my to-do list is attacking me...

So, the other day, I was talking with one of the incredible young ladies at our church, Kristen Schnoor, and she had me cracking up about the fact that I make analogies out of everything in life. As a 5th grade teacher, she sat in her classroom after school, eating Girl Scout cookies and trying to make an analogy. She sat and looked about her room. For quite a while. (Long enough to eat just a few cookies :) 

Stumped, she called to haze me because she couldn't think of anything. And I said, "you could have made an analogy about how Girl Scout cookies are sooooo good. And how they only come at certain times so you have to pace yourself or they'll be gone! And this is like God's blessings. He gives us incredible things but we must use them in a timely fashion and not waste them." 

Kristen sighed, "ughhhhh! see! I ATE MY ONLY ANALOGY!" 

-Just thought you'd appreciate that laugh- 

That's the precursor to this actual post. 

So, today, I've been trying to think about what's on my heart to say. And honestly, every time I try to get there I'm interrupted by some task sitting on my mind. Like there are literal papers flying around in my mind as I try to nail them down and ascertain what the next "must-do" is. It's an overwhelming feeling: to feel like I don't have access to my emotions, deepest thoughts or sometimes prayers. To feel like every effort to turn my eyes upon Jesus is met by some crucial demand before me. 

My real self must be somewhere underneath this: 

Camouflaged by to-do lists, calendar notifications, two phones ringing simultaneously, and events looming in the days ahead beckoning me to take more action than I have.

It's these moments when I long for the day to draw to a close. Not because it's a bad day. Not because I want it to be over. But because that moment, when I rest my head, is the sweetest moment of commune with Jesus for me. Psalm 4 says that when we lay on our beds, we should search our hearts and be silent. Don't you love that moment? Right before you fall asleep:  For the most part, the world can be silenced. You breathe deeply. And the things that demanded your attention all day are hushed. 

I want that in the middle of today. I want the hush, the quiet, the peace. I want to walk in it. I'm reminded often of the line in a worship song that says, "I'm finding myself in the midst of You, beyond the music, beyond the noise." 

That line has always made me think of being deep in water. Like when being a kid in a swimming pool, submersed under 8 feet of water. Seemingly, without a care in the world, just bouncing about in the water. Floating to the top, then diving back down. It makes me think of being in over my head...the world outside muffled and ambiguous. Voices quieted, the hot sun cooled. 

But inside the water, senses are heightened. If a coin dropped on the floor of the pool, I could hear it with a clear precision. I want that with Jesus today - a muffled world outside, His voice clear and resounding within. 

The Catch 22's of Life

Yesterday, Cirelda stopped by our office here. She and her husband have been homeless for five months. Work for them slowed dramatically and, month by month, their life declined until they found themselves unable to pay rent and evicted. Nowhere to go but their car. So, for five months, they've searched for work and lived in their Jeep. 

Cirelda spoke clear English, though her second language. And was happy to show us her social security card - confirming her citizenship. She only asked for food. Not money. When we brought her a box of food (they had not eaten in two days because the mission is also low on food and funds), she politely mentioned that they could use some gas money as well. We gave her a little cash (we've generally got some tight policies on such things, but she was genuine and humble and we were compelled to do what we could. Not to mention she offered to mop our floors for any money at all and, when we put it in her hand, she emphatically told me she'd get it back to us as soon as she could). 

She told me about her latest job search. She had gone to Burger King where they told her she could get 40 hours a week. She was ecstatic. They said it would be basic food service and some cleaning at the end of the day. "I was excited. I found an apartment we could rent for $300 a month and I knew if I took this job, we would be able to have a home. At least somewhere to sleep." The manager hired her; gave her a starting date. And then, he walked away briefly to converse with another manager.

When he came back, Cirelda's bright moment dissipated, "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware but the position had been filled." She was very aware of what happened. See, Cirelda doesn't have the money for a dentist. And she is missing most of her teeth - all but one. She also knows that this look is consistent with those who do drugs, though she doesn't and never has. So, with no money for a dentist, and no job unless her teeth are fixed, Cirelda has no possibility of a job. Or a home. A warm place to sleep. A normal existence...

But God. 

Don't you love that phrase? The one where God does the "impossible" and leaves all human reasoning confounded and inept. Maybe tonight you will be able to go home and sleep in a warm - even fashionable - bed. Maybe you will be surrounded by people who love you. Maybe you will drive a car that generally succeeds in route from a to b. 

But there are the other parts of life. Those catch 22's. 

The ones you can't do a thing about but yet, something must be done. The wandering soul so close to your heart. The lost loved one you can't bring back. The financial situation in which your hands are tied. And when we have done all we can, we have worked like it depends on us and we have prayed like it depends on God, we sit back. Perhaps tearfully, perhaps peacefully, perhaps fighting off flushes of anxiety and worry. But we sit back and wait for the "but God" moment. 

It will come; it will. And when it does, enjoy your reasoning being confounded and your deepest fears being revealed as totally irrelevant. 

Pray for Cirelda tonight. 

