One Girl. One God.

It's all about Jesus.

[jesuswins]

And we know that in all things, God works.

...for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) 

Right? You finished the verse, I’m sure. It’s one of the most quoted verses, and for good reason. It’s powerful. God loves us, so much that He sent His one and only son to die for us. When we accept this love and answer His call, He works all things for our good. That is a poignant message that has been uplifting to my weary heart many times.

But the past couple of days, I’ve been caught up by the first part of the verse: “And we know that in all things, God works...” That’s all we need to know. That’s what He does. He works. He works in every little thing in our lives. Yes, it’s for our good. That’s important to remember. But what’s more important to me is that God is working. Period. He’s not taking a break. He’s not distracted. He doesn’t have to keep 12 different to-do lists going in order to keep up with the things that are happening in my life (uh, I mean, not that I’m guilty of that or anything). He is working. He is constantly waging war against the father of lies, kicking demons away, protecting my heart and soul, and moving through everything in my life.

As I was reading in 1 Samuel 19 this morning, I came across an interesting passage. Saul tries to kill David, so with the help of his wife, David escapes. He meets up with Samuel and they travel to Naioth. Saul finds out where they are, so he sends a group of men to capture David. But God had different plans. When the men see David, Samuel, and the other prophets, they are seized by the Spirit of God and begin prophesying themselves. Saul finds out, sends more men, and the same thing happens. Then, it happens again. Three groups of men sent by Saul are rendered completely powerless and turned to prophesying when they are met with the power of the Living God. Finally, in his frustration, Saul decides he will just go get David himself. 

“So Saul went to Naioth at Ramah. But the Spirit of God came even on him, and he walked along prophesying until he came to Naioth. He stripped off his garments, and he too prophesied in Samuel’s presence.” (1 Samuel 19:23-24)

Saul, the man who had continually disobeyed God, the man who had tried to kill David multiple times, the man from whom David was fleeing...yes, even Saul was completely consumed by God. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist it, couldn’t do anything but prophesy. He didn’t see God coming, and he wasn’t prepared for it...he didn’t even want God to work in him! But God did anyway, because He’s God, and He works in all things, all the time.

This got me thinking about the state of our nation. We’ve got an election coming up in November, and the presidential primary is next week. Many say that it’s a turning point for our nation, and I believe that it could be. The grand ole United States of America (or ‘Merica, as we folks around here refer to it) isn’t in the best shape right now. There are many evils that are allowed and even encouraged by both the government and the general public. I’ve heard it said many times in the past few years that God isn’t working, or at least isn’t working in the big things, in our nation because we aren’t welcoming Him and we aren’t prepared for Him.

But I think that’s wrong. Hear me out. I want, and pray for, nothing more than our nation and our government to turn back to God and to honor Him with our choices, our government, and our lives. I want the president to welcome God back into our country, into our schools, into our public offices, into every facet of lives. I want the church to gather up the pieces and rebuild a nation that is prepared for God to work in mighty ways. But I don’t think it’s necessary.

Saul wasn’t ready for God. He wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t honoring God. In fact, he was chasing after one of the mightiest men of God so that he could kill him! That tells me that he wasn’t making the best choices. But you know what God did? He worked in Saul. He moved in him. It was powerful, and it was good, and though it did not permanently change Saul’s life, it did save David’s life.

You see, even when Saul was going against God, God still moved, He still worked, because He works IN ALL THINGS! He works AT ALL TIMES!

I believe that God will work in our nation, because I believe that He already is working in our nation. Revival will come, even if our favorite presidential candidate isn’t elected. Revival will come, even if that bill that we are opposed to passes. Revival will come, even if we are disappointed by the government. How am I so confident in this? 

Because even when we’re not ready.

Even when we’re defiant.

Even when we’re broken.

Even when we’re sinning.

Even when we’re rebellious.

Even when we’re chasing the world.

Even when we aren’t looking for God to work.

God works anyway. Because He’s God, and that’s what He does.

“And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”-Romans 8:28

[jesuswins]

You Can't Have the Resurrection without the Cross

This post is different than normal. Most of the time, I have a thought, brood on it for a couple of days, run a few miles, and develop it until it is ready to share with the world. But I haven't been running lately (THE INSANITY), nor have I had the peace that I needed to develop an idea. But then there was this phrase: "You can't have the resurrection without the cross." I just read it literally two minutes ago. It was a comment on somebody else's blog and I stopped dead in my tracks after I read it. My heart and mind immediately jumped in, so here are my immediate thoughts. This is one of the most beautiful phrases I've ever heard. I'm a quote officienado, so I've heard a lot of beautiful words in my day. But this one is different. As a church, we celebrate the Cross...when we think it's appropriate. We talk about it at Christmas and Easter and sometimes in between when we talk about why Jesus came (to die for us) and what we are called to do (die daily). But beyond the spiritual significance of the cross, we don't talk about it. We don't talk about the fact that Jesus Christ was BEATEN within an inch of His death. We don't talk about the fact that he carried A CROSS BIGGER THAN HIMSELF up a HILL, knowing good and well that He would die on that very cross in the hours to come. We don't talk about the fact that His hands and feet were NAILED TO THE CROSS. We don't talk about the fact that a crown of THORNS was SHOVED onto His head. We don't talk about the fact that he hung there for HOURS, His body heaving, trying to get any amount of air. We don't talk about the fact that, in the most pivotal moment of human history, Jesus Christ breathed His last breath on the very cross that He had carried. We don't talk about that. Because it's nasty. Because it's painful. Because it's not family-friendly. Because it's ugly. Because it hurt Jesus. Because it hurts us. But we celebrate the resurrection. We talk about it all the time. We talk about the fact that Mary and Martha went to the tomb and Jesus wasn't there. We talk about the fact that Jesus came back from the dead. We talk about the fact that His disciples got to fellowship with Him again. We talk about the fact that He spent some glorious days on Earth before He went back to Heaven. We talk about the fact that He is now living in Heaven, sitting at the right hand of God, fighting for us. We talk about that. Because it's pretty. Because it makes us feel good. Because it's safe for the whole family. Because it's heart-warming. Don't get me wrong. We need to talk about the resurrection. It is a cornerstone of our faith. But we also have to talk about the cross, because without the cross, there is no resurrection. You see, in each of our lives, we've had a cross, and we've had a resurrection. We've probably had more than one. We've had our ugly moments, the moments where we were bleeding and crying and, ultimately, dying. And somehow, our culture, the church included, has taught us that we don't need to talk about those moments. They're kinda ugly, and they're not real family-friendly sometimes, so save those for your therapist or maybe your spouse. But the resurrection, oh that's what we love to talk about! When we're on the mountaintop, basking in God's glory, we are more than happy to share that with the world. We are even encouraged to share those moments. Those are the moments that people testify about in church and brag about on Facebook. Y'all, I love the mountaintop. I do. It's got a beautiful view. But you don't get there without the valley. And you don't get to the glorious resurrection without the cross. So instead of pushing our personal crosses away like they are something to be ashamed of, let's celebrate the fact that we are worthy to join in Jesus' sufferings and that someday, we will see the resurrection. "I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances."-Philippians 4:11

