(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

How To Be A Social Artist Ninja
Feb 07, 2013 12:10 am | Kristen Strong




"A person who lives right has more power in his silence than another has by words."  ~Phillips Brooks

My gal pal Elyssa shines and sparkles as a friend-extraordinaire. Not only is she a consummate giver, she breathes in the Spirit and breathes out grace to everyone in her circle of influence. While I admire her for these reasons and a hundred more, I admire her most because she is a true social artist.

More specifically, she is a social artist ninja.

This doesn't mean she's necessarily extroverted or wildly demonstrative. I wouldn't call her a social butterfly, although as a pastor's wife she brilliantly maneuvers various social situations. Rather she is a social artist ninja because she is masterful at focusing on you, and doing so in such a fashion you never saw yourself become the center of attention.

Last summer when Elyssa and her family traveled through town, our family had the pleasure of playing host. During their stay, I resolved to keep my eyes and ears alert to Elyssa's social ninja moves. I made it my goal to purposefully direct conversations towards her because I wanted to practice being as others-centered as she.

I started out not too shabby, keenly aware and focused on my mission. But one evening during dinner – somewhere between the king ranch chicken and homemade apple pie – she asked a subtle, simple question. I don't remember what it was, but her question touched me deeply. Before I knew it, I found my own voice going on and on about me and my big life.

The social artist ninja strikes again.

I laugh about it now and take comfort knowing a hallmark of great conversations is this happening both ways, when both people give and take. But if I'm going to err, I would rather err on the side of listening more and talking less. Elyssa does this beautifully because her life speaks of this truth:

She puts others first.

"Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand."

~ Philippians 2: 3-4 {the Message}

In this world of i-everything, it's hard to remember I need to forget about me.

I remember I am called to lend a helping hand as the Spirit moves us, not lay down doormat-style to abuse. I want no part of that. But if I do want to cultivate a lifestyle that embraces others and runs from narcism – that puts others first – then I must be a listener who cares and participates in conversations through quiet engagement. This doesn't mean I sit mute, it just means I make my words count.

Humility is the heartbeat of all encouragement, and it takes humility to sit with hands and heart open and lips closed.

It takes a social artist.

Putting arms around others – welcoming them into the fold with a listening ear – unfolds God's pleasure. May it be natural for me to embrace others by listening, to actively resolve to be quietly involved in conversations. And in doing so, may the Savior have room to enter in as the real center of attention.

In conversations, do you find it easy or difficult to listen more than speak? How do you actively resolve to be quietly involved in listening?

Kristen Strong, listening with both ears at Chasing Blue Skies



Tryer's Remorse
Feb 07, 2013 12:10 am | Shauna Letellier




With the arrival of the winter months, there are all sorts of ailments floating around including colds, the flu, and "buyer's remorse." You may (or may not) have avoided all these, but as 2013 looms large and your goals and resolutions taunt, there is a more sinister ailment lurking. I call it Tryer's Remorse.

Perhaps a definition of terms is in order.

Tryer's Remorse: The negative, regretful feeling experienced after having exerted great effort, yet still falling short of one's expectation. Often expressed with disgust or embarrassment by the words, "I will NEVER do that again!"

I had my first bout of Tryer's Remorse at cheerleading camp my senior year of high school.

All week we had been instructed in the finer points of voice projection, straight extended limbs, starched smiles, and various airborne bodily contortions called "jumps"—which purportedly increased crowd volume and school spirit.

On the second-to-last day a most coveted opportunity was extended to the entire camp—the chance to audition for the National Cheerleading Association's entourage for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Excitement! Distinction! Prestige!

It was all so dazzling to this average, small-town cheerleader. I strained to hear the audition details but was repeatedly distracted. My mind was filled with visions of giant Snoopy and Garfield balloons clearing the way for me...I mean for us...through the streets of New York City.

I thought I had a chance—a good chance—to make the squad. So, bolstered by the squealing encouragement of my fellow cheerleaders, I signed up for the audition.

After rehearsing the prescribed cheer 259 times in less than 24 hours, I strode to the front of the gym for my audition.

With my polyester sweater soaked in nervous perspiration and my partially digested lunch threatening to make an appearance, I performed the cheer then skipped to the sidelines with my bobbing ponytail patting me on the back.

