Thrills, Romance & Adventure

My pastor once said, “If you walk with the Lord, you will have thrills, romance and adventure—and none of those are safe.” I have been thinking a lot about that lately, mainly because our church is in a transition period right now and I am craving a little bit of normalcy. I feel as if I’ve gone through enough transition in my life, and I certainly do not want more. However, God seems to think otherwise, and I have to be ok with that, or I’m really not much of a disciple, now am I?

So, if I’m gonna write about thrills, romance and adventure, I suppose I’d better start or I’ll be here all day. Let’s start with thrills. The Oxford Dictionary defines “thrill” as a sudden feeling of excitement and pleasure. When I was a kid, my grandmother used to take us to Chilhowee Park on Sunday afternoon after church, an amusement park of a dubious nature. There was a roller-coaster ride called, oddly enough, The Mad Mouse. I have no idea just how mad a mouse can get, but evidently pretty doggone mad because that roller coaster terrified me. When I finally got up enough courage to actually ride the thing, the excitement and sheer exhilaration was overwhelming. I loved that ride for the sheer joy of anticipating the tilted curve at the corner when it felt like we were literally being lifted off the track and going airborn. As I grew up, however, the thrill of The Mad Mouse…well, it kinda wore off. One day the adult me looked at that pathetic ride and I thought to myself, “THIS was the thing I was so afraid of? THIS was the thing that was so exciting, so exhilarating?” It seemed so small looking at it as adult, but when I was a kid…Wow! I loved it. Isn’t it like that with our walk with Jesus, though? When we are a new Christian, we are hungry for God’s Word. We crave spending time with Him, because every moment with Him is thrilling! We are voracious consumers of His Presence. And we long for more. As life happens, though, and we settle into our new life with Jesus, some of the new kinda wears off. We become content. We become complacent. We become, God forbid, borning. We learn we can live without the thrill. But the question is this: Why would we want to?? Thrills are fun! Thrills are exciting and we derive a great deal of pleasure from them. Why would we give that up? The answer is, of course, we shouldn’t. We should actively seek them! I am reminded of the story of David and Goliath. There was nothing safe about David confronting Goliath on the battlefield. In fact, it seems to our human eyes, it was downright stupid. Yet, look at what a great victory that was! So great, in fact, that we’re still reading about it and dissecting it, many thousands of years later. Our own lives are no less thrilling. We may not face a physical giant, but we have our own giants. And the thrill of seeing them defeated through the power of Jesus Christ should never grow old. The thrill of answered prayer never fails to send a chill up our collective spines. The excitement of attending a special fellowship should never disappoint because we are walking with the Maker and Creator of the Universe. How much more thrilling can that be??

I am gonna skip over romance for now and take that one last. Let’s move right on into “adventure: When I was a kid, there was a small wooded area behind our house. My sister and I used play there often. It was heavily explored so there was no danger, but to my younger self, it was an enchanted forest. I was certain I was gonna encounter a fairy house, or perhaps a goblin den around the next corner. I was sure Robin Hood or Maid Marianne was locked there, prisoners of time, to come out and greet us. I was certain a wicked witch lived there and was ready to shove us into an oven and bake us like so many cookies for lunch. I was a rather imaginative child, as you can see. As a child, this was a close as my parents let me come to having an actual adventure, but gosh darn it, I made the most of it.

When God told Abraham “Leave your country and go to a place I will show you,” Abraham left, taking his family with him. God led him into a vast and strange land, but along the way, God also asked him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham did not hesitate, and while I admire his loyalty, as a parent, I silently scream “have you lost your mind?” This, to me at least, is one of the greatest adventures in the Bible. You see, the country Abraham came from had child sacrifice. Abraham must have been used to seeing such things at the temple of Molech. You would think he had no reason to believe God wouldn’t require the same of him. But, somehow, along the way, in all the adventures and excitement of the journey, Abraham got to know God—he learned God’s character, His nature. He knew Jehovah God was unlike any other god he’d encountered in his home town. He knew that what God required wasn’t sacrifice. It was obedience. And he spoke these words, “God will provide a sacrifice.” Imagine the faith it took to make that statement. And God did indeed provide a sacrifice (a ram), and the rest is history. Abraham proved that we can trust God with our adventures.

When we’re young, we are bold, daring, ready to “take the city for Christ.” Then we mature, we grow up, and our feelings shift. We no longer crave the adventure. We are content to sit in our armchairs and watch others take the missionary journey, or do the street ministry. We let others fight the battle for us, content in our warm, cozy homes. In other words, no adventures today. To quote Peter Pan, “To die would be an awfully big adventure.” But Peter Pan eventually grew up, and so did we. The Mad Mouse is just a distant memory, and a vague one at that. I do find myself, though, longing for a bit of adventure. I am no longer content to sit on the sidelines. I want to be in the game. Put me in, Coach.

