In All Things Give Thanks ....

I'm keeping the soap box in the corner for this one; no need to break anything down or offer any insight. The Sunday before Thanksgiving our youth had a worship service -- after some scripture and sharing in communion, we spent time counting our blessings. Each kid was given a stack of Post-it-Notes and asked to think of all the things they were thankful for. Then we stuck them on the cross. I Thessalonians 5:8 says "In all things give thanks." These are all those things ...

Grandparents... Pictures... Freedom... Sweat pants... Cell phones... Faith ...Smiles ....Family... Pens... Missionaries ...That I was adopted ...Snail Mail... Other countries ....Music... Christmas music ....Cars ...Tennis ....Being able to have at least one good friend ...Washer & Dryer... Computer ...Clothes ...Basketball ...Food ...My brother ...Jesus ...School so I can have a good education... 3sixty5 ...Camera ...Jobs... My bed ...Sticky Notes ...Pandas ...Facebook ...Pillows... Being me... Rain boots ....Internet... Laughing.... Bagels ....Transportation ...Chocolate ....Frogs.... Dogs ....TV.... Halloween costumes..... Pizza Hut.... A church.... Soft blankets..... Contacts.... Mall..... Gum..... Home.... Christmas.... Duke .....Fuzzy Slippers.... Garbage pick-up... The lake ....Tarheels..... Showers before bed..... Fast Food..... Electricity.... Watches.... Hair ties.... My relationship with Christ..... Earth.... Inside jokes... My twin.... Waking up every morning for the last 11 years... Cherry Lemon Sun-Drop.... Bamboo.... Presents.... Air conditioning... Pants... Toothpaste/toothbrush.... My daughter.... God takes time to listen to my prayers.... Bread.... Comfort... Book bags... Pets... Bathrooms... Zebras... Fresh air.... Softball.... Colors... Bones... Dad... Clue (the game).... Cool socks.... Fresh chocolate chip cookies with vanilla ice cream.... Buildings.... Nature.... Memories.... Toilet seats..... Helpful supplies..... X-Box Live.... Baltimore Ravens..... Lil Wayne.... Mom..... Hand Sanitizer..... Milkshakes.... Blankets.... Cookies.... Bubblegum..... Worship.... Purple.... Smiley faces..... Texting.... Dogs.... Candles.... Epworth UMC..... Strawberries dipped in chocolate... First Aid supplies.... Beach..... Military Uniforms (scouts, EMT, military).... Coffee.... Happiness.... Neighbors.... Radio.... Smiley faces... Sweatshirts.... Chairs..... North Carolina.... Kind words.... Stuffed Animals..... Relationships.... Alarm clocks..... Privacy... Books.... Flashlights... A roof.... Kitchens.... Water pressure..... Sundrop slushies...... Running water..... People who care about me.... Christmas lights.... Movies..... God loves me.... Snow.... Vault soda.... Harry Potter..... Paint..... Neon colors..... Soccer..... Flowers..... Trees..... DUH!Sciples.... Sunsets & sunrises.... Christmas trees.... Test corrections... Wii.... Bikes.... Teachers.... Football.... Dark Chocolate.... King of the Hill..... Guns... Safety.... South Park.... Vehicles that run properly.... Sister.... Eagle Scout.... Pocket knife... Yo-yos..... Health.... Build-A-Bear.... Fishing... Being loved.... Sports.... Outdoors... Candy.... Bed with right edge.... Plumberry candles.... My (our) planet.... Good books..... Indoor plumbing.... Being a Christian.... I can worship God without being worried that I could be hurt for it.... A heaven to go to when I die.... Hair products.... Love.... Halloween decorations.... Curtains to keep light out..... Christmas movies..... Tennis shoes... Apple Juice.... Cousins..... Hot Water..... Farming..... Converse.... That special someone.... iPod Touch..... Electronics...... iPod...... Chicken..... Socks.... Deoderant..... Make-up.... Money.... Bible..... Friends

