Can a Temple Ride a Bike?

I heard a news report yesterday about an event happening in one of our nations oldest and most historically-flush cities, Philadelphia.

The event is a nude bike ride.  You read that correctly…nude bike ride.  Now, if you’re like me, your first thought may have been, “what does that mean? Is the bike lacking something normally on a bike…is it ‘nude’ of color, handlebars, a seat, wheels, what…?” 

Nope, the name is actually “The Philly Naked Bike Ride” and it really means Ride!A!Bike!Nude! Let it soak in. Go there visually.  Cringe a couple of times. Play all the jokes in your head.  Like… “The Liberty Bell is not the only thing with a crack we’ll see in Philly.” Or… “There are more stares at this race than Rocky ran.”  Okay, forget the bad jokes.  Go back to the whole idea of riding a bike naked. Cringe a couple more times and join me in a unanimous, ‘WHAT IN THE WORLD!?’

A few thousand people will participate in this annual bike ride, promoting healthy body image and fuel consciousness.  I’m not sure how body image and being fuel conscious go together so let’s just concentrate on one part of it- healthy body image. 

Now, I’m ALL for promoting that, but there has got to be a better way than riding a bike in your birthday suit.  Let’s wear shorts and tank tops or maybe a bathing suit, but NUDE?  I’m not sure that promotes anything other than exhibitionism and voyeurism. 

Who is doing this race?  More importantly, and quite possibly scarier...who is watching this race? Maybe I’ll cautiously concede to the idea that riders are trying to make a needed statement about being loud and proud with their bodies, no matter the shape or size.  What I can’t fathom is understanding what kind of person wouldn’t ride nude themselves, but would get up early on Saturday morning to stand on the side of the road and watch others’ fleshy parts go zooming by?! 

Are unhealthy body images a problem in our country?  Yes, for sure. I, like many other women spend way too much time thinking about how I look, what I would love to change, what diet may do the trick this time and pondering the idea of surgical help- if money were not a factor.  Our young girls…younger and younger every year in fact…have so many warped ideas of beauty staring them in the face day in and day out, that it’s no wonder many of them end up with eating disorders.  (Let’s not forget this is a problem for boys too, but that’s another topic)

My point is, yes, we need to be proud or at the very least ‘okay’ with the body we have.  God created these bodies of ours. They are not perfect nor were they meant to be. Our bodies are temporary vessels, but vessels with purpose.  In actuality, our bodies are not our own so we have no right to use and abuse or flaunt them.

I Corinthians 6:19-20: Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.

Is laying a vessel of the living God bare on the altar of voyeurism honoring and glorifying to Him Who lives in us?

My opinion is no, but then again…my vessel is cracking, saggy and pudgy in all the wrong places. Maybe if my vessel looked 22 instead of 52...?

Nope. I think I can confidently say, I’m out either way.

I don’t claim to have the answers for myself or anyone else when it comes to maintaining a healthy view and opinion of these funny things we call bodies.  I do however hold fast to the Truths laid out in 1Corinthians 6, as well as these from Romans 12:1-2: Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

Will the act of riding a bike nude renew anyone’s mind in a way that transforms a life?

Will ANYTHING we do outside of true authentic worship of the living God renew our minds, transform our lives or change our view of ourselves and others?

Look at the vessel you have. Don’t criticize or critique it…just look. Now ask God to give you His eyes for that vessel.  He sees it too. He’s not criticizing or critiquing because He sees what’s in it.  Beautiful. Pure. Holy.   

A temple.  Do you see it? 

Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

I woke up this morning thinking about mirrors.  Isn’t that the strangest thing to be thinking about when your eyes open for the first time on a Saturday morning?  I couldn’t imagine why I was thinking about mirrors.  I hadn’t dreamed about them, I hadn’t read about them before bed, I hadn’t discussed mirrors with anyone-not even myself-before drifting off last night.  So why in the world…? 

Absent of any reasonable explanation, I followed my wandering thoughts to mirrors of all kinds.  The gold framed one I bought at an estate sale months ago I’ve yet to hang because I can’t find the right place for it.  The often unflattering dressing room mirrors I will ultimately have to face on my quest for the best (or least worst) bathing suit for the summer.  The fun house mirrors seen at every carnival, haunted house, or boardwalk amusement I’ve been strong enough to brave over the years.  The magic mirror in fairy tales.  And lastly, the one I stare into every morning as I ready myself to start a day and every night as I end one.  

Mirrors were fun when I was a kid.  Once discovering the magic of reflection, I could spend the better part of an afternoon writing words “in code” — which meant backwards, just so I could hold them up to a mirror to read.  Reflection isn’t magical anymore; it can actually seem quite cruel first thing in the morning.  

Thoughts of mirrors were just a neurological segway to the real issue at hand-reflection.  