My fellow cheerleaders received me with giddy high-fives and a blast of "spirit fingers." And I just got sweatier as I tried to downplay my utter excitement!

The next day the results were posted for the entire camp, and my entire squad, to see.

My name was not on the list.

I tried.

I failed.

And I suffered a long bout of Tryer's Remorse.

I will NEVER try again! How humiliating!

I shouldn't have even tried!

I doubt anyone else thought about it for a nanosecond, but I spent the better part of that summer berating myself for even trying.

Later that year, after Tryer's Remorse had metastasized into a paralyzing fear of failure, I found a quote which I inscribed in purple ink on the fly pages of my pink "leather" Bible:

My greatest fear is not that I will fail, but that I will succeed in something that doesn't really matter.

~Wycliffe Bible Translator, William Townsend

Those words were a welcome salve for the injuries of Tryer's Remorse. They also served as a guidepost to help me determine what was worth trying, even if it meant failing.

Tryer's Remorse still occasionally raises its ugly head. Visions of giant Snoopy and Garfield balloons taunt me as they make way for the parade of my past failures.

And it's true that sometimes I have failed at things that don't matter—like making the NCA cheer squad.

And sometimes I have failed at things that matter. That would be devastating if not for grace.

But sometimes, by God's grace, I have succeeded at what matters.

And when that happens, all glory goes to Him for giving me the courage to try.



Do you suffer from Tryer's Remorse? What is one thing  you believe is worth trying in 2013?

By Shauna Letellier, Permission to be Real

[Judy Harder]

How "Unfriending" Shrinks My World
Feb 08, 2013 12:10 am | Deidra




He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. ~Ephesians 2:14

Toward the end of 2012, things got pretty heated in the world of social media. It wasn't the first time, and it surely will not be the last. I'd be lying if I said some of what I saw didn't ruffle my feathers and make me want to fire off a snarky response or a back-handed missive that highlighted the virtues of the other point of view. Sometimes, the devil's advocate in me wanted to jump into the fray, simply for the benefit of having stirred the pot. By some miracle, however, I held my peace.

Peace, I thought, was the better goal. And so, I "hid" updates from my Facebook timeline and I stayed away from Twitter, hoping to insulate myself from opinions and points-of-view that didn't jibe with mine. It worked. Each day, when I logged on to social media, I was met with an array of updates and links that made me smile, and validated my opinion of the world. Before I knew it, and without considering the implications, I had surrounded myself with people who thought like me, spoke like me, lived like me, and looked like me.

Overnight, my world became extremely small — shrunk down to one small choir and the people who were preaching to it. Or, to use a biblical example, one small ear, or hand, or nose, without the rest of the body to make it matter.

I don't want to live small like that, with everyone around me smiling and saying, "Yes" no matter what. I don't want to create a mono-tone community, where I don't ever get to stretch my thinking. Or my faith. Or my courage. I don't want to go through life always sitting at the table, or going to the church, or living in the neighborhood where everyone's story has been painted with the same-colored brush as mine.

Peace doesn't take the easy way out. Finger-pointing and daring you to cross my line in the sand are easy ways for me to build a wall that was torn down long ago. What if my quest for online (and real-life) peace wasn't at all what Jesus had in mind? What if peace is more about staying at the table — with people whose ideas are different from mine — long enough to find God, right in the middle of it all?

[Judy Harder]

Being a Christian in a Secular World
Feb 09, 2013 12:10 am | Dawn Camp




Yesterday I bought a new computer. After working and saving for over a year, the last check was finally deposited. I intended to wait until my husband got home from work to go with me, but I just didn't have the patience. After verifying that the money was in my account, printing a shopping cart page showing what features I wanted, and even calling  to make sure the computer was in stock, I headed for the Apple Store.

Most of us have a place where we love to shop—where we love to simply be. Yours may be Pottery Barn or Target; T.J. Maxx or Anthropologie (I confess I've never been); Barnes & Noble or Walmart. For me it's the Apple Store.

The employee practically high-fived me when he heard what I'd come to buy. I handed over my printed shopping cart page and he rang it up right there in the middle of the store. I couldn't stop smiling.

And then he showed me that my debit card wasn't approved.

Thankfully I've discovered a small-town bank in a big city. I called my local branch; the employee who answered the phone recognized my voice and I recognized hers; and at the end of 10-15 agonizingly long minutes the iMac was mine.