Now let’s get to romance, which is arguably the most unsafe one of all, as you can’t have romance without love. We romance what we love. So, if you can endure it, here’s another story from my childhood…When I was in junior high, I had a massive crush on this boy who rode my school bus. I didn’t know him personally, but I was certain we were destined to be together. Or at least eat lunch together and pass notes in class, maybe even hold hands. My young heart would beat madly every time I passed him in the hall. I was smitten. Anyway, I couldn’t get up the courage to talk to him. I would chicken out at the last minute. One day, at the egging on of my girlfriends, I mustered up the courage, walked over and said, “Hi,” and some other mindless drivel I can’t even recall, thank the good Lord. I will never forget what he said to me. “Go away. You are the ugliest girl in the world.” I can still hear the distain and the sneer in his voice as he spoke to me, even now. I was crushed, but that’s kind of a part of falling in love for the first time. The problem was I wasn’t just crushed at the moment—for YEARS I truly believed I was the ugliest girl in the world. I made decisions based on that. I acted that out, because I could still hear that voice in my head.

I am many years older now, and if that happened to me today, I would just laugh and say, “First of all, I’m no longer a girl, and secondly, that’s just silly. Do you KNOW every girl in the world?” Once I grew up and realized the difference between real love and puppy love, it was easier to shut down the negative self talk, but for a long time, love was tinted with strains of unacceptance, unworthiness, ugliness. That’s a very unhealthy way to begin (or end for that matter) a relationship. As I matured, I realized that the only person who would never disappoint me was Jesus. He will never think I’m ugly. He will never leave us. He will never tell us to go away. We are always welcomed in His arms. Romance with Jesus is abundantly SAFE. It’s only human love that is unsafe, but yet, we aren’t exempt from loving others. In fact, we’re commanded to do so.

The most heart wrenching feeling in the world is love unrequited. It literally stops our breath and we think we are gonna die. Yet, we don’t die. We go right on living day after day, till one day we realize the pain isn’t as bad as it once was. And one day, we heal. Yet with God, there is no healing process from rejection. There is no pain in His love. There is no pushing us away when long to draw near. There is only His precious voice whispering, “Come closer, dear one.” He is our all consuming love, our infinite romance, our comfort, our everything.

This has been long, but if you’ve hung with me until the end, thank you. It seems I had a lot to say today. I supposed to sum this all up I’d say this: Don’t get too comfortable with where you are, don’t let your excitement wane, and don’t let your love grow cold. God provides all us humans with all we could ever want or need. We just have to trust and reach out and take it with both hands, and don’t look back. Abraham trusted Him with that which he held most dear—his son, Isaac. David trusted him to guide that stone to hit Goliath dead center in the forehead. And Jesus trusted His Father enough to die for us. I’ll take that any day.

God bless you! Maranatha!

Turning Back

My pastor spoke last Sunday about the woman with the alabaster jar. For reference, here’s the pertinent verse:

Meanwhile, Jesus was in Bethany at the home of Simon, a man who had previously had leprosy. While he was eating, a woman came in with a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume made from the essence of nard. She broke open the jar and poured the perfume over his head. Mark 14:3

I’ve read these verses many, many times and have always been fascinated. Scholars believe the oil in this jar was worth roughly a years wages. That was one expensive jar of perfume, let me tell ya! But, would it have been expensive to someone who was, for instance, extremely wealthy? Whose yearly wages was it equivalent to? A laborer or a prince? These are things I think about, but have nothing to do with the actual blog I’m writing today, as per usual. Today I’m thinking about why did she break the jar and why did she pour it all out? Jesus would have been just as anointed with or without that perfume. He didn’t need it. He was (and is) Messiah, with or without it. In fact, one of the men chastised her for frivolously wasting such an expensive outpouring. I have a theory, so if you will, stick with me on this one…

Jesus could’ve pricked one finger and used one drop of his blood to redeem mankind (as my pastor pointed out last week, and pointed out beautifully, I might add), but He didn’t do that. Instead, He chose to die in the worse possible way, beaten, bruised, and broken, crucified on a cross. Why? Why didn’t Jesus take the easy way out? If anyone could’ve, it was Him. He didn’t and I want to know why.

Elijah and Elisha journeyed to a place where Elijah was going to be taken to heaven. Elijah begged Elisha to turn back, but Elisha didn’t. He stuck with Elijah through what must have surely been a frightening experience (it’s not everyday you see someone leave this earth in a chariot of fire, after all). I’m sure he was shaken, but he rose to the occasion, and the rest is history.

I think (and this is just my opinion, but I think it’s a good opinion) perhaps the common thread here isn’t just the fact that they risked everything (although that is definitely true). The common thread is they all had commitment—commitment to the task that was set before them, and they did not shirk it! The woman with the alabaster jar broke the jar so there was nothing left to do but pour it all out. She was committed to using every single drop of oil in that jar to anoint Jesus with it, and by golly, nothing was going to stop her! Once Jesus revealed who He truly was and defied the religious rulers of His day, He was committed. He basically signed his own death warrant. Why? Because He was committed to doing His Father’s business. Elisha could’ve turned and went back home, because once they crossed the Jordan River and Elijah parted the river, Elisha had no way back home. At that point, he had no idea what was going to happen, but he was committed to seeing it through to the end. And each of these people who committed themselves to God’s will, DID NOT LOOK BACK! They didn’t dither around about it, they didn’t waver, they didn’t question…they just followed God with all that was within them. And, in Jesus’s case, led to the redemption of all mankind. Wow. Mind boggling, isn’t it?