Uz and Buzz Meet Jesus

Ok, so, if you saw my earlier post of my two new goldfish, you'll be distraught to know that both Uz and Buzz have found their final heavenly resting place. I'm pretty sure I did everything I could to keep them alive - pretty sure. But even so, they flailed and then, they floated. I should probably stick to Betta fish (a little more sturdy). I'm feeling like a failure!

This morning, I am sorting out nametags from one of our annual church events, Friend's Day. Each year, our congregation invites friends and neighbors to be a part of a fun service and a cookout afterwards. It's good times. And every year, no matter how much any of us detest it, we wear nametags to avoid the awkward moment where you forget the person's name who's been sitting by you every Sunday. (Though nametags I'm sure don't eliminate the awkward time for all of our guys where they stare at a women's chest trying to find out how to pronounce her name). I digress...

Things like this mark the passing of time to me. Traditions, the events or occasions that roll around every year and remind you of where you were last year at that precise moment. And, this year, sorting out these nametags was just a little emotional. I was laying aside names of people who have moved, transitioned, passed away... 

2009 was so full of change. Even grief. And I am so thankful for this brand new year God gave us. It marks a new season for me. One full of joy and expectation rather than loss and pain. I believe it was T.D. Jakes who preached about that idea that, in every moment of life you are either:  1) in a storm.  2) coming out of a storm. 3) going into a storm. And if we don't take time to enjoy the calm when we come out of a storm and before we enter another one, we miss times of sweet commune with Him. 

Right now, I am not in a storm. But I can look ahead of me and see possible storms. I can look behind me and grieve past hurts. And when I do, I create a storm in the middle of this calm and beauty. Right now, I am choosing to rest in Him and bask in the quiet, calm. 

c o l d

It's freezing in Florida today. Not even kidding. Ok, well, maybe not 32 degrees freezing. But 49 is close enough for me. 

I think about my family and friends in West Virginia. It's 17 degrees (though it feels like 4). And they're buried under about 2 feet of snow. (I bucked this picture above from my friend Erika's FB - if you haven't met her, you probably should make a point of it because she's absolutely incredible). 

I used to walk to our bus stop in that weather as a kid. A little cold, but not intolerable. And played all day in the snow on the weekends. Moving to Florida has changed things for me. And in so many ways. 

Isn't it funny how we adapt? How we become a part of where we are? Eight years ago, 55 degrees was a beautiful spring day worthy of a t-shirt and perhaps a light jacket. As it stands now, when our office temp drops below 72, I need a sweater on and a heater under my desk. Life has a way of beckoning us to fit our surroundings. And today, I'm reminded why it's so important with what and whom I choose to surround myself...

A Zipper in the Back of Your Dress

Just a few weeks ago, I hustled about my apartment on a Saturday morning, getting dressed and all primped up. This was a special morning, the morning I would graduate with my Master's degree. And my mom, dad and grandma had traveled all the way from Arizona to celebrate with me - because they're the best.

I had the perfect, I do repeat perfect dress for the occasion. And, as I slipped into and turned for my mom to zip me up, I had to laugh at how easy that was.

Since I've lived alone, some of the very simple things in life present themselves as obstacles: unlocking the door while balancing an excessive load from Wal Mart, assembling awkward furniture which requires a reader of instructions and a doer of said instructions, hanging pictures without someone to stand back and say, "left side a little lower," folding large sheets, the one-time emergency (because I'm much wiser, now) of being stranded without necessary paper in the bathroom. And definitely, most definitely, wearing any fabulous dress which zips from your backside to your neck.

Shopping has changed for me; I'm inclined to buy things that zip on the side. ("Little help here!" is not quite as effective if you must announce it after your arrive somewhere. And, come to think of it, neither is, "Does this look ok?" What do I expect someone to say, "No. Not at all. My God, Amanda, did you dress in the dark???" Thank GOD for camera phones - typically I can snap a pic and send it to a trusted wardrobe consultant.)

But, in terms of life and love, this battle of the zipper has lent itself to a couple, very practical lessons.

I'm now very cautious about getting myself into things that will be difficult to get out of.

I've learned there are some things that I can easily put on - airs and attitudes, pretenses and facades. And I can wear them with style in front of a crowd. They look beautiful when combined with the right heels and complimenting jewelry. They're palatable and pleasing to people who don't really know me. But they're not...me. And when I try to move and be who I am while wearing them, they constrict me. They contort my identity until I don't recognize myself. And when I try to take them off, it's a lot more difficult than putting them on.

When I walk in the door at night, I don't want the love of my life to look at me as if He doesn't recognize me. I don't want layers of people-pleasing to have to be removed before I can really commune with Him. In my life with Christ, I'm now reluctant to put on anything that I must come home and say, "Lord, please help me get undone..."

I want to be who I am in Him no matter where I may be. No matter who is asking for my attention. No matter what I feel I need to be in any situation. When I close the door behind me every evening, I want to be myself. Maybe more relaxed. Maybe able to say more than I can to anybody else. But I don't want to be wearing any pretenses for Him to help me out of. It's an idealistic goal, I'm aware. But I feel this may be what it means to be real...

Sara Groves says it way better than I could hope to:

Undone:
Baby, Can you help me get undone
The party is over
And their hearts were won
There’s a zipper in the back
But I can’t reach it on my own
And I am dying
To get out of this so...

