Part 2 of My Favorite Story

Ok, so part two!

You know those little, flirty texts you exchange and then have to keep yourself from smiling? Because if you smile, everyone else in the room will need to know who you’re talking to? Yeah. We started exchanging some of those. And the really awkward and embarrassing question of “how loud do you scream?” ended up being a great conversation starter.

We talked on the phone from time to time, getting to know each other. “So where did you grow up?” “What’s your family like?” “What made you want to go into ministry?” We laughed. A lot. And phone calls became a little more frequent.

I started evaluating everything I knew about Webb from college. And everything I saw about him while we attended church together (three years prior). I replayed the drive from the airport, how it was comfortable, easy and so much fun. And a “thought” turned into real, actual interest. I began to consider this guy named Webb and ponder all his possibly potential qualities.

But by March, I realized this interest was one-sided – my side. I knew he wasn’t in the same place. He had been quite honest about that (when we had the dreaded, horrifyingly awkward “define the relationship” talk.)

So, I pulled the e-brake. “I don’t really let many people get into these spaces of my life. And I just can’t keep opening my heart to you this way.” (I also knew he had some other “friends” with whom he shared his life. Totally normal for him, and probably the rest of the world. But just not doable for me.) I told him I didn’t want to keep up the talking.

I felt good about it. This was March of 2010 and I was happy to be back to my old, free-of-any-thought-of-a-relationship life. Things were simple. I missed talking to Webb in moments, but I felt a lot more sane! Things were good.

Until four months later. When my grandmother passed away my first inclination was to call Webb. That inclination made me angry. So I text instead. I was annoyed with myself for breaking my commitment to myself and my vow of silence. But...shrug.

…Texting, turned into phone calls, which turned into conversations, which…you get it. Our friendship continued…

By January of this year, I found myself feeling just like I did last spring. I needed this friendship to become something, or nothing. The land of the gray just wasn’t going to work out for me. Telling myself I’d be fine with either scenario, I sent an email. A very vulnerable email. And asked for the same sort of response - real. Which came three weeks later. (Three weeks. Yes. Three weeks. “Did you talk to each other in those three weeks?” you might ask. Yes, yes we did. For hours in fact. And Mr. Hoggard never found it timely to bring up the email. I was too stubborn to mention it. So I waited.)

And then…a text message.

I couldn’t believe two things: he was deciding to address the email and he was doing so through text. But it opened the conversation, so I listened.

“About your email…”

That night we realized that we didn’t have to know everything. We didn’t need to be perfect to try things out. We just needed to know that we wanted to know…and that much, we knew. So we took our first step. We wouldn’t make things official or public. We’d just not date other people and commit to learning more about each other.

That was February. And by March, we took the leap to make an actual visit. Well, actually, I took the leap. I got in the car with friends who were making a trip to NC and traveled 700 miles. My heart trapped somewhere between my toes and my throat. I had no idea what I would find. Would I actually like being with him? Would it be awkward? What would his family think? His church? Would he measure up to what he had portrayed on the phone? Would I feel comfortable with him?...

The questions turned as quickly as the tires on the interstate. We decided a meeting location where he would pick me up and my friends would drive on. I can’t lie; I wanted to drive on with them. It was an overwhelming moment. But we drove up and parked beside his truck, and I took a deep breath.

…

Part 1

So…there’s this guy….

(I’ve waited 26 years to say that!)

What a story this is. I always hoped that when Jesus brought his man for me the story would be detailed, beautiful and hilarious. And it’s everything I ever dreamed of – the man and the story.

Because it’s so detailed, I’m going to post it in segments. Too much to tell all at once! But let me just say this before I say anything else:

The wait is worthwhile. Every hour. Every minute. Every single second.

You know those fated “lists” that they talk you into making when you’re a teenager? Somebody says something like, “Write down everything you want in a future spouse. Make a list. Keep it and pray for them.”

