More About Jesus

by Tricia Brown

I often pray while I ride my stationary bike. Since I am not athletic in any sense of the word, I need all the help I can get. After praying, “Lord, help me get through the next 70 minutes without dying,” I usually proceed (in between huffs and puffs) towards my more serious prayers.

Recently during such a time, God brought to mind an old worship song I hadn’t heard in years. Even as I hummed the tune, I could remember only a few words… "More, More About Jesus." Somehow, as so often happens, the song began to create in me a prayer. I began to ask God to make me more like Jesus.  

“Lord, help me to be more like Jesus. Help me to think like Jesus. Help me to act like Jesus.”

(Well, that’s a little generic. I should probably be more specific)

“Lord, help me to have more patience.”

(Hmm, I definitely need that. But I probably shouldn’t pray for patience. You know what they say, pray for patience, and God will give you things to test yours.)

“Well, Lord, help me to forgive more easily.”

(I don’t think I need to forgive anyone right now, but that’s always a good one, right?)

“Yes, Lord, help me to be more forgiving.”

(What about when someone cuts you off in traffic or snags your primo parking spot at the grocery store? What about when you feel as if your son is being mistreated or made fun of by another kid? Hmm, maybe I should move on. What other attributes did Jesus have that I need to develop?)

“Lord, help me to recognize sin.”

(Sin is easy to recognize—in others. What about my own? That’s kind of a dangerous thing to pray…)

“Lord, help me to be bold in my testimony and witness to others.”

(Yea, that’s a good one. I can pray that. I should speak up more. Moving on…)

“Lord, help me to love others more.”

(Love is always good. OK, but what about those people that I don’t know or really care about? What about the immigrants I see at Aldi? What about the homeless who are always asking for money on the side of the street? What about people who hurt me? What about those who are simply unlovable? Do I really want to love them more? Do I really need to love them at all? I know God wants me to love them, but…)

“Lord, help me to be more self-sacrificing.”

(WHAT? Wait a minute! Self-sacrificing? This is taking things a little too far. I don’t know about that one. Sorry, Lord. I take that one back. I didn’t really mean to say that. I don’t think I really want that, even if it is like Jesus.)

The more I prayed, the more objections I heard myself making. One prayer to the Lord, one statement to myself about the prayer. When I came to “self-sacrificing,” I almost choked on the words. I almost sent myself over the handlebars. I seriously almost retracted my statement.

My reaction gave me cause for thought.

It’s true. I do want more of Jesus in my life. I do want to become more like Him. But when I begin to really dissect what that means, I find that I am not quite as willing as I might think. I mean loving more, forgiving more, self-sacrificing more?   

The Bible makes it clear.

John 15:13, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Philippians 2:4, “Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.”

Romans 12:1, “And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice--the kind he will find acceptable. this is truly the way to worship him."  

And John 13:35, “Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.”

When I am honest, I have to admit, I don't want to sacrifice any more of myself than absolutely necessary. As a mother, I am a servant. There is no question about that. I serve my husband, my children, our pets, daily. The question isn't whether or not I serve, it's whether I serve joyfully. And hence the dilemma. When it boils right down to it, I am just as selfish as the next guy or gal. And giving up my own interests for the sake of others--especially others that I don't readily know or love--doesn't come easily.

But it’s what I am called to do, and it’s something that I must do if I want to be more like Jesus. Like Paul said in Romans 7:18, “ I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don't." I am a creature full of contradictions. I say I want to be like Jesus, but then I say I don't want to do the very things He did. That's why I need the Holy Spirit to help me in my weakness (Romans 8:26) and guide me into truth (John 16:13). I cannot do it on my own. 

I need the Holy Spirit to give me love for others, a love that goes beyond the typical “feel good” emotions, a love that extends beyond my front doorstep, into my community and even beyond, a love that loves the unlovable. I need the Holy Spirit to help me forgive those who hurt me or my family, intentionally and unintentionally, and to go beyond a superficial forgiveness into a conscious choice to let grudges and grievances go. I need the Holy Spirit to help me not only serve but to serve with joy, to help me willingly give more of myself every day to my family, my friends, my church, and my community, even strangers.