[jesuswins]

It's Only A Shadow

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." I find it to be not without coincidence that last night, nine precious members of the body of Christ lost their lives in the very church where Dr. King once shared the heart of his Savior. My heart hurts. It's hard to fathom all of the evil in the world. We seem to be living in complete darkness. "How could this happen?" is a phrase that I seem to utter all too often these days. And frankly, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of trying to emotionally come to terms with people dying because of other people. For now, I cannot even touch the race card. All I can think of is the fact that people are dying. Families are hurting. Churches are broken. And what are we supposed to do? A couple of months ago, I was going through a tough time. I felt as though I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. All I could see was darkness all around me. I was lost, and I could not see my Light, my Jesus. Then, God showed me something. God showed me that it is not the valley of DARKNESS; it is only the valley of the SHADOW. Merriam-Webster defines a shadow as "a dark shape that appears on a surface when someone or something moves between the surface and a source of light." Y'all, listen to me. A shadow does not mean that the light is gone. It simply means that something is currently blocking the light. Shadows are always temporary. Jesus is here. He is not gone. He was the Light of the World when he took His last breath at Calvary over 2,000 years, and He still is today. He is shining over us, always, even in the valley. Sometimes, we just can't see Him. But, He is there. The devil tries to block out the Light. And let's be honest, sometimes he does. He moves between us and Jesus, and he sends us into the valley of the shadow. We want to stop and say "I'm tired. I'm done." But what happens if we keep walking, if we persevere? The shadows disappear, and we are walking in the light of Jesus Christ one again. Take heart. Charleston, you are in the valley of the shadow right now. But keep walking. Persevere. The Light is there; He just needs you to keep going. Church, Jesus has not left you. The devil may think he can block the Light for a moment, but keep going. Push forward in love. Only the love of Jesus can drive away the shadows. Hold tight, friends. We will triumph through the valley. For now, rejoice in knowing that darkness will not win. The Light will come. This is only a shadow. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."-Psalm 23:4

[jesuswins]

Stop Fighting a Fight That’s Already Been Won

God told me to write this the other day, but I thought I was too busy and too tired, so I told Him that He needed to wait (seriously, y’all should hear the conversations between me and God), and He’s been pressing it deeper and deeper ever since. 

I’m in a fight right now. I've been in it for quite a while. I’m bruised. I’m beaten. I've been knocked out. I've been shoved down. I've been kicked and punched AND I’M TIRED.

When I talk to people about this fight, they tell me to “hang in there.” “It’s almost over.” “You can make it.” “Maybe just swing back a couple of times.” (That one has crossed my mind more than once.)

As I thought about writing this blog, I had the perfect analogy, then God shook me up a few times. Here was my analogy:

I’m in the ring, and I’m just getting beat. It’s obvious that I’m not winning. I get so tired of fighting that I just say I’m done. I quit. I’m out. I turn around to crawl out of the ring, and God says “no.” He sends me back in. He says, “I’m right behind you, but you’re not done fighting.” Back into the ring I go.

That’s the mindset that I’ve had for quite a while now. God keeps sending me back into the ring. And frankly, I think that’s the mindset that is taught in the church today. God is behind us, and He wants us to keep fighting for ourselves.

BUT THAT IS WRONG.

Big Daddy Weave sings a song called Redeemed. The first verse goes like this:

“Seems like all I could see was the struggle, Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past, Bound up in shackles of all my failures, Wondering how long is this gonna last? Then You look at this prisoner and say to me "Son, Stop fighting a fight that's already been won." 

Y’all. Did you catch that? The fight has already been won! There’s no reason for me to be anywhere near the ring! The lights are off, the doors are shut, my competition is already at home, nursing their wounds. The fight is over.

As we played this in church this morning, it took every ounce of strength in me to hold myself together (because there was no way I was making it from a G# to an F# to a B to an E if I was up there bawling). These past few months have been such a fight. A fight to show the love of Christ in the midst of trying times. A fight to do what I know is right, even when the world tells me it’s okay to do something else. A fight to step into the role that God has called me into. A fight to be strong and courageous. 

Recently, all I could see was the struggle. The past few weeks, I kept telling God, “I’m done.” His response?

“It’s about time.”

“Be still, and know that I am God.”-Psalm 46:10. 

Right now, He’s out fighting for me so that I don’t have to. I don’t have to be in the ring, fighting for my life, and breaking down when my strength is not enough. All I have to do is be still, let my heart rest, and let my God take care of business. He is always enough.

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”-Exodus 14:14

[jesuswins]

People Matter.

What’s up, blogosphere. It’s been a while. A long while. Mostly because when I get home from work, I can’t even form words. But hey, 14.5 more days (not that the teachers are desperately counting down or anything). ;)

There was a point in my college career where I completely separated myself from community. I had been VERY involved in a student ministry, and because of various reasons, I felt that God called me to step back from that community for a while. Three years later I feel like that was the right decision, but the key words are “for a while.”