Unlike true mirrored reflections, our everyday personal ones can be skewed.  What of ourselves are we reflecting onto someone else?  Are we seeing them for who they really are or a reflection of our experiences put on them like a jacket we either love or hate?  What do others see when they face us…a reflection of acceptance and grace or one needing to be examined with timidity from a distance?  

Many people live coded lives, portraying a life backwards (opposite) of what is really true.  One persona in public, one in private.  This has to be exhausting; wondering if they will pass by or stand in front of a mirror that turns the code, revealing their true selves.  I’ve experienced this kind of bondage firsthand and it’s debilitating to the soul.  

What if we could experience freedom by living lives mirrored in truth?  What if our life reflection is one so led by the Lord that we see ourselves the way He sees us?  What if when others look at us they see their truest selves because of the grace that lives in us?   

My rambling thoughts have led to fervent prayers. Prayers that I will reflect the Jesus that lives in me, prayers that I will be a channel of grace so someone else can see themselves as God sees them, prayers that the Lord will reveal any soul blemish I’ve been trying to hide.  Prayers for a friend who is, I believe, living in the bondage of a coded life. 

2 Corinthians 3:16-18 ~ “ But whenever a person turns to the Lord , the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord , are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.” 

  

Can I Really Give Up "Law and Order" for Lent?

Ash Wednesday was yesterday which means Lent has officially begun.  This means fasting, this means abstaining, this means sacrifice.  In my mind and heart I know these things are necessary and right in order to fully focus on how Jesus suffered for me.  Of course the fleshy part of my being wanders in another direction at first. 

Like, why did I forget to indulge on “fat Tuesday” before Wednesday got here?  It’s like making the decision to start a diet.  Don’t we all want our favorite foods “one more time” before starting the diet?!  Starting Lent seems much the same way.  If we’ve decided to give up sweets, then don’t we want the biggest and best piece of cake right before we give all that up? Maybe this is how the tradition of a King Cake on Fat Tuesday began in the first place. Someone somewhere said, “Let’s eat cake before we can’t!”  (If that’s a real quote then I apologize for plagiarizing) 

Once I give up my disappointment in forgetting to indulge (seriously, did I need to remember that?!) then I go through the laundry list of things I should give up.  I’m not big on fasting food or drink but instead choose to abstain from an activity.  This sounds crazy for someone who loves food - seriously, I love food- but fasting a food or drink is just not hard enough.  If I’m busy I can go all day and forget to eat.  Giving up breakfast, lunch, or even dinner would not be too far from a typical day for me.  I’ve tried giving up coffee in the past but all it did was give me a headache.  Did I pray more during that time? Yes- but mainly for my headache to go away, and not much else.  This didn’t seem too productive so I decided that wasn’t the best route for me.  

Abstaining from an activity that takes up my time has always worked a little better for me.  I can use that now “free” time to focus on the Lord.  And here again is where I get bogged down with ALL the things I should give up…

Too much TV.  I have what can only be described as an obsession…an obsession with "Law and Order."  To be clear, I like the old ones…the original- no special letters or words after the title for me.  I live a simple life when it comes to my obsessions.  Seriously, I have a DVR that is 80% full right now and most of that is "Law and Order" episodes.  

Facebook- I post very little but I LOVE looking at what everyone else posts. I don’t live vicariously through the life of others, I’m just nosey- or curious- whichever sounds less weird.  

Falling asleep in my leather chair.  This is a real thing…a real problem.  I do it more than I’m willing to admit even to myself.  This seems like a silly thing to give up for Lent and really an easy fix, but it’s about adding in another discipline to give this one up.  That discipline would be going to bed at a decent hour.  I’ve actually thought about and asked the Lord if it’s okay to add something during Lent as a way of giving something up.  The jury is still out on this one but I think I already know the answer. “This has nothing to do with Lent- just turn off the lights and go to bed!”  Got it.  

Clutter.  I feel pretty good about this in general.  I’ve moved so many times over the past few years that I’ve cleaned out plenty of junk, but there is always room for improvement.  I can’t stuff one more t-shirt in my drawers, my jewelry is such a mess that I have things I’ve forgotten I have, and the clothes…the shoes.  TOO.MANY.THINGS.IN.CLOSET.  #ineedtogivethingsaway

The list could go on and on…

Okay...it's going to be Facebook, too much TV (I'll have to ask the Lord what is too much).  Now the Fat Tuesday thing is really stuck in my crawl.  Why didn't I do a "Law and Order" marathon on Tuesday?!  Even asking that question makes it abundantly clear why I have to give it up! 

The point of Lent is sacrifice for the sake of focusing on the Lord; more accurately (for me at least) it’s focusing WITH the Lord.  When I abstain from the things I enjoy or the habits I’ve created, I’m giving God space to work.  So…whether it’s the free time I create by staying off Facebook, watching less TV, or being quiet in my bed (not the chair) I’m excited to see what God does with the room I’ve made for Him in my life.  