The "THPPPPPTT" Heard Around the World

It's one of those weeks I look forward to with an uplifted spirit and a strong sense of purpose. It's Operation Christmas Child Collection week! For several years I have packed a shoebox for some unnamed child on another part of this planet that I'll never meet, but for whom I wish great joy and happiness as they clutch that box and "own" its mysterious contents.
Last week we did our annual youth group field trip to Wal-Mart for our Operation Christmas Child shopping spree! This is how it works - we pool our money together and announce the grand total then figure out how many boxes we can do for "x" amount of dollars. That's the master formula I've devised. Feel free to use it. Armed with a shoebox list of "dos and don'ts", 20 of us strapped in behind our shopping carts and took off in all directions in search of the perfect shoebox goodies.
If you've ever done a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child you'll remember that there is an emphasis on personal hygiene items like soap, toothpaste and combs. There is also an emphasis on school supplies like paper and pencils. Then things like socks and washcloths get their spot in the box. You fill in the crevices with hard candy, flashlights and crayons. We got that stuff out of the way and we know it'll be used and appreciated. But along with the responsible stuff you've got to leave a little bit of room for those completely inane items who's sole purpose it is to make a kid speak in a language we all understand; laughter! As I was wheeling my cart down a toy aisle in search of the perfect yo-yo I met up with one of my groups. They were belaboring over a little basketball goal or a Slinky to add to their box; quite deliberate and thoughtful about the pros and cons of each. But then something overrode the basketball goal and Slinky. They spotted the rubbery red Whoopee Cushion and a whole new world of possibilities opened up! They looked at me waiting for a response. OF COURSE I gave the approving nod!! You could feel the Christmas Spirit whirling through the novelty toy aisle -- whizzing past Silly Putty, flying through Etch-a-Sketches and darting through decks of Old Maid cards. It wasn't the fact that it was a Whoopee Cushion - it was the fact that some kid in Concord, North Carolina bought that Whoopee Cushion knowing it was going to be sent a million miles away to some kid in Cantprounounceit, El Salvador. That kid was going to open up that box full of soap and socks and Colgate and find his very own Whoopee Cushion. Instinctively, he would know what to do with it; blow it up, stick it in his brother's chair and patiently wait for the "THPPPPPTT!!!!!!!!" Afterwards, there would be a burst of laughter that would be heard throughout the village. And just like here, some would laugh along, some would roll their eyes and some would want to hear it again. All because that kid in Concord, NC knew "that sound" makes everybody laugh and laughter is the sound that love makes. Make sure you leave room in the box for that. Thanks Ashton.

On your feet now—applaud God!
Bring a gift of laughter,
sing yourselves into his presence.
-- Psalm 100:1-2 (The Message)

The Jack Ass, the Gorilla and God

A lot of the stuff I write about here are quirky little things that pop up in moments when I am in control and have the self-awareness to see God's presence working in my life. Sounds beautiful don't it? Well it's time to switch gears and talk about being rattled and impatient and treating God like a waitress in some forgotten truck stop diner who got my order wrong .... "This is what I asked for plain and simple. What's so hard about it and why can't I get it NOW?!" This is why patience is a virtue and can't be sold at Wal-Mart.
I have had the same best friend since I was 15 years old. Our friendship began on a church beach retreat. Ironically, I now haul bus loads of youth to those infamous beach retreats. I digress. But when I think back to it, doesn't that mean God had a hand in it from the beginning? He was there molding and mushing and laying the ground work for what would eventually turn into a long and meaningful friendship; we are total opposites so it had to be divine intervention. This friendship withstood high school drama, a few bumpy college years, marriage, kids, long distance maintenance and lots and lots of laughs along the way. We became each others chosen family and it seemed that all those high school notes that we passed back and forth signed BFA (best friends always) were actually a reality. Those cheesy "Best Friends" necklaces that we wore religiously (I was "st nds") actually had merit. Then after 20 some years we hit a wall about three years ago. I still don't know for sure if there was a straw that broke the camel's back --- I hadn't seen any camels along the way and certainly not any that seemed like they were having back problems. I think it surprised both of us to be honest. The wheels just sort of came right off (which is kinda funny, 'cause we do have a story about the wheels coming off). We didn't know how to react to each other on this level so after a while we just didn't react at all and it became easier and easier to do nothing ... at least for me. But I never imagined my life without her in it -- and even as phony and fake as it was, at least it was something. After a year and a half had passed we attempted to patch things up and put Humpty Dumpty back together again, but it was short-lived .... at least for me -- I quickly fell back into the "do nothing" mode. Then something began to cross my mind that sort of scared me -- it started feeling more and more like this thing, this relationship I had had since I was 15 was over for good. Y'know, I'm happily married and I've got some wonderful friends and I love my life and I dig my job and I'm doing okay in the grand scheme of things, but there was just something unsettling about giving up on this thing that started such a very long time ago. I know you have relationships, heck even marriages that run their course and then it's just better to move on .... but seriously? This one? C'mon! So I started praying for discernment ... that I would recognize what "to do" with it. But once I figured out what to pray about I wanted it right then and it didn't happen. Nothing happened. We continued to ignore each other. So was this my answer? Nothing had happened therefore it was over? Seriously? When I played it back in my head and let the dynamite blow it to pieces what I had left was a small talk, Christmas card friend that I had gone to high school with. We knew each other too well to fake it and that was just more painful than calling it quits ...
But then I turned 40 a couple of weeks ago and being the dutiful friends we are -- we talked for the first time in almost a year; the obligatory "Happy Birthday" phone call. The first 45 minutes killed me because it was safe small talk and nothing else. So me being the jack ass I am decided to attack the 500 pound gorilla in the room; with complete and wreckless abandon. If I was gonna go down it was gonna be right now but at least I'd have an answer. And then God in His mysterious way, in His own time, plopped himself right up there on that gorilla's shoulders with a bowl of popcorn and watched for the next hour. We were honest and we never blamed one another. What came to the surface in that long overdue conversation was grace and mercy and forgiveness. It was like it was scripted or something. The more we talked the more I realized we weren't going anywhere - we just needed a break. I can only hope that the past three years of loss and hurt are tools that God will use to put us back together again -- in a different way; a way to sustain the next 25 years. So I think we're gonna be okay this time - God willing.