Hopeless romantic that I am, I labored over a list. I really sat and thought about every, random little thing I could possibly want and I wrote it down. I gave it to one of our youth leaders, a dear friend of mine now, Chasity. She’s been praying over it ever since. For ten years. One of my favorite parts of this story? This man is every line of that list! From frivolous to spiritual – he is every, single thing. And more...

I embraced those ten years of waiting as best I could. I grew; I learned about God and myself. I sensed how full of purpose it was. And I thanked God for grace and patience. All the while, He was working, weaving everything together to create this intricate, beautiful tapestry.

So, without further adieu – a love story…

_________________________________________________________

In December of 2009, I was on my Grandmother’s porch, savoring the last of our holiday vacation. I sprawled out on the porch swing, soaking up the gentle December sunlight and smiling, thankful for the time. “I still don’t know how I’m getting home from the airport...” I thought. I dismissed the notion just as quickly as it came; it didn’t really matter at the moment. I was enjoying time with family and didn’t want the reality check of booking a ride home.

My feet brushed the pavement of the porch as I continued swinging. There hadn’t been a more beautiful day in Arizona that winter: perfectly mild, optimistically bright and just breezy enough to wash over me with calm. I was in the zone.

And then, my phone rang. My mind immediately scrolled through what could possibly be going on at the church. But, as I grabbed my phone, I saw it was a friend from college. I questioned for a moment, but then, I knew exactly what he wanted. You see, when he graduated, he left a television with my roommate. When she got married, she left that television with me. He wanted it back.

“But he lives in North Carolina. How am I even supposed to get him that TV? I really don’t want to deal with that right now.” My thumb reached for “ignore”, and then my conscience took over. I answered.

He explained he was driving to Florida soon and wanted to swing by and get the TV. I told him, “that’d be great, but, I’m in Arizona.”

“Well, when do you come back?”

(Sheez, he really wants this stinking TV.) “Uhm, I fly in the 29^th. When do you come down?”

“Just a little before that, but I’ll be in Orlando.”

And then it occurred to me – shazam! – he could get me from the airport and take me home. I get a taxi service; he gets a TV. Done.

We were acquaintances in college. I knew him as the hysterical, social scene, kind of guy. He was all about ministry, especially music, and had tons of friends.

I was working. Always. In fact, I’m surprised I came out of college with any friends at all. That’s just the providence of God. So, while I knew who he was, I didn’t know Webb at all really. And he didn’t know me.

When I arrived in Orlando, I drug my overpacked, Christmas-gift-stuffed, bags off the belt and stepped onto the curb, looking for his truck. Nowhere in sight. I called, “Are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m coming around.”

“Oh, ok…didn’t see your truck.”

“Yeah, I’m driving a big, white van.”

“Van?”

“For the missionaries?”

“Right. Ok.”

He pulled up. In a big, embarrassing church van, just as he had described. His buddy Matt was with him, and jumped out of the passenger seat, hefting my bags into the back of the van like quite the gentleman. I slid into the second row seat. Small chat ensued.

A lull in conversation came and Webb caught my eye in the rearview mirror. I smiled slightly and tilted my head as to say, “yes?”

And then he popped the question. A terribly awkward, story-making question. “So,” (insert long pause here), “how loud do you scream?”

Totally bewildered and, to be honest, a little freaked out, I just stared. His words caught up with him. “Wait! No, no! That’s not what I meant! I mean…”

And suddenly, another of his friends who had been in hiding, lunged at me from the backseat and shook my shoulders in an attempt to scare me. I continued staring (more weirded out by Webb's question than the scare attempt).

Inner monologue? “This is going to be the longest ride home ever. Dear. Lord.”

Webb tried to bail himself out of the awkward comment again, “Ok..so, I just was…we were trying to scare…sigh…”

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. And his guys gave him grief all the way home.

Webb’s possibly the funniest person I have ever met. In a one-hour trip from the airport, I laughed more than I had in the past year. He played along well with the hazing from his friends. And I had a headache by the time we pulled up to my apartment.

He sealed the deal of my “interest” when he carried both of my ginormous suitcases up the stairs in one trip, with little effort. “I’ve gotta get me one of these,” I thought.

