Dear Good Christian Girl, You Are Believing a Lie

When did you give your heart to Jesus? That's what they say, right? That's how they ask it. 

Well, me, I was four. 

That's what I am told, anyway. 

Four years old, in my best friend's driveway, I told my mom that I wanted to give my heart to Jesus. And so I did. I prayed that prayer-- I don't remember quite how it goes now. 

I have a four year old. 

I'm pretty sure she thinks God looks like Santa and sometimes she tells me that Jesus is in her belly and will come out like a baby at some point, maybe not today because today she is having triplets, but maybe tomorrow.

Are you catching my drift? 

I grew up in church-- many different kinds. I went to a Christian school through 8th grade. I didn't drink until I was 21 (almost), no sex before marriage, I didn't commit any crimes, I didn't do drugs, I moved away from home, went to college and eventually I got married and started to have kids. 

I didn't fall away. I never backslid. 

Good Christian Girl, that's me. 

She may be you, too. 

----------------

This past Sunday at church, we heard the testimony of a man who led a life nothing like mine. He led a life that was (in his words) "filled with fear." He spoke of the power of the Holy Spirit and Jesus' sacrifice with such conviction. 

He had an experience with God that was undeniable. 

I never had that.

Good Christian Girl, you are living a lie. 

Good Christian Girl, you believe because there is no obvious climax in your testimony (do you even have a testimony???) that you are sentenced to a life of mediocrity. 

Think about that. Jesus spits out the lukewarm.

Fire-y christians are the ones with the story. Fire-y christians have a testimony that brings people to tears. 

I admit that I have been guilty of amping up parts of my walk with God to seem like there was a huge turning point. Otherwise, the seemingly small God details of my life could be written off as coincidences.

Christians who believe that coincidences are God-orchestrated events are foolish. 

--------

Sitting in church on Sunday, I felt a (gentle) punch in my gut. 

"Your life is no coincidence. When did you become so wise?

Those small moments, those small prayers, the moment in the car when you were four--- 

every time you write them off as coincidences, as foolishness, you fall deeper and deeper into the pit of mediocrity. 

You push away from me, you don't give me the honor. 

Your life is FILLED with God moments, but to you they are foolishness.

I love you. 

I want you to see me there, with you, the whole time. Holding you. You are my daughter. 

Recognize me."

Dear Good Christian Girl,

 

“I know all the things you do, and that you have a reputation for being alive—but you are dead. 2Wake up! Strengthen what little remains, for even what is left is almost dead. I find that your actions do not meet the requirements of my God.3Go back to what you heard and believed at first; hold to it firmly. Repent and turn to me again..." Rev 3:1-3

I may not remember the prayer I prayed when I was four, but He does. It may seem foolish to believe a four year old could commit to God-- and maybe she can't. But He can commit to her and 

Good Christian Girl, He has. 

Recognize Him.

Get me off this thing called... Love

Ha! Sorry, I had to do it.
"So, I Married An Axe Murderer" is one of my all time favorite movies and I just couldn't resist entitling this blog post with a quote from that movie.

I just wish somehow I could add in the little hand gesture. Make sure you do it every time you read the title to this blog post.

Ready? Let's try it together.

"Get me off this thing called....(hand gesture) Love."

(And if you have no idea what the heck I am talking about, do yourself a favor and get that movie!)

So this thing... love. The basis of all relationships and interactions. The one (pure, true) thing that keeps us connected...

 is so dang hard to figure out.

I've been silent for awhile because the ONE thing that keeps popping in my head to blog about is the one thing that confuses me the most. And it's the thing that keeps us going.

It's vital.

Love connects partners. It connects families, friends, siblings... it connects us to movements, to passions, to missions... we see it in nature, in our pets... it is what moves us closer to our Creator.

It is what our Creator IS.

The absence of love brings turmoil, anger, hate, disconnect, confusion. Dark.

But, let's define love for a moment... because I'm not talking about Valentine's day, people!

What I am talking about is respect.