On the other side of sacrifice...I’m hoping for some work to be done in several areas which- for now- I’ll keep to myself.  

Nosey…curious?  I won’t be putting those things on Facebook so if you’re either, you’ll have to read it here.  

Why I love the phrase, "Because I Said So..."

Like most kids, I hated this statement.  I wanted a reason for what seemed at the time like a very arbitrary request or point of instruction.  However, all the disdain in the world didn’t stop me from using the same phrase on (or against) my own children.

As a parent I came to realize the phrase was very useful in two instances.  One, when I was just too worn out to explain one more thing in the never ending onslaught of “why?” questions.  Two, when I just needed my kids to trust me without having to know the details. 

Okay…let’s be honest here- I don’t know if my parents (or if I) consciously thought about the latter reason for using that phrase; however, in hindsight, trust-even in the absence of details- is exactly what grew.  I came to learn why my parents told me to clean my room, eat my vegetables, and save even a small portion of my allowance.  I am grateful for all the times my parents used “because I said so…” on me.  I think it taught me something about obedience I may not have learned by any gentler means. 

Even when we’ve learned from the best (my parents were two of the best), even when we understand how to trust and obey without details, there are times when obedience is hard.  When God asks us to do what seems impossible, we want to revert back to our younger self and ask why.  We may even try to find excuses to not do what is being asked of us. 

It is in these times that I am most grateful for and have fallen in love with “because I said so…”  God never asks us to do something He knows we can’t handle.  He never instructs us in contradiction to His loving character.  When He instructs us with no details or reason, we can be assured of one thing- it’s for our own good.  God has instructed me in many “because I said so…” ways over the years, and not one time have I come away thinking it was a waste of my obedience to Him.  

Most recently God instructed me to contact my ex-husband, asking to have lunch with him and his girlfriend.  (His girlfriend incidentally is the one he cheated on me with, ending our marriage.  A woman I’ve never seen or met in the eight years since my world fell apart).  The more immature side of me wanted to ask why, but I knew better.  This was a “because I said so…” moment.  

I was nervous when I contacted him, I was more nervous when they said yes, but I was the most nervous when they…when she…walked into the restaurant.  In the hour that followed I came to realize something very profound.  This meeting was not for them- it was for me.  God told me to do something because He had a gift for me on the other side of my obedience. 

All the times my parents said “because I said so…” taught me more about trusting them.  Every instruction they gave me had a purpose- even if I didn’t know it at the time.  I am grateful for all those unanswered “why” questions.  The result of their instruction has been more than learning the importance of cleaning my room.  Learning the significance of obedience even when we don’t know all the details holds the potential for earthly blessings, as well as some eternal perspective.  “Because I said so…” is a beautiful phrase indeed.

Big Pictures Don't Fit in Small Frames

Isn’t it funny how the things we once found so endearing in someone become our biggest pet-peeves?  The way they crinkled their nose is now an annoying tick. The tapping of a foot to music now sounds like excruciatingly loud stomping. The once cute rubbing of a chin now makes you want to ask- “do you have an itch you need to see a doctor about?!” 

A good friend lovingly pointed out to me recently that I hum the same non-descript tune when I’m walking around in a store…any store.  I didn’t believe her until I did it one day, and she announced, “There it is!”  She- at least at this point- is not annoyed by this habit, so until she stops shopping with me, I will keep on humming. 
 
This phenomenon made me start wondering if God is ever annoyed by the habits we create in our lives.  I whole-heartedly believe that God gives each of us gifts, talents, purpose, and even personality.  I also believe that left unchecked those things…those good things… He put in us can suddenly become very annoying, and maybe even detrimental to ourselves or others.

I am a self-proclaimed perfectionist.  The good thing God put in me is the desire to work hard, and do my best.  If God were human- which of course He’s not- He may look at my work ethic and think that is so endearing, but then later find that my perfectionism drives Him crazy!  (What does it matter if the toilet paper comes off the roll over the top or underneath?!) 

This good thing that God put in me is tainted when I am not exercising that thing in the Spirit.  The minute I move to working in the flesh, the VERY thing that was good is now awful. 

Need another example?  God gave me the gift of connectedness.  I see how things connect, which in the Spirit, makes me a good teacher.  In the flesh, I’m not only forcing things to connect that really don’t, I’m bossy and a know-it-all. 

It’s all like trying to fit a big picture in a small frame.  I can shove it in, I can fold it, and I can even try cutting it.  The reality is that big pictures don’t fit in small frames, and trying to make them fit just ruins them.  A beautiful picture in the wrong frame is…just wrong. 

God gives us the frame in which to exercise the good gifts He’s put in us.  When we’re fitting ourselves in the frame of His Spirit…when we’re working in the Spirit, there is life and there is beauty.  Why would we confine ourselves to work in the smallness of our flesh when we have the freedom to live and work in the bigness of His Spirit?!  Endearing, beautiful, lovely things remain that way when they are framed perfectly…by His hand.  