Even though we've changed and we're all finding our own place in the world,
we all know that when the tears fall or the smile spreads across our face,
we'll come to each other because no matter where this crazy world takes us,
nothing will ever change so much to the point where we're not still friends.
-- Anonymous

Cupcake Jesus

My son Max is fascinated by the guys who camp out at busy intersections and hold up their cardboard signs, "Will Work for Food. God Bless." We've seen the signs a million times, right? They're willing to work. They need a meal. The sign doesn't say anything about money and they offer us a Godly blessing for helping them out. There are several scenarios that play out between us and the "Will Work for Food -God Bless - Guy" while we wait for the traffic light to run its cycle. We don't make eye contact. If we ignore him and pretend he isn't there we are not obligated to respond because we didn't see him. Plus, if we did make eye contact he's gonna make us feel guilty and who wants that burden? Another scenario is when we convince ourselves the guy probably makes $95,000 a year and drives a Porshe from the proceeds he scoops up at this and several other prestigious intersections around town. Then there's the one where we're not gonna give him a dime 'cause he's just gonna go out and spend it on cheap liquor and menthols and pass out behind a convenient store and we're not going to enable him much less support his addictions. Get a job. I've seen people stop and give the "Will Work for Food - God Bless- Guy" a bag from McDonald's or a cup of coffee. I've always thought that was so cool because there was actual effort involved in thinking of another human being's needs. I don't know if anyone ever has an odd job or two lined up. I mean, that's what the sign says ... he'll work for a meat and two vegetables. Me? I'm probably like the majority of people who scrounge for change in the ashtray and a few dollars in the console and hopes for the best.
But last week I had a Jesus moment at the "Will Work for Food - God Bless Guy's" intersection that blew my mind. My six-year-old, Max, was with me and like I said, he is quite taken with the folks holding the cardboard signs at the stop light. On this particular day there were two guys in one spot. I dug a few dollars out of my pocket and handed them to Max. "Roll your window down and call him over here," I said. Max took the money and said "maybe this'll help him get some food." He rolled down his window .... sort of anxious and excited, like he was getting ready to meet Mickey Mouse in person. As "Will Work for Food - God Bless Guy" started to walk towards us the lady in the car in front of us called him over. He crouched down to her window and when he stood back up he had the biggest grin on his face. In one hand was his sign and in the other was a big, fat cupcake with a candle on top. He turned around and showed it to his buddy who busted out a "HA!" and another big ole smile. I sat there and watched "Will Work for Food - God Bless Guy" with this pure unadulterated joy from that cupcake and it occurred to me, "well why the heck NOT a cupcake with a candle on top?" Yeah, not really part of the FDAs recommended daily nutritional value and probably doesn't offer much sustenance. But it was fun. It was sweet and sticky. It made him and his buddy happy and it had a freakin' candle on top! So I started thinking about this woman idling in the car in front of me. Did she have leftovers from a birthday party? Did she know it was "Will Work for Food - God Bless Guy's" birthday? Did she run to the Bi-Lo and pick it up just for him? What she gave him was so much more than a cupcake with a candle on top, she brought him a little bit of joy in the middle of a busy intersection full of people trying not to make eye contact. They have no idea what they missed by trying not to look. And God DID bless it.

I want each of you to take plenty of time to think it over,
and make up your own mind what you will give.
That will protect you against sob stories and arm-twisting.
God loves it when the giver delights in the giving.

2 Corinthians 9:7 (The Message)

Back to Jesus ...

I know God doesn't take off a few weeks in the summer for a little "me time" ... although I did hear he enjoys surfing the Outer Banks and hiking the Blue Ridge. When my youth group gets together during the summer it's geared towards our mission trips, which is pretty much what our summer revolves around ... but we're on hiatus from our weekly Sunday gatherings while school's out. I know. I know. I've put God on an academic calendar so I could have a summer break. I hope there's extra credit I can do later. So now I'm a week out from getting the motley crew back together and I'm pacing the cage. Gotta get pumped up to show them where to find God's grace and mercy and how to be good, upstanding Christian yoots that will amaze and astound their non-Christian friends. Throw in a few car washes and a walk for hunger and we're sure to get approving nods from Church Council. I always come back with this over-zealous image of what our youth group will look like once we're all together again. I imagine it to be like one of those awesome soft drink commercials where everybody's at the beach running in slow motion through the sparkly water. They're all smiling and hugging each other while playfully tossing ice cold cans out of a vintage cooler to quench their adolescent thirst. Then later when they're all tired and tanned, they gather 'round a campfire to talk about their relationship with Christ and how they're going to make the world a better place. And I'm 10 years younger and play the guitar and do speaking engagements. Darn those soft drink commercials for getting my hopes up.
The fact is I'm anxious and excited. I've got a captive audience and I don't want to screw it up. The captive audience changes on a weekly basis; the apathetic, the enthusiastic, the begrudged, the theology scholar, the bored, the texter, the talker, the broken, the confused and the lost. The thing is they all need to have their souls fed one way or another. I pray I find ways to inspire and keep them in tune. So while I pour through books with titles like "Christian Object Lessons with Jell-O" and "How to Make Jesus Exciting for Teens" ... I look forward to another year of running in slow motion through the sparkly water.