When God first pulled me out of the community, it was amazing. It was just me and God, taking on the world. I felt a deeper connection with God now that I had only Him to rely on. I couldn't rely on my student ministry to support me spiritually; I had to trust that God would provide everything I needed, and He did. He gave me a peace that transcended all understanding, new wisdom, and an understanding of what He was doing in my life.

Then, after about a semester, He told me to go back.

And I. said. no.

(Enter lightning strike)

I was still not happy with various events that had occurred and people that had been involved in those events. Really, it probably was more my fault that I was upset than theirs, but nevertheless, I felt wounded and I used my separation as my backlash.

I stayed out of community, for the most part, for the remaining two years of college. I had friends that I spent time with, but nothing like what I was involved in for the first year and a half. In so many ways, that hurt me more than the initial events did.

As humans, we are not made to live without community. Yes, it can be right for a season. Mine was right for about a semester. My reliance on God had become very lax, and He needed to fix that with just me. But it is not a permanent solution.

In the two years that I stubbornly refused to become involved in community, I struggled deeply with anxiety and depression. I had my moments, but overall, I was not happy. Joy is one of my greatest gifts from God, and it eluded me. I felt like God stopped talking to me and I had no direction of where to go from here (which is just so awesome when you’re graduating college). I still had a good relationship with God, but I just felt pretty lost.

Enter: Matador. I moved here in late July, not really knowing anyone. I was a little anxious, but I was going to revolutionize the world of teaching (seriously, if you knew the day I had today, you would understand why I’m laughing so hard at that statement). I didn’t really know what to do outside of getting stuff ready for school (SERIOUSLY, HOW COME NOBODY TEACHES YOU HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS IN THE ADULT WORLD?!?!). I started to feel that depression and anxiety coming back again. Had I made a really big mistake?

Then God, in His majestic faithfulness, led me to this little church called Faith Fellowship. My first Sunday, there were literally 15 people there. But what happened as soon as I walked in the door the first time? Rickey Lawrence walked up and gave me a big ole hug! Talk about the love of Christ.

From that point on, I knew Faith Fellowship was home. We’ve been through some stuff in the past few months (another post for another day), but God is so powerful and so good, because He has provided for us, for me, through community.

I could name off so many people that have encouraged me and lifted me up and prayed with me in so many moments. From hugs and laughter to wonderfully sweet Facebook messages that make me bawl my eyes out (I’m looking at you, Annie Freeman). Joy is back, and it’s here to stay. I have my moments of anxiety, and I have my moments of, “I’m the worst teacher ever.” But through it all, God uses these people around me to show me how much He loves and values me.

I’m probably rambling here, but my point is that community matters. PEOPLE MATTER. Without the people that are surrounding me right now, I don’t know where I would be, but I guarantee you, it would not be a healthy place. Community matters so much, because God’s heart shines brightest through His people.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”-Hebrews 10:24-25

[jesuswins]

To be a child's champion.

I get asked sometimes why I teach. I graduated college last May, I moved to this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, and I chose to, among other things, teach 4th grade writing (Heaven, help us all). It's a hard job. But I do it for the kids. Yes, I do it to teach them, but I also do it to show them love that a lot of them don't receive at home. I recently read a story from John Gatto, a teacher of 30 years who has received both the New York City and New York State Teacher of the Year awards. I think he said it better than I ever could.

"Like many desperate [substitute] teachers, I lolled most of the day listening to the kids read, one after another and expending most of my energy trying to shut the audience up. This class had a very low ranking, and no one was able to put more than three or four words together without stumbling. All of a sudden, though, a little girl named Milagros sailed through a selection without a mistake. After class I called her over to my desk and asked why she was in this class of bad readers. She replied that "they" (the administration) wouldn't let her out because, as they explained to her mother, she was really a bad reader who had fantasies of being a better reader than she was. 'But look, Mr. Gatto, my brother is in the sixth grade, and I can read every word in his English book better than he can!'

I was a little intrigued, but truthfully not much. Surely the authorities knew what they were doing. Still, the little girl seemed so frustrated I invited her to calm down and read to me from the sixth grade book. I explained that if she did well, I would take her case to the principal. I expected nothing.

Milagros, on the other hand, expected justice. Diving into The Devil and Daniel Webster, she polished off the first two pages without a gulp. My God, I though, this is a real reader. What is she doing here? Well, maybe it was a simple accident, easily corrected. I sent her home, promising to argue her case. Little did I suspect what a hornet's nest my request to have Milagros moved to a better class would stir up.

'You have some nerve, Mr. Gatto. I can't remember when a substitute ever told me how to run my school before. Have you taken specialized courses in reading?'

'No.'

'Well then, suppose you leave these matters to the experts!'

'But the kid can read!'

'What do you suggest?'

'I suggest you test her, and if she isn't a dummy, get her out of the class she's in!'

'I don't like your tone. None of our children dummies, Mr. Gatto. And you will find that girls like Milagros have many ways to fool amateurs like yourself. This is a matter of a child having memorized one story. You can see if I had to waste my time arguing with people like you, I'd have no time left to run a school.'

But, strangely, I felt self-appointed as the girl's champion, even though I'd probably never see her again.

I insisted, and the principal finally agreed to test Milagros herself the following Wednesday after school. I made it a point to tell the little girl the next day. By that time I'd come to think that the principal was probably right-she'd memorized one story-but I still warned her she'd need to know the vocabulary from the whole advanced reader and be able to read any story the principal picked, without hesitation. My responsibility was over, I told myself.

The following Wednesday after school I waited in the room for Milagros' ordeal to be over. At 3:30 she shyly opened the door of the room.

'How'd it go?' I asked.

'I don't know,' she answered, 'but I didn't make any mistakes. Mrs. Hefferman was very angry, I could tell.'

