I Love Snow!

So, it snowed here last night. Not a lot, but just enough to be pretty and for the school to be closed for the day! Thought I'd post some pictures so you could see what it looked like outside my house this morning.

The back of the house...which is really more like the front of the house since they closed the road, but anyway!

As you can see, I live in right field of our baseball field! I guess it was too early for the students to be up and sliding down those hills in the distance. I'm sure it won't be long!

The view from the back door!

Looking up towards the campus. Have I mentioned I love snow????

The God of All Comfort - Even for Thumb Suckers!

I've always felt sorry for children of preachers. I can't imagine the humiliation and embarrassment that must come from hearing stories of your childhood told time after time. And it's rarely the good stories. Most of the time, it's the most embarrassing moments that you wish you could rewind and do over. Those are the ones that usually make it to the pulpit. While they might be great examples for the lesson at hand and the entire congregation finds great joy in your misfortune, silliness, or ignorance, these same stories often bring great shame to their subjects! Luckily, I've never been on the receiving end of such an illustration, at least not in my presence! I am thankful God called my dad to an area of ministry that DID NOT involve preaching!

Sunday morning, during the children's sermon at church, however, I felt the shame of our Associate Pastor's youngest child. It was sanctity of human life Sunday, and he was sharing with the children what a baby in its mother's womb looked like and could do at 11 weeks old. His five year old daughter, Caroline, was sitting right next to him, cuddled up under his arm. He went down a long list of things that an 11 week old fetus is able to do, a list that included sucking its thumb. He then asked the question that set the whole ball of embarrassment rolling.

"Do any of you still suck your thumb?"

It wasn't the question really, but his actions that took him off the path of safety and falling into the pit of Humiliation by Daddy! He looked over at Caroline, raised his eyebrows and smiled, and in one simple motion, let the entire church know that his five year old daughter (who incidentally turns six in about a month and is surely focused on being a BIG GIRL) still sucks her thumb. I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming because I could see the look on her face. I was sitting in the choir loft behind her, and I could still see the look on her face. I could see that look because my face has shared that look before!

***I could share countless stories about myself here, but I will limit this aside to just one! When I was about nine years old, I had to tag along with my parents who were chaperoning the Winter Youth Ski Retreat. No one was really happy about my presence there, especially my older sister who was in the 7th grade and embarking on one of her first trips as a member of the youth group! Tagging along meant I had to attend sessions with my mom and dad, too. Boring sessions meant for adults! In one of the sessions, there were probably 25-30 people in a room and the speaker was talking about the challenges in trying to get children and youth to sit still, be quiet, and pay attention. Coincidentally, as he was speaking these words, I, as my nine year old bored self, was leaning back in my "metal folding chair" and balancing it against the wall. Yes, that's right. Metal folding chairs and two hind legs usually don't mix. My chair folded up, falling to the floor with a loud bang and depositing me on the floor beside it. Needless to say, I was the perfect illustration for his point! So what's my point...I was totally embarrassed. The laughter in the room was so loud I needed ear plugs! Every eye in the place was on me. I'm sure my mom was embarrassed, too, but she wasn't the one laying on the floor. I wanted to disappear. I probably prayed at that moment that God would open up a hole in the floor so that I could escape the eyes and the laughter. I remember getting up, looking straight down at the floor (because after all if I couldn't see the eyes, I was invisible!), and walking over to my mom in search of comfort. I probably even sat on her lap for the remainder of the session, perfectly still and quiet (right Mom! wink wink)

So I understood how Caroline felt. However, her situation was different. She couldn't run to her daddy for comfort. Her daddy, her white knight, had effectively knocked her off the white horse they were riding and under the hooves to be trampled upon. (Okay, I didn't come up with that analogy. Julie, Caroline's mom, did and she said it much more effectively than me, but it's the best I can do!)

All Caroline could do was hide her face in her lap from the hundreds of eyes and hope that putting her head down would drown out some of the laughter. I looked back at Julie to see her reaction. She had a torn look on her face. She wanted to leave the choir loft and run to her little girl, picking her up and pulling her close with one hand, and slapping Jarrett with the other! But she couldn't. She just had to sit there and watch the entire thing play out. Humiliation. Embarrassment. Shame. Hurt. All over sucking one's thumb!

And then, the most precious thing happened. Little Joanna was sitting right next to Caroline. She saw Caroline's pain and leaned over, tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "It's okay. I do too sometimes." And in that moment, some of Caroline's pain and humiliation was relieved. She wasn't alone. Someone else sucked their thumb, too! Most people missed it. Most of the congregation missed this precious exchange between friends. And in missing it, they missed a precious lesson from our Heavenly Father.

Lately, the Holy Spirit has been giving me flashes of words. I don't know how to adequately explain this. I will witness a situation, see something, or just hear something and it's almost as if a word plainly flashes across the air in front of my eyes, like it's the word of the day on Sesame Street or something. It's usually a single word, and it usually comes with a desire to stop whatever I am doing at the time and dive into God's word in search of what He has to say about that word.

The word I got in that instant was comfort. Joanna was a source of comfort for Caroline. She said exactly what needed to be said. She saw a need, and met it! (They are five years old people!!!!!! Five!) Comfort had been on my mind I suppose. And this instance led me back to a verse that I had just learned.

Psalm 119:50 says, "My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life."

This verse was the focal verse for the latest Karen Kingsbury novel, This Side of Heaven. (Side note: If you have not read any of Karen Kingsbury's books, go, run, fly to the store right now and get one! She calls it Life Changing Fiction, and it truly is! She is such a woman of faith who's works of fiction have strengthened my personal spiritual walk so much!).

In the midst of our suffering, our shame, our embarrassment, our pain, we can find comfort. We can find comfort in the fact that the promise of God is true! The promise of God brings salvation. The promise of God breathes hope! The promise of God is essentially a life preserver in the midst of our struggle.

I quickly looked up comfort in my Bible's concordance and found these verses from 2 Corinthians.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. 2 Corinthians 1:4

Finally, brothers, rejoice. Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. 2 Corinthians 13:11 (ESV)

We are commanded to comfort others! God is our comfort, and we are to share the comfort we have, the life preserving comfort, with those in need. Just like Joanna did for Caroline. God will use our willingness to be used and our obedience to comfort others. Just like Joanna did for Caroline.

Just after the children's sermon yesterday we sang the song Draw Me Close. Here are the lyrics to the last chorus of the song:

You're all I want
You're all I ever needed
You're all I want
Help me know You are here
Help me know You are near.

Those last two lines were different for me yesterday. You see, I had just witnessed God showing himself to be here and to be near to His children in time of need. God provided his comfort to a five year old through a five year old. If anyone ever questioned whether or not a human life in the womb was created by God for a reason, the exchange I witnessed between those two children is reason enough!

God has a purpose for us all each and every day. It doesn't matter if we are five or 50, if we are embarrassed because someone just outed us for sucking our thumb or because we walk out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to our shoe, God is our comfort. God commands us to comfort one another.

The God of all comfort is HERE and He is NEAR!

