Stuff Christian (Girls) Like

OK, so SCL had a guest post by John Crist about Stuff Christian (Guys) Like. I would like to offer my rebuttal:

*(Please note this is all tongue-in-cheek!)

Stuff Christian (Girls) Like:

Let’s face it—adages are often repeated because there is always some grain of truth in them.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder—yep! We’ve all seen the guy/girl who’s married WAY up. All that glitters is not gold—yep! We’ve all had our dream date only to find that a pretty smile and blank stares can only keep you interested for SO long. And girls always like the bad boys—yep. We all know the girl who thought she could “turn” him back to God. Many of us WERE the girl who thought we could “turn” him back to God.

Good girls, well, we like the bad boy, but we Christian girls LOVE the reformed bad boy. But how can you tell if he’s a bad boy or (to quote one of the biggest put downs from high school) a poser?

So here is MY Reformed Bad Boy Score Card:

Drives a motorcycle: +5 points

Drives an SUV/Truck: +0 points

Drives a sedan: -2 points

Drives a Prius: -5 points

Has at least one item made of leather in their wardrobe: +3 points

Has at least one pair of pleated khaki’s: -3 points

5 O’clock shadow because he just rolled out of bed: +2 points

5 O’clock shadow that has been groomed: -2 points

Plays the guitar: +3 points

Plays World of Warcraft: -3 points

Spent some time in rehab (substance or alcohol) AND kicked the habit: +2 points

Spent some time in rehab (physical therapy): +0 points

(EXCEPTION: If physical rehab was a direct result of motorcycle accident: +5 points)

Has a few years of Jr. College under his belt: +1 point per year

Has NO higher education under his belt: +3 points (Flat rate)

Has at least one story about a scar that begins with “I was riding on my bike when…” and he’s referring to his motor cycle: +2 points

Has at least one story about a scar that begins with “I was riding on my bike when…” and he’s referring to his Huffy: -1 point

(EXCEPTION: Mountain biking: +1 point)

Doesn’t need product to make his hair look tousled: +2 points

Needs product to make his hair lay down: -2 points

Spends 30 minutes using product to make his hair look tousled: -5 points

Doesn’t believe in social media: +7 points

(EXCEPTION: Has a Facebook account ONLY to keep up with his friends from his multiple backpacking/missions trips around the world: +2 points)

Has a Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest account: -3 points PER ACCOUNT. Double for Pinterest.

Facebook profile pic is the generic blue man: +4 points

Facebook profile pic is of his dog: +0 points

Facebook profile pic is of him with ANYONE else: -4 points

(EXCEPTION: Profile pic is of him and his mom: +1 point)

So there he is—the golden (reformed) bad boy of the sanctuary. What is on your “Reformed Bad Boy Score Card?”

Pitiful Chooser:

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let that grace now like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.
*Public Domain

If I have one strong childhood church memory it would be singing "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" in Korean church. I don't know why it is such a strong pull but every time I hear it I am transported back to Hai Yun Dai Baptist Church and the cold, hard, brown, wooden pews. It is such a vivid memory that I can't help be feel like I am 7 again. I can hear the piano and organ in the background as the congregation shuffled to their feet to sing. It was such a staple to me--I often *think* I remember it being sung every Sunday in Korean church. I am sure it was not…

It was not until adulthood that this song began to mean something more than a fond memory to me--until I truly experienced the proneness to wander and the unfailing redeeming love of God. My favorite verse of the song is the 3rd verse, quoted above. I love this verse because I think it exemplifies the struggle man faces when it comes to a relationship with God. (Side note--it is the only verse that has remained unchanged from the original over the last 250+ years.)

Robert Robinson penned Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing at the ripe old age of 22. Yep--he wrote one of the most profound hymns at the age of 22. When I was 22, the only thing I wrote was my name at the bottom of the credit card receipt. At the age of 22, Robinson had more understanding of God than most people do at 72. He understood several things about God and Man. Things I have struggled my entire life to know. He knew that:

1) We as humans are pitiful: In the original version of the song he says, "Sorrowing I shall be in spirit, Till released from flesh and sin." He understood that as humans our very nature was in direct opposition to God and that causes our sorrow--that natural inclination to sin. When will our souls find true peace? When we are released from flesh and sin. We can be released from sin before being released from our flesh, but none of us can maintain that purity because of our flesh. "Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love."

2) We as humans have the free will to choose: There are so many references in this hymn to our freedom to choose--though many of those references refer to asking God to take that choice away--"Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God," "Let thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to thee," and "Here's my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above." When I hear these phrases I think of one theme--God, I love you and I don't want to mess it up, so take me, take my will, take my heart. I give it to you freely and know that in your hands, all is well. The only problem with that is when I change my mind. Which I do often. Because I am pitiful. Like the song says, I am prone to wander. And God lets me, because He is God. He doesn't want me, my will and my heart if it's not an offering. Though I may wish to be leg shackled to God, God doesn't roll that way.

