i was MADE for this

This weekend was a weekend of healing for so many…the countenance of many of the women that I know has literally changed. And for that, I thank God. It is amazing to watch Him move.

Oh when the saints, oh when the saints, oh when the saints come marching in….oh i want to be in the numbers, when the saints come marching in! As far as I’m concerned, Deuce McAllister deserves a raise. He’s my new hero…seriously.

I remember my first mission trip to Arizona. It was emotionally and physically the most difficult trip to date, of all of my trips. Somehow my zeal for missions was exponentially increased. Definitely a “God thing.”

One day, during a devotional time, God gave me a scripture that I immediately internalized. “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” Matthew 10:37-38. I recall where I was sitting, the smell of the air, the color of the sky, tinged with the rays of the setting sun. In my heart, at that moment, I vowed to take up my cross and follow my Savior at any cost. For me, it is and always has been a no-brainer.

Other scriptures elude me, regardless of how I try to embody them. I’ve always related to Martha more than Mary. Generally–at home, at work, at church, I’m the one running around, cleaning up dishes, cooking dinner, setting things up, tearing things down, making sure everything is running smoothly for the feast. I’ve read, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30. I’ve tried to put Jesus’ yoke on. I’ve recited this scripture countless times. I’ve begged God for His yoke. I’ve cried bitter tears, wondering why God would forsake me and not allow me rest.

This Christmas, God gave me a gift–actually many gifts–for which I have been asking. Looking at the past few months, I’ve actually had the gifts and have been walking in them. I spent much of Christmas day with the Jacksons. I had the opportunity to talk trash on my pastor as my team beat his at “Deal or No Deal.” I was heckled by him as my Cowboys were crushed by his Eagles. I really enjoyed my Christmas–no stress, no weirdness, no aggravation. As I was driving home down Rt. 70, I heard Matthew 11:28-30. And I realized that I now have Jesus yoke. My soul is truly at rest.

When you are where God has called you to be, doing what He has created you to do, your soul can rest. It is the natural effect of walking in His will. For the first time in my life, I am not looking for the next opportunity to jet off to another place in the world. I am satisfied in NJ because I know that this is where God wants me. He hand-picked The Sanctuary, Pastor John, Voorhees Township to be in my life for such a time as this. Yes, my family life is chaotic at best. Yes, I need a less temporary job. But, even in those tings I find favor in my Savior’s sight. Because I am where God has called me to be, doing what He’s called me to do.

I’ve come up with a plan for survival today. I’m going to look at the women with whom I work as if they were on the Island of Misfit Toys ala Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I work with a bunch of Charlie in the Boxes. They all have character and personality, but they are broken people. Just like me.

I have to remember that different personalities compensate in different ways for their brokenness. I also have to remember that, in the creative world, there is a lot of ego and pride.

And I have to remember that it is ok for me not to be good at everything. I can’t do everything. There are some things I can’t do. And it’s ok. This mini-therapy session brought to you, for free, by the struggle for perfection that occurs constantly in my head.

Blessed, broken and given. That is my life in a nutshell. Thanks for the reminder

Throughout high school, people had a certain perception of me.

I didn’t date until my senior year.

One of the fellows I dated was my friend, but a friend of ours convinced him that we should date. He tried to kiss me after homecoming and I…well…ducked my head and ran into the house, leaving him standing on my front step, speechless. That was, by far, my shining moment. Poor, poor guy.

Because I didn’t date as much as my peers, people conceived the idea that I was…well…very pure. I was. That perception has followed me to this day.

That is a very difficult badge to wear.

You see, the fact of the matter is that there are mornings when I wake up alone and wonder, “Why? Why me Lord? Why is it taking so long?” My friends joke about why I’m single. We have a theory. The man who is man enough to marry me must be out wrestling lions and single-handedly fighting off tribes of cannibals. Poor guy. That will seem like nothing once he’s married to me!

It is not easy being sexually pure in this society. In case you live under a rock, sex is used as a marketing tool to sell anything and everything under the sun…cars, diapers, feminine products.

I decided when I was a young child that I wanted to wait until marriage to sleep with a man. I remember sitting on my wool, green carpet dedicating myself, body, mind and spirit to God. I remember promising God that I would wait to be married before I gave my body to anyone.

I remember crying the first time I broke that promise. I remember feeling my spirit die bit by bit everytime I broke that promise.

But, I also remember the moment that I decided enough is enough. I remember giving myself, body, mind and spirit to God once more. I remember Him washing me white as snow of the sins that I had commited. I remember how free I felt when I finally confessed to the One I love, and I choose not to abandon that freedom for a few minutes of gratification.

Chewing on this subject now, I realize that people see me as God sees me. I’ve taken offense to this so often. From this point forward, I will smile and look toward heaven whenever someone makes a comment.