Knowing the money was in the bank and I wasn't trying to pull a fast one on the Apple Store was the only thing that kept me standing there, arms pinned to my side to hide the sweat, communicating with both parties until the transaction was complete instead of ducking my head in embarrassment and walking away.

Sometimes this is what it feels like to be a Christian in a secular world.

You know you're on the right side—ultimate truth is in Christ—which gives you faith in your position, but the world sure can make you squirm and sweat.

My husband and I are movie buffs, whether at the theater or sitting in our living room. Twice in the last month we've seen Christians portrayed on the screen in a way that made us cringe, once in a movie with at least one current Oscar nomination, once in the middle of the fourth season of a five season TV show we stream obsessively at home from Netflix.

As Christians we are followers of Christ and our lives should speak love and mercy, joy and laughter, not the rigid-jawed, thin-lipped self-righteousness of the Pharisees that I saw portrayed. Too often that's the stereotype that you and I face in this world. It's our job to dispel it—to stand firm when other employees steal from the company; other students cheat; or other women badmouth their husbands—because our principles have a foundation.

Even when the situation makes you sweat.

We serve a God who isn't hindered by technical glitches and whose account is never empty, his grace and mercy ever-abundant.

"If God be for us, who can be against us?" ~ Romans 8:31

Was there a time in your life when your faith in God enabled you to stand firm in a hard place?

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

Is Love Supposed to be Fair?
Feb 11, 2013 12:20 am | Angela Nazworth




"All's fair in love and war" ... or so goes the old saying that traces back to John Lyly's Euphues written in 1578. For centuries, the adage has granted individuals license to cheat on the battlefields of ground and heart.

Ironically, any solider who has fought for his or her country will tell you that there is nothing fair about war. No matter the reasons for entering a fight, terror and ugliness abound savagely. But I'll leave the subject of war for other writers to discuss. Love now weighs heavily on my mind.

Contrary to Lyly's famous line, the only commonality I know that exists between love and war is that neither is fair. Yet, unlike war, it is the unfairness component of love that can add unfathomable beauty.

Love, in its purest, sacrificial form has never been fair. I don't think it was designed to be fair. As God sculpted Adam from the fresh earth, He knew that His most glorious creation would break His heart. Yet still, God breathed man to life. It was not fair, but the beauty surrounding such love cannot be denied.

When the world knew only darkness and despair, God sent hope in the form of His son, Jesus Christ. The sinless man and true embodiment of love was scorned, spat upon, rejected, beaten, and killed by a method that glorified cruelty as sport. The image of my sweet Savior nailed to a brutal cross swells a lump in my throat. It was the greatest atrocity committed by mankind, one in which I bear some of the blame.

It. Was. Not. Fair.

But the beauty ... the stunning, breath-stealing beauty pouring from such sacrifice cannot be denied.

Fourteen years ago this week, my life changed when my boyfriend of only four months sent me on an elaborate treasure hunt that ended with him on bended knee. The night I agreed to be his wife, as well as during the wedding-planning months that followed, delusions of fairness occupied an enormous space of my mental real estate. And as we exchanged vows, slivers of cake and many kisses I envisioned all the bliss the next fifty years could possibly hold. Oh, I knew that our life together wouldn't be perfect, but I was confident that it would at least be fair.

Less than two weeks after my wedding day, I learned that my previous notions were laughable. Fifty-fifty? Equal give-and-take? Those are just good-intentioned, but flawed concepts. Our marriage experienced illnesses that rattled our faith, emotional pain that rammed us to our knees and losses that ransacked our haven. Not only did life hit us with some unjust blows, we also dealt each other some unscrupulous punches. That's what human beings sometimes do when life gets gritty. We mess up. We make mistakes. We get angry with each other. We cause unwarranted pain.

My marriage is not and has never been fair, but it is worth fighting for and it does hold beauty that cannot be denied.

Arms open to embrace one in need of forgiveness ... beautiful.

Fingers entwined as a new life swallows her first gulps of air ... beautiful.

Tears cried for the one who aches ... beautiful.

Hands steadying the one whose body is ravaged by pain ... beautiful.

Laughter echoing throughout corridors ... beautiful.

Feet that stumble as they walk a rugged path, but also glide as they dance ... beautiful.

Lips that touch softly as evidence to both passion and commitment ... beautiful.