Somehow this terrifies me. If I continue to give more of myself away, will I not at some point disappear altogether? Am I not losing myself in the process of self-sacrifice? Yes, yes in a very real way, I am. But that’s the mystery of God’s formula for life. As we empty ourselves before Christ, He fills us up with Himself. There’s only so much space inside of me, and Jesus is a gentleman. He won’t force Himself into my life.  So, if I want more of Jesus, I have to make room. And as Jesus pours Himself into me, I can be assured that my life in Christ will be “abundant” (John 10:10) and full of joy (Psalm 16:11) and so full that it will be like a jar pressed down, shaken and running over with good things (Luke 6:38). It is a mathematical equation that doesn’t make sense to the world. But in giving up myself, I am not losing anything; I am gaining so much more.  

“So, Lord, help me to be more like Jesus.

Help me to think like Jesus. Help me to act like Jesus.

Help me to have more patience, even when it’s hard.

Help me to forgive more easily, even when it hurts.

Help me to recognize sin, especially in myself.

Help me to be bold in my testimony and witness to others, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Help me to love others more, even when I don’t feel like it.

Lord, help to be more self-sacrificing, even when I am sad or angry or tired or scared, even when I balk at the very prospect.

Help me to understand the great gift of yourself that you are offering in return and gladly make the exchange.”

More, more about Jesus, (Less, less about me)
(Help me die to myself daily) so more of His saving fullness I’ll see,

More, more about Jesus. (Less, less about me)

(Give me a heart like His so I’ll know) 

More of His love who died for me.

Kitchen Memories

By Tricia Brown

“Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God. Whenever I pray, I make my requests for all of you with joy.. So it is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a special place in my heart.”

Philippians 1:3-4, 7

Today, after frying bacon, I began to scrape the grease into a bowl using a small spatula. Instantly, I was transported back in time; I was a little girl, probably no more than 5 or 6, standing in a commercial kitchen behind my Granny. The griddle was huge, and I had been strictly warned not to touch it. I don’t remember what she was cooking. For all I know, she may have just finished making me a grilled cheese sandwich. But I remember watching with fascination as she methodically pulled her spatula up and down that grill, pushing the grease into the catch tray.

Thinking about Granny brings to mind how she used to give me a quarter for the jukebox in the restaurant where she worked or when we broke beans together on her front porch. I remember calling her and telling her I was “starved” and how she cooked chicken tenders and fries and walked them half-way up the hill from the restaurant to where I was working an after-school job. I remember how, at my request, she fixed fried chicken and chocolate pie and sent it with my parents when they came to visit me at college. And I remember sitting in the floor of my dorm room sharing that treasured meal with my friends.

Funny how scraping bacon grease can conjure up so many memories.

But, for me, the kitchen is a museum of memories.

When I fix lasagna, I think about the first time I made it for my then boyfriend (now husband), how I had to call my mom for the recipe and how I cried because I was so afraid I would mess it up. “I should have learned to cook!” I said. And I smile because so many years later, cooking has become such a large part of my life.

I shake my head when I make potato soup and laugh because I remember how often my mom still calls me for that recipe she can never remember.  And I marvel that so many years later, I still can’t make baked beans or macaroni and cheese taste as good as hers. I can’t cook a ham, no matter how big or small, without thinking about mom’s holiday feasts, and I’m filled with overwhelming gratitude for the blessing of a close-knit family with whom to share them.  

On the rare occasion that I make a breakfast dinner, I patiently and slowly stir the chocolate gravy and  am reminded of my good friend Mrs. Sherry who introduced me to that delicacy. No matter the season, my mind takes me back to winter slumber parties where multiple families were camped out on her floor after a night of sledding. And I remember waking up to the smells of breakfast and the sound of laughter in her kitchen. 

I have a friend who calls her garden a “memory garden.” I had never heard of that before and was fascinated when she would point to one flower or plant after another telling me where she got and why it was special. She doesn’t buy plants. She gets seeds or cuttings from people and places that mean something to her, and so her yard is adorned not only with vegetation but more importantly with memories.

That’s the way I like to think about my kitchen. When I open up my recipe book, it’s as if I am cracking open a photo album, but the pictures are inside my head. 

A casserole recipe reminds me of friends I haven’t seen in years. I remember the first time I ate it was when they had us over for a meal.   A well-loved soup recipe reminds me of a relative who shared that same recipe with us on the day we moved into our new house. When I make scoop-and-bake cookies, I recall two different friends, both named Amanda. I remember one Amanda bringing her children over on a wintry day and taking my boys out to play with them in the snow while I stayed in and made hot cocoa and cookies to enjoy upon their return. The other Amanda enjoyed many evenings with me, sitting together eating cookies and drinking milk after an active day helping chase my four boys.

