No More Boots

I have to tell you this post makes me feel very vulnerable, but there is growth and leaning in that, so I share. I just ask that you be gentle with me.

So a few months ago, our church started a new growth initiative called Multiply. As we grow larger as a congregation the needs of our church grow as well. Obviously there is a financial need to address the capacity our church can hold, but it doesn't stop there. We also need to increase our commitment to serve and use our time and talents to meet the needs as well.

As this was all unfolded for us I began to pray on what my role in all of this was. I serve regularly and we tithe regularly and I feel as though we are doing what God has called us to do.

One thing God did ask of us, was to increase our tithe over the next 2 years. I prayed as to just how that was going to be possible and how God was going to show up and make that happen and His plan was revealed to me rather loudly and rather quickly; no more shoe/boot shopping, no more clothing shopping. I cannot describe to you the complete and total peace I had about that when I told God that I was game for that. I want for nothing in either of those area's, I have way more than most.

However, as the days and weeks progressed I find myself having a hard time keeping up my end of this commitment. It's not that I need or want things, but it's more like I just plain old like to shop. It's hard to pass up that sale rack, or scroll past those ultra discounted gorgeous boots, simply because they are such a good deal. I'd love to tell you that I have not given in to temptation but that would be a lie. Oh how aware I am that it grieves the Spirit when I fail and it's a really icky feeling.

So as I try to process through all this as to why this is what God has called me to I had it in my head that this was a stewardship thing, that God was telling me I wasn't being a good steward with the treasures He has so richly blessed me with. However, I was struggling to see how that was the case. We've been tithing for years, and we give generously often. I didn't feel that it was the "stuff" so to speak because I've given away several pairs of shoes/boots and clothing over the years without too much hesitation and with great joy in being able to bless others with it.

I boiled it down to it was just a bad habit that God deemed I needed to break free from. You know, be more disciplined and have more self-control. That was until this morning....

This morning as I was searching for a devotion on discipleship to share with friends for an upcoming retreat I stumbled across one that kind of rocked my world. It used my very least favorite story in the Bible, the story of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22. I have a really hard time with that story, simply because I'm a mom and because I can't seem to quiet the thoughts that run through my head as I read that story. Yes, I fully understand the purpose and meaning behind it but it doesn't change the thoughts.

This morning God used that story to smack me upside the head! This part of the devotion is what drove home the point "When Abraham so wonderfully passed this test, God blessed him and spared his son (Genesis 22:3–18). In essence, God told him, "It's all right, Abraham. I never intended that you actually kill Isaac. I only wanted to remove him from the temple of your heart that I might remain unchallenged there." Bam!!!

 Now I have a feeling that those of you that are reading this that actually know me, this might not have been a big stretch for you. You might have seen this coming a mile away. However, I always strive to live a godly life, to be a good Jesus follower. When God asked this of me I blindly assumed it was about the money, about being a good steward, about not spending our treasures frivolously. However, I didn't really get that either because I felt that we were doing what we're supposed to be doing. I've never once felt as though my shopping has stopped us from paying our bills or giving generously. I also blindly assumed that my heart was in alignment with Gods, that I had nothing that was competing for my heart. The struggle I'm finding in actually following through with this commitment, tells me otherwise.

So I share all of this with you, not only for my own benefit, but also to ask you to look inward and see what in your life does God compete for the throne of your heart for?

God's Glory

Right now there is this completely awesome and amazing thing going on in my community. A young girl was in a bad car accident and the out pouring of love and support for this family is so wildly and unfathomably spectacular it is something that those of us who know and love the Lord sit back and go, ahhh yeah, there's God doing what only God can do.

Facebook is blowing up all over the country, quite possibly the world, with shared up dates on this young lady's progress. People who have never even heard of this family have been praying for her. Fundraisers springing up every where to help cover the immense cost of all of it all, it's just incredible!

As I pray each day for this young girl's continued healing, for miracles to continue happening, for peace, strength and courage for her family, for wisdom and knowledge for the medical staff that is caring for her and for the Joy of the Lord to radiate from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, I find myself almost giddy with excitement. Not for what you'd think though. Not because God is doing more than we could have ever imagined. Not because a community is coming together to support this family. Not because she continues to pass milestone after milestone. All these things are amazing of course, but none of it is what has me just bubbling over with great anticipation.

What has me just bursting at the seams is knowing that through all of this, that there will be people who will come to know and love the Lord. I think of all the people that don't know who Jesus is, or have doubts that He is who He says He is. As I read each update and hear how God has shown up each day, how her family shares of the miracles that God has done, the hope that they have because of Him, I pray for those that read those posts that don't know Jesus. I pray for those that live hurt and broken lives and feel so completely lost and hopeless in them. I pray that through all of this, that they would come to know their Daddy in heaven that wants to love them, who wants to comfort them, and give them hope and joy abounding.

