(Still) Growing Up

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Our holiday festivities began last Friday night with a Life Together Group Christmas party. They continued on Sunday with the Adams' family Christmas. We took a short pause on Monday before heading down to the land of the pines on Tuesday morning, where we spent two full days with the Wase's. Then we headed out Thursday morning for Burlington to hang with the extended Cheek fam. With all that family-fun-time, you better believe that Cristina did a good deal of sticking her foot in her mouth. I really thought I'd grown out of it---like, about 25 years ago. Turns out, I'm just more polite around people I don't know as well. Being around those familiar folks, I get a little too comfortable, and revert back to some of my childish ways.

But, you know what? There was a time when this wouldn't even grieve me. There was a time when I would have thrown back a quip and patted myself on the back for being so clever. There was a time when I thought someone needed to earn my respect before I gave it (for some people...that would've taken forever a while...ha just kidding...sorta). There was a time when gossip didn't hurt my heart. There was a time when I couldn't admit I was wrong. There was a time when I didn't know the conviction of the Holy Spirit laying heavy on me until I agreed with God and changed my mind and my way. There was a time when I was dead (see Ephesians 2). What a wretched man that I was! Who could deliver me from that body of death? But, thanks be to God who delivers me through Christ Jesus our Lord! (see Romans 7:24-25).

I am learning to appreciate the process. I once was dead. God made me alive in Christ. And I've been growing up. But I've still got a long way to go. And that's okay. Because He who began a good work in me will complete His work (see Phlippians 1:6). Time to trust, and obey.

The Tomb Became a Womb

Yesterday I got to go to my first My Life Matters club. It was great. One of my favorite parts was a large-group story time. Brett talked with the students about the first Christmas story. Then he talked about the Wise Men, who came to worship Jesus and to bring him gifts some time after he had been born. We all know the gifts---gold, frankincense, myrrh. I've even heard what the different gifts represented before---gold for a king, frankincense for a priest (or, as Brett said, because Jesus is to be praised!), and myrrh...hm...I had forgotten what that one represented.

The room took on a strange tone when Brett explained that myrrh was meant for dead bodies. "Ewwwwwww!!!!!!!!!" they cried. He held up a small "wooden" (cardboard) box and told them that giving Jesus myrrh would be like someone giving this small wooden box---a coffin---to someone at their baby shower. Wow. He explained that Jesus was given myrrh because Jesus was born to die. We humans all die at some point because of the curse of sin, but perfect Jesus actually came to earth to die on purpose. For us. Is that not amazing?

Now, before club yesterday, God had Psalm 139 on my mind---particularly v. 16: "...All the days ordained for m were written in your book before one of them came to be." But, as I backed up and  read the entire psalm, I noticed something in the note on my Bible for v. 15. Here's v. 15: "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth." Okay, now here's my Bible's note on "secret place...depths of the earth": "Reference is to the womb: called 'the secret place' because it normally conceals (see 2 Sa 12:12), and it shares with 'the depths of the earth' (see note on 30:1) associations with darkness, dampness, and separation from the visible realm of life. Moreover, both phrases refer to the place of the dead...with which on one level the womb appears to have been associated..."

I think that wording is interesting---that the womb was associated with "separation from the visible realm of life...the place of the dead..." Now, this morning, I was thinking on club and this psalm from yesterday, and something beautiful I'd read in college came to mind. It's a quote from a poem in small little book called "The Gospel Primer", which I highly recommend for rehearsing the gospel to yourself. Here's a portion of beauty from that book (bold and italics mine):

"Now after Christ died

He was placed in a tomb,

Which first was a grave,

but then served as a womb,

Travailing and quaking

the day He was raised

And brought forth by God

to be handled and praised.

The Firstborn from death 

on that day emerged He

With power to save

to the utmost degree."

Is that not beautiful to you? Could it be that the reason the grave and the womb had an association all along was that one day Jesus would come to earth and be born as a baby, live a perfectly righteous life, die a criminal's death, be buried in a tomb, and then burst forth, reborn as the Firstborn from the dead?! That is beautiful to me this morning. Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and the knowledge of  God. 

Some Ways That God Is Good

http://jamiepeeps.blogspot.com/2012/01/warming-up.html

You turn evil into good (see Joseph's story, Genesis 37-50).

You created everything "very good" (see Genesis 1).

When Your creation rebelled against You, You showed Your mercy and compassion and covered our shame (see Genesis 3).

You planned all along to redeem us from slavery to sin and death through Jesus (see Ephesians 1).

You've loved us when we hated you (see Ephesians 2, 1 John 4:9-10).

You were bruised, beaten, spit upon, mocked, tortured, killed---for us (see Isaiah 53, John 18-19).

You rose from the dead (see John 20).

You humbled Yourself (see Philippians 2).

You hear me when I call to You, and You are near (see Psalm 145:18).

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed

I just keep laughing to myself thinking about a conversation I overheard at the Thanksgiving dinner table. We have some young cousins. Mom to young cousins shared that they'd just bought the Little People Nativity Set for the kids. Well, Cousin is playing with the Little People Baby Jesus and realizes that He is laying in the hay in a barn. So she instructs Mom to go get her Little People Castle Set

so "Baby Jesus can have somewhere nice to sleep." Of course we all laughed at this cute story of the imagination of a little girl. But, the more I think about it, the more profound it seems to me.

She looked at Jesus, next to the animals, in a bed of hay, and she looked at her castle, with its nice big pink bed with pillows and blankets, and she saw the obvious disparity. She recognized immediately that Jesus deserved a better bed. I think she saw something that we've seen so many times that we've just started to ignore it. "Yeah, yeah, Jesus was born in a stable. No, he didn't have any clothes. Or a real bed. What's that? Well...yeah...He was a King."

Jesus humbled Himself. I'm sure she wouldn't use those words, but that's what she saw. Can you even see that anymore? Can you look beyond the familiar story and see the reality? The nativity scene should shock us every time we see it. We should sense the inequality of the King of the Universe sleeping in a feeding trough. And we should understand that Jesus absolutely willingly chose to be there. Chose to be born that way. Chose to live life here. Chose to die for us. Chose to raise to new life and give us the right to become children of God. This should blow our minds. Every time.

Indian Morning

I'm sitting on the front porch in that gigantic wooden rocker that Great Grandpa once sat in. The ends of the arms have been chewed on by Caesar, who is barking at me from behind the iron bars of his cement cage. He has been barking at anything and everything since at least 4 a.m. when the roosters started crowing. Don't they know it's not daylight at 4 a.m.? I can only assume that he's been barking at the four or five small neon yellow, blue, and green birds in the cage by the porch. What kind of birds are they? Not sure.

I look around the neighborhood at the painted cement buildings. They look old, but I'm thinking maybe it's just the wear and tear that makes relatively new buildings seem old. There's lots of color. A boy across the street is on top of the roof unstringing some lights that were up for the festival season. I've noticed several displays around the mall and airport with Christmas trees---an ode, I assume, to the fact that the Indian festival season coincides with the Western festival season. Strange.