No, Kim, There is no Santa Claus

***Please note, the intention of this post is not to condemn any parents who use Santa as part of their Christmas celebration. I have no problem with that. I'm just telling my story!***

I never remember a time when I believed in Santa Claus. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. Oh, I knew about Santa Claus. I heard stories about Santa Claus. I even remember going to JC Penney to sit on his lap and tell him what I wanted for Christmas (there were never pictures with Santa because my mom was too cheap to spend $5 on the photo like that!). I remember singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" with my mom in the car and having a discussion about whether or not I'd been a good girl. But I never believed in Santa as if he were a real being who actually brought presents. Maybe it's because we never received presents from Santa. All of ours were from Mom and Dad. All of our presents were wrapped. The only exceptions were the giant, life-sized teddy bears my sister and I received from our grandparents one year, and that was only because they couldn't find a big enough box! To me, Santa Claus was like Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and all of the other fairy tale characters I knew. He was part of a story, a made-up story that people told at Christmas time and nothing more.

I don't think my parents consciously made a decision to not let us believe in Santa Claus. We just didn't, and it was never a big deal. As I've talked with friends over the past month or so about their decisions as to when to tell their children the truth about Santa, I've pondered why I never believed. I began to wonder if I somehow missed out on the magic of Christmas as a child. And that made me ponder my family's Christmas traditions. Christmas has always been one of my favorite parts of the year...my favorite holiday. Obviously, I didn't miss out on too much!

Then, on Friday night, my Sunday School class had their Christmas party at my house. Sitting on my coffee table is an Advent Wreath. Several years earlier, I had introduced our Sunday School department to the celebration of advent. I think they must have all lived under a rock because very few of them had ever heard of such, much less had any knowledge of an advent wreath. I became the subject of a lot of teasing, but I didn't care. I was determined to share with them this tradition that meant so much to me. Friday night, the teasing continued. It was then that I realized why celebrating Advent with the Advent Wreath is so important to me. And it all goes back to me not believing in Santa Claus.

Let me describe for you the scene in my house as a child during the Christmas season. The weekend after Thanksgiving, my family went to cut down a Christmas tree. When we arrived home, the Christmas decorations were immediately unpacked. And one of the first things we happened upon in the boxes of the Christmas decorations was the Advent Wreath. This, more than putting up the tree, really is the symbol of the start of the Christmas season for me! You see, my family always had nightly devotions together. This usually consisted of reading from one of our devotional books, talking about the scripture emphasis, sharing prayer requests, and ending with a loooooong prayer from my dad. But Advent devotions were different. There was something that was exciting, and it was more than just lighting candles! That was certainly part of it. My sister and I took turns each evening lighting the candles. We took our jobs very seriously and always loved the fourth week of Advent when there were four candles to light each evening! What fun! But like I said, it was more than just candles. This evening ritual brought us one step closer to Christmas each night. This evening ritual kept Christmas and the celebration of the day in it's proper light. Sure the gifts, decorations, music, lights, and everything else that comes along with Christmas is fun, but the real reason for the celebration is the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

You see, this is why I didn't believe in Santa. I didn't need to. Santa was just a story! Jesus is real! Jesus birth is real! Jesus life is real! The everlasting life we are offered because of Jesus' sacrifice is real! I didn't have to be warned to be "a good little girl" because Santa was watching. Our advent devotions gave me scriptural evidence of how God wants us to live our lives, totally submitted to Him. Sure, I asked for things for Christmas, but I don't ever remember being mad because "Santa" didn't bring me what I wanted. I usually received far more than what I asked for! Also, I had a different gift to focus on. The free gift that is available to all of us through Christ!

Advent means "the coming." The celebration of Advent was adopted by the Christian church centuries ago to help us spiritually prepare for the celebration of the coming of Christ to the earth as a baby, to reflect on Christ's promise that He will come again, and to focus on His present coming through His presence in our lives and through His grace. Santa Claus just seems to pale in light of Christ. "And the things of earth grew strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace." Even today, I look forward to the celebration of Advent. When I moved out on my own, that first Christmas, my mom passed down our old advent wreath to me. The verses from various advent devotionals are some of my favorite: Psalm 108, Isaiah 7:9, Isaiah 9:6, Philippians 2:5-8, John 1:14, 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, and on and on and on! I treasure this time every year. It helps me prepare my heart and focus my mind on the real reason for the season.

I didn't miss out on anything because I never believed in Santa. I had a greater gift, a greater reason to celebrate, a greater reason to sing, a greater song to sing! Christmas magic has nothing to do with Santa Claus. In fact, it's not magic at all. It's the supernatural moving of the Holy Spirit in our lives, guiding us, shaping us, and molding us into the people God wants us to be!

Advent Wreaths, Cat's Tails, and Sin

One of my favorite Christmas traditions is the Advent Wreath. Since childhood I have loved lighting the candles, spending a special time preparing my heart and mind for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, and growing in my faith as an individual and as a family. This year, though, the advent wreath, along with my cat Sassafrass, provided me with an unexpected lesson.
It was late yesterday evening, and I was sitting on the couch reading the day’s advent devotion. The advent wreath, with four candles lit, was sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Sassafrass decided to jump upon the table and walk upon the ledge from one end to the other. From my perspective, I could see what was about to happen. I also had the advantage of knowing how fire feels! Sassafrass, however, does not share this knowledge, at least she didn’t! I was plagued with a dilemma. I knew if I reacted too quickly she would be startled and disaster could ensue. I really didn’t want to try to explain to my insurance company that my house burned down because of the advent wreath! I also had a desire to protect her. I didn’t want her to get burned! I didn’t want her to feel the pain of the burn. I couldn’t move the wreath; I couldn’t touch her. I was stuck watching the entire episode occur. Sure enough, as she walked along the ledge of the coffee table, she came increasingly close to the fire. I gave a verbal warning, as if she could understand (yes I talk to my cat like she’s human), but to no avail. As she passed by the last candle, seemingly safe from danger, her tail started to dance back and forth, eventually passing right through the flame of the pink candle. The air flow that resulted from her dancing tail quickly extinguished the flame. I could smell it immediately. And so could she. The putrid smell of burning hair!
She immediately began to search for the source of the stench. It was evident that she was also feeling the effects of the burn from the candle. But she couldn’t quite figure it out. She inspected both of her sides. She looked at her tail, but decided that couldn’t be it. But you could tell she felt the burn. She started smelling everything around her. The floor, the table, ME! But she couldn’t find the source. Once, she even looked back at the flames of the candles as if to say, “I know you did something, but I just can’t figure out what!” This went on for several minutes. Finally, she decided to nurse the numb feeling in her tail. She sniffed, she licked, she did the things that cats do when they nurse their wounds. And then, she got up and continued on her way, far from the flame of the candles!

