MY BLOG POSTS

Ten years ago, my dream was to stay in Midlothian, Texas for the rest of my life.

I love Midlothian. We moved there in 1999 when my oldest daughter was just six months old. Dave, my husband, had no job, we had no place to live, knew no one. It was the most gigantic leap of faith we had taken in our lives. Dave was confident that God wanted him to attend Dallas Theological Seminary. I wasn’t so sure, but I chose to trust God – and my husband – even though I made sure they both knew how unhappy I was about leaving everybody and everything I knew back in Florida.

But within weeks, Dave found a job, we found an apartment, and we joined a church – Midlothian Bible Church. This church became my home-away-from-home. I had surrogate sisters there, surrogate parents, godly older women who taught me what it meant to be a woman of God. There are no words to adequately express the impact the people in that amazing church made on me, my husband, and our kids (my younger two were both born in Dallas).

So ten years ago, when Dave was just months away from graduating from seminary, we wanted nothing more than to stay right there in Midlothian forever. Dave had worked as a middle school intern for most our time there, and we were hoping they’d hire him on for that job full-time. But, honestly, I think we would have worked there as the janitor – anything that would allow us to stay with the people we loved so dearly.

But just about ten years ago exactly, we had what, at the time, was the most heartbreaking conversation of our lives. The youth pastor, Dave’s boss and mentor, sat him down to tell him the church wouldn’t be hiring him. Not because Dave wasn’t a great guy, didn’t work hard, wasn’t respected, but because the pastors and elders knew Dave. They had watched him those four years. And, though he did a great job with the youth, it was clear that being a youth pastor wasn’t his passion.

Tim, Dave’s boss, went on to affirm that God doesn’t desire that we simply “settle” with a career because it is comfortable. God has something greater for us. He created us with passions to be used for his glory, to build up the body of Christ. He made us to love what he has called us to do – not that his calling is always easy. Far from it! But there is joy in doing what God has made you to do.

Proverbs says that the wounds of a friend are faithful. We experienced the truth of that Proverb. Initially, we were terribly wounded. We felt rejected by our family. But, as the wound healed, we saw that Tim was right. Dave’s passions weren’t in youth ministry. Dave is passionate about teaching the Bible to adults. He is amazingly gifted to do that, and he finds immense joy in that calling.

In the decade that has followed that conversation, Dave and I have searched for and found our vocational “sweet spots.” That search led us overseas and back again. It led us to meet even more great friends, great mentors, and great churches. The search has been full of incredible joys and terrible heartaches. But we have learned so much from the physical and spiritual journeys we have gone on. Lessons that we are so thankful to have learned. We never would have experienced any of that if the leaders of our church in Midlothian had loved us less, if they had kept the truth from us for fear of hurting our feelings. Their wounds were faithful. And I am so grateful for their integrity and friendship.

I still miss Midlothian, and I am so grateful for our time there. God knew we needed those years at MBC. We needed those friends, those pastors, those mentors, to help prepare us for the places he would take us next. But in order to find the path God wanted us to take, we had to let go of our own dreams, to trust him even when nothing made sense, even when we felt like we knew better than God what was best for us.

When I read that God works all things together for our good, I don’t just know it in my head, I know it in my heart. I have experienced it in my life. I have seen God’s goodness over and over again – and so often, I see it after what at first seems like a tragedy, a dream denied.

But God knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows our dreams — He gave them to us. And he will allow us to live those dreams – if we are willing to take a risk, wait for Him, and live the dream that HE has for us.

Sometimes, in this blog, it is necessary to reveal a little of my “crazy.” Today is one of those days. No nuggets of truth or encouragement here today, just my neuroses. So read at your own risk:

I am “girly.” I like shopping. I like clothes, jewelry, shoes… I wouldn’t say I’m really trendy – I have neither the budget nor inclination to stay up-to-date on the very  latest fashion trends – but I do try to look nice.  I have a problem, though:

I have to match.

If you are reading this and you’re around my age, you understand. We were trained to match everything – jewelry, lipstick, shirt, shocks, and shoes. If you’re 35+, you know we matched our eyeshadow and mascara, too (remember “Electric Blue” mascara? That would totally match the top I am wearing right now).