Food opens up a way to recollect good times, celebrate special moments, and make good memories.

Of course, many times cooking is a chore, something that I do because it has to be done. With four hungry boys and a husband to feed, there’s a lot of cooking and eating in my house. But often, when I let myself savor the moment, cooking becomes a trip down memory lane, a way to remember, and an opportunity to give thanks—not only for the good food that feeds our bodies but for the people in my life who have for so many years nourished my soul.

  

Butt-Prints or Footprints—You Decide!

by Tricia Brown

“So encourage each other and build each other up, 

just as you are already doing.”

1 Thessalonians 5:11

“You can’t leave footprints in the sands of time if you’re sitting on your butt. And who wants to leave butt prints in the sands of time?”—Unknown

This was the opening quote in a handmade book of quotes that my dear friend, Annette, gave my boys this past weekend. It was a truly awesome gift of encouragement, perfectly suited to her cheerful disposition and life-affirming personality. As we read through the inspirational but hilarious quotes, we smiled and laughed and thought of her and her family.

I am a big fan of encouragement. Even when our lives are chugging along rather smoothly, daily living can suck the joy right out of us. Stressful jobs, busy schedules, cranky kids, household responsibilities and bills can make us feel as if life is nothing but a grind. And then there are the times when the real storms come, when the doctor gives the diagnosis, when the company makes cutbacks, when our teenagers rebel. Let’s face it. Life is, in one way or another, hard.

That’s why we need encouragement. Encouragement is “the action of giving someone support, confidence, or hope." It is helping someone else persevere, presumably under difficult circumstances. It's something we all need, and it's something we can all give.   

When I was in high school, I suffered from depression and a very low self-esteem. In an effort to feel better about myself, I signed up for beauty pageants. I will never forget one particular pageant. I had to leave very early in the morning to head to Nashville for a day full of interviews, practices, and primping. As I hurried down the stairs from my room, I was met with a wonderful gift. My younger sister, Nancy, had covered the door with construction paper notes filled with encouraging words like “You are beautiful!” “I love you.” “No matter what anyone says, you’re a winner to me!” Thirty-something years later, I still remember those words, and even more importantly, I remember how they made me feel.

Years later, as the married mother of very small but very temperamental young boys, I remember receiving a letter from her. I still have it folded up in a special place. In it, she told me a story about the building of cathedrals, how it is a time-consuming multi-generational process, how the workers often die without seeing the completed project, but how they pour their lives into the building anyway, with faith that what they can’t yet see will one day be complete and beautiful. She told me that a mother’s job is sometimes like that. She encouraged me to believe that the work I was doing was contributing the beauty of my boys’ lives, even when I couldn’t see it. Nancy is a good encourager. But, I am blessed to have many good encouragers in my life.

Encouragement is when a father drives an hour to mow the lawn for a son-in-law when his job is taking him away from home. It’s when a mother leaves home in the middle of the night to pick up her love-sick daughter from college. It’s a sister who is never too busy to take a call and listen. It’s a good friend from college who brings funny videos for our sons to watch and shares his life lessons with them. But encouragement isn’t just for those we know and love.

Once, I was shopping in Kroger. I didn’t have my boys with me that day, which was unusual in itself. I don’t remember why. But I do remember feeling tired and ugly, very ugly. Life then was busy with four sons. I didn’t have a lot of time to “doll” up. So, I was extremely surprised when a woman stopped me in one of the aisles. She smiled and said, “I love your green headband. It is so pretty and matches your shirt perfectly.” And with those words, she lifted my spirits. She made me feel not quite so frumpy, somehow a little more beautiful. Is it silly that a stranger’s words could make such a difference? Maybe, but they did. And it’s something we all need to remember.

Encouragement can be life-changing, and it really doesn’t take much—just a little thought and a little effort. There is a meme that circulates on social media. It says something to the effect of “Be kind. Everyone is fighting a battle that you know nothing about.” It’s so true.

Once I paid a couple of dollars on someone’s bill in front of me at the cash register. She was a little short, and I covered it. I didn’t think much of it until I walked out to my car. She had started towards her vehicle and then came back to me in tears. She gave me a big hug and thanked me. Turns out she had lost her job that day. In all, it had been a pretty rough week for her. She told me that she felt my small act of kindness was God’s way of telling her everything was going to be OK. And, to think, I was just trying to get through the check-out line a little quicker.