I wish there was a way for us to know how this all unfolds, how many lives have been forever transformed by the love of our Savior because a young girl got in a car accident and the family chose to reach out to the community for prayer. I wish there was a way to trace the fingerprint of God through each and every one of them. If you're one of those people, I want you to know that I pray as fervently for you as I do for her.

Pray Hard.
Pray Often.
Pray Now.

Overwhelming art.

On the morning of September 21st, the day after our churches annual meeting, I woke up with an idea. It was an idea that was so clear, and so fully formed that I knew it wasn't my own idea, so I welcomed it and knew eventually it would happen. However, life is busy, and sadly most often my art is what loses out. This was however, an idea that was birthed of the Holy Spirit so it would not sit quietly and wait for long. Shortly after, with some not so gentle nudging from God,  I approached my pastor about putting up some artwork at church and just vaguely explained the idea and got his approval to hang it.

Next was deciding where at church to hang it so I knew what size canvas to get. The wall we chose is quite large, so a 5x6 foot canvas is what I purchased. (getting it home was surely an adventure I won't soon forget). I made my templates and started working on cutting out some paper dolls in my spare time. I was still sort of just taking my time, figuring that I wouldn't need to hurry and I could just do it at my own pace, I had no deadline.

Then the day came when I had decided I would tackle my back ground. I had a feeling I was in trouble when I started to unwrap the plastic from it and I was overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. However, I just chalked it up to the fact that it was so large and it had been a while since I'd done any canvas work, (never mind the fact that I cry often and easily).

I picked my paint colors and began painting on the background colors. As I was painting, an idea that had come to mind a few days early showed up again. The idea that my church family should be part of this. Since this was to represent that we were all moving together, yet, in our own uniqueness, in disciplining others to know Jesus and experience life in Him, maybe this was truly bigger than just me. However, as I had earlier, I dismissed the idea as ridiculous and moved on. Well, about half way through getting the background painted,  the overwhelming feeling that I was supposed to share this idea with my pastor was almost crippling. I set my paint brush down, emailed my pastor, nearly begging him to not like the idea so I didn't have to be responsible for all that. Of course he loved the idea and then all of the sudden I had a deadline.

So I figured out how many dolls I was going to need to cover the canvas the way I wanted it. To say I was shocked that it was going to take so many was an understatement. Good thing I have so many good, and willing friends and family that can cut out paper dolls while we have great conversations or watch TV together. Forever grateful for them all.

All the dolls were all brought to church for 2 Sundays in a row and set out for people to sign them. I then had 2 weeks to get the canvas done. To say that I greatly underestimated the amount of time this would take to complete is an understatement. I would spend hours getting the dolls onto the canvas only to step back and take a look and it wouldn't look any further along than it had when I first started it. Outlining them after they were all on the canvas took an entire 8 hours. I never anticipated that.

Another thing I didn't anticipated is the way that God spoke to me through it. He asked that I pray for each person as I put them on the canvas. Not just general prayers but real true personal prayers. For most of them there was no way for me to know who this person was who had written their name. As I placed each one on the canvas  I placed my hand over it and He spoke to me about the needs of each person. There were some that were quick easy prayers and then there were some that flooded me with emotion and I had to pause and pray fervently as the tears would flow.  I was extremely overwhelmed by the weight of  this piece and truly in awe that God had chosen me to be part of this.

That part, the part right there, when it becomes not merely something I do, but something that God does through my art that I so desperately wish I could fully and adequately explain to people in such a way that you could get a glimpse into the experience. Holy Spirit lead art, for me, is a more personal and intimate than any worship experience, and prayer time, and any time in the word that I have ever experienced. No Jesus Culture concert, no Women's conference or Good Friday or Christmas Eve service comes even close in comparison. It is no longer I that am creating, but God creating through me. Each stroke of the brush is from God, each color choice, image placement, medium used, is Gods.

At the end of it, when the piece is completed, when it is given away, hung up or presented I walk away humbled from the experience, and wishing I could just blend into the background and not be part of the recognition of it all. I'm emotionally, physically and spiritually spent and it usually takes me a day or two to recover from the experience. I so desperately want to sit in that space forever, to feel the closeness of my Maker, to feel His hand in mine, to so clearly hear His words guiding me along. Sadly the noise of the world and the every day grind creeps in and takes over....until the next time. I can't wait for the next time.

A Warrior? Who? Me?