I immediately thought of how much her reaction to the situation is similar to our reaction to sin. At times, we walk right into it, getting burned beyond recognition. At times we play with fire/sin, knowing it’s not safe, but willing to accept the risk of the burn for the pleasure of the sin. At other times, just like Sassafrass last night, we walk so closely that we should get burned, pass by thinking we’re safe, and it gets us right when we least expect it. It gets us in our cat’s tail! We can smell it immediately. Most of the time, we can smell it before we feel it! We survey everything around us trying to find the source of the smell, when all along, we just don’t want to see the source. We don’t want to admit that we’ve been burned. We don’t want to admit that we are experiencing the consequences of the sin in our lives. Surely it must be something else. Surely it must be someone else. It’s not me. It can’t be! I didn’t think I was that close to the fire. I was safe! I was careful! That’s right. I was careful. Careful enough to get just as close to the fire as I possibly could without being burned. Careful enough not to heed the warnings of my heavenly father. Careful enough not to get too close to the. Careful enough to be burned by sin, just when I thought I was safe.
Why, oh why don’t I listen more closely to my heavenly Father? Why, oh why do I like to play with fire? Why, oh why do I refuse to recognize the sin in my life? Why is it so hard for me to admit to others that I struggle with sin?
Paul wrote in the book of Romans,

12Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. 13Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness. 14For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace. Romans 6:12-14

I want to offer myself to God as an instrument of righteousness! I don’t want sin to be my master! I want to live in the grace and truth that is Jesus Christ this Christmas season. He came to us, as Emmanuel, God with us, full of grace and truth. One of the advent devotions I read this week brought to light the importance of Jesus being grace and truth! For one without the other wouldn’t work. One without the other would not open the doors for everlasting life. May God dwell in our hearts, not sin. May we offer ourselves fully and wholly to God.
Sassafrass is still nursing the burn on her tail, even as I type. I am thankful that in the midst of my sinfulness, I have a Savior who nurses my wounds for me. The wounds exist. The pain is real. There may be scars. But the healer is waiting with open arms. And the comfort He offers is like no other!

Help us, O God our Savior,
for the glory of your name;
deliver us and forgive our sins
for your name's sake.
Psalm 79:9

Carlton Dance

I'm sure that making this video has caused me to lose a jewel in my crown, but this is for Julie! Too funny!!! I guess I should put a disclaimer that I used someone else's you tube video and just added the music. Thanks to cybercobra for you hard work in putting all of these clips together. I hope he/she doesn't mind that I tweeked it a bit! I hope you enjoy this Julie!!!

Trash

This blog was actually written on February 19, 1997, when I was a junior in college. I have been thinking about this a lot lately and thought I would include it here.

This morning I was thinking about the gigantic trash compactor right outside of my dorm room. This one compactor serves over 300 people! Right now it is overflowing. there is a stream of trash flowing out of its mouth and down the sidewalk. It has not been emptied in a long time. What a shame, and what a sight for sore eyes when one walks out the back door!

Our lives are sometimes exactly like this trash compactor, only each person has their own garbage bin: our minds, our bodies, our souls. Many times we just let more and more "trash" enter in. And we have an instinct or mechanism that will compact the trash and leave room for more to be added. But pretty soon, just like the trash compactor outside of my dorm, there is no more room! Nothing else can be compacted. The "trash" begins to flow out. It can be seen in our actions and expression and can be heard in our attitudes and negative words. And many times, even though we know that is is full, we still try to put more trash in on tope of what is already flowing out. Pretty soon, the garbage that we carry is reaching to others, affecting them, too! It seems too much to handle, that there is nothing we cn do. And that's true. We cannot do anything to fix our problems, at least not alone.

Then, one day, the trusty garbage collector shows up with his gigantic truck. He has come to empty the trash compactor of all its contents, all its trash. And when he finishes the job, the trash compactor is like new again. We, too, have a garbage collector. His name is Jesus. If we just trust him, He will come and take all of our "trash" away. He'll make us new creatures. However, unlike the trash compactor, our purpose is not to fill ourselves up with trash again. Insteaad, we are to allow ourselves to be filled with the power and presence of God through the Holy Spirit, so that good, positive, and edifying words and thoughts will flow from us, rather than the garbage of the world. We must remember, though, that we are not perfect, and because of this fact we will sometimes be consumed by the "trash" again. But we can always trust Jesus, our garbage collector, to come at any time we are willing and empty the bad things and replace them with his goodness and mercy. Also, we must let this goodness and the love of Jesus flow deeper and wider than the trash ever did, so that others may know of the joy and the peace we have found!

Create in me a clean heart, O God. And renew a right spirit within me. Psalm 51:10

No matter where your opinions fall politically, today is a day of uncertainty for our nation. We sang the song below in church on Sunday morning, and the Holy Spirit brought these words to my mind this morning as I awoke, reminding me that no matter what the outcome of the uncertainty, my hope rests in one place and one place only, our Savior Jesus Christ. I choose to reflect on these words throughout the day.

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus
Just to take Him at His word
Just to rest upon his promise
Just to know, "Thus saith the Lord"
Jesus, Jesus how I trust him!
How I've proved him o'er and o'er!
Jesus, Jesus precious Jesus! O for grace to trust him more!

I'm so glad I learned to trust him
Precious Jesus, Savior, friend
And I know that he is with me
Will be with me to the end!
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust!
How I've proved him o'er and o'er!
Jesus, Jesus precious Jesus! O for grace to trust him more!

Written by Louisa M.R. Stead

And from God's word, Isaiah 43:10-14
Before me no god was formed, nor shall there be any after me. I, I am the Lord, and besides me there is no savior. I declared and saved and proclaimed, when there was no strange god among you; and you are my witnesses, declares the Lord, and I am God. Also henceforth I am he; there is none who can deliver from my hand; I work, and who can turn it back?

Strength for the Next Step

This is not really blog worthy, but it's a lesson I want to remember, so I'm blogging about it to capture the moment. I woke up this morning overwhelmed. I had been unable to sleep, and I knew I had a very long and busy day ahead of me. Just to give a glimpse, I was at work by 7 AM, worked all day, non-stop, left work at 5:00 to head to a Christmas in Action Board Meeting, left the board meeting to go shopping for an event at work two days from now, returned to work at 8 PM to meet the DJ and finish preparing for the Homecoming Dance, worked straight through the dance, cleaned up, cleaned my office, hung signs for tomorrow, and now it is 1 AM, and I am finally home! An 18 hour, non-stop day! No wonder I was overwhelmed!!!

I've really been trying to handle my stress better of late, and trying to view things as steps of a larger process is one way I'm doing that. Mike keeps telling me this all the time, but it's difficult when you are juggling multiple steps of multiple processes at the same time. I'm so glad God gave women the gift of multi-tasking! This morning, when the sense of overwhelming began to overtake me, I stopped and remembered to take it all in smaller steps. I first asked God to give me strength to make it through the day. I also remembered what we talked about last night in OT class, how God wanted to teach the Israelites that He would provide for their daily needs, that they could trust him to provide for their daily needs. That lesson was quite transferable to my situation. So, I changed my prayer from asking for strength for the end of the day to asking for strength for the next step.

And now, as I am home and preparing for bed, I choose to take a moment and reflect on the day. God answered my prayer. He truly gave me strength for the next step. And for that I am truly thankful. I serve an awesome God who knows and cares for my every need. Praise the Lord!

AIG: Who's To Blame?

Last night, I tuned into the news for the first time to find out what was really going on with the US Investment crisis. On Fox News, Sheppard Smith explained the reason for the fallout in one of the most consise ways I've seen thus far. I tried to find a screencap of that to post here, but it's 3:45 am, and I don't have the energy to really search right now. He showed a pyramid, that explained how the crisis begins, from the bottom with the housing lenders, all the way up to the top to the investors and AIG insuring the investors money.