Romans 8:9-15 ~ “You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ.  But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of righteousness.  And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.  Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation--but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it.  For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.  For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, ""Abba," Father." 

The Day a Grape Mysteriously Halved Itself

My youngest son had the great privilege of going to school and “running” with some of the best young men I’ve ever met. This group of guys all love Jesus and each other.  They are funny pranksters, but not cruel, mischievous, but yet respectful, competitive, but compassionate.  How do boys grow into men like this?  It was the Lord’s work in their hearts, and some great mammas.

Because my son had great friends, I too was blessed by the friendships of the moms who reared them.  As we all got ready to send our babes to college we made a pact of sorts to stay connected.  We promised to continue praying for our boys, and to get together on occasion to laugh, cry, and share life with each other. 

Last week was our first get together. I had the great privilege of hosting these special friends for a dinner party, loving called the “Whine and Wine” party.  Moms, wine, and ‘war’ stories…fun just waiting to happen!

To prepare for the party, I did the usual things.  I cleaned my house, grocery shopped, and made food.  As the time grew closer for them to arrive, I made the final preparations of lighting candles, and putting all the food on serving trays.  This is when I ran across the most curious thing.  Among the freshly washed bunch of grapes, I found a grape, still on the stem, cut in half. It wasn’t torn in half; it was cut perfectly in half.  It was so odd to me that I had to know…where was the other half and how did this happen?

I looked through the bunch of grapes and found the other half among the loose ones.  I pulled the half that remained on the stem to match it up with its mate.  Again…silly, maybe…but I was so curious about how this happened.  I remembered that as I washed the grapes earlier and was trying to put the grapes into smaller more manageable clumps, I ran across a stem I couldn’t tear.  I reached for a knife and cut the stem. In doing so, I had evidently cut the grape in half as well.

This inconsequential incident has awakened my spirit to, and reminded me of how the Body of Christ is divided.  Grapes, bunched together because we love and follow the same God.  We get divided into smaller clumps along the way down denominational (or non-denominational) lines.  We’re still grapes, but we’ve now made ourselves ‘more manageable’ somehow.

These divisions are not bad in and of themselves, but something is happening- and has been happening for many years- in the Body that isn’t good.  We’re being cut in half just like my mysterious grape. We argue about the silliest things like whose music is more holy, if raising hands in worship is okay, or if wearing jeans to church is respectful.  As Beth Moore says, “We’ve made rib issues into spine issues.” It’s ridiculous. 

Even more than that, I think the Body of Christ is in danger of dividing itself right down the middle because of some of the “hot topics” in our world today.  These arguments are the perfect avenue for the enemy to use to further his agenda.  His knife of lies, confusion, and distraction will cut us perfectly in half and we’ll be left standing there wondering how it happened.

Seriously, we have one thing to be concerned about…are we still following and trusting the One True God? Are we about doing what Jesus said were the most important things- loving God and loving our neighbors?  The enemy wants nothing more than to divide the Body and I’m afraid we’re giving him lots of room to do just that. 

There are no easy answers but there are things we can do.

If our stems are so strong they can’t be torn…
If we don’t let any of our brothers and sisters in Christ get ‘loose’ from the bigger bunch we call the Body…
If we make every effort to cling to the Lord and each other for the purpose of His Kingdom…

Maybe the enemy will have fewer chances to divide us, and we won’t be left wondering how we were mysteriously cut in half. 

My grape was cut because I wasn't paying attention to the grape itself, but was more concerned with the agenda of making smaller clumps.  Are we concerned with clumps or the bunch? Are we paying attention?

Jude 1:17-22 – “But, dear friends, remember what the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ foretold.  They said to you, "In the last times there will be scoffers who will follow their own ungodly desires."  These are the men who divide you, who follow mere natural instincts and do not have the Spirit.  But you, dear friends, build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit.  Keep yourselves in God's love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”

    

Cute Shoes, Rain, and Big Birthdays

I didn’t bother to look at my weather app yesterday. I instead went “old school” and actually looked out the window. It was raining, and I couldn’t have been more excited. 
You see, a few weeks ago I bought new rain boots…really, really cute rain boots.  I’ve been waiting patiently to wear them because no matter how fashionably bold you are, no one will believe you put any thought into an outfit if you wear rain boots when it’s sunny and 90 degrees. 
So…yay!...rain! 

I was so excited I took a picture of my boots and sent it to a friend with the caption, “Don’t mind the rain- I have cute rain boots.”  That phrase, sent tongue in cheek, has resonated in my mind for the last 24 hours.  Maybe it’s because the sun did come out later and I felt a little silly in my oh-so-cute boots.  Maybe it’s because I don’t have an active Instagram and felt like this was the one time I wished I did.  Maybe it’s because I didn’t wear the right socks and my feet were very sweaty later in the day.  Or maybe it’s because I realized having the appropriate (and cute!) shoes on a rainy day is about much more than just that. 