3) And even though we are pitiful choosers, God's grace is enough: "Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise," "He, to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood," and "Here I raise my Ebenezer; Here by thy great help I've come; And I hope, by thy good pleasure, Safely to arrive at home." The words don't say, "Streams of mercy, dribbling past me," or "He sometimes rescues me from danger…" No! God's grace and mercy are in abundance and are always available. His grace, to quote a current praise song, is enough. His grace will always provide. In Hebrew, Ebenezer literally means, "stone of help" and is often biblically translated to mean "God has led us thus far." If God has led us thus far, then is He going to stop now? He hasn't stopped leading me thus far and let's face it, I have tried His patience! God is our stone of help, our Ebenezer. Raise your Ebenezer--your monument to God's grace that has brought you this far.

You see that is the ultimate struggle man faces when it comes to our relationship with God. We do not accept that His grace truly is more than enough--and though our hearts desire to be one with God, it is our inability to accept His grace that causes us to wander. That feeling of unworthiness is what really moves us away from God. This undeserving feeling takes on many forms--pride, desire for acceptance by the world, temptation... We are constantly seeking quick fixes for the God-chasm in our lives. We don't feel worthy of His unconditional love and acceptance so we look outside of Him to find it. And when the world fails us, it only reinforces our feeling of unworthiness. It's a catch-22. The only way to break it? To accept that we are not worthy but that "He, to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood."

Oh Robert Robinson--I doubt when you wrote Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing you ever imagined that I would need those stalwart words today to remind me that God is enough--even when I am a pitiful chooser. (Which sort of rhymes with pitiful loser… Same, same, right?)

PS The link is to a version of the song by Mumford and Sons... Excellent version!

Jenny A-Z

A

- Available: Not so much until March 31…

- Age: I admit to 29. I now have anniversaries of my 29th birthday. And No—I won’t tell you how many anniversaries I have had!

- Annoyance: miscommunication! Say what you mean and mean what you say!

- Animal: Elephants. As long as they are not chasing after yummy food. With me and a friend on their backs. I wonder... do I have room for a baby one in my back yard?

B

- Beer: doesn’t have to change colors. Enough said.

- Birthday: December 22

- Best Friend: Benita

- Blind or Deaf: Blind to the obvious, deaf to logic? Does that count?

- Best weather: Fall and spring are perfect temperature-wise. Sometimes summer—if I am at the beach or pool. Occasionally winter—like yesterday when we got snow. How’s that for straddling the fence?

- Been in Love: Yes—it’s the best and the worst all rolled in one.

- Believe in Magic: nope

- Believe in Santa: Yes… strangely since I don’t believe in magic.

C

- Candy: Snickers or Reeces (cups, not pieces!)—it’s a photo finish

- Color: green or violet

- Chocolate/Vanilla: Chocolate—hands down.

- Chinese/Mexican Food: love both, but eat more Mexican

- Cake or pie: Red Velvet Cake… or white cake/white icing—almond flavored.

- Continent to visit: Africa or Australia. Have family in Oz, so that would be way cool, but Africa has elephants—also way cool. But elephants don’t love me, so…

- Cheese: Makes everything better. Seriously. It’s been tested and proven. Try it if you don’t believe me. ☺

D

- Day or Night: night owl reporting for duty… at midnight! ☺

- Dancing in the rain: YES!!! Best memory of it?! Jenni, Elizabeth, Beth, Angie and I dancing in the rain in front of the entire freshman pledge class of Sigma Chi.

E

- Eyes: blue-ish grey and green sometimes too… Depends on what I am wearing.

- Everyone's got: potential. Live up to it!!!

- Ever failed a class: High School Algebra. Yuck. I hated it. I was a Larry Bird—practicing 2 hours a day, but it just didn’t help. Sorry Mrs. Lee.

F

- First thoughts waking up? Seriously?! (No—that really is my first thought…)

G

- Greatest Fear: Snakes... or someone I love dying. Probably not in that order, though!

- Goals: to write words correctly—not using txt type.

- Gum: Big Red. Maybe it was the commercials from when I was growing up?! Or maybe it’s because it’s spicy. I like spicy!

- Get along with your parents: YES! I admire all that they have done—and will do.

H

- Hair Color: dark blonde

- Height: 5'8-5’9

- Happy: Choosing to be everyday!

- Holiday: My birthday. But since that is not recognized by any government agency, I would have to say 4th of July. It is half-way through my summer vacation and I am just about antsy to get back to work—but not quite! Oooo…. or Columbus Day.

- How do you want to die: in my sleep peacefully as a very old woman, not with my eyes open, and screaming. That indicates a very painful ending.