Baby, Will you help me get undone
I don’t even remember
How I got this on
I started out pretending
Now I don’t recognize myself
And I could use a little help

You have no pretenses
All your walls are fences
I can see right through
You have no two faces
You know where our place is
And that's why I need you

Happy Birthday, Dear Harbour (enjoy the randomly interspersed pics)

Last night the leadership team of our young adults group sat around my table to celebrate two years together! It really does seem like half-a-hot-second ago when we sat around thinking about what we'd do if our church ever started a Young Adults Ministry. And here we are. That's a definite cause for celebration!

When I asked the team what they wanted to do, I expected a trip to the local tourist Mecca, Orlando. Or at least a night out in the hopping metropolis of Lakeland. Or even just dinner and a movie. But, of these riveting options, they chose to come cook dinner and sit in my tiny apartment. "Really? Well alright then. See you tomorrow at 6."

I love how they love each other. I love that they're comfortable together without the mindless distractions so many others need to relate.


My favorite part of the evening? We really didn't talk about church - at all. We laughed (most of the time with, but sometimes at each other). We ate. We shared secrets about our lives with God. There was a clandestine acknowledgment of the weight of our journeys' secrets. We all carry them. And here, in my little 600-sq.-foot apartment, we can let them out a little at a time and know that brothers and sisters will help...not hurt.


It has been incredible to watch each of us grow through these two years. In a generation that demands everyone "get real," I'm perhaps sinfully proud to say these guys are. Real. I thought about the things we've been through together that have brought us to this place: People coming and going. Hearts being broken and then put back together. The loss of loved ones. The anticipation of dreams fulfilled or once-in-a-lifetime love found. The genuine celebrations of life's biggest and "smallest" accomplishments. The struggle of putting adolescence to rest (sort of :) and embracing maturity. And I love that they've chosen to walk this path together. Nobody gets left behind.

Everyone should have friends like this...

A (not The) Revelation.

This a real moment of soul-baring. An authentic moment that I feel compelled to open the blinds of my life and let you into. 

I'm preparing for a sermon:  praying, reading, contemplating, studying. And, tonight, I feel very strongly what the Lord might say through me to His incredible people in this Young Adults group. He has taken a passage out of James and one out of Revelation and impressed them on my heart in such a way that I am begging Him to bring change and growth to my life and to the lives of these students. 

This post is not a sermon. (If you want to hear that, come to Garden Grove Church @ 7 pm on Thursdays ;). This is the behind the scenes. This is the tug-of-war I wonder if other pastors, those far more distinguished and brilliant than I, have waged. 

While I feel impressed so strongly in my personal time with the Lord of what I should say. And while I feel I have spent adequate time preparing for this evening (not just this week, but in the past 10 years). And while I'm confident heresy is far from my heart and my mouth. There is a heavy humility which always comes upon me before I deliver any message. And it's a gift - one that I must not mismanage and allow to become pride or self-degradation. I have, at times, allowed the heaviness of humility to sway me to either side, but I am learning the balance. The honor and privilege of being used of God coupled with the responsibility of getting it right. 

So, here's what's on my heart tonight. I don't know everything. In fact, I know closer to nothing than everything on the spectrum of knowing "things". So, what really qualifies me to speak this word with boldness and authority as I feel I should? Is it knowing the Bible better than anyone I'm speaking to? Certainly not. There are people in our general congregation who have served as senior pastors for a combined experience of over 100 years. Is it that I have a "special" revelation from God that no one else has? Most definitely not. There are students sitting in this group who have prophetic dreams and words of knowledge that knock my socks off. Is it that I paid tuition for undergraduate and master's degrees which qualify me? Hardly. 

It is simply this:  God looked out and said, "Here. This is my gift of work for you to do. Do it with all you have." And I answered with a shaky but ever-so-sincere, "Yes, Father." And here I sit. A pile of Bibles in front of me. A heart trembling to make sure the message is clear. Palms sweating because I want people to hear God and not me. And eyes constantly looking to the Lord asking, "Are you sure You want me?"

The answer is always the same. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes bold and strong. But always "yes". 

And His answer to you...is "yes". 

Why? Because, "You are God's workmanship. Created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for you to do (Eph. 2:10)." He created you and then He gave you a perfectly fitting job description in His Kingdom. It's not a 9-5. It's a heartbeat. And He knows that you, just you, need to do that job. You need to. He doesn't need you. He chooses to "need" or use us. YOU need to do these good works.

 

You see, there is none righteous apart from God making us that way. There are none of us qualified enough. Beautiful enough. Strong enough. None. In Him all things were created and in Him all things hold together. He created works too big for us to do alone so He would have the good pleasure of doing them with us. I love working with Him...

So, just like Billy Graham, I tuck a Bible under my arm and walk to the front of a room. Eyes turn to look at me - but pierce through me, in search of God. And I open my mouth, trusting Him more with each breath and every syllable. I am not Billy Graham. I am not you. But I am me. And I am so thankful He has made me ok with that.

Now, back to the Word. 

-Amanda.