Be prepared. You're up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get,
every weapon God has issued, so that when it's all over but the shouting you'll still be on your feet.
Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them.
You'll need them throughout your life. God's Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way,
prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters.
Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out.

-- Ephesians 11:13-18 The Message

The Chase

I'm having an ongoing discussion with a friend of mine about Jesus' parable of the lost sheep. We've got some questions that aren't covered in Luke 15. Not all sheep who wander off are happily recovered and glad to be "rescued". Jesus' parable of the lost sheep goes like this ... a shepherd has 100 sheep and one of them wanders off. The shepherd, being the fine, upstanding shepherd that he is - gives chase to the one, leaving the other 99 behind. Jesus' point was to illustrate the importance of going after that one sinner, that one person who lacked faith or wasn't plugged in. The other 99 sheep apparently attend church on a regular basis, graze at the same covered dish luncheons and serve on various committees; they aren't going anywhere and the shepherd knows this. I totally get that, but going after that sheep who wanders off ain't always that easy. How far off do you go before the other sheep start wondering where you are? How long do you give chase until all you can do is hope you've done enough protect against predators and offer up prayers for that poor, misguided little sheep? When is the chase over? (These are all rhetorical questions, you understand). I wish I could ask Jesus those questions. I'd pull up a rock and say something like, "So, like in youth ministry for instance, which is not like the real world ... let's say I'm the shepherd and my kids are like the sheep." He'd grin and roll His eyes 'cause that's what everyone does when you say youth ministry. I'd continue, "Let's say one of 'em starts to wander off and I call out, but he doesn't acknowledge me. So I begin waving my arms and jumping up and down but he still doesn't acknowledge. The other 99 are standing behind me trying to get his attention too. So I decide they'll be okay without me and I go after this one ... only now he's starting to run down a hill and I know if he keeps going - eventually I won't be able to see him. Plus he's putting more pasture between me and him. So I take off running and I'm not really getting any closer to the one who's run away and further from the 99 who, I hope, are still back there. Then off in the distance I see a wolf -- waiting. My lost sheep is heading straight for the wolf with absolutely no thought of what the outcome is going to be. I know what the outcome is going to be. So Jesus ... how long and how far do I go after this sheep if he's just going to keep running?" Jesus wouldn't answer right away. He'd doodle something cool in the sand. I'd wait impatiently .... He'd put his hand on my shoulder and say, "How far and how long would you want someone to come after you? And while you're at it, how 'bout going after that wolf too?"

Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn't you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, 'Celebrate with me! I've found my lost sheep!' Count on it—there's more joy in heaven over one sinner's rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.

Blessed are the Pure in Heart

I love mission trips. It's been two summers since I got to go on one. Last year I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and the year before my husband landed in the hospital three days before we were scheduled to leave in order to have a heart stint inserted. We love drama at my house. This summer I decided to do two mission trips to make up for lost time. I'm one of those boneheads that think God shows up brighter, better and just for me on these things. I guess I'm just able to get more in tune. I had the opportunity to take my son Max on the first mission trip. What the heck? I could teach him a think or two about interacting with people, how to swing a hammer and seeing the beauty of God's creation in the mountains of western North Carolina. I was so wrong. Turns out all he needed me for was to remind him to put on clean underwear and make sure his shoes were tied. Our first task was to clean out old paint cans to be recycled. I have skills that can be put to better use mind you. But Max jumped in head first and made a game out of peeling the longest gob of paint from the innards of the cans. He found the job extremely rewarding and very important. But then something else caught his attention .... a pill bug. He picked it up and let it climb through his latex-stained fingers. "This is my favorite kind of bug, mom." Surrounded by beautiful lakes and tall pine trees with a pristine view of the Georgia mountains and Max is befriending a pill bug. Later in the week we worked for a lady who needed a few things done around her home. I thought I'd find a good stopping point from painting and take Max to talk with Mrs. Connelly a while. But when I walked in the living room he was pointing at a folded American flag hanging on the wall and asking her lots of questions. The flag had been on Mr. Connelly's casket; he was an Army veteran. So much for teaching Max about how to engage strangers in conversation. He had it covered - and reminded me that Mrs. Connelly was not a stranger. That night when we did our group devotion the scripture was from Jesus' sermon on the mount. I listened with a half-hearted ear. I knew the passages backwards and forwards. Max got up from his spot on the floor and plopped down on the couch beside the person who was reading the scripture. He leaned in and tried to follow along. The next line came, "Blessed are the pure at heart, for they will see God." My heart skipped a beat and I realized what I was witnessing -- the pure at heart was Max. He had been seeing God all along. As adults I think we feel like it's our duty to teach children - where we fall short is when we forget to learn from them. So God bless the pill bugs and the pure at heart.

