last night both Scott and I were able to get a full night's sleep.  There are still so many unanswered questions about what may have caused the seizure, and many may go unanswered forever.  But while I'm waiting for answers I am choosing to trust, refusing to allow fear to paralyze or consume me.  I choose to say, just as David did in Psalm 56:4, "In God I trust; I will not be afraid," and in Psalm 34:4, "I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears."

God, give me the strength to trust.  While my knees may tremble and my stomach may be tied in knots, may my heart not give in to fear.  For You, O Lord, are the rock on which I stand; in You I will place my trust and not be disappointed.

*Quotes are from the book "Is God Really In Control" by Jerry Bridges.

Days Like Today...

I'm sitting on my porch this afternoon, enjoying the quietness of the day.  My two little ones are sound asleep, and my two big boys are still off at school.  The birds are chirping, the wind is rustling through the trees...only an occasional truck rumbling down the road interrupts this beautiful afternoon.  It's the kind of day that just makes me sigh with happiness.  I wish I could store up days like today and pull them out again when it's cloudy and cold, and I'm crabby and sour-faced.  I'm sure my children and husband wish I could do that, too!

Days like today really make me appreciate what I've got.  Contentment overflows and I have a heart full of praise for the One who has blessed me so richly.  Days like today help me forget -- if only for a moment or an hour --  that the budget is beyond tight, that there are parts of my "castle" that are in desperate need of attention and that my youngest child refuses to be potty-trained.  Days like today remind me that happiness is not about having the big house, the perfect yard or a huge bank balance.  It's about sensing God's presence, knowing that He is still in control, and in recognizing the good gifts He gives us.  Gifts like a beautiful blue Kansas sky and a garden that is actually growing.  Gifts like little shoes strewn across my living room -- shoes that fit the feet of the four small people God has blessed my life with.  Or the smell of yeast wafting from my kitchen as the bread raises.  Ah, yes.  I am truly blessed.  Today and every day.  But days like today help me remember.

Thank you, Lord, for all your blessings.  Thank you for days like today that remind me to delight in You.  Thank you for peace and contentment, even in the midst hard times.  I praise Your name, O Lord, for Your love endures forever!  Amen.

One Giant Leap

I fear that I shall forever be known at my church as the woman whose children don't know how to use stairs.  Sunday night, at the yearly awards ceremony for our kids' Awana program, two of my boys seemed to be a little challenged when it came to using stairs.  The stage at the front of the auditorium stands about three feet tall, and there are four or five small steps up the front.  As my two youngest were taking the stage with their fellow Puggles, Aaron (who is 2) fell completely off the side of the steps.  He recovered quickly and scampered back up them to sing "Jesus Loves Me" with the other children, but then gave a repeat performance on the way back down.  My son, Sam, waited patiently for his name to be called when it was his group's turn to make their way onto the stage.  He watched child after child walk up the steps and take their place with the rest of the group, but when it was finally his turn he sized up the edge of the stage and gave it one big jump.  My husband was mortified, but I was too busy laughing to be embarrassed.  The woman in front of us turned around to laughingly ask what was "with" our boys and stairs.  By the end of the evening we lost count of the number of people who had asked if we needed help teaching our boys to use stairs.  Hilarious.

Now, I figure Scott and I could go a couple of directions with this.   We could be completely embarrassed by our son and punish him for his antics.  After all, he's been told before to walk nicely in the church auditorium.  Right after he jumped OFF the stage during a Sunday morning children's sermon.  So really, he should know better.  Or we could chalk it up to Sam just being Sam.  He's a rambunctious five-year-old boy who loves the challenge of climbing up or jumping off something.  Nearly every adult in that room was the parent of their own unique child.  I seriously doubt that they saw Sam's method of getting on stage as a flaw in our parenting or a weakness in our discipline.  I'm sure they just saw a goofy little boy who decided to conquer the stage in one giant leap.

So here's my point:  Our children each have their own individual personalities.  While it is my job as a parent to give my kids boundaries and to teach them appropriate behaviors, I've still got to understand and appreciate who they are as people, as God created them to be.  Sure, I could get embarrassed every time they do something silly in public, or I could just enjoy their silliness and love them for who they are.  (Now don't get me wrong -- there are definitely some behaviors that are NOT acceptable, which I will never simply laugh off.  It's distinguishing between the two that I need to work on!)  I don't want to raise four identical kids; I want to allow my children to be their unique selves.  And I want to cherish each one of them for their one-of-a-kind personalities.  Which, sometimes, takes one giant leap...of faith.