Love. Unbridled, agape love, a love that is taught by its Creator, is not fair. But its glorious beauty cannot be denied.

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." I Corinthians 13: 1-3 (NIV)

[Judy Harder]

Do you have a case of the Mondays?
Feb 13, 2013 12:10 am | Mary Carver




In a couple months I'll have been blogging for five years. That means I've blogged about resolutions at least five times. I've gone through phases – writing about my goals, writing about my failures, declaring an end to the practice of making resolutions in the first place and, most recently, sharing a few resolutions (like eating more chocolate) that I believe we can all manage to keep this year.

But as I've been reflecting on the nature of resolutions and the fact that most of us don't keep ours (and yet continue to make them every year in a baffling display of optimism), something occurred to me. I realized that the majority of changes I've made in my life have nothing to do with resolutions or a date on the calendar.

See, I set goals for myself all. the. time. Eat more vegetables. Exercise more. Organize my pantry. Plan meals before going to the grocery store. Get up early. Floss my teeth. Watch less TV (as if!). And more often than not, I decide to start pursuing these goals next week, next month, next year.

So often when I set goals for myself, make resolutions to change or improve, it's all about the next. I get wrapped up in the planning and the dreaming and the I'm-gonna-do-it-this-time-no-really-I-am, and I forget to actually start.

I say, "I'll start on Monday," but somehow, Monday never comes.

Have you ever done that?
Have you ever put off your dreams, your goals, your resolutions for the next, for Monday?
Have you ever had a case of the Mondays?

The interesting thing about this is that I have, certainly, made changes to my life and met goals I set for myself. Many times I've resolved to change something – and I have!

In the last couple of years, I've stopped speeding (for the most part), started taking vitamins every day (or most every day), remembered to take my canvas bags to the grocery store (usually), made a point to invite friends over for dinner once a month, balanced my checkbook twice a month, read a lot more of the Bible than I did the year before and finished a few of the non-fiction books that have been collecting dust on the shelf for months.

You wanna guess how many of those things happened on a Monday or January 1? {None.}

Have you broken or met your New Year's resolutions for this year?
Have you been waiting for next week, next month or next year?
Or are you moving forward, standing back up when you fall, reaching for those goals?
Have you set goals and made plans, but forgotten to start doing?
What's stopping you from starting now instead of next Monday?

Do you keep your New Year's or Monday resolutions?
Or do you meet more goals that you set through the year or the week?

By Mary Carver, Giving Up on Perfect

[Judy Harder]

How It Feels to Be Held By God
Feb 14, 2013 12:10 am | Kristen Welch


We pulled up in our driveway, exhausted. Our unplanned trip to my sister-in-law's bedside and subsequent funeral, left our little family emotionally empty. Raw.

Familiar cars  parked in front of our house, vehicles of faithful Mercy House volunteers.  They quietly filled in the gaps our journey left, doing what needed to be done in the storage building next to our home.

As I dropped bags of dirty laundry in the laundry room, I saw bags of groceries on the countertop. Ten minutes home and there was dinner at the front door. The mailbox held condolence cards, the phone, messages.

Neighbors, friends and family, community holding us.



The first Sunday back at church we heard whispers of condolence and knowing looks. Compassion.

I believe this- dinner-serving, grocery-giving, burden-bearing- this is what Jesus had in mind when he said love one another.

We wonder how to change the world, how to leave a mark, move the hand of God?

We change the world when we simply meet the needs of another. When we love others more than ourselves, not expecting anything in return.

Because no matter the troubled road we journey (and we all walk it at some point) life goes on. Laundry piles up and bellies need to be fed. When we rake the yard of one who can't, we see God. It's love.

"It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true disciple." Matt. 10:42

We've been doing a lot of holding in our house. I hold my husband as he grieves his dear sister who died far to young. He holds our children as they try to grasp death and eternity. Our children hold the hand of God with their simple faith.

Our immediate and extended family is held by community.

And it feels just like the arms of God.

Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family




May Or May Not Get Married So Now What?
Feb 14, 2013 12:10 am | Katy Boatman


When I was six, I remember standing in my grandmother's den modeling the shimmering white veil my aunt had worn in her wedding.  I held her flowers and walked down my pretend aisle knowing that no matter what, my version of Prince Charming was standing there waiting for me.  At six, I'm sure my Prince Charming had dark hair, unnaturally white teeth, tan skin, and looked exactly like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.