Pomp and Circumstance

Next Sunday I will announce and present candidates for graduation during our worship service; pre-school to Ph.Ds and everything in between. It's the everything in between that's going to be a little tough for me.
I've only been at this youth ministry gig for about 3 years. Before that I was a youth volunteer for a couple of years. But it's been long enough that kids from that first little Jr. High Wednesday night bible study are graduating from high school. I can't believe those little Jr. High dorks are getting ready to take on the world! I look at 'em now and I wonder what the next 5 years will bring. Will they put on their Godly armor and get out there and withstand everything that's going to be thrown at 'em? Can they handle the temptations and detours they'll encounter? And when they make stupid decisions, can they bounce back? Some of them will rise above and find their niche right away. Some won't.
I look at 'em ... scared, excited, anxious, all that stuff I remember being too. I've seen them succeed and screw up and surprise themselves. I've been there when God showed up and they "got it". I've heard stories that broke my heart and prayer requests their parents don't want to know about. I'm scared, excited and anxious too ... hoping I planted good, strong seeds. Thank you for letting me be part of your lives. I wish you well on your journey. May God be with you every step of the way.

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.
You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who'll decide where to go.
~Dr. Seuss

With Water from the River Jordan

My son Joe was baptized today; yeah, on Mother's Day. My six-year-old Max was baptized on Father's Day 6 years ago. Joe has the honor of being the first baby to be baptized in our small, contemporary worship service - Jacob's Well. This is a service that, for all it's false starts and quirkiness, has become our endeared church family. Most Sundays feel more like friends sitting around in a living room than "church". Most ceremonies, awards, acknowledgments and presentations are done in our more traditional worship service, but Jacob's Well is where we wanted to give Joe to God. There's no stained glass or pews. No hymnals or organ. Just a hand full of people who have known Joe from the very beginning; literally since I waddled around last summer with this thing growing in my belly. We knew Joe would be welcomed and embraced through these folks. My mom and dad drove up, my sister was there, tons of youth made the trek up from the basement, we even had some friends who delayed their vacation to be there for Joe, folks who showed up that don't normally worship in Jacob's Well and beyond that ... it just felt right. When it was time to present Joe for baptism, my good friend Karen, who had also taken the time to select music and text just for the occasion, stood up and explained the significance of the pitcher and basin sitting on our make-shift altar. These were the pieces that had been commissioned and blessed for each of her boys when they were baptized - both of them are near and dear to me because they're part of our youth ministry and they're just exceptional young men. The water ... well as it turns out the water was from the River Jordan - the river where Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist. When Karen explained that, well I just pretty much felt my heart sink into my toes. I absolutely love the story of Jesus' baptism - it's AMAZING. It's not only the baptism of Christ, but the commissioning of his ministry. When the dove soars above Him and God speaks, "this is my son, with whom I am well pleased" - what a POWERFUL moment! The trinity literally showed up at the same time at the same place; the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. I digress. So yeah, for my son to be baptized with water from the River Jordan - it blew my mind.
After Joe had been baptized my dear friend Teresa presented him with his first bible. She promised she would do everything in her power to love him and teach him about God's grace. I will never forget the sincerity in her voice and the look on her face. It wasn't an obligatory presentation she was making - it was a promise.
Joe doesn't know it yet, but these people will effect his life. They are our friends and family who love him and lift him up. They were there because of him and for him today. They made extra efforts to choose the right music and texts and cover my worship responsibilities so I could be a proud mom. They were thoughtful and generous with their creativity and made sure Joe wasn't something off p. 34 in the hymnal. Joe will experience the love of Christ through these people. He will be nurtured and held accountable through them. We gave Joe to God today and God has truly blessed our lives with these amazing people who mean so much to us. Amen.

Before you were conceived I wanted you Before you were born I loved you Before you were here an hour I would die for you This is the miracle of love.
-- Maureen Hawkins