The one thing that stuck out, though, was that everyone is looking for someone to blame. Some blame AIG. Some blame the Republicans. Some blame the Democrats. Some blame the government as a whole. Some blame the insurance regulators. I'm sure somewhere someone blames the stars not lining up correctly. The truth of the matter is, though, the blame lies with each one of us!

The blame lies with all of us that have perpetuated the myth of the new definition of the American Dream: that you can whatever you want, no matter the cost to you or anyone else. We apply this to material things, relationships, business, safety, security, peace, etc. It doesn't matter if you can't afford what you want or if it belongs to someone else. Just go get it. That's what America is all about. We have become a society of greed and selfishness. We have allowed our desire to "have it all" to cloud our judgment of what we can truly afford and more importantly, what we truly need.

I'm guilty of this myself. The computer I'm typing on right now, did I calculate the total cost, stop and seriously review my monthly expenses and spending habits, save money for a few months? No! I went to the store, found what I wanted, decided in a matter of minutes what I would give up monthly to be able to make the payments, and I went home with a new computer. All in the matter of a couple of hours! I wanted what I wanted and I wanted it right then! Did I necessarily need a computer? No...but it sure has come in handy and has made my life easier (until it crashed this past spring and I lost almost everything...then I realized how trivial everything was)! The advantage I had was I that I have parents who raised me with a great deal of fiscal responsibility. I understood that paying the minimum monthly payment on said computer would just end up costing me more, so instead of paying a monthly minimum, I payed a monthly maximum (all that I could afford) until the computer was paid off over a year before the original date! I'm doing the same with my car. However, I don't always do this, and I'm starting to realize that even the little things (such as eating out, trips to Wal-Mart, etc.) should be considered with such care.

It's when we spend what we don't have because of simple human greed that we find ourselves in financial trouble. I do not intend to address in this blog whether or not the government should have bailed AIG out. I will leave that for the professionals and the media. My point is simply this: we all hold some responsibility for this crisis. We should all stand up and take responsibility for this crisis by looking at our spending habits, making wise decisions when it comes to purchasing "the necessities," reevaluating our material needs. We need to teach our children to talk about these things with their potential spouse before they enter into a marriage relationship. We need to teach our children what it means to be fiscally responsible, by example and daily teachable moments. We need to remember what the American dream really meant all of those years ago: with hard work and dedication, you can accomplish great things.

Most importantly, though, we need to remember that all of our wealth, physical and spiritual, comes from one place: God! He has provided us with everything that we have and has promised to provide us with everything we need.

28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Matthew 6:28-30

It is only when we realize that ALL of our resources come from God alone that we can truly be good stewards of those things. We need to be an example for those around to us to be satisfied with what we have been so richly given, to find contentment, not in material things, but in our God.

But godliness with contentment is great gain. 1 Timothy 6:6

So I accept the blame! I accept the responsibility that comes with accepting the blame. I want to live my life in a way that is pleasing to my Heavenly Father. I want to use the resources I've been given to make an eternal difference. Perhaps that is the most important question we should ask before spending money. What kind of eternal difference will this purchase make? I think its time that we Christians in America humble ourselves before God and earnestly pray, seeking healing for our land.

Free

Tonight, I spent the evening at the local jail. No, not as an inmate. I was there to post bond for someone and pick them up upon their release. What I thought was going to be a quick process lasted over 3 hours! While I hated just about every minute of those three hours, now that I'm home safe and snug in my bathrobe, I am thankful for those three hours, for it was in those three hours that my precious Lord and Savior so lovingly reminded me of his wonderful, marvelous grace.

I had many new experiences tonight. I felt like an outsider in a strange world, one that I thought was reserved for Jerry Springer or Maury Povich. I don't think I truly believed people live like that, but after tonight, I'm pretty sure they do. This new reality was just that, a reality. I heard stories of people who make it a part of their weekly schedule to go visit a friend or family member at the jail. They are like members of an extended family. They know one another. They know their stories. They care for one another. They talked about impending release dates like I talk about upcoming vacation. I was not a part of their world. I witnessed people coming in to leave money for inmates, so they could enjoy an extra honeybun this week...okay it's probably money for cigarettes, but the honeybun sounds better, so I choose to believe that! I sat next to a woman who was visiting her husband, while she had also been in jail in the previous year. I sat next to another woman who was visiting her boyfriend who got her arrested because he was doing drugs at her house. She spoke of her child and how she didn't know who was going to be raising the baby since both of she and her boyfriend had been arrested. I'm pretty sure two ladies of the night came in to visit their pimps, but maybe not.

I was okay until about 9 pm, but that's when things started getting crazy. The emotion of it all began to get to me, but luckily the person I was there to pick up was finally released before I made a complete fool of my overly emotional self! When I got home, I wanted to do one thing. I wanted to take a shower and wash all of the jail funk off of me. I just felt dirty. I felt like I had been forced inside of one of those snow globes and couldn't get out, but instead of a pretty snowy scene it was an ugly, drab and gray one. Very sad. And now that I was on the outside, I wanted to wash off every remembrance of that place. So, I got in the shower. And in the shower, God taught me the lesson. I knew it was coming. I could feel it. Sitting in the lobby at the jail, I couldn't help but look for the bigger picture, the lesson that God was trying to show me, but it wasn't until I was able to step out of the situation that I realized what it was.

You see, all of us, before we know Christ as our Savior, are like those prisoners. We are bound by our sin. Nothing we can do can get us out. Sure, people can give us money to help us survive the bondage, they can visit to make it feel better for a small amount of time, but at the end of the day, the chains are still there. (I sang My Chains Are Gone tonight in my heart as I waited. It had such a new meaning sitting at the jail.) But, when Christ comes into our hearts, when we believe in Him and truly accept Him as our Lord and Savior, the bondage is over. We are released. We are FREE!

I found myself looking down on those people living in that alternate reality tonight. I thought I was better than them. I still can't fathom that life, but God reminded me that before Him, I was nothing. I was just like those people. And the only thing that saves me is His grace. The only thing that changes that is His grace and grace alone! I stood in the shower and sang, through my tears, a song from many years ago by Steven Curtis Chapman. The words are:

I am free, I have been forgiven
God's love has taken off these chains and given me these wings
I'm free, yeah, and the freedom I've been given
Is something that not even death can take away from me

As I was singing, I thought of my need to take the shower in the first place. I wanted to wash away any evidence of the jail. I thought to myself, what a beautiful picture of baptism, the symbolic washing and cleansing of our sin. I began to question, though, do I have the same sense of urgency to wash myself of my sin on a daily basis. To get rid of the funk. To get rid of any evidence of the bondage. I don't. But I think that's what God wants us to want. To be so disgusted by our sin that our greatest desire is to let him wash us clean. To not be able to live with the sin in our lives. To truly feel free!