Do you want to be used by God? Do you want to be His hands and feet? It’s a lot easier than you might think. Encourage each other. Build each other up. Take a look around you; watch the people that you know and the people that you don’t know. Love enough to say something kind, to show up when needed, to bring a meal, to clean a house, to give a hug, to send a card (or text), or to hold a hand. Don’t be silent. Don’t feign ignorance. Don’t be complacent. Listen. Smile. Hug. Care. Like my friend, Annette, would say, “Get your butt out of the sand and do something!” Be an encouragement today.

Tell me about a time when you were encouraged!

Why all the Hoopla? Celebrating an Eclipse

“This is the day that the Lord has made, 
we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Psalm 118:24

Like millions of other Americans, today, August 21, 2017, I stood outside with more than a dozen of my friends and family and craned my neck to see the moon cast a perfect shadow over the sun. Over the course of hours, we moved first from a table full of themed food to the television screen showing eclipse footage from all over the United States, and then outside where we put on our special cardboard glasses to peer up into the sky for a few seconds. Then we started the cycle all over again.

We enjoyed crescent sandwiches, eclipse cookies, Sun Chips, Moon Pies, Milky Way and Starburst candy and washed it all down with Sunny D and Sunkists. We watched the teenagers laugh and run and throw water balloons at each other. And we all waited with anticipation until finally, for just a few seconds, the sky went dark in the middle of the day.

School was canceled. Some had to take off work. We rearranged our day. We bought and fixed food. Some even had to get in the car and drive. But why? Why all the hoopla? I mean, we all could have watched the eclipse with very little effort. We could have seen the darkness from the windows in our houses or offices. We could have avoided the traffic, the cost, and even the risk by simply watching it all on TV. We didn’t have to make such a big deal of it.

So, let me tell you why we did.

Life is full of everyday kind of days, the ordinary, the mundane. And, honestly, we are all very thankful for those kind of days. After all, our lives are composed of lots of plain days, and they are beautiful in their own right. But, if we take the time to look carefully, we will realize that tucked among the normal activities of our existence are amazing opportunities that God has given us to party!

Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries are a great start, but so are sunny summer days at an amusement park…and cool spring evenings spent at the ballpark…and crisp autumn afternoons painting pumpkins…and frigid winter mornings watching Netflix with your kids. Life is full of work and study and hard, but it’s also full of moments that are worth celebrating.  

Eclipse Day 2017 was one of those days. It was a day when we could look at the sun slipping into the shadow of the moon the way a prince might slip into his tuxedo. It was a day when we could look up and exclaim with the psalmist, "The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship...God has made a home in the heavens for the sun. It bursts forth like a radiant bridegroom after his wedding." (Psalm 19) It was a day to break away from the ordinary and to have fun.   

I spent today with some of the people I love most in this world. One of those was a toddler who, completely oblivious to the reason we gathered, was fully satisfied with eating goodies and taking center stage whenever our attention veered from the sun and moon show. Another was a friend who, according to doctors, is in the final stages of her life. If they are right, she won’t be with us this time next year. I spent the day with one just starting life and one whose life is coming to an end and a lot of family and friends in between.

We talked, and we laughed. We ate junk food and enjoyed every bite of it. We took pictures and compared images. We marveled at solar snakes on a white sheet and short shadows that were attached to our heels. We took note of the heaviness in the air and the drastic drop in the temperature. We swatted at the sudden increase in mosquitoes and watched as the horses ran to the barn thinking it was bedtime. We listened as frogs started croaking and dogs all over the neighborhood began barking. And then, all together, with heads thrown back, glasses in hand, eyes peeled at the darkened sky, we cheered when the bridegroom was fully dressed.

And though we may have not thought about it in the moment, I am convinced that our applause was not just for a sun hidden fully behind the shadow of the moon. Our accolades were in fact for a God who gives us life with all its darkness and light, shadows and sunshine, beginnings and ends, and it was in thankfulness for family and friends with which to celebrate it. Today was a day I will never forget, and one I will never regret.  I hope you had one too. If not, go out tomorrow and make one. Life, like the eclipse, is too short. So, why not celebrate? After all, every day is a day that the Lord has made. Let us REJOICE and be glad in it!

Why My Toes Are Sore This Morning!