For the last two years I’ve dreaded two things…turning 50 and sending my youngest son to college.  For two years I wondered what my life would be like with an empty nest, specifically with no spouse in the nest with me.  For two years I contemplated what it would feel like to be 50 and alone. 

I’m here two years later…50…empty nest…but, not alone. 

On the day I left my youngest at school, friends, family, and even my boss called or texted to check on me.  On the day I turned 50 (only 1 week and 2 days after leaving that son at college), my friends gathered to surprise me with a huge party.  My rainy days had come, and I had more than just cute boots to cover my feet.  I had sweet friendships to nurture my heart.

I dreaded the storm of those big transitions, but there was only calm and peace.  Isn’t this what God does over and over for us?  We see the rain and He sees an opportunity to give us the rainbow.  We see the potential for heartache and He seizes the chance to remind us He is holding us tight. 

The reality is…
To get the rainbow, we have to first endure the storm.  To have our heart seized by God, we have to allow it the chance to be broken along the way.  He tells us to “consider it pure joy” to live through these things.  That seems like a tall order some days, but then again…we have more than cute rain boots to walk in.  We walk in faith, believing the One who holds all things together. 

Cute rain boots are important to a shoe-loving girl like me.  If getting to wear those boots means I have to withstand the rain…I’m okay with that. 

James 1:2-4 - “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

It's a Party!

There are people to which the term “a party waiting to happen” is a good description.  My eldest is a good candidate for such a description.  You know the kind…outgoing, open to trying almost anything, quick with a joke, and even quicker with a hearty laugh at your attempts at being funny. 

There are also those people who are good at planning parties.  They follow or create a theme for the party.  The appropriate decorations, food and drink, and activities- most often games- are planned perfectly. Their parties are meant to create lasting memories from start to finish. I have more than one friend like this, and their parties do just what they are intended to do. 

Then, there is a third kind of party person.  This person doesn’t throw parties or wait around for a special occasion to celebrate.   I’m convinced this person doesn’t use the term “party” in most conversations.   The idea of pulling out the good china for the ordinary kind of dinners in their homes is a normal occurrence.  I know someone like this too.  Whenever she discusses big trips or get-togethers with close friends, she is quick to say there was no special occasion.  To quote her, “Why wait for a big birthday or anniversary- just do it because you can!”

I’ve often told children that when anyone accepts Jesus as their Savior, there is a party in heaven.  God the Father, His Son Jesus, and the entire heavenly realm celebrate the fact that another person has joined their eternal family.  I’ve asked kids to imagine clapping, singing, and lots of joyful noise at the party.  I’m sure children have put their own spin on that imagining, complete with party favors, music, games, and cake…lots of cake.  This truth about a heavenly celebration, found in the gospel of Luke, is used more to teach how excited God is when one of His children says ‘yes’ to Him, than to provoke a decision in that direction. 

Thinking about the three types of party people I know, and in light of the “rejoicing in heaven” mentioned in Luke, I wonder if the idea of a party somehow can and should be used to help with the decision process.  Maybe, in actuality, it already is for some people. 

The “why wait?” personality, after learning about Jesus and His promises, may be quick to make the decision to follow Him.  In their mind and heart, there is no time like the present.   They know that life is to be lived today.  They fully grasp the fact that you don’t have to wait until you have “it” all together or some kind of perfect plan before jumping in.  And, after making that decision, the ones among us who live a “good china for everyday” kind of life may also have the best grasp on what it means to be thankful.  Every day is a gift and they live with a very certain sense that God is near.

The “perfect party” planners are just that- planners.  After hearing the gospel and about their need for a Savior, they may plan it out in their heads and hearts.  They discover bit by bit how all the pieces of life with the Lord fit together.  I would imagine this personality goes to great lengths to pursue the Spiritual disciplines- not because they are legalistic- but because it’s part of the process of living life with God.  After making the thoughtful decision to follow Jesus, these planners now have the freedom to lead a memorable life.  Their life is chock-full of stories about seeing God’s plans and promises come true.  At every turn, and with every up and down part of life, they will notice His handiwork and purposes. 

The “party waiting to happen” people love life and maybe the exploration of life even more.    These are the people who live with passion; passion for things and passion against things.  A movement stirs their hearts, they love a cause they can get behind, and the truth is spoken and received only when it is tempered with deep emotion.  I’m certain those in this category are the hardest to convince that following Jesus is the best and most important decision they will ever make. I’m also convinced that once they make that decision, they will never look back, and will follow Him so passionately that others will want to join them.  These internal partiers who laugh deep and loud, and laugh at others’ jokes, are the ones who also love deeply and loudly, and invite others to know love too. 