I

- Ice Cream: Chocolate peanut butter anything.

- Instrument: Flute… tried guitar for a while, but…. Would like to learn (really learn) guitar. Have one in my closet gathering dust!

- Jewelry: I almost always wear my sapphire ring and cross necklace.

- Job: first grade teacher and domestic goddess. It is hard to juggle them both, but both are a calling I cannot avoid….

K

- Kids: Wally—though he really doesn’t count, does he?

- Kickboxing or karate: KICKBOXING!!!!

- Keep a journal: Always have done… I would grab it if my house were on fire.

L

- Love: Freely given, freely taken—no strings attached.

- Laugh: love those belly laughs—the ones that you can’t stop!!! Giggling is fun, too.

M

- Movies: Where do I begin? Not big on action flicks—though Braveheart is one of my all time favs. I am willing to pay matinee price for most movies, and full price for just a few.

- Motion sickness: Blessed—don’t suffer!

- McD’s or BK: If on a desert island and had to choose… BK. Assuming there are no Starbucks around!

N

- Numbers: don’t make sense to me, so why have a favorite or least favorite?

- Nickname(s): Jen is the only one I answer to anymore. Although I get called Cooper a lot—and I like that one, too. It all started in college when my roommate was also called Jenny (with an i, though…) There had to be some way to differentiate between us. And Cooper it was!

O

- One wish: Can’t share—it won’t come true!!!! ☺ But if I were to get ONE MORE wish, it would be to have as much time with the people I love as possible. Oh—and summer vacation year round. I guess that is ONE MORE wish on top of the one I just filched.

P

- Pepsi/Coke: Diet Pepsi

- Perfect Pizza: Joe’s pepperoni with pineapple and jalapenos. Unbeatable!

- Piercings: Ears. I had my bellybutton pierced once when I was in the Philippines—it wasn’t a good idea… 3rd world country and all… then it got infected and I had to take it out. Should have known better, eh? OUCH!!!! I call it my “I’m turning 30” crisis.

Q

- Quail: I've never had it. I have had pigeon—at the American Restaurant, in Hong Kong. YUMMY.

R

- Reality T.V: The Amazing Race and the recaps with Lee and Michele the next day.

- Radio Station: 100.5 usually….

- Roll your tongue in a circle: yes—thanks for the genetics, Mom and Dad!

- Ring size: 7

S

- Song: Currently—Viva La Vida by Coldplay (or any of their songs really….) and Free Fallin’ acoustic version by John Mayer.

- Shoe size: 8.5 or 9 depending on the shoe!

- Salad Dressing: Italian

- Sushi: Surprisingly, I like it…. and I can’t/don’t eat fish… Who knew?

- Shower: every day—sometimes 2x a day.

- Strawberries/Blueberries: blueberries AND strawberries… Don’t make me decide!

T

- Tattoos: I don’t have any, but some can be attractive on the opposite gender!!!!

- Time for bed: anytime between 7:30 and midnight.

- Thunderstorms: I curl up in a ball under my covers and rock while sucking my thumb… but other than that, they are GREAT.

U

- Unpredictable: my hair.

V

- Vacation spot(s): Krabi, Thailand, with a 36 hour layover in Bangkok! (And NO spending the night in the airport ever again in Thailand—Hannah and Jon!!! I’m too old for that!!!)

W

- Weakness: just say “please” and I will have a hard time saying no. Ask my friends.

- Which one of your friends acts the most like you: HOPEFULLY none of my friends act like me—if they did, who would bail me out of trouble when I get knee-deep in?

- Worst feeling: apathy—I have to agree with Lee on this one… That or the one I get often when I wonder, “Did I turn off the oven?” and I am at school. That one stinks, too.

- Worst Weather: hot and humid with a thunderstorm.

X

- X-Rays: This year—none. But it is ONLY March. Oh wait—I did have one when I had some dental work done back in January. I guess that counts, eh? Oh wait—that was December, so… No—none this year.

Y

-Year it is now: 2009

-Yellow: reminds me of the sunny beach at Boracay—one of my all time favorite vacations. Thanks, Hannah, Benita and Lonna!

Z

- Zoo animal: Elephants and monkeys. For very different reasons. Fortunately, the elephant can’t throw their feces like the monkey, but monkey’s are just so funny… Gotta love those opposable thumbs….

A blessed member of the 99%

The word blessed is used so often now--I don't know if I am noticing it more or if it's become an "it" word. The word blessed means several things. Dictionary.com gives the following definitions:

1. consecrated; sacred; holy; sanctified
2. worthy of adoration, reverence, or worship
3. divinely or supremely favored; fortunate
4. blissfully happy or contented.