I am talking about a love that works for the greater good of humanity. A love that sees all people, all beings, all the world in the light of the Kingdom: as it should be. I am talking about freedom, choice... about valuing the needs of others around us in the same way we value our own.

Here's an idea, scroll through Facebook for a second, you'll find many people highlighting the need for choice, for freedom, for respect. Many people are raising funds for wonderful causes, advertising their passions and gushing over some of the small glimpses of "hope in humanity."

Love is much bigger than just my marriage, your marriage. It's bigger than just the way we choose to raise our children, the way we cultivate our relationships with our parents and siblings.

But is it?

We all seem to have a deep "want" to see humans live in harmony with each other but our marriages are falling apart. Christians all seem to want the love of Jesus to be spread far and wide, but do their children feel it? We want to accomplish great things, but have we accomplished the seemingly small things?

As I trip and fall and trip and fall down this parenting path, the one thing that remains true is that change starts with me. But not just me, me and them. Me and you.

Did I love them well? Have I loved you well?

That needs to be my question after an argument with my husband, after my daughter takes a crayon to the wall, after I get home from an interview and after a phone call from my brother.

Did I love them well?

No wait, did THEY feel that I loved them well?

THAT'S the thing folks. We can't gauge our own love goodness! 

I guess that's what I have been trying to do forever now. Let me explain.

So, there are these 5 love languages. They are outlined in some popular book. You can even take a test to see what your top two are.

Bah! Love languages!

If you are anything like me, you think this love language stuff is downright discouraging. You immediately think about how you and your husband have completely different love languages and how it's is a daily struggle, I mean, task, ahem, privilege, to learn the ways each other needs to be loved to bring the relationship to new and deeper heights with every successful, loving and selfless interaction.

Honestly, that love language book... makes me gag.

I don't know, I get it, I just don't know if I buy into it... completely anyway. Shouldn't adults be able to show love and receive love in all different ways? Isn't love some sort of universal language? 

Why, then, when I write sweet notes in a journal for my husband he hardly ever writes back?!

Love letters are love letters, surely he can feel the love through them!

Yet, he complains when hugs are cut short, or a busy family day passes by and he doesn't feel as if we've had quality time. Didn't we just spend the whole freaking day together?!

Obviously, I am missing something.

And per usual God speaks to me through my children.

I've noticed in the past, our daughter physically cringing when people (ourselves included) ask for kisses. God forbid, someone try to give her one! She will spit on her hand and wipe it off in one seemingly rude swipe.

This kills her dad. He loves to "smooch her face" and incessantly asks for kisses.

I, on the other hand, totally get it. The only difference is, I wait until people aren't looking before I wipe off the lingering spit and feeling.

At first, I was horrified. Kids learn by example right?! I've tried so hard to suck it up and not let my kids see how uncomfortable I get when people are physically affectionate towards me and I most certainly try never to avoid a kiss from their dad even if he has fallen short (like I never do!) in some spouse-ly duty.

So I just couldn't figure out HOW Judah learned to not like kisses then? 

She not only refuses offers, but she wipes off blind sides too!

Then I realized something: Judah may not like to be hugged, or kissed, and her idea of snuggling is laying next to someone with absolutely no touching involved at all, but she tells us she loves us 1200 times a day. She encourages us when she sees that we are struggling and she compliments our hard work. She thanks us for dinners cooked, outings, help... anything!

While out to lunch one day with her grandparents, one who is particularly affectionate (even though it is usually not reciprocated), said to her "Judah, I saw the painting that you are working on and I think it's beautiful! You have done some great work!"

Do you know what she did? That little stinker! She turned around and gave the biggest kiss ever! 

She felt love, so she returned the love. 

And kids, man, there's so much to learn from them... she didn't return the love with a thank you or another compliment or encouraging word. She didn't return the love with a gift of some sort. She met that person in a way that THEY would feel loved. 

She KISSED them. The very thing that she detests! 