Lord, "I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made..." (Ps. 139:14) and so are my children.  Help me to appreciate them for the people that you have created them to be.  Amen.

Identity Theft

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I have come so that [you] may have life, and have it to the full."  -- John 10:10


I'm feeling a little cheated lately.  But I can't blame anyone but myself.  I let them do it.  I let them steal my identity and make me into something that I was never intended to be.  As you scratch your head in bewilderment, let me explain.

As long a I can remember, I have always been overweight.  From the time I was a little girl I have struggled with my body image as mean, unhappy people called me names like "fatso" and "lard a--."  Whether I really fit those descriptions or not, that's what people said and that's what I believed I was.  That was how I came to identify myself.  As I matured into adulthood, that image of myself never left my mind and I succumbed to it more and more, allowing myself to become what I had been told all my life I already was.  As a result, I became a shy, insecure, self-loathing young woman, unattractive to myself and to the people around me.  And it hurt.  Deeper than anyone could know.

Even after I married my husband, my identity as the "fat girl" invaded life.  My insecurity affected our marriage, our friendships, even Scott's ministry at times.  After our second son was born, I was at my biggest, 265 pounds, and I decided something HAD to change.  So I started working.  I found a friend who would work beside me and she was such an encouragement as I struggled through the first few weeks.  And then my body started to respond and I started to see changes.  The weight began melting off and for once I started to feel good about my body.  Other people noticed, too, and I began to hear -- for the first time in my life -- positive comments about my appearance.


I found myself in a new, strange territory.  I was still unsure of myself, but I knew that I liked the compliments and they compelled me to keep working.  Suddenly my identity wasn't wrapped up in being the fat girl; instead I was being defined by my weight loss.  And, honestly, it felt wonderful.


And then my husband accepted a new job and our family relocated.  No one in our new town knew that I used to be overweight or that I was still working so hard to lose the last 15 pounds.  And so I found myself missing the comments that I had so thrived on before.  And I found myself without a clear identity.  (Incidentally, I also gained back 10 pounds!)


And that's when I realized:  I am more than a number.  Whether it is a number on a scale or a size on a pair of jeans, I am not defined by that number.  As a kid, I allowed my peers to define me by my size, my weight.  As an adult, I allowed others to define me by the number of pounds I had lost.  I was wrong on both extremes.  

God did not create me to be a number.  He created me to be a woman after His own heart.  He created me to be me.  Now I just have to figure out who that is.


A few years ago I wrote a song  called "Lost."  I was trying then to figure out who I was, and I really think I found the answer.  Now it's time to live it and stop letting things, people...lies...tell me who I am.  Here are some of the lyrics of that song:


I'm lost.  I don't know who I am.  I'm searching, trying to understand.  But I can't find myself inside this life of mine.  I'm lost.  And I just want to be found.

And then I heard my Jesus say, "Lose yourself completely, every day.  Lose yourself in Me.  Lose yourself in Me.  And there you'll find the woman I want you to be."

And now I'm lost.  But I know who I am.  I sought You.  You helped me to understand that I can't find myself, except inside of You.  I'm lost.  I'm lost and I'm found in You!

God, may I be defined by You and only You.  Live in me and make me the woman you created me to be.  Be the Lord of my heart and my mind and my body, and make them Yours.  Let no one and nothing else steal this identity You have given me.  For in You I live and move and have my being.  Amen.

My Hero

"Like a knight in shining armor, from a long time ago.  Just in time I will save the day, take you to my castle far away..."

Ahh, I used to love the group "Chicago," and that song was one of my favorites.  As a young teeny-bopper (or pre-teen, I guess they're called now) I used to dream about the day that my own "knight in shining armor" would come and sweep me off my feet and carry me away to a blissful forever.  *Happy Sigh*  And now the daydreams of a young girl have morphed into the reality of a 30-something mother of four.  While I would never sentence my husband to carrying me anywhere, he is truly my night in shining armor.   And before you gag, let me explain...