Most people, I think, mean the final definition when they say blessed--blissfully happy or contented. "I am so blessed to have won X award!" or "I feel so blessed to have scored the winning touchdown in the championship game." Blessed has ceased to be a Godly word and has become a catchy self-righteous phrase.

When I use to say it, I think I started off meaning divinely favored but I think it slipped into blissfully happy. I feel like I had forgotten the true meaning of the word blessed. I had a job I adored, my family was in good health, I had a home and a dog I love.

Then about 18 months ago I lost my job and I began a journey that has led me to the realization of exactly HOW blessed I am. Exactly how Divinely favored and fortunate I am. You see, God provided me a job that meets my needs. I am not employed full time yet but I have a job and my mortgage get paid every month. Some months I eat peanut butter sandwiches every day for lunch and some months I can afford to eat out a little.

You see, I don't have the life I grew accustomed to while I was teaching. I can't afford it. But I made the choice to take a job that gives me enough to meet my needs, not get into any more credit card debt (and continue to pay off the debt I already incurred) and remember every day that I am Divinely favored. It is not easy. But that is a heck of a lot better than just being blissfully happy in my book.

I don't blame big corporation for my bad luck or for my financial struggles--it is because of them our country is great. It is the innovation of ideas that have given rise to the factories that dot our landscape. It is the creativity of great American minds that has led to an easier way of life--just think of the recently late Steve Jobs. It is because of the tenacious spirit of the American people that we have continued to thrive through war, famine, depression and national tragedy. We were not a country of whiners. Until now.

As I have been watching the news on TV and seeing all of the discontent that has been bred over the last several years, I am amazed. I see people who appear to be healthy, have a home to go home to when they get done protesting or working--which ever they choose that day, clothes on their back, Starbucks coffee cups in their hands, and dissatisfaction in their hearts. All because they view themselves as a "have not."

They are NOT the have nots. They claim to be the "99%." 99% of what, I ask myself? Once they get whatever it is they are seeking--are they willing to acknowledge that they themselves are actually a part of the 1%? As Americans, they possess and have access to more of the worlds wealth than anyone else? Are these malcontents really willing to give up to the other 99% of the world their share of what they're demanding of Wall Street?

Just curious.

25 Things to Know about Me

1. I am a writer. Well, I imagine myself to be one. Nothing is more inspiring (or scary, really) than a blank word document and an idea niggling to get out of my brain.

2. I love the Twilight series. And I am 33 years old. They say admitting it is start to recovery... Oh--Team Edward all the way....

3. I like to sing. I am not so good at it, but I like to do it.

4. I no longer kick walls when I am mad. I gave that up in high school when I put my foot through some sheet rock... not realizing what sheet rock was and that it was not as durable as the cement walls I was used to. Imagine the broken toes I could have avoided?

5. I have a Starbucks addiction that I am currently seeking a patch for.

6. I love grilled chicken quesadillas--with the veggies. They rock.

7. I have lived overseas more of my life than I have lived here in the US. But I feel more comfortable here than there.

8. I secretly want to marry an English man. I am not sure if it is the lure of England (one of my favorite places!), the accent or the fact that there are none around here. You pick.

9. I hate camping. Every snake in the great outdoors is just plotting to get near me and attack. They have been told since hatching by their mother's that their life's goal is to find me. (And I bet you think I am kidding about this one, aren't you?)

10. I use commas too much in my writing. Just ask Dad. Actually, I am not good with punctuation in general, so....

11. I sometimes forget to feed Wally. :(

12. I love to travel--I thought I had gotten it all out of my system when I lived in Korea, but I guess not since I am already trying to figure out a way to go somewhere way cool. I miss the days of deciding a week out of a holiday that I wanted to go to New Zealand or Thailand. (Thanks for the memories, Benita!!!!)

13. I am not good at doing nothing.

14. I learned Portuguese in college so I could take a night class rather than have to take a language during the day and do the language lab. Do I remember any of it?! Not so much...

15. My college roommate was named Jennifer, too. We both went by Jenny. (Me with a "y" and her with an "i." Talk about fun confusion when the phone rang--"Can I speak to Jenny/Jenni?" It's not like I could say "with an "i" or a "y"?")

16. I love to go to Starbucks with my sisters (Lee and Michele) to feed my coffee addiction. We have the best time--sisters=friends.

17. I love elephants. I am not sure where this adoration for the pachyderm came from--maybe it was listening to The Baby Elephant March on the 8-track player in our car growing up... Too bad my yard is barely big enough for Wally.

18. I like classical music. It is relaxing.

19. I prefer my hair straight, but it takes too much work. I would much prefer to have the extra 40 minutes of sleep in the mornings....

20. I am finding this task harder than it looks! I wonder if it is cheating to use that as one my unique things? I am going to vote no.