THAT'S a relationship -- becoming in tune with the people around us--the needs of the people around us. We can work and work and work until the cows come home (is that a thing?) on bettering ourselves and becoming the person that WE want to be but until we can become the person that THEY need us to be our relationships can not fully bloom, our relationships can't be the examples that we hope they would be.

That this world desperately needs them to be. 

So yeah, change starts with me. But it starts with me, thinking about you. 

A quick thought.

Child #1 has toy.

Child #2 grabs at toy,

(naturally).

Child #1 doesn't give it up.

Child #2 hits Child #1 

(Is this starting to sound familiar)?

Child #1 yells "Don't hit me! God made me!"

<Record screech>

What in the world?!

Fast forward a couple of days later... 

Child #1 is talking to Siri, the creepy woman who lives in our phones.

I hear a beep beep from the phone and then Child #1 say, "God made me! Don't cut me off."

Now of course, there is a whole lot of human nature going on in these two scenarios, but there's also the knowledge that "God made me, I am special, and pretty darn important to Him."

What if we all walked around knowing that God made us-- that we have a destiny and a purpose and that He thinks we are special and pretty darn important....? 

What if we all walked around remembering that God thinks the same thing of all the people we encounter every day... What would that look like?

Dang right, you must get that from your mother! Part two.

Finally!! A minute to sit and get the second part of this enormous lesson out of my head.

It's becoming more and more clear to me that we become parents not only to, and maybe I will even dare to say, NOT to parent new humans, but to explore and learn and be guided in a whole new side of ourselves that God put in us for HIS purposes.

It (being life, everything in life) is always about our relationship with him. Always. It never isn't.

And yes, of course, to achieve all of the goodness God has on this parenting journey, we must in fact be PARENTS, but ultimately we are ALL His children. He has us. He has them.

We are just standing in--

and in my little opinion, it's not because he needs us to. It's because we need us to.

Mind. Blown.

I think about my dear Simon boy a lot. I love him. I take care of him. I can tell you his schedule, I can sort of tell you his likes, I can definitely tell you his dislikes-- and I can tell you most of this in the context of Judah-- his big sister. Naturally, he is the stereotypical second child. I have in fact, not only forgotten his name, but I have forgotten he exists.

For instance, Simon likes when Judah jumps up and down. Simon doesn't like Judah to take toys from him. Meal times are mostly about screaming for food because I am not only focused on feeding him but also feeding his sister. These said screaming sessions, lead me to believe that he really likes to eat... so forth and so on. I learn about him, mostly because of his interactions with his big sister.

and this isn't bad, it is what it is.

 He was born into a family with a sister who likes to manage, likes to talk, a lot, likes to oversee and organize-- He will be the person he was destined to be largely because of the circumstances he was born into. Hence why many first borns, second borns etc. are predictable in many ways.

 Anyway, Simon was in his 10th month of life and really didn't have any words at all.

 NOW before anyone starts thinking that I am expecting too much, or thinking that I think he should be more like his sister-- that's not what this is about. I am the SPOKESPERSON for kids developing on their own timelines-- and not forcing anything on them.
I wasn't concerned about his speech or development.

I was concerned for my sanity.

I couldn't take the screaming and yelling for what he needed (specifically at meal times) anymore. My head was about to explode.

I remember the day. Just looking up to the heavens. Oh dear LORD, why won't this kid just TALK?!

And I remember so clearly the answer.

"You talk about him. You talk around him. How often do you talk to him?"

GULP.

That was it. I sat down. I looked at him. "Simon, it seems like you need something. Can I get you some more?"

This seems elementary. I know. It is!

But when you have 8,576,000 things to do and think about at one time and then a preschooler QUESTIONING your every move--- you don't take much time to talk to the screamer! You hear the scream and you do whatever has to be done to MAKE IT STOP.

Two days later he was asking for more. Praise you sweet Jesus. Seriously.

This got me thinking. God wanted me to focus on Simon. To build an intentional connection with him- an intentional relationship.

Through this seemingly small change, Simon was able to move into his full potential at the moment.