I hear the hum of traffic in the distance. Traffic isn't even an adequate word for what happens on the roads. Even in China I didn't see quite the dance of cars and bicycles and dogs and people and cows (You can't possibly imagine how many cows there are. Everywhere. And goats, too.) and rickshaws and giant trucks and chickens and taxis. The horns beep constantly...not like the polite American way to curse someone, but more like "Hey, I'm about to pass you, please don't run me over." It's amazing to watch the moving in and out of "lanes" with such ease (side note: they drive on the left side of the road here), passing cars with only inches to spare, and rarely an accident. My favorite driver during our visit is the most aggressive one. He drives the fastest---maybe because it's his own car---and passes the most. It's both terrifying and thrilling---which is why I only sat in the front seat once.

I come back to the present. I notice that on this small side street people are walking by the front gate---part of the wall that encloses the whole house and courtyard. There goes a bicycle with its bell "horn". Ooo, then a rickshaw. A scooter. More people. I look up at a house two rows over. Several girls have been going up and down on the roof, hanging out clothes to dry, and they have some sort of fire going---maybe they're cooking something? The smoke is going up...people seem to be burning something everywhere. I guess that's part of the distinct smell that people talk about. In our house I smell the gas for the stove, and breakfast cooking. An egg dish of some sort.

I hear a bird chirping...or is it more like squawking? It's that funny-looking black bird with the long bright orange beak that was on our windowsill this morning. He's sitting on top of the wall, about level with the top of the trees---are those palm trees? They have some sort of fruit growing at the top. Maybe my strange bird friend is mimicking the music I hear in the distance. Or maybe he's responding to the people talking in the kitchen. I wish I could understand their language. Its sounds don't even make sense to my brain...I haven't heard anything like them before. I keep asking people, "Can you write that down for me?" Maybe if I can see it, I can make sense of it.

Fortunately, most people we are around speak English. But still, I long to know some word---to make some connection with the people. I ask the young lady who helps around the house how to say "thank you"---she's actually Nepalese, so I'm not sure if I'll learn Hindi or Nepali. But, when I ask, she doesn't know what in the world I'm saying, so Mom comes out to see what I need, and tells me, "It's okay, she understands 'thank you.'" Rats.

So, a day in another world begins. I forgot how interesting, and yet, exhausting, exploring another culture can be. Which I think accounts for why by 8 p.m. every night we CANNOT keep our eyes open. That, and the fact that we are ten and a half hours ahead of eastern standard time and our bodies are confused. Breakfast time. I close my journal and ask God for the strength to eat (it's been a struggle for this trip). Ask Him to lead me today---how can I serve? How can I love? Here goes...

Needy

Casey and I just spent a week and a half in India. I spent the first couple days of that sick, begging God for help, and reciting 1 John so I wouldn't go crazy  imagining that I would not get better (there's one good reason to memorize Scripture!).

I thought I was going to go "do something", but as it turns out, I don't think I've ever felt more needy and helpless as I did in a foreign country, with people I hardly knew, unable to eat, and feeling generally miserable. My friend Tim told me, as I questioned why I was even there, that God was growing my dependence on Him. Wow. Yes.

Humbled? Uh, yeah. Willingly? Um...right...Good thing God is bigger, right?

Sunday was our first night back with the family (East Rock, that is). Guess what Tim preached on? Humility. Yay...? I thought, "Really? Okay, God...I'll listen."

Monday was the first day of our first "normal-life-in-America" week, and to help me not go crazy at home by myself, Casey made me a to-do list. The second thing on the list? Read a few chapters in the book Humility. Humility again?? Now things are starting to get comical. Seems God won't let me off the hook with just hearing about humility...He means for me to actually grow...

Monday night was our first time back with our Life Together Group. We talked about...say it with me...HUMILITY! Only a crazy would not be getting the idea now. Seems we're in a season of learning humility. And boy does it hurt. Oh, that I would submit to this and learn joyfully. Y'all pray that I would.

Jesus Humbled Himself

"If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made Himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
He humbled Himself
and became obedient to death - even death on a cross!
Therefore God has exalted Him to the highest place
and gave Him the Name that is above every name,
that at the Name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father."

God has no need. We know that. He didn't need to create us. He didn't need to win us back from slavery to sin. But He chose to. Mind blown.

How did God choose to win us back from slavery and rebellion and death? By sending His perfect Son Jesus to live as a man, completely obedient, even to a death that we deserved. Not just death, but a humiliating and undeserved criminal's death on a cross.

So, Jesus is God.

He willingly humbles Himself by coming to earth.

He not only humbles Himself by coming to a sin-wrecked earth, but He comes in the form of a man.

He not only comes in the form of a man, but as a dependent-on-His-mother-for-life baby!

He not only comes as a baby, but as a baby born into a family of humble means.

He not only comes as to earth as a man, but as a servant of a man. A servant.

He not only comes as a servant man, but while serving, He is completely obedient to the Father. Obedience implies someone is in authority over you. Who could be in authority over God? Yet Jesus submits His will to the Father. What??? Mind BLOWN!!!

He not only obeys, but He obeys to the point of death. Death. The wages of sin is death, but He didn't sin. Why would He die?

He not only obeys to the point of death, but to the point of a humiliating death on a cross. A cross is for criminals. He committed no crime.

Do you see this? Do you?? God, who has NO NEED, humbles Himself to become needy!
Disdained.
Tortured.
Misunderstood.
Unappreciated.
Criminalized.
Killed.

"Therefore God exalted Him to the highest place
and gave Him the Name that is above every name..."

So, when we listen to Philippians 2 and "in humility consider others" better than ourselves, we re-enact Jesus' life. In humility, God the Son considered others. He looked not only to His own interests, but to all of our interests. Each time we choose to humble ourselves, we put Jesus' life on display. It doesn't make sense that God would humble Himself. Especially for rebels. But it is good. So, so good. We must tell this story by living it out. Just like a husband lovingly lays down his life for his wife and so puts Christ and His Bride-Church on display. So, each of us in humility considers others better than ourselves and so puts Christ's incredible submission to and trust in the Father on display.

"Humbles yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up." James 4:10

"...For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Luke 18:14b

A Startlingly Accurate Depiction of My Life

"If I'd had a stellar week, I loved being in God's presence and was sure God was pretty stoked about having me there too.

But the opposite was true.

If I hadn't done a good job at being a real Christian, I felt pretty distant from God. If I'd fallen to some temptations, been a jerk to my wife, dodged some easy opportunities to share Christ, was stingy with my money, forgotten to recycle, kicked the dog, etc. ... well, on those weeks I felt like God  wanted nothing to do with me. When I came to church, I had no desire to lift my soul up to God. I was pretty sure  He didn't want to see me either. I could feel His displeasure - His lack of approval.

That's because I didn't really understand the gospel. Or, at least I had forgotten it."