For every personality and every kind of partier, there is a party.  There is a party waiting to happen, a party that’s planned in perfect detail, and the everyday- just because I love you- celebration happening simultaneously in heaven.  {Luke 15, Revelation 19, Zephaniah 3}

Whether we are exploring the other parties of life first, waiting until we have it all together, or just going about life with no concept of there being something more, we are offered the same promise.  The invitation was delivered on a cross, the door to the party was opened with the tearing of a veil, and the celebration began when a tomb was found empty. 

Luke 15:7- “I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” 
Luke 15:10- “In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."

Easter Basket Turnover

I’ve loved Easter for as long as I can remember.  Our traditional Easter Sunday involved several things.  A new outfit for me- complete with white gloves, white patent Mary Janes, and a hat.  There were lilies for my mom, new suits for the guys, and a BIG lunch at my grandmother’s house after church. 

All of my aunts, uncles, and cousins were in attendance at the table.  After eating our fill of honey ham (Honey Baked had nothing on my grandmama), deviled eggs, homemade potato salad, congealed salad, fried green tomatoes, and anything else my grandmother had grown herself, we headed outside for the egg hunt.

All the men were in charge of hiding the eggs- real, never plastic, along with some special treasures.  The cousins, my brother, and I would grab our baskets and start the search.  Since my grandparents lived on a farm, there were set boundaries for the search area.  We’d still be looking to this day if those boundaries had been ignored. 

“On your mark, get set, go!”  Off we’d go alright- racing around trying to be the first to find one, to gather the most for bragging rights, and to find the biggest prize- the golden egg.  My grandfather would hide one golden egg, the finder of which won a monetary prize of $1.

We pretty quickly learned that even those of us not lucky enough to find the golden egg, would receive money. My grandfather would find other excuses to give each of us $1; first to find a green egg, best tree climber to find the egg hidden up high, best at helping someone younger find her eggs. He’d always think of a reason to bless us. By the time the hunt was over, we all had a basket full of colorful eggs, wrapped candy, and a crisp $1 bill.

Once the boys’ ties had been repositioned and the girls’ dresses had been fluffed, we’d sit on my grandparents’ front steps for the annual cousin photo.  After several tries at having everyone face the camera at the same time were found to be futile, our parents set us loose to enjoy our newly acquired treasures.  Easter baskets were turned over and the trading began. My brother loved the beautifully colored boiled eggs and I loved the candy so we were pretty good at the bargaining table.   Once the dust had settled, we went about the business of playing, laughing, and eating our newly acquired treats. 

Those Easter Sundays were something special for our family- for me.  The memories of the activities we enjoyed are only heightened by the memory of sitting beside my family at church.  Our baskets were full, but more than that – our hearts were full. 

I think about the reasons my grandfather came up with to give us money on those Easter Sundays, and it reminds me of how our Heavenly Father blesses us.  He doesn’t need a reason to do it, but He must take great joy in finding them.  If all the ways God has blessed me this year alone could fit into a basket, my basket would be full indeed. 

As I continue through this season of Lent and prepare for Easter, I want to think about my life- my heart- as an Easter basket.  I want to admire everything God has placed in my basket this year.  I want to remember every treasure God has allowed me to find.  I want to turn over that basket, see what falls out, and let it bless me all over again.  

In Memory Of...

Today is my parents’ wedding anniversary.  This marks what would’ve been their 52nd year as married sweethearts.  My daddy has been gone eight years but my mom still celebrates this day- as much as that is possible for a widow. 

She doesn’t look up what the gift of the year should be, she doesn’t go out to a fancy restaurant, and she can no longer exchange her loving sentiments through a Hallmark card.  Despite those things, in her own way she celebrates what she and my dad shared. 

She looks at his pictures, she reads things he wrote to her, and she goes to his gravesite.  There she gives her sweetheart the only thing she still can- her devotion.  She carefully picks out just the right flowers, she cuts and separates them so the bouquet looks perfect, and then she places them in the provided grave side vase. 

My mom stays for a while beside my dad’s headstone.  I’m not sure if she talks to him or not, or if it’s enough just to feel as if he is close.  She has no illusions about the state of where my dad actually resides. She knows that grave holds only his remains, and that his soul is with the Lord; however, she is still devoted to being with him in any little way she can be.

My mom is only one side of the love story my parents shared.  Theirs was truly the thing of fairy tales, a marriage and partnership that began as teenagers, and lasted until “death do us part.” 

I can’t begin to know my mom’s heartache today or any day that she misses her best friend.  I can however take a few minutes to reflect on what I witnessed through their love for each other. 

I called my mom today just to let her know I remembered March 23rd, and then I looked up the eulogy from my dad’s funeral.  Eight years later, the sting of losing the best man I’ve ever known is still there, but maybe more importantly it’s what has lived on that crowds my mind and heart.