He dropped off the bags, picked up the TV, I said thanks and off he went. I couldn’t help but hope I would hear from him again.

And I did...

Erasing Hell

The discussion on hell continues. Thought these words from Chan were sensitive and wise. Your thoughts?

in the waiting

I know I'm all about videos this week. But I just couldn't resist.

I got this from one of our young ladies today - she emailed it and said, "Watch this. This is my heart." And I am so proud of her. She's helping friends with wedding plans, sending them off on dates, oohing and aahing over their newest relationship news. Her heart is so consecrated to Jesus and enthralled with His plan for her.

Waiting for God's best is hard. But there is much more reward to the wait than pain. Much more. I'll be testifying about those rewards soon! Can't wait to tell you about the wonderful man Jesus has brought into my life. And he's showing me more every day how much he is worth the wait.

Be encouraged! Whatever you may be waiting on - God's got it!

building attendance or attendees

Chandler and Furtick from Harvest Bible Chapel on Vimeo.

Lately my thoughts have been circling around the concepts presented by Matt Chandler and Steven Furtick in this video.

I've never been to either of their churches. I frequent Furtick's blog; I've never read anything from Chandler. I'm not throwing them up here for a game of pick the "right" pastor. They just represent two different approaches for advancing the Kingdom (which I believe both are doing successfully). I'd be very interested to know where you/your church stand on this conversation.

The tagline of this exchange was "Preaching to build the attendance VS. Preaching to build the attendees".

My thought? Why the VS? If I had to choose?...Both. Why not both?

Preach the Gospel. And use whatever means, short of sin, to bring in more people to hear this Good News. I don't think we need to forego depth in order to reach more people. There's got to be a way to get the real Message to many people without compromising It's truth.

Why do we feel the need to choose? Why think we can be "seeker sensitive" or we can "preach the Word"? It's not about choosing between quality and quantity of attendees. It's about facilitating the opportunity for your church to make many, true disciples.

Every time the Pastor enters the pulpit, there can be temptation beforehand on either side of the spectrum. He can think, "I better strike point three. Just saw so-and-so and I don't want to offend them." Or he can think, "Good. They're here. They need to hear this." Both thoughts are fleshly.

If our Message seeks to honor Christ, crafted in the heart of man by the Holy Spirit, preached to bring Him glory and see Him lifted up...He will take care of the results. He will draw people to Himself. And He'll draw them into a deep, thriving relationship.

Our job isn't to build "large" churches. Or to make people become more faithful as disciples. Our job is to be obedient in seeking God and speaking truth...in love, and with listeners in mind. Our job is to provide every possible opportunity for people to get to know the real Jesus. As many people as possible.

I'm sure, when you get to the bottom of this exchange, that's what both pastors are saying. Build the Church - which is made of people. The only true way to build a church, is to build people.

How does your church do this?

everybody's fine

Sometimes I forget God is God. On the throne. Not my buddy or my confidante or even just the lover of my soul. Almighty God. The One responsible for everything.

The One responsible. For everyone.

I like to think I'm a bit of a caregiver. I like to take good care of people. I enjoy being the kind of person who helps. Who anticipates what might be needed. And, before it's even asked - done. It's a family trait. A great caregiver can do this without you even seeing that they've taken care of you. They become invisible. Amenities and comforts just *poof*, appear out of nowhere.

My Mother has always been this way. She never had to say, "here". Things were always just there. There were no midnight runs to the pharmacy in our home; we were always stocked with the necessities. Never waited for clean linens. Never noticed dirt in my home; it was gone before given the chance to be fruitful and multiply. She has always taken incredible care of us. I like to think I learned a little from her - though at times my caregiving tends to be more "personal" than "practical" (midnight runs to wal-mart and beyond aren't a stranger to my life).