-Quote from J.D. Greear's book Gospel: Recovering the Power that Made Christianity Revolutionary, Chapter 3 "The Gospel as Gift-Righteousness"

On Living In a Small Town

I just heard the helicopter fly overhead. That only means one thing. We live one street over from the hospital, and someone is being life-flighted to a bigger hospital in a nearby city. That's the only reason helicopters fly into this small town. I feel almost a responsibility to engage with the suffering that someone is experiencing right now. So I pray, "God, help them."

It's interesting -- living in a small town -- where you can't go much of anywhere without seeing someone you know. One of the things I have liked least about this place is the way people seem so preoccupied with everyone else's business. It drove me crazy at first. Now, I fear, I've started to fit in a little too much.

But, as much as I despise this small town lifestyle of gossip, and the culture that it encourages --- a culture where you always have to be on your toes; a culture where you know someone is always looking and listening and waiting for you to fall; a culture where we are so obsessed with other people's lives that we won't be honest about our own --- I'm also thankful.

I'm thankful to be known, at least, in part. I'm thankful to know other people. I'm thankful that when I walk in Walmart, I see the same people working the registers, and I see a handful of people I know from various places, shopping, and we stop and we speak to each other in the aisles. We don't have the luxury of shopping in a big city where you could choose from 3 different Walmarts, purposefully choosing the one farthest from home so you can avoid seeing someone you know! And I think that's a good thing.

In the past couple weeks (really, I can think of so many things in the past year), some really devastating things have happened here. And I have seen a whole community struggling and grieving and processing life. That doesn't happen in a big city. A tragedy in a big city is just one more to add to the list of the hundreds of tragedies that are happening all over the city every day. But here --- we're too connected. I mean, really, most of the town is related to each other in some way. So nothing happens without creating this huge ripple. And I'm glad. I'm glad we live in a place where you can't just pretend that life isn't hard! It is hard. And if you won't be honest about it, there's at least a dozen people waiting in line to be "honest" about it for you. And maybe that's good. Maybe, if we aren't willing to be real about the struggle, God just exposes it anyway.

I'm wondering...what if we started being real about our own lives? What if, instead of letting everyone else talk about our struggles for us, we opened up and shared how hard life is right now. What if we embraced this small-town life and followed the commands of Paul in Romans 12 to "rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep"? I believe God has given us, in some ways, a unique opportunity to have real, vibrant, God-honoring community. What if we thanked Him for that, and started using what's He's given us? I wonder what God could do with that. Probably, exceedingly abundantly beyond all we can ask or imagine...

Me & PJ

image from tracking.si.com

I was talking to my dad on the phone the other week. We'd made our way through politics, and were now on to more important things like college sports. Dad had been out of commission with a cold, and then out of town at a convention, and had just learned about the latest PJ Hairston incident. If you've been living under a rock this summer, I'll catch you up.

Hairston, Carolina basketball's leading scorer, has been pulled over for speeding three times since May. All of those times he was driving someone else's car. Two of those times he was driving a car rented by a notorious drug-user who seems to enjoy getting arrested, and is "coincidentally" connected to other high-profile basketball and football players from Carolina and Duke. One of those times, the officers also found pot and a gun in the car. It's not been a good summer for PJ. It's not been a good summer for Carolina either, especially as they continue to undergo this lengthy NCAA violation scandal.

Dad told me that this just had to be it for PJ. He said even the Carolina fans he's talked to admit that it's time for Hairston to hit the road. And, in fact, Roy Williams did finally suspend him indefinitely (where it goes from here remains to be seen) from the team. I have to admit that when I've read these stories, I have wanted to gloat --- Wolfpacker that I am --- but...I just can't. Overwhelmingly, I have felt pity and compassion for PJ. Why?

I think, maybe, it's because I identify with him. I mean, I don't know what's going through his head, really. I don't know why he likes speeding, and why he hasn't slowed down after two tickets. I don't know why he seems to be self-destructing in front of all of our eyes. But, I know what it's like to feel like you are powerless to stop the cycle of sin you're in. I know what it's like to feel like a disappointment. To feel like everything you touch turns to garbage. I know what it's like to feel like you've cut yourself off from all the people who really cared about you. I know what it's like to feel like you're so far gone now that there's no turning back, so why try? But. But! I also know what it's like to learn that there is a way out of the pit!!! And His Name is Jesus!

Dad told me how he remembered another eerily similar case of a basketball player who went to State. He, like Hairston, was the all-star on the team, but unfortunately also seemed to share a flair for self-destruction. Eventually, he screwed up one too many times, got kicked off the team, and finally ended up living on the streets. Dad said something to the efffect that he hoped PJ would sort of get the "hoodlum" out of him this summer, and get back on track. And it hit me. PJ does have some hoodlum in him. And so do I. And so do you. On our best days, that's all we are, until Jesus steps in and rescues us. Until Jesus came here, lived perfectly, died for our "hoodlum-ness", rose again, and gave us His record, and a way to be Sons. All of a sudden, what I really longed for was for Roy to say: "PJ, you have really messed up, and you've disgraced yourself, the team, and the university, but I want you to come back here. I want you to be in this family. I'm willing to let the naysayers call me an idiot and say that I'm too soft on you, because I want you to be here."

The most beautiful part I think was the last part of our conversation. Dad said the reason he felt that PJ was gonna have to go for good was because Carolina just can't handle the bad press right now. And, you know, he's right. They have been hounded for a couple years now about how messed up their athletics and academics are. And they can't handle another big scandal. But in that moment, it's like I had this out-of-body experience. It's like I stepped back and I could see the big picture.

God came down and he got dirty here. He came to rescue a bunch of hoodlums who, honestly, just keep screwing up. It's not like we all get instantly sanctified. No, He's still doing the dirty work of sanctifying us, one step at a time, til one day...one day, when we'll really believe fully that we're His, and He's not gonna let go of us. No matter how many hoodlum things we have done. He bought us. We're His.

I imagined the God-haters...the ones who, really, are just running from Him. I imagined them saying "I mean, look at this mess! Look at the world. Look at all these hoodlums running around here. Especially the ones who claim to be His kids. They're all a bunch of screw-ups. You know, God really can't handle the bad press right now. He needs a few more Mother Teresa's. No, that one there--- He can't afford to take on that one." But that's not who God is!!! Praise God, He chooses the sick. He chooses the hoodlums! He chooses the Cristina's, and the PJ's, and He welcomes us to come home to our Father. That's what it means that all our sin, and all God's wrath for it, was poured out on Jesus. That's what it means that we are adopted by God. Sons and daughters. What a loving and gracious and merciful and lavish Father.

Waiting

Casey was listening to a podcast this morning by Paul Tripp about waiting (I couldn't find a link to the exact talk, but I found this article which is very similar in content). I'm sure God is teaching Casey through the podcast, but I'm also 100% sure that He intended for me to hear that podcast, too. In many ways, I believe that's where I am right now -- waiting. 