21. I love shoes! I have a bunch of cool ones (from the retail therapy I try to avoid) but usually end up wearing the same 5 pairs all the time.

22. My most memorable vacation was to Italy--despite the stolen purse and passport. On the upside--the stolen postcards were mailed for me! :) I spent the first few days thinking, "Am I really here?" Good times, Sara and Benita!

23. I can't eat seafood. I have been known to try it on occasion, but....

24. I love my job.

25. I am petrified of the dentist. My goal for 2009 is to go to the dentist with out crying. Seriously. Thanks to the modern marvel that is Korean dentistry, I face my fear every cleaning.

Inequalities:

Tonight I was in Target--one of my favorite passtimes--with my sister Michele picking up a few necessities… and a few unnecessities, too! As I was browsing in the stationary aisle (my favorite aisle in the store!) I saw a spiral notebook that said "I>u." The first grade teacher in me kicked in and I immediately thought "hungry alligator eats the bigger/greater value." And as it dawned on me the message on the cover, everything inside me rebelled. (For once I rebelled at the right thing!) The selfishness and the me first attitude that was conveyed with those three characters was mind boggling.

We live in a culture that has lost respect for the needs of others. Selflessness has become synonymous with "door mat" and looking out for number one has become de rigueur. Since when did people looking out for others and doing a kind turn become almost foreign to us?

Philippians 1:20-21 says, "According to my earnest expectation and hope, that I will not even be put to shame in anything, but that with all boldness, Christ will even now, as always, be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." Those verses right there are the antithesis of "I>u" whether the u is others or the U is Christ. To live is Christ and to die is gain is the least selfish thing you can do--dying to Christ ultimately means that you put yourself aside and "I" is no longer important. I am not defined by these things--they are not who I am.

So here I am thinking of my own inequalities…

I

10 Years Later

Ten years ago today, my life changed. If there is one event I could change in my lifetime, this would be it. Today is the 10 year anniversary of the attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001. Today is a day of mourning for what was lost--the loss of human life and the loss of a sense of security we had up to that point. The images are astounding, heartbreaking and bewildering--even 10 years down the line. I don't know that I will ever be able to think about that day or see a news piece featuring the events without tears.

As I have watched the coverage and memorials off and on all day I am struck with so many emotions--some easily identifiable such as anger, sadness, and nostalgia of an easier time and some not so easy to pinpoint. But that being said, right now I am grateful.

Yeah--you read that correctly. I am grateful. I am grateful for the sacrifices heroically made by the firemen and women, police men and women and military men and women who have sworn to "protect and serve" and did that day and have every day since and for the every day men and women who risked their lives to help complete strangers. I am grateful that while many rightfully ran away from the devastation, those brave first responders were running towards it, hoping to save the innocent while knowing they were likely running to their deaths. Likely leaving the second wave of victims of the horrible attacks that day--the ones who were left behind and lost their loved ones. The victims who lost their loved ones because they were too brave to run away. To quote a survivor, "The sight of a fireman was a calming sight." Without their leadership (and the leadership of so many others--from the helping hand that pulled many from the rubble to Mayor Giuliani to President Bush and everyone in between), many more lives would have been lost.

I am also grateful that we are 10 years down the road from such a terrible event. We survived. Instead of crumbling under the terrible and oppressive fist that tried to break our spirit and destroy our way of life, we found courage in our fear. Hope in our loss. We have had 10 years to heal our wounds and figure out a new way to be "American." And I think we've done an admirable job of it. Some of our wounds will never heal. Some of our scars we will wear proudly for the world to see. And some we will keep private.

Today in church, our sermon was on joy. One statement stuck out to me so clearly. My pastor, Les Hughes, said (to paraphrase) that the more we are thankful for the more joy we have. And that is not a situational truth. That is a universal and lifetime truth. The more things in this world that I can find some kernel of thankfulness for, the more joy I can find. I don't want to live a life of angst. I don't want to live a life of sorrow. I want to live a life of joy. In order to do that, I must find something to be grateful for in every situation--no matter how heinous or terrible the events might be. And I can think of no more terrible of an event in my lifetime than the attack on our country on September 11, 2001. So today, I am choosing to be grateful for the resilience and compassion of my people and rejoice in the sovereignty of my God.

My Own Lady Lazarus

When I was in high school, I fancied myself a poet. I still write poetry now, but now I really focus on other forms of written expression. I fell in love with poetry and met a sad, melancholy poetess, Sylvia Plath. In the midst of my teen-age angst I felt like Sylvia Plath understood me--and her sadness reflected my own. How wrong I was… thankfully.

I read and fell in love with a poem called "Lady Lazarus" that Plath wrote towards the end of her life. She talks about having become an "expert at dying…" though she never quite succeeded--until attempt #3. (But I don't think she ever meant to kill herself--comparing herself to a cat with 9 lives. Maybe she was just trying to release some of her demons and pain. I am no expert, so take that for what it's worth!) She compares her pain to the plight of the Jews in Hitler's Europe, and being a walking miracle.