My husband and I got married before he finished college.  And while he didn't have all the details of his future hammered out when we got married, he sure didn't expect to finish his graduate degree with two children at home, or to realize ten years into marriage that the career dreams he once had were unattainable without some major changes.  He never wanted to teach high school and certainly never planned on teaching junior high!  But here we are, in a small town in Kansas, and after eight years of music ministry he is now teaching junior high and high school vocal music.   He is taking online classes to obtain his teaching certification, and right now his dream of teaching music at a university seems, at the least, distant.  But he works hard at what he does and he does it well.   But why?  Why does he work so hard to do something that he never dreamed of doing?

For me.  And for the kids.  He does it all for us.  Oh, he gets a good deal of satisfaction out of his work, too, but mostly he does it because it earns the paycheck that puts a roof over our heads and food on our table.  And he does it (mostly) without complaining.   And in between preparing lessons, rehearsing singers and studying for his online classes, he finds time to read to our four kids and play with them, help with the dishes and laundry, and even have a little quiet time with me.  Wow.  Husband, father, teacher, student...that's quite a few roles for one man to fill.

Oh, and did I forget the role of defender?  Ah, yes...I must tell you about the time he rose to defend my honor.  You see, I was being criticized pretty harshly by someone and he didn't think that was quite right.  So he drew his sword, picked up his shield and headed into battle on my behalf.  The clanging of swords rang out as harsh words clashed on the battleground.  Soon Scott claimed victory as the offender fled the scene.  Of course, in situations like that no one really, truly wins, as both warriors are left battered and bruised.  But Scott, my defender, stood a little taller in my eyes that night.  I felt safe and loved and treasured.  I was worth going to battle for.  I became a princess that night and Scott became my knight in shining armor.  

I'm so grateful for my husband and the life he makes possible for us.  I'm so thankful that he chooses to love us more than a career, more than the dreams he once had.  (We will still work toward those dreams, by the way, it will just take him a little longer than he anticipated to attain them!)  And I feel fortunate to be married to my prince, my knight.  Truly, the stuff fairy tales are made of...

Transformations

I think I'm supposed to be a screenwriter.  Whenever I contemplate life, it plays through my mind like it's in the middle of some movie, only the movie version is always better than the real life version.  Take, for instance, my husband's and my latest home improvement project.  We've spent the first two days of Spring Break updating our living room.  If we were really in a movie, the entire project would have been completed in about ten minutes, and there would have been at least one chase around the room that involved getting paint on one another amid much giggling and would have ended with a long, passionate kiss.  After being interrupted by the children, we would have resumed painting and ended the day with a gorgeous, redecorated living room.

Instead, here we are two days into the project and only two of the six walls are actually painted.  Understand that they've been stripped of their 1960's wallpaper, sanded, patched, sanded again, cleaned, primed and then painted.  We chose a rich color of brown that is called "Picked Acorn," although it looks more like a delicious wave of milk chocolate.  We'll work on the trim in the weeks to come, but for now we're happy to have brown walls.  There have been no giggly chases around the room, and we are too exhausted to display much passion, but we have the beginnings of a beautiful new living room.

The transformation has been so exciting.  The walls used to be covered in a gaudy, gold and cream wallpaper, and heavy gold/green drapes hung on three walls.  When we're finished, we hope to have beautiful brown walls with cranberry colored curtains and accents.  The walls are not perfect, as they are old plaster walls that needed more refinishing than we could muster, but they are still lovely.  I can't wait to see it once it's all finished!

It kind of reminds me a little of a life given to Jesus.  Something old and ugly can be made beautiful again.  Oh, it's a whole lot of work, and it sure isn't a simple process.  It certainly won't be finished overnight!  And once the transformation is complete, there will still be flaws and failures.  But the finished product...Oh, it is lovely indeed!  And what a passionate, determined heavenly Father we have, to keep working on us so relentlessly, smoothing out the imperfections and fixing the messes we create.  

Sometimes it's hard for me to see myself as "lovely."  Sometimes all I see are the flaws.  But looking at my imperfect newly painted walls reminded me that I don't have to be absolutely perfect to be lovable.  In spite of my flaws, my husband, my friends, my family and even God love me.  They can see my blemishes and still say of me, "she is lovely."  I may not be a movie star -- and my life will never be a screenplay -- but I can rest in the knowledge that because I have been transformed by the blood of Christ, I am beautiful.  