I was reminded tonight that freedom is a precious gift. Spiritual freedom is a priceless gift. It is a gift that we can never earn and something we can never be good enough to keep. It is a gift that we must accept from one who gave all even though we deserve nothing. I am so thankful for my God. There is no greater description of Him tonight than this:

I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness;
I will take you by the hand and keep you;
I will give you as a covenant for the people, a light for the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
I am the Lord; that is my name; my glory I give to no other.
Isaiah 42:6-8a

In Awe

I am finding it hard to remember a time when I have been in such awe of my God! I'm sure there has been, but over the past weeks, God has revealed himself to me in ways that I just can't even fathom. Just a few moments ago, I was playing a song on the piano by Jill Phillips called The Day is Dawning, and one line of the song spoke to me like it never has before. The song is a prayer that begs "Lord set me in my place." I've always understood/interpreted that line to be a positive thing, like "Lord set me in the place that you want me. Help me find direction." But tonight, I understood the request in a different way. More of a "Lord, put me in my place." You see, we all need to be put in our place from time to time. It's good for all of us to remember that we are not in control and that the world does not revolve around our momentary or long-range wants or needs! And I don't think I've ever been brave enough to ask God to put me in my place, but He did it without my asking today!

This morning, in my time with God, I was reading from 1 Chronicles 28. This is the passage where King David gathers the people of Israel together to tell them that he had made the decision to build a temple for God, a place to house the ark of the covenant of the Lord. He made the plans. He went about preparing for this massive project. But then God told David that He was not the one to build the temple. God had that task reserved for David's son, Solomon. As I read this passage this morning, I couldn't help but feel that this was not a haphazard or random choice of scripture reading. I knew that this had relevance in my life and in what God is teaching me right now, but I didn't quite understand. I felt like that nine year old child again, trying to look through the opaque glass window of the preacher's office door at church. I could see that something was in there, but because of the distortion of the glass, I couldn't quite make it out! In the scripture this morning, I could see the truth, but I couldn't fully understand how to apply it.

One of the passages that stood out so prominently this morning were vs. 9 and 10. "And you, my son Solomon, acknowledge the God of your father, and serve him with wholehearted devotion and with a willing mind, for the LORD searches every heart and understands every motive behind the thoughts. If you seek him, he will be found by you; but if you forsake him, he will reject you forever. Consider now, for the LORD has chosen you to build a temple as a sanctuary. Be strong and do the work." Wholehearted devotion and a WILLING mind!

It didn't take long for God to show me why this scripture was so important. I guess I should have expected it, but I didn't. With all of the ways that God has shown himself to me in the last few days and all of the wonderful things he's taught me, I should have known that Satan wasn't happy and that spiritual warfare was right around the corner. It happened first almost the minute I got to work. I let doubts creep in. I gave more power to a circumstance than I acknowledged to God. 1st cry! Not sobbing, just subtle tears.

Then, about 10:45, I got a phone call from the minister of music at church. Christopher was calling to tell me that the church staff had made the decision to do a Christmas children's choir production. Never mind that it had already been approved to do a "fall" themed production in late November in an effort to ease some of the stress and scheduling conflicts of the holiday season. Never mind that I had written and compiled the musical already. Never mind that we had already set a date and that I had planned my life and my holiday schedule around that date. Never mind that the people this affects were not a part of the decision making process. Never mind that it was scheduled for the next to the last weekend in November and that's really only 2 weeks before the Christmas one will take place so does it really make a difference if the parents hear their kids sing Christmas music or non-seasonal music. (I'm really not bitter about this anymore and I'm completely okay with it...I just have to share this part so that you can understand my thought process.) As Christopher was sharing this news and the reasoning for it, the 2nd cry began. I was surprised to have my eyes well up with tears and to feel my voice begin to waiver. Luckily, Christopher likes to talk so I had some time to "deal with" my surprising and pointless emotion before I actually had to speak. I gave our reasoning for wanting to do a musical in November instead of Christmas, but I think I was ultimately accepting. At least I hope I was.

And even though I didn't understand where the emotion was coming from, I did understand that it was not coming from anger that "my production" was not going to be performed this fall. In fact, I don't even think of it as mine. It was so clearly and completely given to me by God, it's really His! I was just the scribe! I even began to see how this could be a good thing, a blessing. We were going to be rushed to get the script finished and the music tracks recorded in such a short time anyway. This would give us more time. It would make my life easier. So why was I still fighting it? Where was this overwhelming emotion for which I seemed to have little or no control coming from? I hung up the phone without an answer to that question, but with the knowledge and acceptance that there would indeed be a Christmas children's musical. I commented to a coworker lightheartedly, "God is changing my plans, and I don't like it! I had everything scheduled perfectly, and God is telling me no."

Cue 3rd cry. This one was basically a series of several small crying moments. I couldn't seem to control myself and I couldn't even figure out why the tears were coming. Okay, so this sounds a lot like depression, but I promise you, it's not that. I didn't even recognize it at the time (because I was trying to pull myself together and clean my face so that I could go to lunch without looking like an emotional basketcase), but this was definitely the Holy Spirit molding and shaping my heart. In fact, I didn't even make the connection until later this evening. I had that "aha" moment when I realized, "Hey, this is pretty much what I read in scripture this morning." I made a plan. I started prepartions for that plan to take place. God intervened! God told me he had other plans. I think my tears were a product of my heart surrendering to God's plan with "wholehearted devotion and a willing mind," just like David instructed Solomon.

Like I said, God put me in my place. He reminded me that He is Sovereign! He is in control. It was painful. It hurt. But, I would much rather be in the place that God wants me or puts me than doing my own thing on my own terms. I think King David also wrote, "Better is one day in His courts than thousands elsewhere (Psalm 84:10)."

So, no matter how painful it may be, I want my prayer to be that God set's me in my place. Sometimes He does that gently. Sometimes He just places His hand in the small of my back and directs me. Sometimes He draws me a road map. Sometimes, like today, He has to pick me up and move me from the place I've created and put me in the place that He's designed for me. I am so thankful I serve a loving God who is willing to do that, no matter how many times it takes!

Give me a chance, I want to change my ways
'Cause I can't live here and look the same
Let me look up, let me look to your face
And set me in my place, O Lord, set me in my place. (--Jill Phillips)

The Soul of Leadership - SMC 101 Blog Topic

Leading with Soul...this descriptor encompasses a lot. It is our soul that makes us who we are. And that's a good question. Who are you? The author of this chapter touched on this and it brought back memories of an experience at church camp when I was in high school. The guy leading our group had us all sit in a circle and asked that question. He would go from person to person, getting a little frustrated when we would only say our names. So, who am I?

I am a daughter. I am a daughter who often takes her parents and their love and concern for granted. More than often, I put my own needs before my the needs of my mom and dad, but they continue to love me anyway. I am a daughter who is loved. I am a daughter who loves.

I am a sister. I am a sister who longs for a deeper relationship with her sibling. I am a sister who lets weeks go by without calling or being called. But when it counts, I am a sister who is there!

I am blessed. I am better than I deserve. I am thankful for the life I have been given and the opportunities that God has set before me. But often, I take this life for granted and fail to take advantage of every opportunity.

I am a crier. I cry at movies, TV shows, weddings, funerals, graduations, and in those rare but quiet times at night when my heart hurts. It is then that my cries are the most pure, because it is then that I cry out to God, begging him to hear my secret pain. And he always does. And he comforts me.

I am creative. I like to make things new. The status quo bores me and frustrates me to no end! Life should be exciting and new every day. Not the same old thing.