“Wait patiently for the Lord. 

Be brave and courageous. 

Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

Psalm 17:14

The other night I decided to head to bed before the rest of my family. I shut the door to my room, turned off the light and headed toward my pillow. Unfortunately, before before I quite made it, my foot, more specifically the three smallest toes on my left foot, ran straight into the corner bedpost. Pain shot through my foot and up my leg. I clutched my foot and fell onto the bed. To say it hurt was an understatement. It felt as if my toes were being severed from my foot! I curled up into a fetal position, holding my curled up toes like they might fall off at any moment. I winced and wondered how in the world anything so small could hurt so bad.

Part of the problem was that I had walked across that dark room with total confidence. I didn’t inch my way along. I didn’t hold my hands out in front of me probing the darkness. I marched across that room in full stride knowing exactly where I was going, even though I couldn’t see a thing. So, when my toes hit the post, they weren’t creeping by, they were high stepping it. And they high stepped it right into a wooden barricade.

It reminded me of one of the Bible lessons the boys and I discussed this week about the dangers of impulsiveness.

Impulsive isn’t a word I would normally use to describe myself. I am a planner, an organizer, definitely not a risk-taker. But God has a way of using everyday experiences, even stubbed toes, to teach me important lessons that I might sometimes otherwise ignore.

Just because I am not normally impulsive does not mean that I don’t fall prey to that particular vice on occasion. How many times do I plunge headfirst into a conversation, thoughtlessly saying things that would be better left unsaid? How many times do I blindly say “yes” or “no” to a commitment without giving it appropriate thought—and prayer—to consider what would really be best for me or my family, or more importantly, what God would have me to do? How many times do I act or react without really thinking about the consequences of my actions? And how many times do I suffer as a result of my actions?

Impulsiveness is often an act of self-confidence and, dare I say it, idolatry. Just like me tramping across my dark bedroom fully aware of where I was going—even when I wasn’t—we humans like to think that we know best for ourselves, that we are in control, that we know the way. At it’s worst, when we are impulsive we are saying that we know better or at least enough so that we don’t have to seek God’s will or wants for us. We don’t have to ask for directions. We don’t need the Light. Basically, we are putting ourselves in the place of God.

But we don’t know best. We don’t know the way, and then, we pay the price. And many times that price is much more painful than a stubbed toe.

The opposite of impulsiveness is self-control, and the Bible consistently advises us to be self-controlled. Galatians 5:22-23 lists self-control as one of the fruits of the Spirit. Titus 1:8 lists it among other qualifications for an elder. And there are various other verses encouraging Christians to avoid impulsiveness in various areas of their lives, including how we speak, how we handle our anger, and how we handle sexual temptation. But perhaps one of my favorites is also one of the most simple.

Psalm 17:14 says, “Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

Had I simply waited for my night eyes to kick in, I would have been able to see my way across the room. It wouldn’t have taken long, maybe a few seconds. I was too impatient, too impulsive. I was tired. I wanted to go to bed. I knew the way. I didn’t give it a second thought. And I paid the price.

Let’s learn from my mistake. Life is full of obstacles, some as familiar as the floor-plan of your own bedroom. Don’t be deceived. Take a breath, talk to God, and wait patiently. Wait for His guidance. Wait for His green light. Wait for His Word. Avoid the stubbed toes, the bruised egos, the battered emotions, and the extra baggage. Avoid impulsiveness. “Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

x

Sisters, Secrets, and Sins

Sisters, Secrets, and Sins

(Warning: This one is a little longer than normal!)

"Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results."

James 5:16

When I was in elementary school, my little sister, Marsha, and I would walk to the bus stop together. It wasn't far from our house, down the front yard in our hill, and across our neighbor's yard to a side street.  Marsha is four years younger than me; so, as the older sibling, I was, of course, in charge. One chilly morning, as we waited for the bus, I noticed that Marsha had brought a poster with her. I asked what it was, and she showed me. It was her project, which she had completed all by herself. She was so proud. But I was horrified. It looked, well, it looked like something a very young child would do, all by herself. It had spelling errors. The lines were written crookedly, and it wasn't very neat. As the daughter of a perfectionist and somewhat a perfectionist myself, I just knew that Marsha should not turn in that poster. And I knew that it was my responsibility to take it away from her. So, Marsha and I began to argue. I reached out to grab the poster as Marsha ran from me in a circle on the slick asphalt, and she fell. Marsha hit her head, and it began to bleed. I started to walk her back to the house, but then the bus came; so I did what any responsible young girl would do. I sent Marsha back to the house alone so that I wouldn't miss the bus. 