As a brief addendum…please note that being alone does not equate to loneliness. I may not be married at the moment, but I am not lonely. I am enjoying this season on aloneness. I am learning that the holes in my life cannot be filled by people. They must be filled by the One who has called me into the season of aloneness.

And let me tell you…He is more than enough.

Well, I have been back in NJ for a little over 24 hours. I am still attempting to make sense of all that occured in New England. Mom and I had a lovely time. I think that, for the most part, we really enjoyed being in one another’s company. Except for those times when I became too much like my father. Then she would gently but urgently ask me to pull the car over so that she could drive.

You see…I have issues.

For instance, on Friday, we were supposed to take a train into Boston. She’s never seen the city, and I needed closure. As we were getting ready to go, she looked at me in an absolute panic and asked if I wanted to go to Gloucester, MA instead. Because it was raining, I said, “No.” I had mentally prepared myself to get on the train and face what I needed to face in Boston. She went mental on me because she was scared to death of the crowds and the train. So we compromised. We took a driving tour of MA, CT and RI. I wanted closure, instead we got a Christmas tree. It’s really pretty. A man on a Christmas tree farm cut it down for us and secured it on the roof of the minivan in the pouring rain. Good times, good times.

Changes in schedule like that freak me out. It’s not that I can’t be spontaneous. I like to do things on the spur of the moment. But, if I have my mind set on something, I fixate and it takes me a LONG time to recover my composure.

Visiting with my aunt and uncle was about as expected. We sat around, pretending that there was nothing wrong. I loaded all of my carp into the car and came home on Saturday as scheduled.

I wish that I could write a bright, cheery post about the wonders of New England. I can’t. I’m happy to have all of my clothes, shoes and calendars here, but I left MA haunted by a sense that my time there is not over. I almost called my pastor to ask why I should come home. I know that I am here in NJ for now, but there is something that must still be accomplished up north. I don’t know what it is.

That being said, I’m choosing to dwell in this moment. Instead of looking to something that is not for now, I’m enjoying now. Chruch this morning was like Christmas. Old friends came to visit the new house. And…I think that they all felt at home. How awesome is God?

There are very few prophetic words that I hold near and dear to my heart. I generally test a prophetic word given to me from someone else in this way: if I remember it by the time I journal about the experience, it’s good. If not, then it’s not. I’m sure that there is a more Biblical way to approach prophesy, but that is the way that I handle it.

A few years ago, my mother dragged me to a production that her church was having. When I say dragged, I mean it nearly literally. A woman from South Africa was doing some sort of dance and she thought it would be a good idea for me to attend. If you know me, you know that this isn’t exactly my cup of tea…especially after that incident in England that involved a flag and my head. My head is not, I repeat NOT a baseball.

So, I went begrudgingly. The dance was very…expressive. It was designed to encourage us to be more expressive, and to attempt to hear God in pictures or something like that. I kind of rolled my eyes and sighed.

But then God gave me a vision. I was on a globe, and I was jumping from continent to continent with my passport in my hand. The woman encouraged anyone who had a vision to come to the front because she believed that God wanted to interpret the visions for us.

Again, I rolled my eyes, but I went to the front. I told her what I had seen and what she said, what God spoke through her has stuck with me as a touchstone ever since. She told me that God was going to move me around, that I was going to travel all over the world. But, I was not obviously a Christian, so God was going to use me as a covert operative. I would be able to get into places that noone else would be able to enter because it would never be suspected that I am a follower of Christ. She said that I would be like 007.

Like I said, this has stuck with me. Rarely will you find me without my passport. I believe this…I believe that God spoke this because it was seared so deeply into my spirit. I don’t think that He’ll randomly lead me to the airport and place me on a plane without at least a few days notice. But my passport reminds me of who God has said that I am, and it reminds me of the promises that He’s made to me.

A month or two ago, I sat down and spoke with Pastor John and Beth. It was my intention to talk about school, but we wound up talking about outreach, which is certainly something about which I am passionate. I was given the title of “ministry liaison.” What that means, nobody really knows. But through this position, I’ve seen that prophesy that was seared into my heart so long ago begin to come to pass. I deliver doughnuts to township officials and noone bats an eye. I take food to the police department and the deputy chief is *almost* brought to tears. Being an English major in remission, I looked up the word “liaison.” It was taken from dictionary.com for all of those who are just waiting for me to plagiarize so they can turn me into the feds.

Liaison
1. the contact or connection maintained by communications between units of the armed forces or of any other organization in order to ensure concerted action, cooperation, etc.
2. a person who initiates and maintains such a contact or connection.

It’s funny. That is what I do. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but there it is. In black and white.

I love what I do. I love what God has called me to do. I love what Pastor John and Beth have given me the freedom to do.

I am sensing that God has something else that He is asking me to do. Step up to the plate and see what happens.

But…I’m still scared. That seems to be the theme of my week.