I saw Mrs. Hefferman, the principal, early the next morning before school opened. 'It seems we've made a mistake with Milagros,' she said curly. 'She will be moved, Mr. Gatto. Her mother has been informed.'

Several weeks later, when I got back to the school to sub, Milagros dropped by, telling me she was in the fast class now and doing very well. She also gave me a sealed card. When I got home that night, I found it, unopened, in my suitcoat pocket. I opened it and saw a gaudy birthday card with blue flowers on it. Opening the card, I read, 'A teacher like you cannot be found. Signed. Your student, Milagros.'"

He goes on to tell how, twenty-four years later, this girl received an outstanding teacher award. All it took was a little bit of love and some effort on the part of a substitute teacher. What a difference we can make in a child's life if we simply decide to become their champion. 

[jesuswins]

Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders...but not really.

Let's be honest. You can stand there during church and sing every single word to every single song (especially if you have a slight musical addiction like yours truly), and not mean one single word. I've been there, I've done it. I won't deny it. Some days, it's just easier to sing along than to actually enter in. God requires a lot of me, and I don't feel up to it sometimes.

I've gone to a lot of churches in my life. A lot. When you move every couple of years, you get well acquainted with switching churches. Some of those churches were really good, and they've helped shape who I am today. Some of them, not so good. And what I was always noticed about the not-so-good churches was the worship. That's how I'm wired, so worship is really important to me. These churches that didn't impact me as much, their worship always seemed to be lacking somehow. I see why now. 

Worship comes straight from the heart. You can raise your hands and clap and sing and dance and twirl ribbons and perform sign language and wave flags and never mean any of it. And when that attitude infiltrates the heart of the church, the worship suffers. Now do people still worship in those places? Yes, absolutely. But does the heart of the church reflect a worshipful attitude? Not usually.

But things have been different lately. When I moved to Matador, I started going to this little country church called Faith Fellowship. And from day one, my heart has wanted nothing more than to worship with these people. Why is that? Because the very heart of the church is one of worship and adoration. You feel it when you walk in the doors. You hear it in the voices of the band. You see it on the faces of people changed every week. It's a tangible attitude of worship and love for our Savior. That's what leads people to enter in. It's not the music (although singing Needtobreathe doesn't hurt). It's not the instruments. It's not the voices. It's the attitude and the heart.

As right as my church's heart is, and as much as we love Jesus and want to pursue Him with and in everything, it's been really hard recently. 

Three weeks ago tomorrow, my pastor was killed a car wreck.

It was sudden, it was unexpected, and it broke us. And let's be honest, it straight up sucked. It still does. There hasn't been a day since that my heart hasn't hurt. There have been very few days since that I haven't cried. I say that, not for pity, but to just be real. It's hard, but we keep pressing on. Farther up, farther in. It's where Rickey was leading us, and it's where we need to go.

This morning, we were worshiping, and we sang Oceans. Everybody knows Oceans, right? It's a beautiful song, and one that just really draws you into God's presence. It touched me this morning. But there's one line that always gets me: "Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders."

The thing is, as much as I love this song, I never mean that line when I sing it. Ever. Because that TERRIFIES me.

The picture I get here is of someone drowning in the ocean. That's probably because of the content of the song, but nevertheless, it's a powerful image. When I think of letting go of the borders of my faith, I see this box around me collapsing and me just falling into the ocean, flailing, not knowing where to go, having nothing to hold on to. Sure, I can swim, but if I'm stranded in the middle of the ocean, I'm only going to survive for so long before my muscles give out and then...I'm gone. I'm done. I can't make it.

As terrifying as that is, there's a crucial part of the line that I forget: "Spirit, lead me..." I'm not asking God to throw me out in the ocean to see if I can make it back without drowning. I'm not asking God to watch me from far away but not help me if I start to flail. I am asking him to LEAD ME. Lead means to "be in charge or command of." When the Spirit of God leads me into a place where I have to trust Him in areas that I never have and frankly don't want to, He is in charge. He is commanding me and I am following His orders. He is not going to let me drown because He is right there, telling me how to do this. He's got me. He's got my church.

God has led us into the ocean. Our trust no longer has borders. He destroyed those borders three weeks ago. But we will not drown. We will not flail. We will not be left alone. He will lead us. He will command us. He will tell us how to do this, how to somehow make it through. If we will just follow His orders, He will let us walk upon the water, wherever He calls us.

I'll be honest, it still scares me. I like control. I like order. I like step-by-step instructions and a predictable outcome. But that's not God. God is trust without borders and taking the first step, even when you can't see the whole staircase. God is closing your eyes and taking the leap, hoping He catches you. It's scary and it's hard and it takes everything in me, but it is so worth it.

Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the water, wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.-"Oceans," Hillsong United

[jesuswins]

Get Rid of the Good

God’s timing has always been perfect. Lately, I’ve been acutely aware of that.

Last week was perfect. My kids were learning, I got to spend several evenings with some really awesome (new and old) friends, I saw my family over the weekend, and Sunday night Bible fellowship was top-notch.

At my parents’ church on Sunday morning, the pastor shared Ecclesiastes 5:18-20.

"This is what I have observed to be good: that it is appropriate for a person to eat, to drink, and to find satisfaction in their toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given them—for this is their lot. Moreover, when God gives someone wealth and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them, to accept their lot and be happy in their toil—this is a gift of God. They seldom reflect on the days of their life, because God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart."

That sure spoke to my heart! I shed a few tears while thanking God for the joy that was overflowing from my heart. I could not have been happier.

Sunday night, we were talking about Leviticus 26:9-13, and I focused specifically on verse 10: “You will still be eating last year’s harvest when you will have to move it out to make room for the new.” That refers back to chapter 25, verses 20-22. God is giving the Israelites instructions for the Sabbath year. “You may ask, ‘What will we eat in the seventh year if we do not plant or harvest our crops?’ I will send you such a blessing in the sixth year that the land will yield enough for three years. While you plant during the eight year, you will eat from the old crop and will continue to eat from it until the harvest of the ninth year comes in.”