The memory of my dad is like a healing salve.  Who he was has not been forgotten by his sweetheart, by his children, or by his grandchildren.  Because of that, the only thing left to say is- we miss you, daddy.

I Got the Music in Me

I woke up this morning with a song in my head.  I guess I heard the song on the radio at some point yesterday and it stuck.  It’s a perfectly fine song but it has one of those lyrics that will drive you crazy when you can’t stop singing it.  I needed to drown out the noise, so what did I do?  I added more noise by switching on Pandora. At least it would be a new song in my head.

After getting myself going with some Third Day oldies (I’m sure Mac and the gang would love to know that I now call some of their songs oldies) – I headed out the door with a new song in my heart. At least it was a song that wouldn’t drive me crazy if I sang it all day long. 

Feeling a spring in my step despite the rain, and having a little extra time on my hands, I decided to stop in at my favorite local coffee shop for a mug of my favorite blend.  This is the kind of coffee shop where artists and non-conformists hang out.  There is no drive-thru window because no one is in a hurry.  It’s a place to get your coffee to stay, and to sip slowly. If you have tattoos, dreadlocks, or have decided that showering is not for you, this is your kind of place.  I don’t have a tattoo or dreadlocks, and I did shower, but yet I feel right at home here. 

Sitting at a little side table, sipping a cup of joy, ready to write in my journal…then it happened.  A song.  A song from the past.  It’s John Cougar Mellencamp singing “Jack and Diane.”  This song is an actual oldie, although the coffee bar staff turned it up, and sang as if it was brand new. 

I feel almost territorial for this song.  It came out my senior year of high school.  It was a song I sang loudly in my car every time it came on the radio.  Long before iTunes, this song was on my play list.  It was recorded on a cassette tape that I wore out pushing rewind to replay it every time it ended. The song brings back memories that seem as close as yesterday.  Singing it in the car with my friends, my boyfriend, and alone- driving with the windows down, sunglasses on, volume loud enough to make it seem as if I actually sing in key.

Music does something to us physically.  We snap our fingers, tap our feet, clap our hands, and when no one is looking, dance around our kitchens.  Music has the power to illicit memories, lift our spirits, and make a theme for the mundane.  (An old Jackson5 cd goes really well with cleaning the house)

Can this be because we are made for worship?  If you are so inclined to use Google to look up whether or not we are created for worship, you will gather an array of theological opinions on the topic.  Some say yes, and some (more) say no.  Theologically I’m not sure if we’re made for singing, but I definitely think we are created to worship.  I also believe that one of the components of worship is rooted in music.  Why else would God have our hearts connect with music on so many levels? 

I’m not one to wish I had been born in another place or time period, but there is something intriguing about how worshippers sang the Psalms as they walked to Jerusalem for holy festivals.  Maybe like my coffee servers sang an oldie from my past today as if it were brand new, I can set my heart on singing the Psalms as if they are brand new. 

I’m sure God will be just fine with me turning up the volume and singing off key.  If a lyric is going to stick, make it a good one.
 
Psalm 104:33-34: “I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the LORD.”

Debunking Luck

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day.  Where else but America can a saint and former missionary be celebrated with beer, tales of pots of gold, fictional leprechauns, and wearing green?  Our culture has an uncanny way of making virtually every holiday about eating and drinking.

The drinking and eating aside, I’m fascinated by the whole idea of “luck of the Irish.”  I know there are people who actually put stock in the idea that everything that happens to and for them is just luck. Some call it dumb luck, and others say they’ve been “kissed with luck” or cursed.  Either way, their existence is based on nothing but this idea of either being lucky or unlucky. 

We’ve all known people personally or from afar that seem to have it all together, to get all the breaks, or that everything they touch turns to gold.  Honestly, we’ve probably hated that person just a little bit.  Unless you are that person, then you have no idea why you’re so despised. 

We’ve also known people who seem to enjoy more than their share of hardships. We don’t envy these people and count ourselves “lucky” that we’re not them.  The term “down on their luck” seems to be tattooed on the life stories of some folks. 

I don’t believe in luck.  I fall into the camp of good happens and bad happens-to everyone.  Some seem to have more than one or the other but just like everything else, it’s seasonal.  The pendulum swings and no one is impervious to where it tends to tilt for any given day, month, or year. 

This is why Cinderella stories happen during basketball season, why athletes who have never been hurt get injured their senior year, why actors perfect for the part miss a line and lose a role, why tires get nails in them, and why tree branches fall on cars.  Conversely, heads-up pennies don’t change our life.  Broken mirrors don’t mean we’re doomed for the next seven years.  Rubbing a rabbit’s foot, avoiding ladders, and staying away from black cats won’t insure a smooth path either.  

We can’t avoid bad luck just like we can’t conger up good luck. Why? Luck is something we try to grasp and have just as easy a time as catching air. Luck doesn’t exist, but good and bad times certainly do. 