Now, there are a few things you need to know before I proceed. First of all, our grandmother was at the house; so there was an adult waiting for Marsha when she got there. Second, Marsha proclaimed (and still proclaims) that I pushed her. Third, I have no idea whatever happened to that stupid poster. Fourth, this is still a source of comical disagreement between us. Marsha maintains that she was pushed. I (with the better memory of course) contend that she fell. 

Who is right? In the end, I don't think it really matters because, as bad as I hate to admit it, I was wrong. I may have not pushed Marsha, but I was responsible for her fall. I was responsible for her injury. And I was the one who abandoned her in her time of need. In all the years of arguing (even jokingly) about that incident, I am not sure that I ever admitted that simple fact. So, Marsha, here you go. I'm sorry that I degraded something you had worked hard to complete. I'm sorry that I caused you to fall and hurt yourself, and I'm sorry that I abandoned you in your time of need. 

Why has it taken me so many years to apologize? Why is it so hard to admit something so profoundly simple? Why is it so hard for us to acknowledge our own sin? It's not a secret, you know. We are all sinners. We all make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes are truly accidental, but sometimes we mess up intentionally. We do things that we know (if we take time to think about it) will hurt others or even ourselves. Yet we try to act as if we don't. 

Oh, don't get me wrong. I know that most of us will readily say that we aren't perfect. We will readily give lip service to our own sinful nature. But seriously, when push comes to shove (no pun intended), we really don't like to admit our own failures. It's much easier to keep our sins a secret.  After all, who wants to air their dirty laundry, right? 

Now, I'm not an advocate of public (i.e. social media) confessions, but you might be surprised to know that there is a time and a place to confess our sins...not only to God but also to one another. Why? Why in the world would anyone willingly do that?  

James 5:16 tells us.  "Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results." 

Prior to this James does speak of physical healing, but he also speaks of the forgiveness of sin. So, I believe that when he says "pray for each other that you may be healed" he isn't just talking about healing from physical ailments. I believe he is also referring to the healing that must come after sin, the restoration with God and with our fellow man, the peace in our soul that comes from forgiveness, and sometimes even very practical help and healing that comes when we are picking up the pieces of broken lives. So, when we confess our sins to one another, when we share our faults and failures, our trials and our temptations, we are not only opening ourselves up to healing, but we are also giving the Lord opportunity to use us in the lives of other people. 

One of my favorite quotes is from Emily Colson, who wrote Dancing with Max, her true story of life as a single mother with an autistic son. In it she writes this "...perfect isn't approachable. It isn't even likable. A friend once told me that he wasn't comfortable talking to me when he thought my life looked perfect because his life was filled with cracks and flaws."  

Often I think that I have to appear perfect, in control, shall I dare to say sinless, in order to be a good witness for Christ. I mean, seriously, who would believe anything I had to say about Jesus if they knew the ins and outs of my life? What if they knew my deepest darkest secrets, the things I have done or thought that no one else (but God) knows about me? How many times have I thought those very things. How many times have I said,

I can’t write. There is nothing I have to say that anyone would want to read.

I can’t host that Bible study. It’s hypocritical to invite people to my home to study God’s word when last night all hell was breaking loose in my family.

I can’t be a mentor to those girls. I was a depressed teenager. I never fit in. I still consider myself a social outcast.

I can’t because I have messed up.

I can’t because I am not perfect.

I can’t because I am not in control.

I can’t…

It’s a lie from Satan. And it’s a lie that I think many of us fall prey to every single day. How many times in the last few years have I discovered that a couple I knew have divorced, and I never even realized they were struggling? In the last week alone, several “secrets” have come out regarding people I know, and I am heartbroken. Of course, I am heartbroken over the sins that have been revealed, but I am also devastated that people I care about deeply have and are facing terrible battles alone, that I haven’t been there to comfort them, help them, encourage them, or even pray for or with them. It truly makes my soul ache.

But then, I think, how many times have I done the very same thing?

No, we can’t and shouldn’t share everything with everyone. And I understand that sometimes situations involve other people and can’t be shared without their permission. But the truth is, we often share nothing with no one for no reason except our own pride. We would rather suffer through this life alone, afraid, struggling, battling all by ourselves than to admit our own failures, to confess our own sins, or to acknowledge the difficult and often embarrassing circumstances of our lives. I am just as guilty as anyone—if not more so.