My first thought here is that God is just so faithful. He always, always, always provides! But my second point is that in 26:10, He tells them that they will have to clean out the harvest that was left. What’s important to see here is that the harvest they had was good. It was good when He gave it to them and it was still good. But He made them get rid of it, because He had something better coming in, a new harvest.

As I said that on Sunday night, there was a twinge of fear in my heart. Clearing out the harvest is hard. My life was going perfectly, and something in me knew that God was about to make me clean out the harvest, get rid of the good.

Yesterday afternoon, I found that my pastor had been killed in a car accident.

Rickey was the best of the best. He’d tell you he was just an old country fella with nothing to say, but the man could PREACH!! I’d only known him for a couple of months, but that was long enough. He was a spiritual father in my life. When all else failed, Rickey was there. He was ushering in a change in our community, and he was a powerful example of God’s love and grace. Needless to say, I loved the man.

When I found out after work, I literally crumpled to the ground. I somehow got in my car, drove home, changed, and made it up to the church. As I sat there, surrounded by my church family, crying, begging God for answers or vision or something, I heard this still, small voice in my head:

"I’m cleaning out the old harvest. But rejoice! A new harvest is coming!"

I can’t imagine a better person or pastor than Rickey Lawrence. And frankly, I don’t want to. I held in tears all day because my heart HURTS. But as sad as I am, and as hard as the next few days, weeks, and months will be, I can rejoice. Because Rickey was good, great, maybe even close to perfect in his time. While I’m upset that his time is up, I have to accept that it is.

The old harvest has been cleaned out. But rejoice! A new harvest is coming!

I can’t say that the new harvest will be better than Rickey, because what could be better? But I know, I KNOW, that God is ushering in something new.

I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m broken. But I have faith in a new harvest and a faithful God.

"Though He slay me, yet I will hope in Him."-Job 13:15

[jesuswins]

An open letter to every professional football player

Dear NFL player,

Congratulations! You've made it to the big leagues! I'm sure you couldn't be more excited, and I know that your family is proud of you. But let me let you in on a little secret that you may not know. Here, in my little town in Texas, there are at least 10 little boys that I see every day that are probably more proud of you than anyone else is.

They look up to. They want to be you. They can't wait for PeeWee games on Saturdays so that they can imitate what they see on TV on Sundays. But here's the thing.

You're a great player. One of the best. No doubt. But that's not all they see. They see you mouth at your coach as you walk off the field. They see you shove the official when he tries to break up a fight. They see you rear back and swing at an opposing player. They see you take someone to the ground and start punching them. They see you fighting with your teammates. They see it. ALL of it.

And I know that life isn't perfect. Don't get me wrong; they've seen me get mad more than once and they imitate my behavior as well. But I don't think you understand how much of a role model you are. That probably wasn't your intention. You didn't play football all through junior high, high school, and college, just waiting for the day you could be a role model in the NFL. You might have had that in mind, but it probably wasn't your end goal. You just want to be a football player. You just want to play the game you love.

That's great, and I'm happy for you that you get paid to do that. But the fact of the matter is that you are a role model. You have thousands, if not millions, of little boys, watching every move you make. Please be careful.

Here's what you hear:

"You're an awesome player!"

"I want to be just like you when I grow up!"

"I wear your jersey every time I play football!"

"You're my hero!"

That's awesome. But what I'm going to hear, first thing tomorrow morning, (well, right after "do we have a spelling test this week?!") is:

"Did you see when that player punched the other guy?!"

"Did you see when he shoved the ref??"

"Did you see when he yelled at his coach?!"

"Did you see when both teams were getting into a huge fight right after the kickoff??" (Thanks, Cowboys and Giants.)

You see, I don't have kids of my own. But these kids that I teach are my kids. And I don't want them growing up thinking that any of that behavior is okay. My dad was a coach for 26 years, and now both of my brothers are. I know the game. I know it's intense. I know that you get in the heat of battle and your body just takes over. But please, please, please. 

Please watch your actions. Your actions don't just affect you. Every kid in America is watching you. Show them what it's like to be a great football player who plays with passion, but still treats others with respect. That's what will make you a true stand-out.

Sincerely,

A Concerned Elementary School Teacher

[jesuswins]

Forget The Girl in Red

When I was in junior high, I ran the 1200 and the 2400. So basically, I'm slow, but I can run for a long time. ;) In 8th grade, we were running in a little town called Lefors. I was running the 2400 (1.5 miles), which kicks off the track meet. There weren't very many people there, but my parents were in the stands. My dad was the high school track coach, so he was probably coaching me through the race. But what I remember is what my mom said. There was a girl running who was in a red jersey. And, man, was she an obnoxious runner! She would take off sprinting, then slow down, and as soon as I caught her, she would take off sprinting again. I got caught up in it and I was trying to keep up with her (bad plan). I was all the way across the track, but I heard my mom yell, "Forget about the girl in red!" By trying to keep up with her, I was hurting myself. When I focused and ran my race, I ended up passing and eventually beating her. To do so, I had to focus less on her and more on what I was supposed to be doing. I had one of those moments this morning, as well. I was running a 5k, and there was a lady in front of me who would walk a little bit, sprint, then walk again. (Seriously not a good running method.) She was driving me crazy, but then I heard my mom's voice in my head: "Forget the girl in red." So I took my focus off her, focused on my run, and I ran a 9:30 pace and almost set a PR. (Whoop.) At no point has it ever benefited me to forego my race and force myself to keep up with someone else in life. I COULD compete with people. He got a new car, I have to get a better one. She bought a house, maybe I should be one. They got married, I have to find a husband (there are actually about 20 things wrong with that statement). My goal in life is not to keep up with the person that is sprinting and then walking. Heck, it's not even to keep up with the person that can sprint the whole thing. My goal is to run my race which God has laid out before me. That's the race I'm ready for, and that's the one that I can conquer. Forget the girl in red. Run your race. "Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith."-Hebrews 12:1-2

[jesuswins]

I never lost my faith in humanity...