She also compares herself to Lazarus from the bible--raised from her own death. I, too, am my own Lady Lazarus, but not for the same reasons Plath dubbed herself Lady Lazarus. You see, I too died and have been spared through no effort of my own. You see, I was saved from death by this amazing enigma called grace. For Plath, her saviors were the humans who saved her from physical death. And though she sought reprieve from her own anguish and darkness, she did not find it.

I died. I was raised. But my savior is Jesus Christ. I am saved from something worse than death--but I am saved from the eternal separation from God. Hell. I have been granted reprieve from anguish, darkness and my sorrow has been assuaged. I no longer cry out in loneliness for something "more." I have it.

Plath says, in Lady Lazarus, "A sort of walking miracle, my skin" which is about the only part of this poem I now identify with--I am a walking miracle. How can I be alive and dead at the same time? I am. I am my own Lady Lazarus.

My Own Lady Lazarus

A sort of walking Miracle, my skin*
covered in grace that lives.
Covered by blood that forgives.

But I, a woman on my own,
am not alone.
Hand in hand we walk.

A heart that is yours.
Seeking to be sought.
Sought while seeking.

Raised again out of darkness, sorrow
no longer my companion.
A sort of walking miracle*

Thankfully.
Covered in grace that lives.
Blood that forgives.

*Line borrowed from "Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath

Forgiveness Rules:

When I was little, I used to daydream that I would find a genie and he would ask me for my 3 wishes. Being the clever kid that I was, I would ask for 10,000 wishes and trick the genie into giving them to me. Now, everyone knows that according to the “Genie Rules,” the first rule is that you can’t ask for more wishes. But, in my world, I somehow managed to finagle extra wishes.

As a kid, I was also rather manipulative. My sister Michele was the prime target of my machinations and because of who she is—that beautiful person—she gave me a skewed idea of what forgiveness is about. No matter what I did, Michele forgave me—and I never deserved it!—and she did it without qualm or second thought or consequence. She made me think that everyone is as forgiving as she is and that because I was sorry, it was all OK. She was, and still is, the most forgiving person I know.

In my spiritual journey, I accept the fact that I need forgiveness, but the actual forgiveness I have a hard time accepting. I think that’s pretty natural—human nature, if you will. And I get to the point where I just throw my hands up in the air and say: Accepting forgiveness can suck. Yep. I said it. Feeling forgiveness can really suck—especially when I don’t deserve it. Rough estimate here, but that averages out to be about 100% of the time. I never, and I mean NEVER, deserve the forgiveness I am given.

Today I read an amazing piece on forgiveness. My college friend, Jon Acuff posted on his blog an amazing story on forgiveness. He reminded me that no matter how many times I mess up and how often I stray, God forgives me. And not only does He forgive me, but he throws a party in celebration of my return. And it sucks because I don’t get it—I don’t understand how there is a love that is that encompassing and that pure that it can forgive the things I have done and said. It sucks to be forgiven just because I’ve asked—especially when I realize that I don’t deserve it—at all.

In fact, I feel so undeserving, my prayers to God often sound like this:

OK, God. I’ve done it again. Why can’t I love YOU more than I love the world? Why do I put myself in front of you? I want you, God. I want to be closer to you and to know you. But I’ve done it… AGAIN. I am so sorry. Change me, God. Change me.

To pray that prayer continually for years—sometimes a hundred times a day—I feel like I am running out. Running out of grace. Running out of words. Running out of forgiveness. But the beauty of God is that I am not even close. The blog I read today talks about God having 10,000 welcome home banners waiting for me—and it’s true. Not only are there 10,000 banners but also there are 10,000 forgivenesses waiting to be given. And what happens when I run out of those 10,000? I get 10,000 more. Unlike “Genie Rules,” God’s “Forgiveness Rules” are much more lenient—all I have to do is ask and I will be forgiven—no matter what I’ve done. And that is hard to accept.

And even though I’ve acknowledged my need for forgiveness and asked for it, when it is given so freely, I have a hard time accepting that I have been forgiven. Eventually I will learn how to accept forgiveness with the same grace it was given. Until then… being forgiven while feeling so unworthy sucks.

Thank God for “Forgiveness Rules.”

Just give me one tree.

Not too long ago, I had a tree planted in my back yard. The main reason I did this was because I wanted Wally to have some shade, but little did I realize that the tree I could afford is a scrawny little Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. I know it will eventually it will grow into a full tree that gives shade in the summer and gorgeous colors in the fall. But until then, I hope it doesn't snap in two when the wind gusts and that it's baby roots are digging deep.