To be honest, 99.99% of the time that I'm waiting, I wish I were not waiting. I do NOT appreciate the wait. Most times, I'm not even sure exactly what the wait is leading to, but I just want to be there already! But, in this podcast, Paul Tripp reminds us that waiting is, in fact, part of the plan. God is not ignoring us. He is not busy. Because He knows us better than we know ourselves, He knows exactly what we need to endure to become more and more like Jesus, until the day that He comes back for us. 

"Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears, we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is. Everyone who thus hopes in Him purifies himself as He is pure." (1 John 3:2-3) See? We are God's children now, waiting for Him to come back for us, but even in the waiting -- in the hoping for His return -- we are being purified; we are being made more like Jesus. What a beautiful work of art! 

While listening to the podcast, I was reminded of the way that Eugene Peterson paraphrases part of Romans 8. I think it fits perfectly. Here it is:

"All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain through the world are simply birth pangs. Bit it's not only around us; it's within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We're also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don't see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy. 

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that ever detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."

Wow. Amen. 

Free To Struggle

I think these words have been forming for some time now --- sort of bubbling up inside me until today when I listened this song (sorry for the lame video, couldn't find official one) and read this article and it sort of all came together in my mind, and so here we go.

image from blog.whitneyenglish.com 

I first heard this song on a friend's blog and fell in love with it, and subsequently asked for any and all of this artist's music for Christmas (I got two of her albums --- sweet!). This song seems to capture my constant longing in music and lyrics:

"I don't know how to follow You without losing my way;
Jesus come and take me by the hand.

I don't know how to trust that You will do the things You say;
Spirit teach me how to understand ---
that Your love can heal the wreckage of my soul;
the beauty of Your light shining in me.

I don't know when You'll take me home to paradise with You ---
the day when I will finally be free ---
oh, the day when You come back for me."

Life is a struggle. Struggle. Life following Jesus is a struggle. Daily dying to self? Yeah, sure...a lot easier said than done. Every day. Every moment. I fail in an epic way --- I don't know --- weekly? Daily? True, I tend to be a little hard on myself (I also tend to be a little soft on myself --- just depends on the situation. Crazy.), but as my friend Marcus pointed out the other day, everyone thinks you are a pretty good person unless you, like, kill somebody, but nobody really knows what's going on inside. Well, except God. I'm thankful, and also terrified, by that. But for Jesus, who swallowed up the wrath of God that was my due. Like I said, though, it's a struggle.

So I came across this article today and the guy was talking about how sometimes it seems like the only testimonies we hear are from people who've experienced a sort of instant and miraculous healing. He pointed out that we don't often hear from the people who've wrestled, and are still wrestling, for years with a sickness or injury, yet have learned how to endure. He said we need to hear those great triumphs in testimony form too, because we need to see those heroes of faith (a la Hebrews 11) who ultimately point to The Hero Jesus. I agree with him. And, I would go farther.

I think we need the testimonies from the people who, just like me, are STRUGGLING. And who haven't even figured out how to endure, and maybe can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. Testimonies from people who, like me, spend WAY too much time than I'm comfortable admitting crying (or maybe you would insert "being angry" here, depending on your personality), and believing lies, and wishing someone would ask me if I'm okay, and not knowing how to respond when someone asks me if I'm okay, and silently hurting inside, and hating myself for being stuck in the exact same place I was yesterday, and last week, and last month.

The thing is --- I know I'm not the only one. And I've been wanting for weeks now to say that. I know there are people in our church family who are struggling. And feeling like a failure for struggling. And feeling like you're the only one struggling and failing. But that's a lie.

This morning, Casey reminded me of a song --- one line says, "Hallelujah, we are free to struggle; we're not struggling to be free" --- the premise being, because we are in Christ we are secure and we are free to wrestle this thing out with God every second of every day. It's not going to be easy. It's going to be hard. God is smashing down idols in our hearts, and building up spiritual muscles, "and it's tearing me [and you] apart," in an awesome way. And we are not alone (lie #345567) --- Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. And we are not alone (lie #345568) --- we who are in Christ are "members one of another" (see, like, all of the epistles --- Romans 12, Ephesians 4, etc.).

Praise God, I have an awesome God-fearing, Jesus-loving, Spirit-filled husband who patiently endures my fits of crying and passionately points out the nasty lies that I am believing and asks me if I'm okay and waits if I don't know what to say and loves me even though I seem to struggle with the same things over and over. Wow, what a small picture of a BIG God. How gracious of God to give me this man who points me to a Better One who is way more patient, way more enduring, way more forgiving, way more loving  (can it be?). AND, on top of these things --- a loving God, a godly husband --- God has added a family.

The local church is a family (the whole big-C Church is a family). And God put us in this family when we trusted in Christ, and He meant for us to live out this life-struggle together. And if we don't, we are Not only hurting ourselves, as the saying goes. We are hurting the whole body. God knows this is hard for me. I mean, how many times have you seen me stand up in front of a large group of people (or small group of people!) and share my struggles? Probably on one hand, that's how many. I know this is what God is saying to me. But, I thought, maybe, God might say it to you, too. So, that's that. I look forward to hearing some more stories from people who are struggling, and are okay with admitting it. I'm gonna try to do that with you fam
.

There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother

I was reading my friend Tim's blog this morning. Here's something that caught my eye in the post: 

"Nobody knows you like God knows you. He knows the fears you hide, the dreams you have in your sleep and those you have while you’re awake. He knows the strengths in you that you don’t even know in yourself. He knows the sin that you hide from every other soul. He knows your years and your moments, both those that lay behind and those to come. His thoughts toward you are for healing, wholeness, peace and power."

All of a sudden, I remembered laying on my bed as a teenager in high school, imagining these long conversations with a guy I liked, in which I was able to eloquently describe everything going on in my mind and heart, and magically, he understood me perfectly, and knew just the right questions to ask me, and just the right things to say to comfort me. I longed to be understood. I longed to be known -- and not just known, but known AND still loved. 

Our former pastor (when we were in Raleigh at Summit) JD Greear often talks about this desire to be both known and loved. If we are loved, but not known, it's just shallow and fake. If we are known and not loved, it's kind of our worst fear come to fruition. We are either too much, or not enough. What we really long for is to be known to the depths of our being, and loved in spite of it. That's why I spent hours wishing I had a boyfriend who would listen to me. I thought that's what I was waiting for. Someone to complete me. And I wasn't altogether off-course. I was waiting for someone to listen to me, someone to complete me. I was just willing to settle for far less than I was being offered.

When I was 17, in October of my senior year of high school, I finally quit resisting God's pulling on my heart, and I took the first step to follow Jesus, and I gave Him my life, and I haven't turned back. Immediately, I started reading the Bible, and I literally could not get enough of it. It's like I had been starving and someone had finally given me a plate of food, and I couldn't just eat one thing off the plate. I had to have a bite of every single thing on the plate. I would start off in one place, and then I'd flip to another, and then I would wonder about something else, and go there to read. The word was alive! I was alive! The Holy Spirit was now living in me, showing me truth that I'd never seen before. 