You know when people take something funny and turn it into something serious and you think they're really lame? Yeah, well I might become that really lame person. But I teach 5th graders that think I was born when TVs were still black and white, so I'm already pretty lame. ;) I see posts on the Internet all the time that say "faith in humanity restored." And they're usually really good posts; I will give them that much credit. But what exactly are we saying to this world when we say that our faith in humanity is RESTORED? When did we lose it? Yeah, there are some stinky people in the world today. Bad things are happening all over the world. People are treated unfairly and that upsets me. It really, truly does. But when we say that we don't have faith in humanity, in PEOPLE, we're telling those people that they're not worth our faith. I teach 4th and 5th graders. And I see this happen. When someone says they can't do something, THEY BELIEVE THEM. When someone says they're going to forget their homework, they forget it. When someone says that they have terrible behvaior, they do have terrible behavior. But when they're told that they can do it, they believe in themselves. When I give them the responsibilty to remember their homework, they do. When I acknowledge their good behavior, that's the behavior they choose. When we, as humans, are told something, we tend to believe it. So if I say I lost my faith in humanity, that gives humanity an out, an excuse to make bad decisions. I don't think I ever lost my faith in humanity. I think there are bad people, and I think they need to start making better choices. But all of humanity? Nah. I love people too much to tell them they're not worth my faith. "Therefore, encourage one another and lift each other up, just as in fact you are doing."-1 Thessalonians 5:11

[jesuswins]

The Sympathy of a Savior

Okay, so picture this. John the Baptist just died. That's right. Jesus' best friend and partner in ministry...dead. Jesus gets the news, and He is understandably crushed. And here's what happens: "When Jesus heard what had happened, He withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed Him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, He had compassion on them and healed their sick."-Matthew 14:13-14 I've been hurt a lot in my life. I've been depressed. I've had a broken heart. I've made some mistakes. And recently, I've lost a dear friend. Tomorrow would be his 23rd birthday, and he's not here. He's in Heaven, which is a reason to celebrate. But it still just kinda sucks. I can sympathize with how Jesus felt. This pain, it rips you apart. You can't breathe. You don't want to talk to anyone. I shoved people away. But Jesus, oh sweet Jesus. He embraced those around Him. He was hurting so bad, but He knew that others needed help, so He didn't turn them away. In an incredible act of love and selflessness, He showed compassion to His people and healed their sick. And what happened next? He fed the five thousand. One of the greatest miracles recorded would have never happened if Jesus had been selfish and put His emotions over the needs of others. Because of His selflessness, many lives were changed and we were able to see the mighty hand of God at work. It's amazing, really. When I'm upset, I get selfish. I want to be completely alone and put everyone else aside. But my Savior chose the path of sympathy, and that's what changed lives. I pray tonight to have the sympathy of my sweet, sweet Savior.

[jesuswins]

A week of tears.

I just finished my first week of teaching. And I'm a stress crier. So you might could guess where this post is going. But really, you're probably wrong.

The first day was RIDICULOUS! Seriously, if you have never been in a classroom on the first day of school in an elementary school, you'll probably live longer than I will. For real. I'm pretty sure Monday took a few years of my life. There were just children, and I didn't know them, but I was supposed to keep them alive. And then there were school supplies. And then we switched classes and there were more children, and I still didn't know them. And just...chaos.

Tuesday and Wednesday were fairly insignificant. They were still chaotic, but I learned names and we studied spelling words and it was good. 

Then came Thursday. It's not bad enough that it was the first week of school and we were having a send-off for our first football game. That would be enough. But nope, we gotta go big or go home. (I wanted to choose home, but they wouldn't let me.) This weekend is our county's big annual celebration, called Old Settlers'. And when did the parade just happen to be? The first Thursday of school. And who rode in the parade? The 5th grade teacher. So who had ALL the 4th and 5th graders for 3 hours all by herself? THIS GIRL. (I really questioned my career choice at one point.) In all reality, it really wasn't that bad. None of my kids got run over by a horse and we managed not to leave anybody. Still, chaos. And to add to that, there were some not so nice things said to me that made me question some of my teaching decisions. (Welcome to week 1, yall. Only 35 more.)

But then, Friday came. Sweet, sweet Friday. We had our first spelling test this morning and I have to say, I was nervous. They only had 3 nights to study and they were hard words! Plus, it was a mixed up, crazy week, and some of them had a rodeo last night. I was anxious. I gave the test and some of them looked a little stressed, both in 4th and 5th grade. I sat down to grade, and as I was going through the tests, there were tears.

Yall. I don't know if I have ever been this proud of a group of kids. My kids ROCKED this spelling test! I'm talking, my lowest test grade was in the mid-80s. The rest were all 90s and 100s. They could not have done a better job!

And I sat there at my desk, and I cried. I didn't even care who walked in, though I'm thankful no one did. ;) If you've never seen a struggling child grasp onto something that they've been trying to learn for so long, then you probably don't understand this. But I saw it this week. I saw my kids struggle so much with their words at the beginning of the week. They were frustrated and we almost had some breakdowns. But we worked hard in class and their AWESOME parents worked hard with them at home, and WE DID IT! I am so incredibly proud of them.

This. This is why I do what I do. I do it so that I can end my Fridays with the happiest of tears. I know we'll have our bad days this year and I know that we may not ace every test. But we're darned sure gonna try our hardest. I just love these little ones. :)

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man."-Colossians 3:23

[jesuswins]

Going around the mountain...again.

Lemme just start by saying that church kicked my tail this morning. You know those days where you just sit there with your jaw on the floor and listen as God keeps poking you and saying "hey, this is for you"? Yeah, that was today.

What's funny is that it wasn't even my pastor. He was having some health problems (prayers would be good), so this other guy filled in. And that was something divine, because it could not have touched my heart any more. 