My six-year-old imagination could have told you what my dress looked like, who was attending my wedding, and how tall my delicious cake would be.  I could show you where the flower girl would drop her flowers (because I was super experienced at that), and I could tell you that although you may want your bridesmaids to carry your train, I would prefer my older brothers do it.  They need to be put to work too, right?

But at six years old, I couldn't tell you much about what a wedding really meant.  I couldn't tell you what the words that the bride and groom kept repeating meant, or why they got pretty rings.

The older I got I realized that a wedding was way more than a party with pretty dresses and really good cake.  I realized a wedding meant marriage, a future, and a husband (and some really good cake too).   It was a ceremony, a celebration, and a chance to share with friends and family my commitment to love, honor, and cherish my new Prince Charming (by this age, he most definitely resembled Justin Timberlake).

As a teenager, I could tell you the timeline of how my future would look.  I would graduate high school, go to college, graduate college, and get married.  It was a checklist of goals.  And it was the only thing I knew.

I knew there were books that talked about dating, and I knew there were books that talked about marriage.  There were books that would help me get into college, and books I would fall asleep reading while pretending to study during college.  But in my checklist of goals (high school, college, marriage), I never considered the gap.

What if there was a gap between college and marriage?  What if that gap was a really long time?  What if I actually had to use my degree and get a job?  Where was there a book about the gap?  Or where was the book called, You May or May Not Get Married So Now What?

Today, I'm 26 and single.  I graduated from college three and half years ago, and I have a job in publishing that keeps me busy and challenges me daily.  I'm nowhere close to getting married, and I have still never read a book on filling in the gaps.  And you know what?  I'm completely happy.

When I was six, I didn't walk around with a pretend laptop and pretend cell phone and act like I was on my way to a super important meeting.  I walked around in heels and held fake flowers.

It's a funny thing when we try and live out our idea of a plan.  We quickly discover that living out God's plan is more of a dream come true than any Disney movie could have premiered.  It's just a dream we never imagined.  And at 26, instead of cooking dinner for your husband as he gets home from work, you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street writing an article called, "You May or May Not Get Married So Now What?"

And because that's His plan, it's so incredibly good.



By Katy Boatman, Single, Party of One

[Judy Harder]

The Unraveling Of A Marriage
Feb 15, 2013 12:10 am | Lysa




I had a favorite sweater I loved wearing. It wasn't too bulky but was still warm and cozy. The only problem was the threads were loosely woven together. It would snag on things, so I had to be ever so careful when I wore it.

I was always mindful of the delicate nature of this sweater so I could protect it, make it last, and enjoy wearing it time and again.

Until one day I was in a hurry. I grabbed some things I needed for a meeting and rushed to my car. I tossed all my stuff over to the passenger seat, including a spiral notebook. A spiral notebook whose metal binding wire had gotten caught on my sleeve. As I pulled my arm toward the steering wheel, the notebook came with it and pulled a huge snag in my sweater.

I unhooked myself and assessed the damage. Based on what I saw, I should have taken the sweater off, put something else on, and later taken the time to repair the snag the correct way.

But in the rush of all I had going on, I made the tragic decision to do what seemed easiest in the moment. I snipped the lose threads and hoped for the best. That tragic decision started an unraveling process that ended the life of that beautiful sweater.

Recently, my husband and I got into an argument. In front of the kids. Over something so stupid. Right before we were about to head out the door to go on a date.

In the heat of the argument he announced the date was off. He no longer wanted to go. And honestly, I no longer wanted to go either.

I wanted to go sit in a coffee shop by myself and make a mental list of all the reasons I was right. All the reasons he was wrong. And justify my perspective. But it's at this exact moment of resistance that an unraveling can begin.

Doing what seems easy in the moment often isn't what's best for the long term.

I pushed for us to still go on our date. It wasn't fun. It wasn't easy. There were tears. There were awkward stretches of silence. But we pushed through the resistance we both felt, and eventually talked.

Talking through the snags. The pulls. The things that threaten to unravel us.

There is a delicate nature to marriage. It's so easy to forget that. It's so easy to take it all for granted and stop being careful. Stop being mindful. Stop being protective.

The unraveling can happen so quickly.

What's something you can do today to invest wisely in your marriage? To be mindful of your mate? To protect your relationship?