I remember the first time that God showed me how the whole Bible was about Jesus. I was reading Proverbs 18:24, "A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." I imagine I must have sat upright then -- "That's Jesus!! That's Jesus! You mean this whole Bible is about Jesus?? It doesn't say His Name here, but I know it's about Jesus!!" 

How amazing was that moment when I realized all I'd ever longed for, I had found. There is one who sticks closer than a brother, and His Name is Jesus. He knows every single thing there is to possibly know about me. He loves me more deeply than anyone else ever could. He has more reason than anyone else to not love me, yet loves me all the more. "Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of His inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. You will be true to Jacob, and show mercy to Abraham, as you pledged on oath to our fathers in days long ago (Micah 7:18-20)."

Amen.

"Take words with you and return to the LORD..."

This is the admonition found in Hosea 14:2. On this National Day of Prayer, I found God gave me these words from Isaiah 59:

"Surely the arm of the LORD is not too short to save,
nor His ear too dull to hear.
But your iniquities have separated you from your God;
your sins have hidden His face from you,
so that He will not hear.
For your hands are stained with blood,
your fingers with guilt.
Your lips have spoken lies,
and your tongue mutters wicked things.
No one calls for justice;
no one pleads his case with integrity.
They rely on empty arguments and speak lies;
they conceive trouble and give birth to evil.
They hatch eggs of vipers and spin a spider's web.
Whoever eats their eggs will die,
and when one is broken, an adder is hatched.
They cobwebs are useless for clothing;
they cannot cover themselves with what they make.
Their deeds are evil deeds,
and acts of violence are in their hands.
Their feet rush into sin;
they are swift to shed innocent blood.
Their thoughts are evil thoughts;
ruin and destruction mark their ways.
The way of peace they do not know;
there is no justice in their paths.
They have turned them into crooked roads;
no one who walks in them will know peace.

So justice is far from us,
and righteousness does not reach us.
We look for light, but all is darkness;
for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows.
Like the blind, we stumble as if it were twilight;
among the strong, we are like the dead.
We all growl like bears;
we moan mournfully like doves.
We look for justice, but there is none;
for deliverance, but it is far away.

For our offenses are many in Your sight,
and our sins testify against us.
Our offenses are ever with us,
and we acknowledge our iniquities:
rebellion and treachery against the LORD,
turning our backs on our God,
fomenting oppression and revolt,
uttering lies our hearts have conceived.
So justice is driven back,
and righteousness stands at a distance;
truth has stumbled in the streeets,
honesty cannot enter.
Truth is nowhere to be found,
and whoever shuns evil becomes a prey.

The LORD looked and was displeased that there was no justice.
He saw that there was no one,
He was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so His own arm worked salvation for Him,
and His own righteousness sustained Him.
He put on righteousness as His breastplate,
and the helmet of salvation on His head;
He put on garments of vengeance
and wrapped Himself in zeal as in a cloak.
According to what they have done,
so will He repay,
wrath to His enemies
and retribution to His foes;
He will repay the islands their due.
From the west, men will fear the Name of the LORD,
and from the rising of the sun,
they will revere His glory.
For He will come like a pent-up flood
that the breath of the LORD drive along.

'The Redeemer will come to Zion,
to those in Jacob who repent of their sins,'
declares the LORD.

'As for Me, this is My covenant with them,' says the LORD. 'My Spirit, who is on you, and My words that I have put in your mouth will not depart from your mouth, or from the mouths of your children, or from the mouths of their descendants from this time on and forever,' says the LORD."

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Help!

I woke up Wednesday morning in a bad mood. A "foul mood", actually. My words to God were few:

"GOD,
I am in a foul mood. Because? I have to clean? The house is a DISASTER? And I feel overwhelmed by all I have to do. In life. I need help."

By lunchtime, I'd only managed to eat breakfast and get one of the three loads of laundry in the washing machine. Oh, and I had already cried at least once, if you count crying as productivity.

Poor Casey, coming home to the weepy wife. Again. But God filled him with patience and truth and love for me. "Cristina, your identity is not in housework." And I said, in my head anyway, "Why are you talking about my identity? I'm talking about these dishes! And laundry. And the mail strewn around the living room. And your dirty clothes on the floor. Yeah...your dirty clothes. And your dirty dishes. The problem must be you."

But God was faithful. As I wasted time scouring pinterest for some fix-all solution to my dirty house, and perused facebook to distract myself from the pile of dirty clothes behind me, God sent me to a blog I'd never been on before. I came across a post she'd written about "finding rest in the unfinished". Her blurb about her blog? "Bottom line, I pray that God would stir a big faith, a deep love, and an unwavering hope in us regardless of our circumstance -- regardless of the glaring laundry." Funny, God. But  you know what she had the nerve to say? The same thing Casey told me. She said:

"If I dig down to the root of that pursuit for perfection, I find identity issues. I find concern for what (other fallen) humans might think if they saw the mess. And I find distrust that God is working or actively loving me."

And I fell instantly on my face and confessed to God and my whole attitude changed and I did all the laundry and dishes and proceeded to whip up a completely homemade meal, with dessert to boot...OR...I exited the blog and disregarded it because I didn't believe that was my problem, and continued on in my funk for the rest of the afternoon. Yes, that was it.

Not much further along in my self-loathing and blame-shifting, I went to meet Tammy and Katherine and Blair for our weekly time of accountability/encouragement. I didn't want to answer any questions. I didn't want to be real. I didn't want to be vulnerable. I didn't want to admit that I can't clean my own house or make my own husband dinner. A 27-year-old should know how to do these things. And hadn't God given me enough grace already? I mean it's been almost three years that I have been learning how to be a wife! Isn't that enough already??

After several times of me sheepishly answering "I don't know" to questions posed by my friends about what was going in my life, and what I needed help in, I finally broke down -- tears streaming, of course -- and told them I felt like I was failing at life. I knew it was silly, but dishes and laundry and cooking were overwhelming me. They are just always there, waiting to be done, and I never have felt like I know what I'm doing and pushing through it has just been exhausting, and there you go. Now you know. I don't know how to be a wife. (sound sort of like identity issues, doesn't it?)

So, can you guess their response? I wouldn't have! Of all things, these crazy people said they wanted to come help me clean my house. Which you would think was the answer to my prayers, right? Chores are overwhelming me, and my three friends just offered to take that burden off of me. That should delight me. Then, why was I filled with a sense of dread and guilt instead? Why did I keep saying, "I don't know guys...I really don't know what you'd do...I mean, it's not that a big of a deal...I...er..."

I told Casey about the friends' offer that night. I told him I was nervous. "Why are you nervous?" he asked. "I don't know...I mean, what are they gonna do? What if they get here and think that it's really not something for me to overwhelmed by?"