Tonight I was reading in Genesis 2--the passage where God is providing for Adam through the Garden of Eden. I am in the middle of a huge transition right now in my life. I am in a job that is OK--but I know that there is a job out there that I love. I used to teach--and I loved it. I was fulfilled, I was happy, I was making a difference. Then I was fired. I was reeling, I was in pain, I was shocked. Now I am in a job that provides amply for me and has been a true blessing. But, this job is temporary. I don't know how much longer this job is going to be available to me.

So I have been praying lately about what to do about my job situation. I know that God has something special for me--but I am scared. It's natural--I know. But I hate being in limbo. And I have been in limbo for over a year. And it's rough.

As I read the passage about God providing not just a tree for Adam and Eve, but an entire garden. Now, we all know how well that ended for them--for us all, really. But God did it--he provided an entire garden for them. And I was reading about this garden, all I could think was "God, just give me one tree--one tree. One provision." I know I sound so selfish, but I don't know what else to pray--I need a shelter from this storm in my life. I need sustenance to keep me moving in God's will. I need roots to keep me from drifting away.

I need my tree.

Bicycle Salvation

Growing up in a large family meant lots of things—lots of chaos, lots of bickering, lots of laughter and lots of hand-me-downs. Being the youngest in a large family meant that I was the prime target for most of the hand-me-downs in the Cooper house. Some of them were greatly coveted and cherished—like my sister Michele’s bell-bottom jeans with the patches on them or my sister Lee’s cassette tape deck I inherited when she went off to college. Some of the hand-me-downs were much less of a joy to receive—like the Dorothy Hamill haircut Michele and I sported for about 4 years in the early 80’s.

However, there were some things my parents knew needed to be “brand-new” if at all possible and my first bike was one of those things. I remember it clearly—we were living in Jacksonville, Florida at the time and I was 5 years old. For Christmas, I got my dream bike. It was everything I wanted—from the blue glittery banana seat with the white trim to the matching streamers hanging from the handlebars. It was perfect. Sigh. This bike was also the second scariest thing I had ever faced in my five long years on Earth. (The scariest event to that point was my first American Halloween—I dressed as Little Orphan Annie and sat in shock as my parents sifted through my American candy to make sure there were no needles in them. Talk about scarring.)

But anyway, back to my perfect bike. Sigh. I loved that bike and I loved it when my Dad (mutton chops and all!) pulled me into the church parking lot beside my house and taught me to ride my brand new bike. Sigh. I remember being so scared, but excited at the same time. I remember my Dad running beside me as I pedaled as fast and as hard as my little legs could. I remember the wind in my hair—this was WAY pre-helmet days—and the scenery passing by in a blur.

I also remember falling many, many, many times. And each time I did, my Dad came running over, gently brushed off the dirt and brushed away the tears, and put me back on the bike and ran along side me as I regained my confidence. I remember crying “Don’t let go, Daddy—I am not ready yet…” and sure enough, eventually he let go and I actually was ready. For about 15 feet. I’d crash land and then we’d start all over again.

Eventually 15 feet became 20 feet and 20 feet became forever. I can still hear my Dad yelling pointers at me as I rode circles around that parking lot. “Sit up straight!” or “Don’t run into that bush!” When I started to lose my balance and fall off kilter, he was always there. Helping. Soothing. And sometimes chastising me when I deliberately did something foolish. No matter how good at riding my bike I became, I still had spills and tumbles. But I took them in stride. Falling off is just part of the gig. But, Dad was only a shout away and always came when I needed help getting back on the bike and back on track.

Tonight I was at Lee’s house and having a discussion with Lee, my 16 year old niece Emily and my 14 year old nephew Nathan. We were discussing the sermon our pastor preached this morning on the second coming of Christ. Nathan, in a fit of frustration said, “I know! I know! Once saved, always saved… But how do you know if you’re really saved to begin with?!” And so began this journey. I tried to articulate to him that it’s just something you know… but the HOW part was coming up short.

On the drive home, I began to really ponder this conversation. HOW do I know that I really am saved and don’t just think I am saved because I am ticking all the right boxes? Church? Check! Bible reading? Semi-Check! Prayer? Check! Tithe? Uh…

Then it hit me. How do I know I am saved? I know because when I am riding this bike through life and I fall off, I hear that voice that says, “Jenny—don’t run into that bush!” I hear the voice of God encouraging me practice good form and sit up straight. I sink into the embrace of the Holy Spirit comforting me in my grief. I feel the hand of God when I feel shaky—as if my balance is so precarious that I could fall off the right path at any minute. And when I do fall off the right path and make sinful choices? I am chastised and brought back to the right path.