The plight of the caregiver? Thinking if they don't give, someone will lack. If they don't care, who will? We run ourselves ragged thinking, "They need this..." or "I have to do this," and "what will happen if I don't?". Pride gets the best of me sometimes. I think that I can (and should) take excellent care of every person in my life. That I'm somehow responsible for their well-being and happiness. I create this picture where everyone needs me and I have value in my world because I can provide for people a comfort and ease that they need. Dangerous territory, that is.

There's a part in the movie Bruce Almighty where Jim Carrey, who is assuming the responsibilities of God (yes, Yahweh, God, Jehovah), is responding to hundreds of "prayers" (emails) and doling out answers and blessings. Until he can't. Until it's overwhelming. Until he realizes he's barely a decent human...let alone a suitable "God".

Feels good to be needed, doesn't it? Feels good to "come through" for someone. Until I can't. Until I reach my limit. And then, there are a bunch of people I've set up to "need" me who feel failed, disappointed. Or thankful that I've realized I don't have the capacity to meet their needs anyway and they can stop stroking my ego which is begging for affirmation.

It feels horrible in a really holy, beautiful way to look around and realize, "everybody's fine".

The race comes to a hault; I look around to spot Jesus' eyes. He is calmly reclined, amused by my dance, and waiting to take care of me in all the ways I keep telling everyone, "I'm fine".

I've kept Him waiting long enough...

Pace Setter

I love going to the gym for so many reasons. It's good for me - body, soul and spirit. Worship music pumping through me while I exhaust my every frustration, anger, disappointment and worry. I am anonymous. Not noteworthy in any way. Middle of the pack. And happy to be.

Tonight as I breezed into the ladies gym (easiest to ensure anonymity and invisibility), I hopped on the treadmill, set my pace, and starting zoning out. I was walking kind of furiously, my mind racing, and I began to get irritated with my "neighbor". She kept glancing over at me. "What, lady?" I thought, "Geez, eyes forward. I'm not here as far as you're concerned." And then, I noticed. She'd glance over at me and hit a button on her treadmill. And repeat. She was aiming to match my pace. I'd turn it up and run a second; she'd turn hers up and walk more briskly. I'd back down, she'd back down. I couldn't help but smile. We women...we're not to be outdone!

But then a stark reality hit me. I'm a pace setter. If you're a leader, that's what you do. Your pace is an example to those around you. They'll modulate their stride in proportion to yours. You've seen it, I'm sure. Sometimes we're the pace setter in an environment and have no idea. Of all the people in this gym, why in the world would this chick want to match my pace!? But yet, she did. If I quit, she'd give herself room to slow down. If I ran, she pushed herself.

Go too fast, our fellow journeyers become discouraged, thinking they can't keep up. They may sit it out.

Go too slow, they'll find the pace monotonous and unambitious, "we'll never get anywhere at this rate". They may look around for someone else's pace to match.

Steady and strong. Regardless of circumstance or opposition. That should be my pace as a leader. Gently turning things up a notch, encouraging those around me toward their personal best. Slowing it down a bit when I see they're trying to catch their breath.

You're a pace setter in your home. When we run rampant and strive, it's evident how those around us will feel: burdened, stressed and inadequate (just like we probably feel). But take it at a manageable, sustainable, faithful pace, carrying peace and composure, and watch your fellow travelers. They seem lighter and more confident. They feel safe with you. They stay by your side longer. They grow.

And eventually, they supersede your pace, toss you a grateful wave and move forward. While your feet keep plodding pavement. Steadily, faithfully.

Every year is another notch. Sometimes it seems no faster - just more of an incline. You're being stretched in ways no one can perceive. But you are being strengthened. And when someone matches, really matches, that pace...then the strength you're gaining becomes theirs as well.

Press on. Pray for a second wind. Get refreshed and get back on pace. I've got to do whatever it takes. There are still people waiting to hear the Good News.

"But none of these things move me; neither do I esteem my life dear to myself, if only I may finish my course with joy and the ministry which I have obtained from [which was entrusted to me by] the Lord Jesus, faithfully to attest to the good news (Gospel) of God's grace (His unmerited favor, spiritual blessing, and mercy)."

-Paul

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