For me? I had to apologize. The right way. By admitting I was wrong and asking for forgiveness. Repairing the snags the right way... tying a knot and tucking it back into the weave of our relationship fabric.

Isn't it funny that when we get married it's called "tying the knot"? For us, this wasn't just an act at the altar. It's something we have to do over and over again.

By Lysa TerKeurst

Are you looking to prove that you're right or to improve your relationships? Lysa addresses how to have godly reactions in the midst of conflict in her book Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy!

[Judy Harder]

How Gentleness Makes Our Children Great
Feb 16, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Mae


He was 2 1/2 and I spanked him. I spanked him over and over and over again, because I thought I was doing the right thing, the godly thing. I needed him to obey, there was no other option.

I was tired and overwhelmed, and I just wanted compliance. I wanted him to honor me by obeying me; I wanted be biblical in the training of my child. I wanted to raise an obedient child so that one day he would be great.

But my son, with the bright blue eyes, he was sad. Very, very sad.

He thought he was bad; not the bad in the understanding that we are all born with a sinful bent, but the bad as in an "I'm not lovable" bad. And he wasn't just sad, he was angry. He was angry because he didn't think he could change. He was angry that he couldn't help his immaturity. He was angry that we just kept trying to spank the immaturity out of him.

And when he looked at me with wet eyes and said, "God doesn't love me" I broke.

Spanking, first-time obedience, over and over and over and over, and honor, and love, and sadness and anger, and we both just broke.

This way of love was not working.

My husband and I learned a new way, slowly and fumbling, we learned how to love our son and nurture his soul in compassionate ways. We began listening to him more, rubbing his arms, looking in his eyes, relating with him (we sin too), and finding ways to guide his heart towards good...towards the kindess and love of God.

I learned the art of stepping down from my rank as the authority and putting myself in his shoes. Remembering the mind of a child, the immaturity, the limited understanding, the just trying to figure out my world curiosity. And when I do this, when I remember and allow myself to see through his eyes, I am following in the way of Jesus.

Jesus, who humbled himself by stepping down from his rank to live as us, among us. He wore flesh and saw through human eyes, and He had compassion on the people. He had compassion on me.

And He has been ever so gentle with me, as I'm just figuring out my world; as I'm figuring out how to fit perfect into fallen. He is in me, perfection, and His Spirit is intertwined with mine, and I'm just working it all out, this life with Him. He is maturing me slowly, gently, with His kindness and compassion.

His gentleness is making me great.

And it is the gentleness that I am learning to show my son, to raise my babies, that I believe will make them great.

"...your gentleness makes me great." Psalm 18:35

By Sarah Mae, author of Desperate – Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breath

Need help navigating the waters of discipline? I highly recommend Heartfelt Discipline: Following God's Path of Life to the Heart of Your Child

[Judy Harder]

Wonderfully YOU!
Feb 19, 2013 12:10 am | Robin Dance




After 25 years, he still doesn't completely understand me.

It was just the two of us alone in the car that day, when I casually mentioned entering the HGTV Dream Home giveaway.

"Why do you enter giveaways?" he asks, incredulous that anyone bothers to enter when hundreds of thousands (millions?) will do the same. It's the only contest I enter year in and out, and this year I'm especially hopeful:  it's a dream home near our favorite vacation destination.

I smiled and explained, "Well, s o m e o n e will win and I don't stand a chance of being that someone unless I enter."  Perfectly logical.

It's silly, I know, especially when the odds are stacked outrageously high against me.  But I really, truly, no-matter-how-ridiculous-it-sounds believe I could win.

Sitting in the car that day, our seemingly innocuous conversation led me to realize something important:

One of the things I like most about myself is boundless optimisim.

So I said it out loud.

"You know, I LIKE that about myself, that I think I could win...." and my voice trails as I recall things I have won in the past.  A computer.  A printer.  A Reddi Wip gift pack.  A trip to SXSW.  Big things and small things, but only because I tried.

But winning giveaways isn't my point at all.

It occurred to me that it's important to see things about myself – unique giftings or quirks or aspects of my personality – to acknowledge and celebrate how God made me wonderful.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

~ Psalm 139:14 NIV
God made you wonderful.
Unless you are a very new Christ follower, this is likely a familiar verse, especially if you have children.  But why is it easier for me to see its truth in light of my babies, yet a challenge to believe about me?