Sunday School Answers

I spent the weekend with 7 enthusiastic twelve year-olds who will be confirmed in a couple of weeks. I hope I didn't break 'em or screw 'em up. I will use ANY means necessary to make an argument for Christ. Any prop, any song, any joke, anything I can think of that will help them get it. This weekend was no exception. I packed my bag of tricks and pulled out everything I had to make my case for following Jesus and being little Christs. They were a good group and they seemed to be connecting the dots during our sessions. We had lots of good discussions and they did an amazing job asking questions and offering examples.
But I have found that no matter how articulate and gifted a group like this may be (and I mean across the board from Sunday school, to youth group, to confirmation retreats) you CANNOT avoid the dreaded "Sunday School answers." They are my teaching nemesis and I am determined, God as my witness, to squash them. Let me explain my frustration.
When I teach (and I use that term loosely) - I will ask follow-up questions and try to pull thoughtful answers from these bright, young minds. I'll ask a question like, "What kinds of things did Jesus do to humble himself?" The kicker is we just finished an entire HOUR talking about servanthood, humility, being last to be great and we've backed it up with scripture and stories and modern-day examples. Not to mention a candy incentive program that has me hurling Dum Dums and Smarties like a busted pinata for every right answer. And now we re-cap and for some reason it's fallen out of their brains like a Jell-O casserole. I pose the same question, "What kinds of things did Jesus do to humble himself?" - The answers digress to 2nd grade Sunday School chock full o' patent leather Mary Janes and clip-on ties. "Jesus loves me!" "Jesus died on the cross!" And they're right. Of course they're right. But those answers will ALWAYS be right. We gotta start expecting more in-depth answers, folks. And not because we need the "correct" answers to questions, but because we need to be in tune with God's word and how it effects us every day. I'm not trying to dog out my confirmands. They were truly inspired and they really blew me away with the way they responded to questions. But across the board, we need to pose these questions as a means to think and pray and respond to God. "Jesus loves me" will ALWAYS be the right answer. Maybe the better question would be "How can I love Jesus back?"

Successful teachers are effective
in spite of the psychologoical theories
they suffer under.
- Anonymous

On the Way to the Cross

I'm responsible for putting together the Good Friday worship service at my church. My kids in youth are responsible for executing it. If you think about it, that's a pretty tall order. To hold up the story of the crucifixion and all the raw emotions swirling around it. So a few weeks ago I started getting my game face on for this service. It's a heavy service and I put a lot into it to make sure it's something that leaves a lasting impression. It's somber and dark and the picture you paint ain't a happy one. For some reason I really struggled with it this year -- the creative juices trickled rather than flowed. For the longest time I just couldn't seem to get my hands around that "one idea". Where was it? I NEVER had this problem. I needed to focus and get this thing done so God would be glorified but I kept getting interrupted. How could I glorify God when all these people needed something from me?

I was interrupted by a parent who was struggling with her teenage son. She's hurt and concerned and trying her best to love him but busy kicking his rear in the right direction too. She just needed to talk.
I was interrupted by a mom who asked me to write a letter of recommendation for her daughter who's applying for a college scholarship. Ironically, I sort of put the scholarship in motion in the first place and the deadline was only a couple of days away. I was interrupted by a co-worker who needed me to prepare power point slides for our Easter service. I was interrupted by my 6-year-old Max's baseball game. I was interrupted by parents and kids and games and e-mails and telephone calls and dinner with my family and work-outs with my sister and conversations with friends and all I wanted to do was write this Good Friday service and glorify God and be left alone to stare up at the cross and thank Jesus for dying for my sins ....

... and then it hit me. The journey to the cross - Jesus' journey to the cross - from the time he set foot on this earth, His entire life was about that journey to the cross. And instead of going from point A to point B to get there, He allowed himself to get side-tracked by people who needed Him. More importantly, it's how He responded to those folks that was so telling of His genuine compassion and kindness. I guess that's the message that really glorifies God. I feel so blessed now to have been interrupted and thrown off course a few times. I hope I was able to respond to the people who needed me in a way that showed Christ's love. I thank God that He sent His only son to die on that cross, but mostly, I thank God that He sent His only son to show me HOW to get to that cross in the first place. Amen.

What good is having someone who can walk on water
if you don't follow in his footsteps?
~Author Unknown

Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes

Last night our youth group prepared a meal of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and brownies for the folks at our local night shelter. First of all, any idea what kind of task it is to willingly gather 20 or so teenagers into a kitchen with 10lbs of ground beef and a bag of potatoes and hand them knives? I don't have that receptor in my brain that tells me not to.

For some of them I think it was a novel idea to "cook" food. We set up several stations to create the illusion of some sort of order and organization. When I looked in on the potato peeling station I physically winced at the knife skills while I made mental notes of how many fingers were on each hand. I peeked through kids standing shoulder to shoulder staring deep into the stainless steel sink trying to figure out how to wash a dish. When we were done baking, simmering, boiling and foiling, we packed up our spread and loaded the van.

During the course of the week I had asked for a maximum of 10 kids to go with me to serve our meal at the shelter. During the course of the week I had a hand full of mamas signing their kids up to serve ... mostly because "it'll be good for 'em." Mamas always want their kids to do stuff like this to open their eyes, build character, fix what's wrong with 'em. And that's okay. My mama did that too. Before we started in the kitchen, I had 5 kids signed up to go to the shelter to serve. Somewhere between slicing onions and mooshing ground beef, they became invested and 18 of 'em wanted to go serve. What? I'm gonna say no?

It was a little crowded in the small shelter kitchen but we managed to set up an orderly serving area, make drinks and wait for our dinner guests. One by one the residents of the shelter came through the door - taking a breathalizer before they were allowed in. My kids stood ready with slotted spoons hovering over the food they had prepared - would it taste okay? Did we have un-sweetened tea? When would they eat? How many would there be? Are they really homeless?