I am a risk taker, but only in the abstract. I'm not sure if this is even possible, but it pretty much describes me. I can take risks with ideas, but not with the physical. I won't even get on an airplane because of my irrational fear, but I firmly believe that groups and organizations will never grow unless they are willing to let go of their fears and take risks. I guess I should reevaluate my thinking on this or line my actions up with my values.

I am a maker of music. Music is in my soul. It has been from the day I was born. I can't hide it. I can't fight it. The music must get out! I must sing!!!! I must compose!!!! I must SING!

I am a sinner. I struggle every day to die to self and take up the cross. I struggle to live with the joy that has been given to me in Jesus Christ. Instead, I let my shortcomings and my sinful nature reign. Thank God for His amazing grace. I am a sinner, but I have been redeemed!

So, that's who I am, or at least a part of who I am. I think it might take up more space than we have to truly describe who I am. But if we don't take time to really understand who we are, we can never truly help others discover who they are. And this is what leaders do. This is what leaders with soul do! Help others facilitate that discovery. Help others learn to trust themselves and others. Help others learn to take risks. Help others learn what it means to serve. Help others learn...

Knowing God

The horrific wildfires in California were obviously the top story on this morning’s Today Show. Although I didn’t watch, a friend was telling me that the journalists were reporting that many people were returning to the remains of their homes, finding nothing but the fireproof safes storing their most treasured possessions and paperwork. Matt Lauer then shared that he talked about the importance of those fireproof safes all of the time on the show, yet he doesn’t own one. The other journalists sitting around the couch echoed the same sentiments. They know how essential they are, but they’ve never taken the time to purchase one.

I immediately thought of how this is an analogy to the spiritual lives of many people around the world. People know about God. People know about Jesus. They know the stories. They know Bible verses. They may even go to church on a semi-regular basis. They hear people talk about God answering prayer. They’ve probably even prayed to God in times of desperation and great need. But that’s where it ends. They don’t really know God. They may even attest to how important knowing God is, but just like those journalists without the fire safes, they’ve never taken the time to get to “know” God! And unlike the fire safe, which can be somewhat expensive, knowing God and accepting His grace is FREE. Yet still, people refuse God. We refuse to spend time with Him. We refuse His grace and everlasting mercy. We refuse His love. Oh, we can know about him, but to truly know Him might mean we have to change. It might mean we have to give up something in our lives.

But what’s the alternative? Revelation 20:14-15 says, “14Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death. 15If anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. “ A life spent knowing about God but not knowing God has consequences, much like the fires in California that are destroying homes, land, and lives. We must be prepared. Someone once told me that there are about 18 inches between the head and the heart. Many people miss heaven by those 18 inches. Oh, they know about God. They know God in their heads, but God is not present in their hearts where it really matters. Knowing that you should have a fire safe has no benefit in the aftermath of a fire, when everything in your home has been destroyed. And knowing that you should have accepted Jesus as your Savior will have no benefit when you are standing before the throne of God during the Day of Judgment. Jesus stands with arms wide open, offering the gift of eternal salvation to all. "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If any one hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him and he with Me." (Revelation 3:20).

Attitude - Let Your Leadership Speak Chapter 3

In the movie "Facing the Giants" the coach is a true example of how one's attitude can make a difference. He challenged his players to change their attitudes, both on and off the football field. Leaders sometimes forget or just don't want to realize that their own attitude will determine the attitude and spirit of those that follow them. In th big things and in the little things! Making sure people know they are appreciated goes a long way. Addressing problem areas in the right context and at the right time can make all of the difference.

We can learn a great deal from the dandelion. "The difference between a flower and a weed is a judgment." This quote speaks volumes to me! I think back to a time when I was a child in my grandmother's yard. The dandelions were out in full force (in dandelion dust mode, when they are white, not yellow). I of course loved to pick dandelion after dandelion, close my eyes, make a wish, and blow as hard as I possible could. If all of the dust was gone when I opened my eyes, my wish was sure to come true. I remember my father scolding me for taking part in this childish activity. It was not that he didn't believe in wishes. He just knew that the more I blew that dandelion dust across the yard, the more dandelions would pop up, creating a yard full of them rather than grass. In my childish mind, there could be nothing better than a yard full of dandelions. I didn't quite understand my father's objection. As an adult, with my own yard, I now see his point. Dandelions can be quite annoying as they tend to consume the area around them. However, I often stop and force myself to remember those childhood wishes. It is with that spirit that I stop, pick a dandelion, close my eyes, make a wish, and blow with all of my might.

As leaders, we are more effective when we see dandelions as potential and be encouraging when dandelion dust flows and spins around us, than when we see dandelions as weeds trying to infest our territory!

Close your eyes! Make a wish! Blow! Blow! Blow!

On Relationships - SMC 101 Leadership Topic

I have a mentor. My mentor is a woman I deeply admire. I knew from the moment I met her that she would be an important influence on my life. Her name is Glenda. I met Glenda my junior year of college. I needed a job. She had a job opening. The beginning of a perfect match! Glenda is the executive director of a national honor society for college freshmen. She had just stepped into this role after several years of working in other forms of higher education. Her office was located on my college campus, and she knew that there were hundreds of possible resources located at her fingertips! She needed a student employee. I remember that job interview. I was so nervous. I really needed a job, and this one was right on campus. I could walk to work. They would work around my class schedule. It seemed perfect. If only I could interview well enough to get hired. I knew I was capable. I knew I could do the work. If only they would give me a chance!

I was not the only one who interviewed. In fact, several months after I was hired, Glenda told me that another applicant was probably more qualified for the job. However, they felt that student had too much on her plate already, so they chose me. How thankful I am that they chose me!!!!!

It did not take me long after I started working for Glenda for me to realize that my association with her would go much farther than my part-time job. Glenda was a smart woman. Glenda stayed on the cutting edge of everything. She read something worthwhile every day. She did her best to stay ahead of the technology game. She knew what it meant to position herself in her world. And I knew how important it was to position myself around her.

Glenda is an encourager. When I struggled with academic responsibilities, she encouraged me to persevere. When I struggled with spiritual issues, she encouraged me to seek understanding. When I struggled with family issues, she encouraged me to keep the lines of communication open.

Glenda is a leader. She is in charge of leading a national organization. She is responsible for organizing volunteers located throughout the nation to action for the good of the organization. She is responsible for providing a vision for the organization, both for the present and the future. She is responsible for making sure the organization knows this vision and acts upon it.

Glenda could have just been another boss. I made a choice, though, to learn from Glenda. I made a choice to listen to Glenda, both her words and her experience. I made a choice to accept Glenda as my mentor and friend.

Glenda is still my go-to person. When I have a professional struggle, I often seek Glenda's advice. She has been where I am. She has contacts that can boost me in my professional life. She has words of wisdom to share. She encourages me to strive for excellence. She encourages me to take risks. If I had failed to develop such a strong working relationship with Glenda during college, I would not be where I am today.

The ability and willingness to build relationships with people who care, people who share your values, people who seek excellence, is an important quality every leader should have. But we must open ourselves to teachable moments. We must listen to others and learn from our relationships. We must position ourselves around people who want the best for us and who understand the role they play.