As a huge fan of “What Not to Wear,” though, I know that not only is white okay after Labor Day (though it is still very hard for me to accept that), but also that clothes do not have to match. They just have to “go.” Clinton and Stacy even say you can mix patterns (I can’t do that, either). They put yellow shoes with grey pants and a fuschia shirt. Which, in my day would only work if worn with a necklace that tied it all together. But today, that isn’t necessary. It goes.

I am writing about this today because I am wearing a blue top, black jeans, and grey shoes. It “goes,” I know. But I have been uncomfortable all day. I feel like I should have black and blue shoes on to tie the top and pants together, or a chunky black, grey, and blue necklace (with matching earrings). It just feels wrong to not match at all.

We’re going to dinner with people I have never met tonight, and I am seriously considering changing into khaki Capri’s because I just bought some khaki-colored espadrilles. But the black jeans are more slimming than the khaki Capri’s. And the espadrilles are open-toed, so I would need to paint my toenails, and I don’t feel like doing that. Of course, I could paint them the same blue as my top…!

I know 80s fashion is coming back – I see my daughters’ closets getting more and more neon every month. But teen fashion and 35+ fashion is not the same. I cannot bring myself to dress like my daughters. But neither can I bring myself to wear mom jeans and turtlenecks.

It’s quite a conundrum. Shallow, certainly. Vain, you bet. But these are the kinds of thoughts that invade my mind. And now they have invaded yours.

You’re welcome.

We Americans place a high priority on being happy.  We excuse bad moods, we justify broken relationships, we allow for all sorts of behaviors by saying we just aren’t happy. We are sure that being unhappy is the worst possible state to be in.

But what does it mean to be happy? To get what we want? To have lots of money? Friends? Our Christmas list all checked off?

I propose that the word “happy” has come to mean something unattainable. For many of us, it is a feeling that cannot be permanent because it is based on circumstances.

Paul, on the other hand, writes to the Philippians that he has learned to be content in all circumstances. Not “happy” but content. And not “when everything is going well” but “in all circumstances.” He writes this from prison! How can he be content, even in prison?

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” he says.

This is the secret to happiness: contentment. No matter the circumstances. How? By choosing to draw strength from Christ. By choosing to draw on his strength in our weakness. By choosing to focus on the unchanging, all-perfect God rather than our ever-changing moods and situations.

So forget “Happy, happy, happy” (no offense, Phil). Let’s be “Content, content, content.”

How many times do we hear people saying that they just can’t forgive someone? And there are usually very good reasons for that statement. I have used several myself: I’ve been hurt one too many times. What that person said or did is inexcusable. I’d be letting them off the hook if I forgave them.

And yet, there is at least one person we forgive on a daily basis, one person whose sins we always seem to justify, one person who we excuse over and over again, no matter how badly they mess up. That person? Yep, ourselves.

Sure, I say things sometimes that I regret, BUT…Okay, so I got angry and lashed out at a friend, BUT….I’ve made some mistakes that I wish I hadn’t made, BUT…

We don’t hold a grudge against ourselves. We don’t get so mad that we stop speaking to ourselves. We don’t have a point at which we reach that proverbial “last straw” and cut ourselves off from…ourselves.

When Jesus said that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, this is what he meant. And this, he said, was the second most important commandment.

Is the act of forgiving easy? No way! It is incredibly difficult. I just put that in the title to make you read this post 🙂 Forgive me. But there is an easy aspect to it, though not easy in the “Eat this cheesecake” way. Easy in the sense that we know how to do it. We’ve had practice doing it. We know how to love in such a way that a multitude of sins are covered. Because we do that to ourselves.

And, even more importantly, Jesus has loved us that way. He forgives us for everything, no exceptions. Nothing we can ever do is so bad that Jesus would turn away when we truly repent and seek his forgiveness.

So the next time you are tempted to think someone has gone too far, that you can’t possibly forgive them*, think of yourself. And love that person the way you love yourself. Shower forgiveness on those around you.

*Forgiveness does not mean saying that what someone has done to you is okay. If you have been abused in anyway, if you are being threatened or bullied or mistreated verbally or physically — you need to tell someone you trust. You can forgive the person who has hurt you, but that does not mean that person shouldn’t face the consequences for what he/she has done.