I offered up a nervous blessing and our guests shuffled through the line. My kids smiled and filled their plates. They got into the groove and pretty soon they were doing it .... they were feeding folks who were hungry. I don't even know if they knew that's what they were doing. But then a few of 'em blew me away. They came out of the kitchen. They sat down at a table and started conversations with some of the guests. Maybe that's what their mamas wanted! I don't know. I don't know if it fixed any of 'em. I don't know if they'll think about it today in school. But maybe they'll tuck it away in the back of their mind .... and maybe, just maybe it planted a tiny, little seed.

Follow Mii ...

I played on a Wii for the first time about a 2 months ago. My husband Tom and I boxed. I found out pretty quickly that I'm one of those Wii players for which the wrist bands on the controller are necessary. I get very "involved" and need to be physically backed up from the TV and constantly reminded that there are small children and breakables in the room. After doing our taxes, looks like we'll be getting a little bit back this year. So despite the economy, better judgment and practicality, we decided it would be fun to get a Wii for our family. (That's one of the great things about having kids ... you can justify wreckless adult decisions by saying, "It's for the family." ) Anywho, we brought the Wii home, got it hooked up and started playing right away.

One of the things you have to do to get started is create a "Mii". A Mii is the identity you use to play games. Once created, your Mii saves and stores your game data. You can make it male or female; choose its body type, hair, coloring, facial structure, birth marks, eyebrows, smile, frown, scowl, etc. It goes on forever. But it's pretty fun to try and create yourself based on physical menu options. Of course you can also create someone who's nothing like you. We all had fun making up our Miis. Tom and I were pretty true to our physical characteristics - give or take a few pounds. Max, our 6 year old, started building this guy with long hair, a beard, sort of lean and lanky ... Tom and I kept commenting on how rough his guy looked. Max never said much while he was thoughtfully choosing a beard and mustache. When you're done creating your Mii you name it by punching in the letters on a keypad. Max slowly searched for each letter ... "J" ..... "E" ....."Z" ..... "U" ...... "S" .... He turned to his dad and I, "Jezus is my guy." I swear the kid's a prophet. Max uses Jezus for snowboarding, cow racing, bowling, boxing and even ping-pong. I look up, there's Jezus delivering an upper cut or slashing through some gnarly snow. Max's Jezus IS in everything he does, no matter how mundane or trivial.

It is just part of the game to build simulated characters, but I believe what Max did was very intentional. Regardless of how well he understands it, Max made Jezus "his guy." And really, that's all Jezus ever asked us to do.

Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths,
but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.
-- Ann Frank

DIVINE INSPIRATION

Laughter is my favorite sound. Laughing so hard I start crying is my favorite emotion. Comedy is my favorite genre of anything. And how blessed I am that our Heavenly Father has an infinite sense of humor and that He loves a good laugh too.
It's taken me a long time to realize that I can use humor (God's perfect gift to me) to glorify Him. I didn't think funny and church went together; it seemed inappropriate. But rather than suppressing it, I started using it and apparently it's okay to laugh in church and most folks seem to respond pretty well to a good, hearty chuckle. I have found that when I can't do anything else - I can somehow be funny. So anyway, this weekend I have a smattering of everything I love coming together and I'm tickled to death about it. I'm teaming up with one of my favorite people in the world to be part of an event that helps raise money to send folks on summer mission trips. My partner in this, let's call her Teresa, cause that's her name, just returned from a mission to Mexico where she distributed Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes to Mayan children. You can just tell she ain't the same since she got back; she's forever changed because of her experience. Teresa's sharing her mission through her testimony and music. And I guess in itself that seems pretty swell, but I have found that when Teresa and I team up on something - I just feel better.

You become close and dependent on people you're in ministry with; there's a bond there that's just different because Christ is smack dab in the middle of it. I'm sooooo lucky to have that bond with three folks I've been in ministry with (Shout outs to Beth Ann and Tom J.!) Weird. I was going to do this whole blog on being funny and somehow I end up talking about these three incredible people I'm so fortunate to call friends. They've kept me floating here lately and Lord knows I've been in the deep end. Funny how that happened ...

There is hope for the future because God
has a sense of humor and we are funny to God.

- Bill Cosby

AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.