Our whole talk was based out of Hebrews 4, where the author is talking about how the Israelites didn't get to rest in the promised land because they got scared and wouldn't push their way into the promised land. They turned an 11 day journey into the promised land into a 40 year wandering in the desert, all because they listened to the 10 men who came back and told them about the giants.

Well that's great and all, but I'm not on my way to the promised land. I don't have a land flowing with milk and honey laying in front of me. I live in Matador. Nothing flows here. ;) But what the speaker said, and what really hit me, is that the promised land was the place of rest for the Israelites. My place of rest is the place of God's blessing, the reward for faithfulness. And it's not just about faithfulness in the big things. It's not just about moving to a certain place or getting a certain job. It's about listening to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit inside of you. It's about being obedient and doing what God asks you to do. It's about saying "this circumstance will not defeat me, for I know my God is bigger." 

It's about going towards the promised land, because every step you take away from it takes you one step deeper into the desert, into the forty years of wandering.

That's some powerful stuff, but then God kept going. 

I heard a powerful sermon probably 3 or 4 years ago, and I can't find the notes to save my life. But from what I remember, the pastor was talking about holding patterns. According to Wikipedia, a holding pattern is "a maneuver designed to delay an aircraft already in flight while keeping it within a specified airspace." That's what happened to the Israelites. God delayed them going into the promised land, and he kept them within the specified space (the desert), for forty years. He made them hold there until the generation that disobeyed Him cleared out, and then He let them go to the promised land.

That's what can happen to us. If we disobey God and we won't fight the giants to get into the promised land, He'll put us in a holding pattern. And you know, He probably won't make us wander in the desert for forty years, but He will make us wait to get the reward. Disobedience hurts us. It may work out in the end, but it hurts our spirits in the now.

The other analogy, I guess, is going around the mountain. That's really what I needed the sermon notes for, but I can wing it. ;) we're always going around a mountain. It's like there's a winding road going up the mountain, and the promised land is at the top. When we get to certain points, we must obey God in order to keep going farther up, farther in. And when we don't obey Him, say when we run away from the giants, He makes us go around that same path again. And He will bring you back around the mountain. He'll give you another shot, because He's a God of grace and second chances. But life is so much better when you're obedient the first time.

One last quote that I want to mention is this: "I don't care how many times I have to go around this wall; I refuse to live in the wilderness anymore." When the Israelites were marching around the wall of Jericho, you just have to imagine how frustrated they were. God made them march around it for SEVEN DAYS before it fell. And this was after they had been wandering in the wilderness for so long. If that were me, I wouldn't be real thrilled with God. But at the same time, they knew. They knew that God was giving them a second chance to do what their ancestors could not. So they sucked it up and they marched. And marched and marched. Because when you're that close to a breakthrough, you just shut up and march. You don't care what it takes; you refuse to stay where you are. Farther up the mountain, farther in the promised land; that's where you need to go.

I've reached the point in my life where I have to go farther up, farther in. I'm not okay with living in the wilderness anymore; I'm not okay with walking around this stupid mountain again. When the Spirit moves, I must move, because that is the only way I can rest in the promised land that He has for me. And I need the rest.

"Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will perish by following their example of disobedience."-Hebrews 4:11

[jesuswins]

I can breathe.

I have panic attacks. There. I said it.

My first one was right around 2 years ago. I was working out at Crossview. I had been sick for a while, so I was taking a nap during my break. I woke up suddenly and I wasn’t breathing. I sent a frantic text to my best friend/coworker/camp nurse who told me to calm down and just take deep breaths. I got through it, but it wasn’t something I ever wanted to repeat.

And yet, I do. Not frequently, but not as infrequently as I’d like.

The stupid thing about panic attacks is that they make no sense. You start to panic, which causes you to not be able to breathe, which causes you to panic more, which causes you to not be able to breathe more. You suddenly forgot how to breathe. You begin to shake and freak out and you become convinced that you will never breathe in that precious air again.

But then, you calm down, and the miraculous happens. The weight lifts. Your lungs open. The air flows freely and your body can rest. You are once again safe to resume life.

The other day, I was running with my mom. I got a terrible stitch in my side that went all the way up my ribcage. I ended up having to stop, partially because it hurt, but mostly because I couldn’t breathe. We had been running a fast pace, so my body needed air. When it couldn’t get it, I started to panic. Thankfully, after a couple of years of panic attacks, I know what to do. I focused myself, took in a little bit of air at a time, and calmed down. It was close, but crisis averted.

So what does this have to do with anything? Why am I rambling on about panic attacks and telling pointless stories? Well that’s a great question! Let me tell you why!

Because last year, David Crowder released a song through Passion called “Here’s My Heart.” It’s probably on my list of top 10 songs, ever. It’s just a beautiful song about surrendering your heart to God. At one point, he’s singing about what happens to us when we give God our heart:

"I am found, I am Yours I am loved, I’m made pure. I have life, I can breathe I am healed, I am free.”

Powerful words. I was listening to this while driving home the other day, and the phrase “I can breathe” caught me and hasn’t since let me go.

Panic attacks suck. You can’t breathe. Even worse, you can’t figure out how to breathe. It’s awful. And sometimes, I feel like I almost have spiritual panic attacks.

I feel trapped by the enemy, like he’s got me pinned to the ground. I know I have the strength of God, but the enemy’s hand is on my throat. I can’t breathe. I start to panic, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. I begin to shake and freak out and I become convinced that I will never breathe in God’s Word again.

But then, the miraculous happens. The weight lifts. My lungs open. The air flows freely and my soul can rest. I am once again safe in my Savior’s arms.

Without God, I wouldn’t be able to breathe physically or spiritually. He’s the reason that I haven’t had a full out panic attack since last September. He’s also the reason that my heart is currently resting in peace and calm reassurance.

I can't possibly describe the relief that comes from the peace of God. I'm starting my first job in less than a month. I'm moving to my first house tomorrow. I just bought my first car. I should be freaking out, but I'm not. I'm holding onto God's peace for all that I'm worth, and breathing has never been so easy.

God is the reason I’m loved.

The reason I’m free.