Instead of finding solace in luck we can find peace in hope.  God never promises us good times, but He does promise that He will work all things together in our lives for good.
Romans 8:28- “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

As a side note…
Despite what the saying ‘luck of the Irish’ implies, it actually means the opposite.  The Irish people have not had the greatest history of actually enjoying a lot of good.  Because of famines, prejudices in their own country and in the early days of America, the term originally referred to their bad luck.  Even John Lennon sang about it – “If you had the luck of the Irish/You'd be sorry and wish you were dead /You should have the luck of the Irish /And you'd wish you were English instead!”  

I’m not wishing to be Irish or English and I don’t have to wish for that elusive good luck.  I can, however, be content knowing that the Lord controls outcomes, and He doesn’t use luck. 

Spring Fever and Other Excuses

When I was a teacher we- meaning myself and my teammates- used to make excuses for every crazy day we had in our classrooms. There was a full moon last night, the kids had cookies at lunch, it was the day before or after Halloween, Christmas break is close, and my favorite - spring fever.  At the time, these all seemed like valid excuses for our kids’ behavior being just a little out of whack. 

I’m not sure whether or not they were valid, but I’m certain they were excuses. We didn’t allow them to get away with the misbehavior.  There were still consequences, so I’m not sure what we were really accomplishing with the excuses.  Maybe it was more about making ourselves feel better.  (It couldn’t be that we were off our game on maintaining control so there must be a reason for the craziness.) 

Looking back now, I’m more aware of how we shouldn’t have made excuses- for them or for ourselves.  Really, is there any good excuse for misbehavior?  Making the choice to misbehave is just that- a choice.  There are no excuses.  It’s not someone else’s fault.  It’s not because of a full moon or too much sugar.  There may be scientific validity to how those things affect us physically, but we still have a choice in whether or not to exhibit self-control. 

I am a strong believer in personal responsibility, and have had to work hard to teach the concept to my children.  Teaching our children to “own up” to their mistakes is one of the pillars of building character; character that lines up with Scripture. 

That being said, I still find myself making excuses either verbally or internally.  I make excuses for my kids all the time.  M#1 runs out of money.  He forgot to check the pending transactions on his bank app.  Excuse.  M#2 plays timidly in a soccer game. He just came off a 6week injury.  Excuse.  M#1 has his car towed or booted.  He didn’t see the sign that said “no parking.”  Excuse.  M#2 doesn’t do well on a test.  He was out of town all weekend and tired so he didn’t have time and energy to study. Excuse.

The biggest excuse I’ve made lately for one of my boys is more than an excuse, and also probably much more dangerous- it was justification.  I have internally and verbally not only excused a slip, but justified why it wasn’t “that bad.”

M#2, while on a school trip, made the conscience decision to miss curfew.  They were at Disney.  The last night was extra Magic Hours, which meant the park would stay open until 2am for those staying in the resort.  His group was staying on the resort so they could ride anything until the wee-hours.  The problem- curfew was 12:30am.  M#2 and his buddies decided to forget curfew and stay in the park.  They left in waves to head back; two of them were 30 minutes late, three more were 60 minutes late, and the last two (mine being one of those) didn’t arrive back to the hotel until 2:45am.  Take into account that the time changed that night, and they actually arrived at 3:45am. 

Each boy took responsibility for their choice to ignore curfew.  They took their punishment of serving Saturday school (4 hours of detention) like the young men they are becoming.  All the while, they’ve excused or justified the behavior.  Honestly, so have their parents- myself included.

We’ve all internally thought it or even said things like, “It could be worse- they weren’t out drinking or something.”  “They’ve never been in trouble so we count ourselves lucky.” “The school shouldn’t make a big deal of this considering all the other things that go on!”  “My son learned it honestly- we always stay the extra hours when we go to Disney.”  “They couldn’t get on all the rides during the day.  They had to stay late to ride everything.”  And…even, “I’d have done the same thing.  The school should’ve planned to let them stay later the last night.” 

It wasn’t until one of the dads actually said what we all should’ve said that I realized just how badly I was justifying my son’s choice.  He quickly pointed out, “They were wrong in the choice they made.”  This dad was right.  They knew the curfew time, and whether they agreed with it or not is irrelevant.

I’m not proud that my son broke curfew.  I still don’t see it as a really big slip up, and I do count myself as very lucky and blessed to have a kid who- for the most part- makes wise decisions; however, I have no business justifying him disobeying authority. 

Making excuses or justifying the bad choices- even small ones - can lead us into very dangerous territory.  Disney trips, too much sugar, spring fever, full moons…there really are no good excuses.  Part of facing the consequences of our choices means taking our punishment without (too much) complaining, but doesn't it also mean not making excuses for those choices?

2 Corinthians 5:10- “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.”