It's been a while since I worshipped. That sounds weird 'cause I'm at church all the time and I'm "involved" in worship services most every Sunday. But sometimes you just need to hear a message that inspires you to seek understanding in Godly things. I've been in a bit of a spiritual slump lately; letting outside influences chisel away the presence of my holiness. Working "in" ministry sometimes makes it tough for me to make strides in my own spiritual journey 'cause I get so dang caught up in making sure everyone else is trying to take steps. It's kind of weird. It's so easy to slide into lethargy and go through the motions without even realizing it. But today I was in the presence of a speaker who was passionate and genuine and who spoke words that I needed to hear in a way that I needed to hear them. Vickie Sigmon is a missionary who guested at our pulpit today. She believes what she says and it comes through when she speaks. She began her message by turning towards the cross and saying, "Jesus, keep me BEHIND the cross. Don't let me get in the way of your message." I scribbled it down in my notebook that I carry around 'cause it made such a huge impression on me. "Don't let me get in the way." And then what followed .... we get so busy marching forward in the Jesus parade that we forget to look beside and behind us. We refuse to let ourselves be interrupted by the least, the last and the lost while we're focused on what Jesus "needs" from us. You'd NEVER think that, but to hear it uttered, you realize that, yeah, it happens. Open the eyes of my HEART, Lord. It was a trifecta of scripture, message and a call to act. It left an impression. The prayer I throw up tonight is one of gratitude -- "Jesus, keep me BEHIND the cross. Run over me with your message." Thanks Vickie. It was amazing.

God loves us the way we are,
but too much to leave us that way.

- - Leigton Ford

Morning Joe ... Good for the Soul

I've had to deal with some unpleasant issues during the last week or so. It ain't over yet. A reminder, I suppose, that what goes up must come down. It's okay ... stuff happens that's unpleasant. To borrow a quote from my lyrical hero, Jimmy Buffett, "Breathe in. Breathe out. Move on." Thanks Jimmy.

So this morning after I took Max to school I came back to a cluttered house and some pretty impressive stacks of dirty laundry. But then there was this delighted squeal from the Exersaucer and I could've cared less about the laundry or the clutter. Joe's almost 6 months old now and he's ALWAYS happy. Yes, I know, it'll pass. So I sat down beside him and we played a mean game of Peek-a-boo. We rattled and bounced and reached and drooled and I gotta tell ya, it was nice just to "be." Looking at that toothless grinning baby boy lit me up. There's no great lesson here about the simplicity of childhood. I have no insight about happy babies. I just needed a few minutes to not have to worry about my next thought or conversation and I thoroughly enjoyed my morning Joe. 'Nuf said.

"A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure,
a messenger of peace and love,
a resting place for innocence on earth,
a link between angels and men."

- Martin Fraquhar Tupper

DUCK! It's Hittin' the Fan!

Just back off and let me rant and rave and stomp the crud out my proverbial soap box. Seriously, there's nothing to see here.

I feel like roadkill.

I took a load of teenagers on a youth ski trip this past weekend. I seem to run towards that sort of thing while other people see it as martyrdom and just plain crazy. Maybe. But weekends like that always sprout new inside jokes, stories that will be retold so many times they become youth group legends and forge little bonds that may've never existed otherwise. I even managed to have a quiet, personal Jesus moment that was a beautiful thang. I live for stuff like that.

But then in a split second the rug gets yanked out from under me. I'm finding out about things that went on under my nose and behind my back and I feel my heart getting heavy, my trust crumbling and my confidence shaken. So if you're still reading this ... sorry for the train wreck. It's not my usual modus operandi (how 'bout that $25 word!) Anyway, just throw me up in there in your prayers. I'm still sorting things out. Asking questions. Pilfering through several variations of the truth. Wondering all the while how stupid do they really think I am?

And just for the record, I'll still run towards 'em.

Chaperons don't enforce morality;
they force immorality to be discreet.
~Judith Martin

Something to Sink Your Teeth Into

My last post was in early December. UGH! Yep, Christmas was busy and hectic and wonderful. We do all this running around and really baby Jesus just needs us to show up at the manger not at the Wal-Mart. So anyway, it's 2009 which means I'm making that same promise to lose weight and gain perspective in the new year. Did have something a little quirky happen over Christmas that has stuck with me the past few weeks ... one of those life lesson metaphors - or in my case, just something stupid I did.

It was a crazy pre-Christmas afternoon. I had just enough time to grab a quick sandwich while I paid bills on-line and wrap a gift or two. (It's always about multi-tasking). So I sat down at my computer with a pimento cheese sandwich, taking a bite between utility bills. Somewhere between Time Warner Cable and Duke Power I realized my sandwich tasted kinda weird ... and this was after eating more than half of it. I looked at it and realized I was eating two pieces of bread ... there was nothing in the middle. The pimento cheese container was on the counter unopened. Draw your own conclusions here.

So the bills got paid, the presents got wrapped and the sandwich has since become my New Year's resolution. It served as a reminder to stop going through the motions and pay closer attention to the stuff in the middle. Spiritually it reminds me that sitting in a pew week after week is just a couple of slices of Wonder bread ... it "looks" like a sandwich, but you gotta stick stuff in between ... all those Godly gifts oozing out the sides so you can barely get your hands around it. THAT'S the kind of sandwich I want to be this year; present in mind, body and spirit so that there's something significant in the middle that you can sink your teeth into.

Maybe you're a bologna, a good ole PB&J, a comforting grilled cheese or maybe you're aspiring to be a Dagwood, whatever you are ... just be more than two slices of bread.

We must look for ways to be an active force in our own lives.
We must take charge of our own destinies,
design a life of substance
and truly begin to live our dreams.
-- Les Brown