The reason I’m healed.

The one and only reason I can breathe.

"The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life."-Job 33:4

[jesuswins]

Go.

It matters not the distance, nor the time, nor the route. It matters not the speed, nor the obstacles, nor the destination. All that matters is that you go. I’ve had this thought in my head for a while. And, let’s be honest, it probably stemmed from a motivational post on Pinterest. Anyways. Tonight, I ran alone on the road for the first time since my surgery. FREEEEEDOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!! Seriously, though. I’m off the treadmill (aka DEATHmill), and life is good. As I started running tonight, I began to repeat this in my head. Because if I start to think about running too much, this is not the first place I go. I start to obsess. I have to go the farthest. I have to have the best time. I have to have the best route. I have to run the fastest. I have to overcome everything. I have to end in the perfect spot. It becomes not simply about going. It becomes about competing. Not just competing, but winning. And when I’m the only one on the road, who am I competing with? That’s right. Me. I start to fight myself. I tell myself that it’s not good enough, not fast enough, the breathing isn’t smooth enough. I start to have this really mean dialogue going on in my head, which ironically takes my focus off of running. When I started, all I wanted to do was go. But somehow, I end up in a fight with myself, and I have a terrible run. The deal is, it’s not just with running, is it? We start off just wanting to go for Christ. We just want to do something, everything, for Him. “Here am I, send me!” But soon, going is not enough. We want to travel the farthest. We want to serve Him the most often. We want to go in the most unique way. We want to get our serving done the fastest. We want to avoid every obstacle. We want to have the most beautiful place to serve. It becomes not simply about going. It becomes about competing. Not just competing, but winning. “Whhhhaaaaattt?!?!” Yeah, that’s right. We compete in our walks with Christ. Because if someone else is serving God in rural Africa and I’m only a cashier at Walmart, that’s not fair. They got to go farther. They got to go before me. They have a better place to serve. I’m going to risk sounding crass here, but WHO CARES?! It’s like with running. A mile is a mile. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mile on a dirt road or the last mile of the Boston Marathon. It’s a MILE. And when you go and run a mile, you have accomplished something. Serving God is serving God. It doesn’t matter if it’s teaching 4th grade in a small town or being a missionary overseas. It’s serving GOD. And when you go and serve God, you have accomplished something: His beautiful will for your life. Don’t ever think that’s not good enough. “Therefore GO and make disciples of all nations…”-Matthew 28:19

[jesuswins]

Adventures don’t happen without uncertainty.

Welcome to today's edition of "I just graduated college and I don't know what I'm doing with my life so I'm going to blog about it." I hope you haven't gotten your fill of these lately, because I've got something to say. I graduated from college with a degree in elementary education on May 10. Almost 2 months ago. And since then, life's been a whirlwind. I spent my last two months of college AGONIZING over what was coming next. (Seriously. Not even an exaggeration.) I could get a teaching job straight out of college or I could take a year off and start my Master's degree. After some sleepless nights, a few tears (I don't handle stress well), and lots of talks with Jesus, I decided that I would start on my Master's and wait a year to teach. Yayyyyyy!!! I figured out my life!!!! Time to celebrate, right? Uh, wrong. You'd think I would know better by now. God, of course, had different plans. I got a call from my cooperating teacher (and very dear friend) about a month ago, telling me about a job opportunity. She's friends with a guy that coaches at a school that needed an elementary teacher. (Stick with me. This doesn't get any less confusing.) She went on to tell me that she thought this would be a great opportunity for me. "Well I'm sure that's true," I thought, "but I've already figured out my life!" (HA!) She told me to at least pray about it, so I did. God said "go." I said "what?!" He gave me that stern parent look that says, "you heard me. Stop arguing and do what I said." "Fine," I said. And then I stomped off like the mature 22 year old that I am. After God and I had this lovely little conversation, I decided I could at least go and interview. So I set it up and I went. Yall. Revelation 3:7-8 says "What He opens no one can shut, and what He shuts no one can open. I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name." I'm not sure I've ever seen a more open door. My whole life, my parents have said that their prayer has been that God would just slam the doors that they don't need to go through and that the open doors would be obvious. That's my prayer too, and it was answered here. I went to the interview, and it just felt right. I was offered and accepted the job several days later, and I was officially hired this past week. I already have a house rented and I've got a bazillion ideas on Pinterest for my 4th grade classroom. Yippppppeeeeeeeee...right? Well, yeah, kinda. Except the thing is, this new chapter in my life scares the living daylights out of me. Seriously. I know I student taught for 14 weeks, but there was another person in the room and I knew that if everything started to collapse, she would swoop in and save the day, Captain America-style. ;) That's not the case anymore. I'm flying solo. I've got 3 STAAR tests that my kids have to pass. I'm busting out my own curriculum. I'm possibly hyperventilating. As I was scrolling through Facebook tonight, I ran across a blog by one of my favorite radio DJs. It talked about figuring out what was next in life (fitting), and it had this quote in it: "People say they want a 'life of adventure'. Adventures don’t happen without uncertainty." This was the best thing I could have read right now. I'm all about adventure. Heck, I climbed a mountain last week (I mean, no big deal). And as I was climbing (and subsequently losing air), I remember thinking, "I could quit right now. I could just turn around and go back down. Nobody would blame me for that. It would be a lot easier that way." And it would have been easier. But it also wouldn't have been an adventure. An adventure is when you don't think you can do it, but you suck it up and trust God anyway. It's easy to quit. It's even easier not to start. But adventure is not about ease. It's about stepping out into the unknown and challenging yourself and trusting that God really does know what He's doing. That's how I feel about this teaching job right now. I'm so uncertain about how everything is going to go. I've thought, "I could quit right now. I could just turn around and not accept the job. Nobody would blame me for that. It would be a lot easier that way." And it would be easier. But it also wouldn't be an adventure. I'm not sure I can do it. I'm scared and I don't know what's coming. But I'm going to suck it up and trust God anyway. That's what adventure is all about.