Some time ago God told me He sees me as a warrior. I thought that was the silliest thing ever. Me, a warrior? Ridiculous! For the life of me I couldn't see what He saw so I tucked it away for a later time when maybe it would make sense. Well, it's beginning to....

I've been involved in ministry in one way or another for about the last 8 or 9 years, kids ministry, host team and small group ministry. I have loved it all! However, until now it hasn't really been all that challenging.

Now, I've stepped into a role in ministry that seems to consume me. I should preface this by saying that this consumption is a good thing. It's this thing where it consumes me because I want so desperately to do well that which I've been called to do at this stage in my journey. Growing the Kingdom of God is not something to be taken lightly.

As I look back it seems to have begun in Costa Rica when I asked God to reveal to me just how exactly He expected me to lead. He gave me Ephesians 4:1-3, '.....walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.' Doesn't seem any less of a daunting task now than it did then, however, I have come to understand that He doesn't expect me to be and do all those things on my own, for without Him, I cannot accomplish anything.

I have stepped into a role in ministry as a coach of small group leaders. Being a leader of leaders, oh my! When I sit down with these men and women that have embraced their ability to love on others, to encourage others and through all this are making a Kingdom impact, I'm humbled to think that God has positioned me in such a place to come along side these people and lead them. This is not a role to take lightly, something that I should be consumed by, something this important cannot be a part time commitment.

So when through my studies God repeatedly takes me to passages of battles, that term warrior keeps making an appearance. Through every battle there is a reoccurring theme, if they listen and obey God and do as He has commanded, they win. If they follow their own strategy and stray from the path that God has set before them, they lose. If their leader, the warrior in charge, doesn't fear God and lead his army to do the same, defeat is inevitable. However, when they listen to God and obey His commands they win battles in sometimes ridiculous ways that one cannot question that it is a battle won by the Lord.

This mornings reading took me to a place in my Bible that I had journaled as I was preparing to go to Costa Rica,  Joshua 1. It is the passage where Moses has died and God has commissioned Joshua to take his place and lead His people into the Promise Land. In this passage God reminds Joshua not to stray from what the Book of the Law says, in verse 8 God says 'This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous and then you will have good success.' A perfect reminder that I cannot fight this battle, I cannot win this war, if I am not consistently immersed in the Word of God.

So okay, I suppose Warrior might be a "thing", however, one thing is for certain, it is a not a role I take lightly. I believe that I am in the most important battle of my life, growing the Kingdom of God and leading others to do the same. All the while praying, reading, listening and obeying the commands of the King, for it is only through this that I will be successful.

Being eaten, one nibble at a time.

So there's this thing that's been gnawing at me for a while. I keep feeding it snacks in hope to keep it at bay, but it's becoming ravenous and pretty soon it will consume me entirely. The problem is I cannot for the life of me figure out how to fit it in.

I have this deep, burning, needful, desire to totally throw myself into a great big giant messy paint filled canvas of amazing awesomeness. I have visions of rolling out canvas in the middle of my living room floor and painting with my fingers, my hands, my elbows, my knees and my feet. To feel the coolness of the paint just seeping into my pores. To spend days finding paint that I didn't know was there to wash off.

I have ideas and thoughts and visions in my head of things to do, big, bold, colorful, loud fabulous ideas. Things that I'm trying so desperately to appease into calmness by doodling my refrigerator, journaling in my Bible and random doodles left willy nilly all over the place at work.

Life keeps happening. Work keeps happening. Time keeps sucking away. How do I fit it all in?

Always A Choice.

ADOPTION:
1: to take legally as one's own child
2 : to take as one's own 
3 : to accept formally 

Adoption plays a big part in our life. We have 1 daughter that we adopted when she was a year old, and another that we adopted as an adult. I myself have been adopted by my Dad. My husbands side of the family has had several adoptions through the years. Adoption is an awesome thing!

Along with my 2 adopted children I also have 3 biological children. So I have experienced both ends of the spectrum. We planned our pregnancies so none of them were a surprise, although we'd have welcomed any had they been. Here's the thing though, adoption is 100% ALWAYS a choice. NEVER can anyone say, "oops, we thought we were careful but, we adopted". Sure, there are probably times when adoptions happen that weren't planned, our first adoption was that way, we weren't looking for it but the opportunity presented itself and we gladly accepted it. However, we still had a choice, we could have chosen not to. When we said yes to adoption we said yes to giving these children a loving, safe, forever home. These children have come into our homes looking for a family, for a mom and a dad and possibly siblings. People to love and be loved by always. Not a temporary home, like foster care or orphanages can be, but a forever home.