Death of a saint

I just found out that the world lost one its greatest musicians in July 2007. Most people have never heard of her, but for a group of girls, spanning several generations, she will forever be remembered. I will especially remember her on Sunday evenings during the summers or when I hear the song "Climb Every Mountain." I will remember her anytime I have the privilege of directing the children's choir at church. I will remember her when I'm asked to quote my favorite scripture. I will certainly remember her anytime I see the cover of one of those old Sing & Celebrate songbooks.

Judye MacMillan, or Judye Mac, served her Lord and Savior for countless summers as the music director at Camp Crestridge for Girls in Ridgecrest, NC. I had the opportunity to attend that camp for seven summers, and Judye Mac was always a vital part of my summer experience. In fact, when I picture the Crestridge chapel in my head, it's hard not to see her standing on stage leading the music. For many years, I was deathly afraid of her. Maybe afraid isn't the right word. I was in awe of her. Yes, that's it, AWE! She knew so much about music. She demanded excellence. One of my fellow Crestridge alumni described her as "commanding your attention." And she did. Not with a loud booming voice. Not with a mean spirit. But with a gentle, quiet strength. And we knew that everything she did, she did for God's glory.

She is the only woman I know that could take 40-50 girls, put a musical in their hands, and have it perfect and ready to share in four weeks, with just 1-2 hours of practice per day. And this was not just singing. There was drama! There was dancing! It was amazing! And, half of the girls left at the end of two weeks and were replaced with different girls. Somehow, it all worked out. I still remember the musicals, the songs, the motions, so much. And she did this on top of teaching songs for worship on Sunday mornings. One of the songs she taught me was called "A Man for all Seasons." I remember where I was standing when we learned that song. I remember her sharing with us how the song spoke to her. It's still one of my favorite songs.

There is only one other person in my life who has influenced me so much musically, and that is Carolynn Malmborg. Interestingly enough, Mrs. Malmborg and Judye Mac both attended Carson Newman College, both majored in music education, and attended during the same 10 year span. They are very similar in their approaches to directing choirs. It's almost spooky sometimes. I guess they learned from the best, and I am privileged to say, that I, too, learned from their best!

But the one thing I will never forget about Judye Mac is what she told my mom after closing program during my last summer as a camper in 1993. For some reason that year, I was heavily involved in the music skill classes. I sang in both ensembles, sang in the CCC choir, and took guitar. I'm not really sure why. I guess I knew it was my last year, and I wanted to take advantage of every opportunity to learn from Judye Mac and her music staff. Maybe I was just beginning to discover my love for music. I remember being selected to serve as the music assistant on camper day that year. I was so excited! I remember thinking, "Wow, they must think I can do this if they selected me. I didn't even know they knew my name!" A few days later, after rehearsal for closing program, I received one of the greatest honors of my life. It was time for camp awards to be given out. I had received awards in years past, for archery, puppets (only because I was the only person in the class over the age of 10!), and more, but there was one award that seemed to be coveted by everyone at camp, at least those of us who were musically inclined: the CCC Music Award. Looking back, I'm not sure why it held such high esteem in our minds, over all of the other awards, but now I think I'm beginning to understand. Receiving that award meant you received Judye Mac's seal of approval! I thought I had heard wrong when they called my name. Surely I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. That award still means more to me than I can describe with words, because I know that Judye Mac approved of me and at least for a moment, believed I was worthy of such an honor. But there is something that means more than that. After closing program that year, Judye Mac pulled my mom aside and uttered words that I will always remember. "Don't ever let her stop singing." I know that I am not the most talented singer in the world. I would probably never make it onto American Idol (even if I was still young enough). But those six words have encouraged me over the past 14 years over and over again. God reminded me of her words in college when I did not make it into the singing ensemble for our BSU. Little did I know that God had other great things in store for me that I would have missed if I had been a part of that group. God has used that encouragement countless times in my life, even at times when my pride was getting in the way of His plan. And I know that Judye Mac was not just referring to singing when she spoke those words to my mom. She was talking about using my talents to glorify my heavenly father, for now and evermore! Just as she taught us countless times to say I Am Willing Lord to play The Part that You Wrote for Me because we know that Nothing can Separate us from His Love.

This past December I did an internet search to find Judye Mac. I was going to email her and thank her for the influence she had on my life. I found her email address but got busy after the Christmas holidays and never took the time to send her a message. How I regret that now! I wish I could tell her how much she meant to me and how much she shaped my life, both musically and otherwise. We have truly lost a musical saint! I direct the children's choir at my church. We start rehearsals again in just a few weeks. I hope that I can be just 1/10 of the director for them that Judye Mac was for countless girls at Camp Crestridge. Thank God for Judye Mac and for the lives that she touched through her unselfish service to her Lord and Savior.

The following excerpt came from a monologue at the end of the Lifetime show, Army Wives on July 1st. While this is not directly from an army wife, I believe it is a reflection of how many feel. Sometimes we forget the role the families of those defending our freedoms both overseas and here at home play. I was brought to tears on Friday evening at the Red, White, and Boom celebration as I watched mothers file onto the stage holding pictures of their sons who are serving in the US military. As July 4th approaches and you pause to celebrate the freedoms we do have, pause to remember those fighting around the world for the cause of freedom, as well as their family members who live everyday with the burden of being separated from their loved ones.

I married a committed military man, and I have loved this military life. I have also had to put my personal opinions aside, to truly understand that our defenders of freedom are fighting a bigger battle. Not a political one. Their battle goes beyond politics, beyond religion, race, or gender. They’re the defenders for us all. They’re the defenders of our differences. As one soldier is taken away from us, another returns to us. There is balance in the universe, a natural system of order.

Look beside each soldier and you will find the people who fight with them. The spouses, the sons, the daughters, the families. We serve, too. Their victories are our victories. Their defeats are our defeats. Together we fight for our freedom.

For 18 years I have tried to be the perfect wife and mother. Each day I disappoint myself. Human life isn’t about perfection. It is about accepting the flawed, the misguided parts of ourselves. We keep trying, we keep loving, we keep believing. I am proud of the role we play maintaining peace in our country and in the world. I am proud to stand beside a man whose integrity shines like a diamond in the dust. And I am proud to call myself an army wife.

He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God. Joshua 4:24 (NIV)

My father has a tone of voice that means business. As a child, it frightened me into obedience. When I heard that tone inflected in his voice, I knew that something was not right. Fortunately, my dad used that tone of voice with my sister more often than with me, but it still had the same effect. I knew at that moment, my dad was demanding my attention and submission. As an adult, that tone of voice still affects me! In fact, it was only a few short months ago that I last heard my dad use that tone of voice. I had called my dad to ask him a question and seek his advice about a problem with my car. Looking back on the situation, I don’t think I really wanted his opinion. I just wanted him to agree with me. He kept trying to interject some very thoughtful and wise counsel, but I kept interrupting him. And then, I heard it! That tone of voice came through the telephone receiver and drew me to attention me just as much as is did when I was a small child sitting at the dinner table. “If you would just shut up and listen to me, I might be able to help you,” proclaimed the booming voice of my father. Now, you must understand that the tone of voice was not the only startling quality of this statement. In my parent’s household, shut up is and always has been a bad word. If individual words could receive ratings like movies, shut up would be rated R in my parents’ minds. I knew that if my dad was using a phrase he so deeply abhorred, along with the tone of voice, he meant business. Immediately, I was called to attention. I shut my mouth and truly listened to what my dad had to say. In that moment, God reminded me, that although I may be an adult, my father is still my father and deserves my respect. I may not agree with what he has to say, but I at least owe him the courtesy of listening. After all, I was the one who asked for his advice in the first place. How foolish can I be?