And so are you, dear sister.  Let the blood of Christ cover you like a fresh coat of paint.  Only it doesn't just cover up the ugliness beneath, it gets rid of it.  Let Him make you new and beautiful, and rest in the knowledge that you ARE gorgeous and lovable.  Sure, you've got flaws...we ALL do!  But in the hands of our Creator, you are still lovely.  Let it sink in and really believe it.  Go ahead...and enjoy the transformation!

Happily Ever After...For Today

Well, reality came pounding at my door today.  My husband called in sick to work because he has a bad head cold.  (He teaches music, and it is admittedly difficult to talk or sing when you can't breathe!)  So he was in bed trying to sleep most of the morning.  My youngest, Aaron, who is two years old and still in diapers got bit by the same stomach bug that got my five year old over the weekend.  Fortunately there was no puking, but I changed at least twelve dirty diapers between yesterday morning and bedtime tonight.  Ugh.  I got an email from my son's kindergarten teacher saying I had missed my parent-teacher conference yesterday and could I make it up today.  (I was absolutely sure it was supposed to be tomorrow.  Oops!)  I arrived at the school only to find that the teacher was at a doctor's appointment.  Sigh.  After a thorough tour of the classroom by my son,  I headed back home only to learn later that I had missed the teacher by only a few minutes.  Her appointment had taken a little longer than she expected, and she arrived back at the school about five minutes after we left.  The custom cabinet that we ordered for our bathroom was due to arrive today, ten days after the original delivery date, but for the second time didn't come.  (Keep in mind that we ripped the old one out the FIRST day the new one was supposed to be ready.)  And to top the day off, my two youngest -- the "babies," as I like to call them -- took extra long naps and weren't ready to go back to bed until nearly 11:00 this evening.  Not a fairytale day by a long shot.

But do you know what?  I'm sitting here at 11:15 with a smile in my heart.  (I'm too tired to have a smile on my face.)  Because, in spite of it all, today was a pretty good day.  I got to have extra snuggle time with my baby boy because he wasn't feeling well.  My daughter, whose one goal in life is to grow up and be a princess, insisted on wearing a "beautiful red dress" most of the day and she was so precious in it.  My big boys both had great days at school and because my husband isn't feeling well I got to spend the last half hour of their day with them, reading with them and saying their good-night prayers. (That is usually his privilege.)  And last night, right before we turned off the lamp to go to sleep after an incredibly long day, my husband turned to me and said, "I have to say, your attitude about today has been amazingly good."  I'm so often a crab after days like that, but yesterday I decided not to be that way.  And he noticed.  Which made it all worth it, and it made me want to do it again today.  It feels good to be happy.  Sort of like the end of a good fairytale...

Beauty or The Beast?

A couple of days ago, I watched the movie "Enchanted" with my husband and kids.  We had seen it before, but rented it again because it's such a fun movie.  The heroine of the story, Giselle, is thrust from her fairytale land by her future mother-in-law into the throngs of New York City.  Her first few hours in this chaotic, mind-boggling city are spent frantically searching for her one true love, Prince Edward, and the castle where they were supposed to be wed.  As the story unfolds, Giselle faces each new situation with wide-eyed innocence, a kind heart, and, of course, a song.  Always the picture of a princess, she is beautiful in both her disposition and her appearance.

I thought this morning that I would do my best to approach life like Giselle.  I thought I would get up, make myself "beautiful" and start my day with a song on my lips.  Alas, when I looked in the mirror, I saw not a beautiful princess, but a tired 33-year-old mother of four.  Streaks of gray highlight the once lustrous brown hair, dark circles adorn the eyes that would rather still be closed peacefully in sleep.  I would hardly call myself "Beauty" (Perhaps today I could play "The Beast" instead?), and if I'm Cinderella, I must be the pre-Fairy God Mother version.   So I pulled on my blue jeans -- no ball gowns here, please! -- and put my hair up in a clip.  I glanced at my little bag of makeup then turned off the bathroom light; no time for makeup this morning.

I hope to get back to that makeup before my husband comes home this evening.  Not because he demands it, but because he enjoys it.  (At least I think he does!)  My mom told me once, years ago, that I should always try to make myself look nice before my husband comes home for the day.  Because he may not love me if I'm not all "done up?"  Um, no.  There are plenty of days that it doesn't happen and he loves me anyway.  Who knows, he may even find me attractive in spite of my lack of effort.  But when I take the time to make myself look pleasant, it communicates to him that he's worth the extra effort.  Because I love him.  So I may not look like a princess by the time he gets home tonight, but I can at least look like I gave it my best shot.