My heart is just so grieved by the local news of a family who chose adoption and then chose to abuse their adopted children. My heart is grieved by the fact that for one of our daughters, this is her 2nd adoption. My heart is grieved by the gruesome stories of sweet babies that could have been put up for adoption but were aborted and are now being sold as parts.

Worse then my heart being grieved is that it grieves the heart of God. A loving, caring God who adopted us all into His family if WE choose to be. The enemy is so cruel, he doesn't care how he goes about getting his foothold and spreading hate instead of love. No one is safe, not even the children.

Prayers abound from my heart for all of this. I rest in the promise that Joy will come in the morning, because He is good, all the time, He is good.

A Letter to the Oldest Child

One Sunday as I was sitting in the lobby of our church doing some Bible Journaling, there was a group of young mom's gathered on the couch in front of the fire place sharing stories. One of the things they were talking about was how spoiled their youngest sibling is/was. About all the things that were different about how they were raised vs how their youngest sibling is/was. How they got away with so much more, how they have so much more. Being an oldest child, I totally get this, I too had those same complaints when I was younger, then....I had children of my own.

I have 5 kids, some born to me, some not, some I raised from infancy some didn't become mine till they were older, they're all mine just the same. As I listened to the complaints of the Moms around the fireplace that Sunday morning things stirred in me. As I listen to my own oldest complain about similar things, I feel compelled to explain. So here goes:

That oldest child, the very first born, a culmination of first time excitement and fear all rolled into one. You discover you're pregnant and get to experience that for the very first time, It's all new and strange and fascinating. For the very first time you get to feel the joys and pains of pregnancy and labor and delivery. You have nothing else to compare it to so you do what you think is right based on what the doctor tells you, the countless books and articles you read and advice of women who've been through it before. You make what you feel are the best choices about it all, learning as you go along. However, when the next one comes along, you learn what worked with the first one, what didn't and you start from there.

As you raise your first one, you've never done this before, you have no point of reference for any of this. It's all trial and error. Which bottle to use, what diapers work best, strict schedule or fly by the seat of your pants? What schools are best? Do you spend the money on expensive clothes/shoes or will they grow so fast it's not worth it? Do you let them stay up late on weekends? Can they drink soda? Hold old is old enough to stay home alone? Can they stay at friends houses? When should they learn how to ride a bike? The list is virtually endless and for the most part, you don't have any of the answers.

The next ones come along and you've got the basics down but each child is different and what worked for one may not work for the others. Praises that mean something to one child, another may not care about that. Punishments that worked for one, may not phase the next. Encouragements in certain areas may send one child zooming to excel and the next one may not have that same love language so you have to find one that works for them. There is no magic formula that you can employ to raise each child the same, because thank God, each one is so different.

So, by the time that youngest child comes around, lots of things have happened, your parents have grown older, hopefully they've also grown wiser, but they've certainly grown tired. When that youngest child comes along you've discovered, for the most part, what battles are important, what ones, if handled properly, can be avoided, and what ones aren't even worth having. The things we thought were important when the oldest was young we've come to discover isn't really worth the struggle. Would I like his room to stay clean, yep, sure would, but I'd much rather just shut the door than have that fight. When my oldest was younger I thought that it was important for her to have a clean room, how could I possibly teach her how to keep a house when she's older if I don't make her keep her room clean? Never mind the fact that mine is almost never clean. (do as I say not as I do right?). However, I've learned that when they move out they manage to figure it out and all those battles about the messy room weren't really worth it after all.

The other thing that happens as the oldest grows up and moves out and you only have 1 or 2 left at home that seems to make the oldests think the youngests are spoiled, is as parents we now have more money. The one thing that I remember being so excited about when my oldests moved out was suddenly my shampoo lasted me WEEKS!!! Literally, I used the same shampoo for almost a MONTH!!! Toilet paper was another, by the time grocery day came around again I still had some left from the last grocery day and I didn't go buy any in between!! It was glorious. My water bill went down, my electric/gas bills went down, my grocery bill went down. So things that we gave up years before have now crept back into our lives. We got cable again, we go out to eat more often, we buy steaks more often. We're not spoiling our youngest, we're spoiling ourselves!

So oldests, you got the best and the worst of your parents. You got the best because you were the only child that could ever say they were our only for a time. You are the only one that got our full, undivided attention at all times. You got us when parenthood was a new and fun, an exciting adventure. You were the only one that didn't get sibling hand me downs. You got the worst because you were also the one that we learned what not to do. We're so grateful for those learning experiences with you and hope that as you have children of your own we can share those trials with you so you may learn from them as well. Know this for sure though, we love you all so very, very much, and from oldest to youngest I wouldn't change a thing.