In all my ways and sinful dealings, I can always hear the voice of God calling me home and convicting me of my wrongdoing. It’s like learning to ride that bike—God’s there beside me, directing me and encouraging me. And when I fall off? I still know he’s there—pointing me in the right direction to get out of the mess I have fallen into and holding my hand all along the way. All I have to do is cry out to Him and He will be there. It’s because of that voice that convicts and chastises that I know.

And in that conviction and chastisement I find comfort.

IAMBUT's

In this culture of discontent, we often find ourselves unhappy because of things we cannot control, choices we’ve made or the circumstance we find ourselves in. I am a perfect example of that. You see, I suffer from the “IAMBUT’s.” It’s a very serious disease that I was made aware of by my college friend and blogger Jon Acuff. I am fairly certain it has reached epidemic proportions. (I have thought about calling the CDC to get exact statistics, but I am not sure if they give those out to just anyone.) We live in a world of instant gratification where a prayer to God--the Almighty, Creator of all life and knowledge, Lover of my soul--sounds more like a wish to the genie in the bottle rather than unadulterated praise and worship and where life is “what you make it” instead of what HE makes it.

If the truth be told, there are two different strains of IAMBUT’s going around. Not everyone has a terminal case of the IAMBUT’s. Like in many things, intent plays a huge role in how your IAMBUT’s are diagnosed. For example the moment I said, “I am a sinner but I want Jesus to be my savior” was the day I became His. Unfortunately, many people who suffer from the IAMBUT’s aren’t wishing for Godliness, eternal life or spiritual wisdom. We are wishing for circumstantial changes--job, relationship status, or physical appearance. We are seeking earthly happiness not eternal joy. I am living paycheck to paycheck but I want to win the lottery.

In my mental meanderings on this subject I have been thinking a lot about Job. If anyone deserved to have a justified case of the IAMBUT’s, it was Job. (I’d totally give him a free pass to wallow for a day, a week... However long he needed, really.) How easy would it have been for Job to say, “I am suffering but I want to be well.” Or even “I am trusting in God but I want this trial to be over.” But he didn’t. Job trusted that it would all turn out well in the end. No “ifs”, “ands” or “buts...”

That little word “but” in the middle of the sentence changes everything. You go from acknowledging who or where you are to imagining yourself as omniscient. Job seems to have understood that. He knew that through all his pain, suffering and sorrow he was where he needed to be, doing what he needed to be doing. He never once said, “IAMBUT” selfishly. He simply trusted. Oh to have the faith the size of a mustard seed...

We all to often forget that we are who and where we are for a reason, just as Job was suffering from famine, death and disease. God was glorified in all Job said and did. I wonder if God is glorified in my words and actions?

God designs our life--nothing in our lives is a surprise to God. We were fearfully and wonderfully made--and made with a purpose in His mind. God doesn’t make mistakes--even when I do. (Though he does reserve the right to discipline and shape me when I have those lapses.)

When I hear myself think, “I am single but I want to be married,” I may as well say, “I know better than you do, Jesus, so send that Christian hunk my way. Pronto.” I am making myself and my wishes a false idol at which to lay my disappointment, sorrow and discontent when things don’t go like I planned. And no matter how much my heart desires it and my actions will it, I will have the “IAMBUT’s” forever. Or at least until the the “I AM” is enough.

So here is my list of “IAMBUT’s” It is raw. It is real. But it is no longer enough. I am exactly where God wants me. (Right now it feels like the part of town you hesitate to drive through past sundown and never without the doors locked, but that’s OK.) So rather than harbor these shards of discontent in my life I am giving them up. Every minute of every day. Sometimes every second of every minute. And sometimes I will fail and pull them back off the table and nurture their bitterness in my heart because they are familiar and they are comforting. Until they cut and burn me. Again.

I am single but I want to be married.

I am flawed but I want to be perfect.

I am working in publishing but I want to be teaching again.

I am me but I want to be good enough.

I am broken but I want to be mended.

Today, I am giving up my “IAMBUT’s.” It’s scary. It’s nerve wracking. However, it’s what I am called to do.

"You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself an idol, or any likeness of what is in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the water under the earth.” Exodus 20:3-4

Cursors Taunt

I love to write. It's my secret passion. Not many people know I write. I wish I were better at keeping up with it. I am not. I can tell when I am emotionally in a bad place--I don't write. I hear something that triggers a thought and I sit in front of a blank screen and watch the cursor blink off and on--taunting me. It's like it's saying "Come on, you idiot! You THINK you're a writer... Well, you're not." And so I buy into it. And suffer from the biggest writer's block known to man.

So this is a terrible blog. I know it's a terrible blog. But you know what?! I need to write. Even when I don't feel it and even when I don't want to, I need to. I feel my soul withering up and I need to stop it. SO... Thanks for letting me write--even if it is writing. Terribly. Because it is--writing terribly. Ugh. But, first and foremost, it's writing...