But, as my mother-in-law says, "looks aren't everything."  Remember how I said Giselle was beautiful inside and out?  Well, I would imagine that in her perfect world of Andalasia, she never had quarreling children or cranky toddlers to deal with.  Her home was always sparkling clean with the help of her animal friends, and she spent her days dreaming about "love's first kiss."  Oh, to have that luxury!  Instead, my "castle" looks more like a war zone and my list of chores is pages long.  Not enough sleep and an intense craving for chocolate only compound the situation and create one cranky woman!  So now I not only look like the Beast, but I'm acting like him, too!

In the middle of all the chaos with my two youngest children this morning, I sat down to read some thoughts written by an old friend.  I was reminded by what she wrote that I have so much to be thankful for.  I have four beautiful children who have been blessed with the ability to run and play (and wreak havoc on my living room).  I have a husband who is willing to go to work every day while I stay at home with our children.  He has a job with a steady paycheck, which so many have lost in recent times.  I have a God who loves me more than I could ever imagine.  And as I stop to dwell on those and so many other blessings I can feel my disposition start to soften.

My children are napping and I found something to satisfy my chocolate craving.  I'm going to take some time now to soak up some encouragement from my Heavenly Father.    Come to think of it, He's the King of all the universe and Scripture says I'm his daughter,  so I guess that makes me a princess after all.  Maybe with a little help from Him and a little effort on my part, my Prince can come home to the Princess he deserves.

So here's my fairytale moment for today:

My second child, Sam (who is five years old), stayed home from school today because he had a stomach bug yesterday.  While my youngest two were napping, he was watching a movie called "Animusic."  It was time to wake up my three-year-old daughter, and I asked Sam if he wanted the privilege of waking her up.  Minutes later I looked up to see them snuggled side by side on the couch watching the movie together.  He had backed it up to her favorite section and he was enjoying it with her.  They were so sweet sitting there together, and for a few precious moments there was peace between them.  I sighed a happy sigh, and like Jesus' mother Mary, I will "treasure these things up in [my] heart."

My "Happily Ever After"

When I was a little girl, I, like most other girls, used to dream about meeting the perfect guy, having the most beautiful fairytale wedding, and living happily ever after.  Now, ten years after my wedding, that dream of a fairytale life has been replaced by the reality of an imperfect marriage, four rambunctious kids, and the responsibilities of normal adult life.  Is it a disappointment?  No, not really.  It's just not what I expected.

What did I expect, really?  That the man I would fall in love with would be without flaw or irritating habit?  That his job would require minimal time commitment but come with an exorbitant salary?  (This, of course, would leave him hours and hours every day to pamper me and lavish me with all my heart's desires.)  Did I expect him to leave me romantic notes every morning and woo me with love songs at night?  Did I really think my children would be angels and that raising them would be a breeze?  I mean, really?  Was I that out of touch with reality?

I watched a few minutes of a wedding episode of The Bachelor tonight.  (I don't follow the show, so I can't even tell you who the Bachelor was.)  The bride gushed about how her groom would always "give her butterflies."  Hmm.  Maybe she'll be lucky and her fairytale will come true.  Or maybe she'll be just like the rest of us and realize one day that the romanticism has worn off.  He'll roll over for a good morning kiss; she'll get a whiff of his morning breath, he'll see the drool crusted on the corners of her mouth.  And I suspect that the butterflies will be hard to find.

So my fairytale life didn't happen.  That leaves me with what...failure?  Some days, yes.  Some days my fairytale doesn't exist because of my own failure.  Sometimes I think my Prince Charming must feel cheated, like he got the scullery maid instead of the princess.  And, some days my Prince Charming forgets that he's supposed to be so charming.

Most days, though, are somewhere in between the two extremes.  Daily responsibilities like jobs, laundry, homework and dealing with four children make it difficult to remember what the fairytale looked like.  I coast along, neither living my dream nor wallowing in failure.

My new goal is to take life one day at a time and see what I can do each day to make it a little more like my fairytale dream.  Or maybe just to recognize the magical moments that really do seem like they belong in a storybook.  Because someday, when I'm old and completely gray, I want to remember my life as being full of joyous and wonderful moments.  I want to say of my marriage and my family, "...and we lived happily ever after."