It’s a ploy of the devil to keep us isolated. Not only are we robbing ourselves of valuable comfort, help, encouragement and accountability, but we are also robbing others of our testimonies. Just like Emily Colton’s friend said, no matter what we think, no one really wants to be around someone who appears perfect.

Galatians 6:2 says, “Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”

It takes vulnerability. It takes a certain amount of risk, but in the end it’s what we need to do. You can’t share a burden you don’t know about, and neither can I.

We all know we aren’t perfect. So, let’s stop pretending. Let’s admit our own sinfulness, first to God, and then to each other. Let’s take responsibility for our mistakes, but let’s also use those mistakes to help others. Let’s help people know that Christ isn’t waiting for us to get it all together before we come to Him. He’s waiting for us to come to Him just as we are so He can help us get it all together.  And let’s remember that very often He uses people, just like you and me, to do just that.  

Not So Common

Not So Common

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? 

You are not your own."

I Corinthians 6:19

Before the famous California gold rush, a young boy in North Carolina found a large yellow rock on his family's property. He and his parents must have found it interesting because they decided to keep it and use it as a doorstop. It wasn't until years later that a jeweler stayed with the family and quickly pointed out that their doorstop was actually a 17-pound gold nugget! Just think, for years that family had something of great value hiding away in their house, doing nothing more important than holding open a door!

We would never make that mistake, would we? Surely we would never take something so valuable and treat it as something so common, would we? Yet as Christians, we do, every single day.

1 Corinthians 6:19 says, "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own."

Think about that for a minute. As followers of Christ, we house within us the Holy Spirit. That's a difficult concept for some to grasp. The Holy Spirit is the third person of the trinity--God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. He is the part of God that takes residence within us when we choose to follow Christ. 

Jesus Himself said to His disciples in John 16:7, "It is best for you that I go away, because if I don’t, the Advocate (another name for the Holy Spirit) won’t come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you."

The  Holy Spirit has many jobs. He is our supporter. He helps us to understand truth. He is our teacher. He convicts us of our sins but comforts us with His love. He is our counselor, prayer partner and intercessor. He is literally God within us. (See John 14 and John 16)

Galatians 5:22-23 says that the Holy Spirit produces within us "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."

Yet, how often do we treat this priceless gift of God like a doorstop in our hearts, a common thing that we occasionally pull out for Sunday morning worship? A prize hidden away, unclaimed and devalued. 

Just like the little boy from North Carolina, we aren't always intentional about this. It may be that we truly don't understand what we have. But, just like that little boy and his family, our ignorance costs us dearly. 

As humans, we are often powerless to many of the circumstances of our lives. We know God is powerful. We know God offers peace. We know God has what we need, but we forget that He has already given us the greatest gift of all--Himself! We just aren't cashing in on the gift. 

In order to benefit from the rock that he found, the little boy needed to do a couple of things. First, he needed to recognize the value of what he had. Second, he needed to cash it in. 

The same holds true for us as believers. First, we have to understand the power of the Holy Spirit in us, what He has to offer us. Then we need to put it to work for us. How do we do that?

1 Corinthians 19 AND 20 says, "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body."

This is the part that many Christians don't want to hear. This is the part where we sometimes make a conscious decision to keep that gift sitting in the corner collecting dust. You see, if we want to really claim the power of the Holy Spirit then we have to take action. 

Romans 8:1-17 tells us a lot about life in the Spirit. In part it says, "those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit." And "You have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit  you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live." And (most Christians' least favorite verse), "if we are to share His (Christ's) glory, we must also share his suffering." 

WHAT? Suffering? We aren't supposed to suffer, are we? After all, God wants us to be happy, right? Well, that's a whole other blog. The case in point here is that if we want to claim the power of the Holy Spirit who is living in us, then we have to DO the things that God wants us to Do. We have to ACT the way God wants us to act, and we even have to THINK the way God wants us to think. 

That's a challenge to be sure, but remember, we aren't doing it alone. Being used as a door stop didn't make the gold nugget any less valuable. It just brought no value to the boy and his family. So, let's remember, as believers we ALREADY have the treasure of the Holy Spirit. Let's not hide Him away. Claim the prize that God has given you today!