Relationship matters.

What would happen if we focused our energy for just one day, even, on being super intentional in our love and communication with the people around us? Would they, in turn, move into their full potential? Would we all feel more alive?

What would happen if we stopped talking about God-- but made a significant effort to speak with him. What would happen if we actually made our relationship with Jesus, a relationship that we pursued with focus, discipline and intention?

I bet there would be a change. I bet we would hear him. I bet prayers wouldn't seem so distant. We would know Him, and I bet His realness to us-- would be the light that we need to shine in darkness.

I hope that I can continue to pursue intentional relationships in my life. I hope my children see that,
and I hope that I hear one day I hear someone say to them, "You must get that from your mother!"

How Lovely to be a Woman

Awhile ago, there was a video floating around of men wearing bands around their stomachs and backs that imitated the sensations of labor pain. A sort of experiment to see if they could handle the pressure.  I have to admit, I thought it was kind of lame, and didn't watch the entire thing through. But from what I understand once the labor pains became super intense the men went BALLISTIC.

Could. Not. Deal.

I believe this.

What I don't believe though, is THIS:

As a birth worker, I hear men say all the time that they could never give birth (if given the proper parts of course!), that they could not endure the labor and birth journey.

I used to believe this was true and let me tell you, with every womanly part of me, I still desperately want to believe that they (men, that is) would never have the strength and that women are the superior gender! THERE.

But I just can't.

I hope I can explain why. Just after I had given birth to our first babe, I was traumatized! Totally, in shock, did not know WHAT just happened, and never ever ever wanted to go through it again. There was an inkling of pride and accomplishment, but mostly just trauma. Yeah.

I wanted to understand. I wanted to know WHY it had to be so intense. WHY God couldn't have just rescued me out of my "misery." WHY did the contractions had to get THAT intense before my baby could be born?

I am so humbled by what He showed me. Here it is. Ready?

Giving birth is a BIG deal. Bringing new life into the world is a BIG deal.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that you already knew that. But really? Think about it.

Did you?

It happens every single day. Multiple times a day. Millions of babies are born every. single. day. If I told you that my aunt's sister-in-law's cousin's daughter's baby was born today, would you even think twice about it? You wouldn't.

But when a woman is in labor, she is bringing ANOTHER HUMAN BEING INTO THE WORLD. My aunt's sister-in-law's cousin's daugther's baby is another person on this planet who will live and breathe and CHANGE the lives around him for better or for worse.

This person's life will make a difference.

God showed me that bringing forth new life is pricey. It's not easy, it's really damn hard. But it's worth it. It's worth it because the pain is for a purpose. It's for a baby. It's for an incredible love to be born between three people that will be unlike the love they have ever experienced. It is for the world to be changed.

Just like Jesus.

I often ask... How Jesus? Why Jesus, did you endure the cross? And now I have my answer.

NEW LIFE.

The pain was bearable because it was for a purpose: ME. YOU. HIM. HER.

We are worth it.

Just this past week, I had the incredible honor of supporting a friend through labor and birth. While debriefing she was speechless; searching for the words to describe her (beautiful) experience. She mentioned war. She mentioned being caught up in a war with no one to rescue her. I said to her, "But wait, you got a baby though." She thought again, "well, I guess then, it was like Jesus and the cross."

YES.

Today, I sat in church, pondering what God had shown me three years ago and what he showed my friend this past week. Then He hit me with it. The kicker. He said,

"You did it even before you experienced your daughter's love for you. Before you even knew her, you made the choice to give her life."

He did it before we knew Him. Before He could feel the satisfaction of our love. He did it knowing that we may never choose him.

That's pain with a purpose. That's LOVE.

And that's also why I have to believe that men, if physically capable, could bear the pain of giving birth. That every human being is capable of this kind of LOVE. It's what we were created for.

When I look at my children, I am humbled and honored to be a woman. To be able to experience a part of Jesus that is reserved just for women.

A part of Him that, for now, men can not fully understand.