I woke up the next morning. Friends were coming at 10 am. I tried to decide what things should be tidied before they got there. I mean, I wanted them to help me clean, in a way. But I didn't want them to see how messy I am. Really.

I sat down on the bed and Casey had a video of an interview between an author and some guy (?) pulled up. Honestly, I don't even know what the video was for...I only watched a few minutes of it, but this one piece was like a lightbulb. The author was talking about humility or something -- I don't know?? -- and he said "You know, every morning, before I get out of bed, I pray three things. 1. God, I'm a man in desperate need of help. 2 Lord, please send helpers. 3 Lord, help me be humble to receive their help."

First thing Wednesday morning I had asked God, maybe only half-believing (one quarter believing? One sixteenth?) he'd answer, for help. He'd answered, because even when we're faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself. He'd sent helpers. He'd sent Casey. He'd sent the blog lady. He'd sent these three friends. I ignored the first two. Now three of them were coming to my house and I had to decide what to do. "Okay, God, I'll take it. I'll take their help. I'll let them wash my dishes, and clean my bathrooms and dust my shelves. Even though it is killing my pride...okay, because it is killing my pride. I understand now, God."

And, so they came, Katherine, and Tammy, and Blair. And they brought along two happy little boys, a box of donuts, a bowl full of chicken salad and a box of crossaints, and a banana cake with almonds and chocolate sprinkles. I mean, who does that?? Who comes to clean someone else's mess up? AND brings food, too?  And then leaves it here for ungrateful me to eat it??? (And how could they have known that just hours before, Casey and I had sat down to look at our budget for April and then told God it would be a miracle if we didn't overspend it, and asked Him to take care of it?) God does that. And he lives inside those girls. And He teaches me. And He's so patient. And even those helpers I first ignored, Casey, and my sister blogger --- His Spirit opens my eyes to even see the way He was speaking to me then. He's just so good to me. So good. And I just don't deserve it. But I'm His daughter. And it's just His delight to grow me to be more like His Son. He won't stop, either. He promsied. Not until it's complete. And He keeps His promises.

Every good and perfect gift is from the Father

I love. this. man. He is one of the greatest proofs of God's grace and mercy toward me. 

Sometimes I wonder how he puts up with my seemingly-constant doubts about where I stand with God, worries about today and tomorrow, often-illogical-fears, unceasing-streams-of-tears. The tears start falling for what seems like the millionth time in a week, and I "just know" that this time he's gonna tell me to "stop it!" (see video) already, and I prepare myself for the "blow", and I ready a nasty comeback, and instead he hugs me and he listens and he opens the Bible and he points me to promises of God, and he prays for me. In that moment, I remember James 1:17 "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."

I mean, really, how can you not love this guy! He is serious as a heart attack sometimes...about the things that matter, I think. About Jesus. About loving people. About the injustice and brokenness we witness day in and day out. About truth. But he is funny! Just ask our Life Together Group about the famous "apron dance". He loves to play with kiddos, like Peter and Noah and Peyton. He's wearing Peter's awesome cowboy hat here, and apparently sad about something? He lets me make crazy faces in what are supposed to be serious pictures done by the amazing photographer Brett Carver and he sends them out to friends and family for Christmas. And gets an 8x10 for us to hang in the living room. Oh, girl, yes we did, girl. 
  

Sometimes it just hits me all at once what a blessing he is. It hit me last night as we were getting ready for bed. I started crying...again...about my own messed-up-ness. You know -- one of those days when you can almost feel or see that the enemy is battling hard against you. Every little victory is followed by another assault. But God is faithful and the Victor! And I'm just blessed by this man, this partner-in-life, brother in Christ Casey that I get to walk with, who holds my hands up so I can keep fighting. And it just flooded over me how much I don't deserve him. How little I've done that is good, that I should deserve him (ie, NOTHING), and how much I have done that should put me out of the running to "catch him". There's so much stacked against me. So much evidence that God could point to and say "There's no way you should have a godly husband."

He'd be just to refrain from giving me this gift. But He is so merciful! So compassionate! So full of grace toward me, His daughter in Christ! I came to Him with nothing but filth, and He took me, and washed me, and adopted me, and dressed me in Christ's righteousness. And he's given me such a sweet, tender-in-the-most-manly-and-awesome-sense-of-the-word, God-loving husband. 


I know. I know that Casey is just like me. Also undeserving. Also redeemed out of his own mess he'd made. I know. God has redeemed this man. God has redeemed the years stolen away by the locusts. 

I love you Casey Ray.

Will The Vernal Equinox Bring Peace to the Middle East Tournament Bracket?

On Friday I took a short trip to the Land of the Pines. 8th-seeded State was playing their first game in the NCAA tournament versus a 9-seed Temple. I thought it would be much more fun to watch the game and all 500 of the other games that would be on that day with Dad than it would be to watch them on a computer screen by myself, so I made last-minute plans, which Mom and Dad happily agreed to, and I was off.

If you watched the tournament, or any news afterwards, you know that State played a terrible game. 10 turnovers in the first half, no points from Scott Wood til 34 minutes into the game, and an 18-point deficit to recover in the second half. Well, they did recover those 18 points, but they couldn't hold on in the end. They just didn't have enough to pull out the W.

I was disappointed. I had picked them to win the first game in a couple brackets I'd filled out (no recliner for me!), and of course, I was wishing for some sort of crazy streak like they had back in '83. Dad was really disappointed. He'd watched ESPN's "30 for 30" show on the Wolfpack the other day, and he was convinced that this was the year we'd go all the way again (Never give up!). Everything was aligned just right. "Calvin" (not to be confused with C.J.) was gonna show up, Scott was gonna light up the 3's, Howell was gonna do his normal amazing, but quiet, thing and get a million rebounds and put-back's. But it all crumbled in just 40 minutes.

In the post-game conference, the press peppered seniors Scott Wood and Richard Howell with questions, demanding answers for how a preseason #6 team, picked to win their conference, could not only lose this game, but do so by playing with seemingly no emotion. People had been counting on them. "What happened?!" Wood, Howell, and Coach Mark Gottfried expressed their own disappointment, and then quickly moved onto the hopes they have for next year's team. This one failed, yes, but next year---well next year's team will be left in good hands. Scott was confident in Coach's leadership, and in the crew of young men he and Howell would leave behind. Yeah----next year---that's the year.

Coverage switched back to the other games being played. Who else would be upset that day? Which teams had the gumption to push through to the final game? And, as I watched hours upon hours of basketball, and team after team get knocked out---many players, especially seniors, crying with heads buried under towels, refusing to shake hands with their opponents---and hope after hope dashed, I thought, "This is not so unlike reading through the book of Kings."