My dad’s tone of voice invokes fear. Not a fear of being physically or emotionally injured or attacked. My dad is one of the gentlest people I know. It is not a fear like small children have of monsters under their beds either. This fear is a sense of respect. This fear is the realization that I don’t have all of the answers and can benefit from the experience and love of my father. I just regret that it often takes this tone of voice to remind me that my dad is always deserving of such fear and respect. He deserves it because of his position, because of the love he has already shown me, and because of his promise to always take care of me. My desire should be to please him in all that I do. My desire should be to seek his wise counsel. My desire should be to honor him through my words, actions, and deeds.

What a moving picture of the relationship between father and child. There is one, however, who is more deserving of my fear and respect than my earthly father. Unfortunately, I treat Him much like I treat my dad. I get comfortable in my relationship with Him and fail to shower him with the respect He deserves. I so often fail to call on Him for guidance, and when I do, I don’t really want to listen to what He has to say. I want Him to agree with me. I want Him to tell me that I can do it my way. In fact, sometimes the only reason I go to Him in the first place is because I know I should. I don’t go with an open heart and an open mind. I approach Him with my mind made up and my feet firmly planted on the path of my choice. The one I am speaking of is my father, my Heavenly Father. In the book of Joshua, the prophet writes that God performed the great miracle at the Jordan River so that forever we would fear the Lord our God. I believe, though, that as the people of God, we have forgotten what it means to fear God, and the sad thing is, most of the time we don’t even care. We are more content to live our lives according to our standards, ignoring the loving God who created us to walk in communion with Him. When we truly fear the Lord, we are broken by our sin. Unfortunately, I find myself caught up in the trap of sin far too often. But it doesn’t break me. In fact, most of the time, it doesn’t even effect me. I take forgiveness for granted, and even though it is freely given, it is not something to be taken lightly. If I fail to pause and realize the wonder of God’s grace, if I forget the price that was paid for my sin, if I do not fall on my knees before my living God and acknowledge his pain and suffering at my expense, then I do not fear the Lord. My Savior cried out in anguish under the weight of my guilt and shame, yet I take my forgiveness and walk away time after time without shedding a tear. He who was innocent suffered at the hands of evil men on my behalf, yet I do not have to suffer because of his loving forgiveness. How can I truly say that I fear the Lord if I do not recognize the price of my sin and allow myself to be broken at the foot of the cross?

My gracious and loving heavenly father. Please forgive me when I fail to fear you. Please forgive me when I take your forgiveness for granted. Please remind me every day of your unfailing love. When I stumble, draw me to attention. When I fail you and follow my own path, gently lead me back to you with your firm hand. When I come to you seeking your advice, but with my mind already made up, remind me that you alone are all-knowing, all-powerful, all-present, and forever faithful. Amen

Questions

This will be list that will grow as I think of more! I just wanted to put it away safely so that I wouldn't forget them.

Questions to ask a potential mate:

1. How would you describe your relationship with God?
2. What are two or three things that God has been teaching you in the past month?
3. Describe the relationship between your parents when you were growing up.
4. Describe your parents' relationship now.

Was it all a dream?

So, for the past several days, I have been at a student activities programming conference with some of my students. We've had a great time. I met Bob Guiney (of abc's The Bachelor fame) and Dennis Haskins, who is better known as Mr. Belding from Saved by the Bell. There were a few other celebrities as well. We had a pretty good time, but on Friday night, something strange happened. Before I go any further, you have to understand that at these conferences, events start at 8 AM and end around 2 AM, leaving you with about 4 hours of sleep each night. Some of us advisors forget that we aren't college students anymore and by the end of the week, the lack of sleep catches up with us. Well, I decided to turn in relatively early Friday evening, around 1 AM. I rode the elevator up to my floor and got off with one of the artists who was showcasing at the conference whose room was on the same floor. I've had this guy, Matt Larson, (phenomenal muscian by the way, you should definitely hire him for an event) on my campus so we know each other and were talking as we turned the corner of the hallway.

As we rounded the bend, we were greeted by a sleepy resident of one of the first few rooms, warning us that some crazy student had just run down the hallway, breaking all of the globe lights on the walls. Sure enough, there was shattered glass all up and down the hallway and most of the globes on the lights were missing/broken/in pieces, etc. We asked a few questions and continued down the hallway, talking about how silly this all was. As we reached the next corner, another door opened to another sleepy lady telling us she had just called the police. She had seen the guy run into one of the rooms and said he had done all of this with his hands. Then she said, "I hope they can find him." Of course, my first thought was, just look for the guy with the bloody hands! Pretty simple, but okay.

So, Matt Larson and I continue down the hallway, still talking about the senselessness of it all, but not too fazed. After all, these are college students, and alcohol was probably involved. Not that it's an excuse, just a reality. I said goodnight, went into my room, and proceeded to prepare for the ed session I was leading the next morning.

Fast forward to the next morning. My friend Amanda and I are walking down the hallway towards the elevators when it dawns on me, there is no broken glass in the hallways. There are no half broken globes on the lights on the walls. In fact, if you had not seen it the night before, you would have never known that anything had happened. Only a few short hours had gone by and everything was back to normal. Brand new globes were on the lights. The glass on the floor was gone. Nothing was out of order! Perhaps this surprised me more than it should have because I work at an institution where broken things often stay broken for months! Rarely does anything get fixed overnight, and never in the middle of the night! When I saw my students at lunch on Saturday, I relayed the story to them and asked if they saw it when they got to their rooms last night. They didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Let me break down this timeline for you: 1 AM - I head to my room amidst broken glass and lamp globes. 2 AM - they head to their room and nothing is out of the ordinary. Same hallway, same floor, same night/morning, 1 hour difference.

It's at this point that I start to wonder if I dreamed the entire thing up! After all, I have been keeping long hours with little or no sleep. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. Throughout the day, my students become more and more convinced that I'm making the story up! I know that I at least have one witness that I can count on to confirm my story, but the more the students question me, the more I begin to question myself!

Was it all a dream? Did I imagine it? It seemed so real last night. It seemed crazy at the time, but it was very real. It's strange how the human mind works. How you start to question truth even when you are sure of yourself. Just one little seedling of doubt can convince you of the opposite. The media counts on this phenomenon. So do con artists, abusers, predators, etc. Knowing truth and beleiving truth are often two separate things. Believing truth requires faith. Doubt is a powerful tool, but only if we give it power.

God's word is right in John 8:32 where it says "And you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." I did feel free with I found my other witness later in the evening to confirm the story. These hotel people were really on the ball. It must have been like being in a Nascar pit crew when they were replacing those globes. Maybe they should come train our maintenance staff at work. Maybe I should get more sleep.