In the original Hebrew text, the word "fearfully" means with great reverence, respect; "wonderfully" means marvelous, unique, set apart.

Right after the psalmist praises God for how he was made, he declares God's works wonderful and emphasizes his trust and belief.  He recognizes who he is in light of his Creator.

Have you ever considered you're wonderful because you're a precious work of God, created with a unique bent that he designed especially for you?
Have you given yourself permission to delight in the qualities that set you apart from every other creature on the planet??
Right now I'm asking you to think about some things you like about yourself and name them out loud; if you're willing, share them in comments.  Praise God for the marvelous ways you're uniquely YOU.
This is important lovies.  It is far too easy to become entangled in the comparison game, to feel less than others because they have strengths you lack or they're succeeding in areas where you're stalling.

You're special.

You're one of a kind.

And I think it's beautiful to notice the details of God's craftmanship in you...and, then to graciously express your gratitude back to Him.

Lovies, won't you share even one of your quirks or propensities or talents that others might not quite get but you appreciate?  I'd like to know and celebrate with you!

With joy and grace from Robin, who cherishes her quirky belief that sometimes God gives baby rainbows to those who need 'em. ❤

 

[Judy Harder]

Kingdom Come: On the Mind, the Wait, and the Delight
Feb 20, 2013 12:20 am | Amber Haines




I have a tendency toward poetics, but I am certainly no scholar. If I ever did well in school, I had to work for it, maybe twice as hard as others had to work, but once I developed a love of learning, it certainly became easier for me to justify the work. I was a C and D student in high school who turned out a 4.89 GPA in college.

I was in my Sophomore year when I first believed Christ and His words. I read then that I had been given "the mind of Christ," and you know what? I believed it, because He whispered to me the way to go. The Holy Spirit gave me understanding, and I thrived on learning more and more and more of the story into which God had actively engaged me. When I first believed, I spent every single day like I had been raised from the dead.

Oh but then I grew up, became tidy, and I put my passion down a little. My learning became a way to know more and better than others. My walk became tired, and I began feeling unsatisfied in my pursuits. This is when I fell hard, to the rock bottom (the pit), when I needed to be resurrected. As it turns out, we experience resurrection again and again.

He has shown me repeatedly that I must be empty to be filled, that blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I can't even count how many times I've been brought low in my pride, where in the low-down I get to kiss the feet of Jesus. Maybe it's wisdom, which is Spirit, that I would ever crave the low-down before the height, now to head straight to His feet and cry my tears there until my hair is messy wet.

Lately I've been reading it again, the story like it's real and mine and history and science and future. The Bible is reminding me what life really is and is filling my mind with ancient things, pearls, and the awes of mystery. Jesus Christ lives, and I am walking with Him.What an outrageously mystical thing to say?!

But here's the deal, in my reading and training my mind, I am being transformed, but life has not become a cake walk. In fact, many things have become uglier. The things that used to satisfy me, they're leaving me void.

This past year, God has asked me to wait on Him for several things. Right now, I am waiting for Him, and He's not answered yet.

What I'm learning is that you cannot rightly wait for someone in whom you don't delight. I turn my face away, daily even; I'll ponder a different golden calf, wonder if satisfaction is there, the music, the television, the health of my children, the goodness of sex, or the safety of wealth. None of it works.

"Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4). This is a promise. This is the thing HE will indeed give, and it's a mystery that He would give it, Himself.

He is my delight, and I see with my eyes how the world falls apart, our kingdoms and health, but I am indeed ever satisfied here in Him.

His Kingdom Come. His will be done.

***

May I turn your heart to a sister, to Ann Voskamp with her family in Haiti? I know many of us feel like fan-girls toward her, but the truth is that we are sisters, and she is humble, and we see Christ in her, and He draws us.

She's there with Mission of Hope: Haiti and wrote a post about being there, about being empty and crying out to God, and I think it's important to read. One of her children apparently sprained an ankle while there, and I know she's processing the hard and the beauty and will share it with us.

I wonder if in the comment section here today, if we could bless her and her family? I don't care if only three of you do it. Would you speak truth and what you might pray for a sister going with her entire family (even with her mama carrying a sewing machine), that she would know the things of God in the midst of suffering – and that Mission of Hope would receive what is needed?

I know His Kingdom Comes through such things.

—

post by Amber C Haines of theRunaMuck