In the book of Kings (1 and 2 Kings, really) we read account after account of the kings of Israel and Judah. With each new king, you are filled with a sense of hope, and you think, "Is this the one?? Will this be the one to lead the people in following God wholeheartedly? Will this be the one God said would come and set His people free?" And some of them start out so well. Smashing down false idols. Teaching the Law to the people. Gathering the nation to consecrate themselves to the LORD anew. "Walking in the way of their father David". But, at the end of each account is disappointment. Even those kings who seemed most devoted to following the LORD end up failing. They enter into an unlawful alliance and forget to depend on God. They marry a woman they're forbidden to marry and they start worshiping her false gods. They refuse to humble themselves before God, and they die stubborn and hard-hearted. And, enter the next king, repeat the cycle. How depressing, right!? Unless...

Unless you already know that there's no hope in man. Or basketball teams. Even the best king, or the best run through the NCAA tournament, will satisfy for only a moment. That king will die. That team will graduate, or fail miserably next year. And then what? No, those things fade. But, there is a King who has come, and is coming again. That King will never die. He defeated death!! He is our hope. He is our peace. He is our heart's desire. He is everything we've wanted. He is forever. He is good. He is Jesus, the Christ.

What does a sugary drink ban have to do with the Pope?

For the past few weeks, the world has been all abuzz with the search for a new pope (and, I imaginge, will continue to be for a few more weeks, given the recent selection of Pope Francis). Who will it be? What will be his character qualities? How will he compare and contrast to the church leaders before him? How will he deal with the scandals that have rocked the Catholic church in recent times?

Now, for the many, many people who identify as Catholic in this country, and in the whole world, I totally get the buzz, the excitement, even the nervousness, about who would be selected as the next Pope. For believers who would identify with a Protestant tradition, the buzz makes a little less sense to me. But, for unbelievers, which I would guess is the majority in this country, and the majority in the world, why on earth would you care who the next Pope is?

Well, I have a theory. My theory is, well, it's actually not a theory. It's just Romans 1. Verse 19-20 of Romans 1 says, "since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." All of us know there is a God. It's obvious. All of us want to know Him. The Pope is supposed to know Him, and to speak His Word to the people. People care who the Pope is, even if they don't want to listen to what he says, once he's chosen and starts speaking God's Word (Exhibit A - an atheist explains how God's truth is unchanging despite human opinion - below).

Romans 1 goes on to say that "For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and bird and animals and reptiles. Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts...They exchanged the truth of God for a lie...He gave them over to a depraved mind to do what ought not to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness...they invent ways of doing evil...Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them. (Romans 1:21-23, 24a, 25a, 28b, 29a, 30b[?], 32).

People also care who the mayor of their city is. The mayor is supposed to do the right thing for the city, and take care of the people. People care so much that they go stand in line and mark a piece of paper to help select who the mayor will be, even if they don't want to listen to what he says, once he's chosen and starts making decisions for the people of the city.

I'm sure you've heard all the fuss about the New York City sugary drink ban, that would make it illegal to sell some sugary drinks over 16 oz in certain restaurants, with the goal of helping curb the growing trend of obesity among adults and children in the city. People are pissed. Here's some examples from the CNN Money article on the topic:

"The super-sized drinks ban is just the latest in a series of Bloomberg administration regulations targeted at public health, including banning trans fats and the required posting of calorie counts."

"Critics have decried the rules as a sign of the growing "nanny-state" and an unfair intrusion on personal freedom."

"In a statement, the National Association of Theatre Owners said the ban had been "all about power" and lauded the rejection of an attempt to "unilaterally tell New Yorkers what to drink and where to drink it."

" 'I don't care how much soda people drink, there are bigger issues in this city than people drinking sugar, having more than two sugars in their coffee,' he said. 'I mean, look around us. Isn't there more that our mayor can concentrate on than sugar?' "

"The opponents argued that the city had overstepped its authority. Among other things, they said, the rules would disproportionately hurt small and minority-owned businesses."

So, let me get this straight? The mayor saw a problem with obesity among his people, and he decided he would come up with some solutions to help people struggling with this problem. He told restaurants to start posting calorie counts, and to stop using trans fat. The nerve! Then, he actually decided to try to restrict the amount of sugary drinks people were drinking. Who does he think he is!?! It's like he thinks people chose him as their representative, to make decisions for the common good. Oh, wait...

Here's the thing. I know the mayor of NYC is the not the same as God. But, the rebellious people pissed about being told they should drink and eat fewer things that will end up killing them ARE the same rebellious people who are pissed about being told what they should do with their lives. The people of NYC don't want to be told when and where and how they can eat and drink. They resist this so much that they are willing to take a sugary-drink-ban to court to get it overturned. So much that they will try to deflect the real issue by asking if there's not "more that our mayor can concentrate on than sugar?" So much that they will distract by claiming, true or not, that this ban "would disproportionately hurt small and minority-owned businesses." The people of NYC are on the witness stand, and the prosecutor is asking them whether they are taking care of their bodies - whether or not this overindulgence in sugary drinks is going to hurt them, maybe even kill them, eventually. And all they can do is yell, "Hey look over there! That other guy is a racist. He is an oppressor. He's just a dictator!" The prosecutor, more sternly this time, repeats the question: Are you, or are you not, engaging in behaviors that are destroying your bodies??"

Is this not just one tiny picture of us, in general? Are we not ALWAYS doing this? Always hiding our flaws - our sins- behind the wrongs, perceived or real, of another? Aren't we Really always trying to blame God for our shortcomings? "If God hadn't made me this way, I wouldn't be doing _________....If God would just give me ______________, then I wouldn't keep doing ____________. If God would just ____________, then I would be happy." But the truth about God, and how we should approach Him is in Psalm 119:68 "You are good and do good; teach me your statutes."

God is good.
He knows what we need.
He is able to provide it.
He is willing to provide it.
Trust in Him alone.

A confession, and an admonition.

I was talking with a friend the other day about our mutual struggle with "being down", or depressed, or discouraged - sometimes just for a day, sometimes for a stretch of days. As we discussed what we think leads us into those times, and how exactly we feel during them, and how we cope with them once we find ourselves there, we were noticing how we've both been duped by several lies.

We tend to believe we are the only ones who have ever felt the way we feel. We have believed that if we were to admit our struggles to a friend, they would either not understand us, they would shrug it off as not that big of a deal, or they would feel that we were once again burdening them with our problems. Though we both agreed that we do not feel that way when our friends admit their struggles to us (unless we're just being total jerks, which is perhaps another post), we still believed they would feel that way about us, because we have also believed the lie that we are more messed up or more "needy" than everyone else, as evidenced by our continual struggle with the same problem, and thus, our very presence with our friends is a burden. So, instead of confessing our struggles, and our sins , we remain silent (I am not calling discouragement/depression/"being down" a sin, but I do know that at some point---and I am not speaking for anyone else, just Me---I do not put my faith in God, but listen to the voice of the enemy/the world/my flesh instead. When this point comes, I am indeed guilty of the sin of unbelief. And, I am becoming more convinced that God is using this discouragement to train me for battle. Will I have faith in Him when I do not feel like it, and cannot see Him? Lord, grow me up! I believe Lord, help my unbelief!).

By remaining silent, we are missing out on SO much, which I'm sure is why the enemy/the world/our flesh resists us opening our mouths.

Psalm 32
3 For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away
   through my groaning all day long.
4 For day and night your hand was heavy upon me;
   my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.
                                                                       Selah
5 I acknowledged my sin to you,
   and I did not cover my iniquity;
   I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,"
   and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.
                                                                       Selah

When we keep silent, This is what we're missing out on.

1 John
1:6 If we say we have fellowship with Him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin. 8 If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 10 If we say we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us.

2:1 My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin, but if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the Righteous.

When we keep silent, This is what we're missing out on.

James 5:16
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.

When we keep silent, This is what we're missing out on.

2 Corinthians 2
8 We do not want you to be ignorant, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. 10 He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will deliver us again. 11 You also must help us by your prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.

When we keep silent, This is what we're missing out on.

Psalm 32

6 Therefore, let everyone who is godly
offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found;
surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach Him.
7 You are a hiding place for me;
you preserve me from trouble;
You surround me with shouts of deliverance.             Selah

Top 13 of My 2013 27th Birthday

1. Casey gave me a present first thing in the morning! Smart boy. Unfortunately for him, I'm not always the kindest person in the morning, and instead of saying, "Thank you, I love scarves!", I said, "Oh, it's not the right color." What a jerk. Then I felt terrible about it all day. He tries so hard (and succeeds!) at buying me sweet and thoughtful gifts - one, because he's awesome, and two, because he knows I love giving and getting gifts, and I think he may feel a teensy bit of pressure to get me just the right thing. By the end of the day, I realized that the color he got me would actually look better on me than the other color I wanted, and this was confirmed when I wore it the next day and everyone told me it went perfect with my skin tone. I think there's a lesson in here somewhere about being grateful for what you're given, even if you don't understand it at first? Thankful for Casey's thoughtfulness, and his patience with my lack of gratefulness. This is God living in Him!

2. Casey bought me breakfast first thing in the morning, even though he had the day off of work and didn't have to get up that early. And, he consented to my strange requests. And went two different places to fulfill the requests. Pecan twist and Bo-rounds from Bojangle's (duh), and a banana from the convenience store (to make me feel like I was eating "healthy").

3. While I would have been EC-STAT-IC to have 2 feet of snow on my birthday, the next best thing is 70 and sunny in January, and that's what I got. I wore short sleeves! I actually went to Walmart and saw their fur-lined coats and thought, "Wow, it's a little late in the year to have those out, isn't it? ...OH yeah, it's still winter!"

4. I got several cards in the mail, or in hand, from friends and family. In fact, they are sitting on top the DVD player right now and I am happily glancing up at them. I am TOTALLY a sentimental hoarder. Look for me in 20 years on Hoarders 2033. Wait, actually, be a friend, and come intervene before it gets there! With sentimental me and sentimental Casey combined, we could be buried within a couple years. It's sad, but true. I digress...so, my favorite card (if I can pick...I loved them all people---thanks especially to my friend Jessie in A-ville! what a sweet treat in the mail!) was from my Grandma W. She signed her card this way: "Love you Bunches! Grandma W....P.S. Hope you have a Happy Birthday! Mine & GrandPA's Anniversary is the day after your birthday - What a wonderful gift you have been." You may commence balling now.

5. Perhaps it is a little too revealing to have so much of this be about food, but nonetheless, here we go. My boss/co-worker/co-laborer in the Gospel/sister in Christ bought me lunch from wherever I wanted! La Cocina was my choice. I heart rice and beans. That is all. (funny side note: if you search for La Cocina in google images, you will actually just find a lot of pictures of kitchens)

6. So, I think I'm a little bit of an anomaly. I am both shy, and, hate to be alone. So, when I get home from work in the afternoons, I am good for about ten minutes, and then I just count down the minutes til Casey gets home from work. But! Tuesday Casey had the day off, so I walked in the house and there he was! Happy birthday to me!

7. This one will be a little bit of a throwback, but we got to visit Moms & Pops the weekend before the weekend before my birthday. I didn't stutter. Twas great fun. We watched bball (Butler v. Gonzaga - arguably the best game of the season to date), ate delicioso food by Mama W., ate birthday cake, and I got a slew of snow-themed gifts (snowflake cookie cutter, snow candy decorations on my cake, snowflake-adorned ramekins). To top it off, my sister and her bf came to visit from the land of Snow-town, NC! Love you sis! And, yes, we did talk about the boy before and after you were there. I believe he is generally approved of to date. Oh the joys of family :)

8. This one was also a few days pre-birthday, but worth mentioning. State beat UNC. Or, in everyone-else-who's-talked-about-the-game-afterwards words, we "dominated." Okay, so stop your gloating, Tar holes. And thanks to my in-laws for letting us watch the game at their house! Casey and his mom are UNC-ers. His dad is a Duke fan, but I think I might have had him cheering with me that night. He did buy me a sweet State watch that you can clip onto your keys as an early bday gift. Let's go pack!

9. Back to the food -- Casey took me to my "old stompin grounds", if you will. We headed to the PW for some "Asian" food. It was DE-licious. I got a discount. And the last chocolate chip cookie they had. And saw a few old friends. And, best part, got to help a 2nd-day-on-the-job-er figure out which dish she was giving us. She thanked me profusely and I was like "No! You got it! The peanuts mean it's Kung Pao." Oh, the old days.

10. Related to #9 is one of the best parts of the day - I got to enjoy my meal in the company of Melissa, Leah, Todd, and Silas!!! I love you friends! What a treat to see you, on my real birthday and everything!

11. Casey & I were gonna watch a movie when we got home around 9. We sat down, watched about ten minutes of a a UNC bball game, and decided to go to bed instead. We are old. I love you C!

12. My number 12 great thing about my birthday was the 12 packs of spearmint chapstick that Casey bought me! It was the last gift he let me open, because he knew I would like it the most. I like it because I'm addicted to chapstick, and spearmint is my favorite flavor, and they don't sell it at Walmart here anymore, and because he bought me like a year's supply of it. But the best part of the gift is that he totally gets me. Only he knows (well, and now, all of you) exactly what flavor of chapstick I use, and how I am always complaining about it not being stocked at Walmart, and how many times a day I put it on, and how I threaten to cut him when he tries to steal it from me, and how I freak out "just a little" when I can't find it, and how delighted I would be to receive a box full of it for my birthday.

13. I was quite reflective on my 27th birthday morning. I was thinking about Roe v. Wade. I was thinking how I was born 13 years and 1 week to the date of the decision that has allowed at least 55 million legal abortions since 1973. I was thinking how I could have been one of those 55 million. If my parents had led just a little bit different of a life, had a few different friends, hadn't feared the Lord, hadn't been raised to cherish life - I could Not be here. By the grace of God, I am here. He has given me life. Wow. Thanks to God! Thanks Mom & Dad, for choosing to give me life.