Luke 9:62 reads, “No one, having put his hand to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” So when we put our hands to the plow, set our eyes on the horizon, we simply cannot look back. We are all in when we put our hands on those plow handles. Looking back qualifies us for a dishonorable discharge in God’s army. Yet, many times, we do look back. We wish and long for God to move like He did in the past. We look for something huge, but God oftentimes works His miracles in the small. In other words, we want God to move like WE want Him to move. And God seldom repeats Himself, because He is not boring, predictable or monotonous. No, He is exciting, surprising, and thrilling. God Himself doesn’t change, but the ways in which He moves certainly do. Our job, as believers, is to commit, move forward, and follow. It sounds simple, but the pull of our past is a strong one. We fret over past mistakes, relieve past glories, and in short, make a mess of our lives in the present because we just can’t let it go. Brothers and sisters, please take these words to heart! We will never be who God has called us to be if we hold onto the past, whether it be our own personal past or indoctrinated traditions of men we Christians like to call “discipleship.” The disciples of Jesus were a motley crew (no offense Tommy Lee Jones), but they were committed to the legacy of Christ Jesus and they went to their deaths proclaiming the Good News. They did not look back.

There is a great example of looking back in the book of Genesis. When Lot and his family left Sodom and Gomorrah, God told them not to look back. But Lot’s wife just could not keep her eyes forward. She looked back, and she became a salt lick for every camel within a 50 mile radius. Good for the camels, not so good for her. (I realize she actually became a “pillar of salt,” but I’m southern and deer hunting and salt licks come to my mind every.single.time!)

So, I suppose I said all that to say this: When we commit something to God, let Him actually have it. Don’t second guess God and don’t look back. The result may not be what we think it should be, but God’s mind doesn’t work like ours, praise Jesus. He is compassionate, full of love, mercy and grace. If we stumble, He forgives us. If we look back instead of the direction He is leading us, He gently leads us back to the path we are supposed to take, like the Good Shepherd He is. He is patient, kind, righteous. He wants our commitment to follow where He leads. We are safe in His hands. We can commit to Him because He will not lead us astray.

This was a rather long blog, but I felt it needed some explanation, and I hope I didn’t ramble too badly. I believe with all my heart if we would just get hold of this commitment thing, we would be unstoppable in our forward progress and in our faith. May God bless you and keep you. May He shine His lovely face upon you. And give you peace. God bless.

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Who Ya Gonna Call?

My youngest grandson is named Jacob.  He’s a feral little critter, but sweet as soda pop. And yes, I’m quoting the song “Rocky Top.”  It’s expected of us UT fans, and I don’t like to disappoint.  We have a wonderful song we sing at church called “Same God.”  The opening lyrics are rather simple and it goes like this…”I’m calling on the God of Jacob.” My grandson sings this at the top of his lungs because he thinks the song was written for him and about him.  It is my fervent hope that he believes this his entire life.  I hope he always believes this is a personal song written by God just for him. 

I have been thinking about this.  How personal are the songs I sing every Sunday?  Do I sing the lyrics with my heart engaged, or do I just mouth them?  Am I taking it personally?  I try to do so, but I’m not always successful.  As we age, life happens, and our brains get in the way.  Our minds are preoccupied with a million different things rather than singing, “I’m calling on the God of Elaine.”  Tonight, as I write these words, my thinking has changed. And I have my grandson to thank for that.  Tonight I’m thinking about God in a little different way. 

Tonight I’m calling on the God of Edna.  I’m calling on the God who gifted her with the ability to play the piano totally by ear.  She raised four God-fearing children, played piano in every church in Knoxville, told stories to her grandchildren, cooked Nanny-biscuits, made Black Cherry Koolaid, and loved without limits.  I’m calling on that God.

I’m calling on the God of Henry.  I’m calling on the God who walked with him daily—theOne who he talked with, relied on, and knew on an intimate level that I can only image.  He was an example to everyone who knew him. He had a dry wit, a steadfast heart and a desire to see his children serve the Lord.  I’m calling on that God.

I’m calling on the God of Nicholas, a young man whom I love and respect.  Nicholas writes a blog, works hard, and desires for everyone to know who God truly is.  He consistently points the way by his actions, as well as his words to the One who loves us.  I’m calling on that God.

I’m calling on the God of Lucille. Lucille was an elderly woman in my church, who obeyed God and asked a younger version of myself who was sitting alone in the pew to sit with her.  And sat with me every Sunday until I felt comfortable enough to branch out.  I’m calling  on that God.

I’m calling on the God of Taylor, a young woman at my church.  She is a talented photographer, but her heart is truly a heart that seeks God daily for direction.  She is beautiful, but her beauty is not just physical—it’s her pure and innocent heart.  I’m calling on that God. 

I am not in any way diminishing the lives of the patriarchs in the Bible.  They were pioneers. I never want to forget that. What I”m saying in no way reduces the Bible, nor does it make their lives reductive. But I also want to remember the same God who guided David’s slingshot is the same God who Edna served.  The same God who gave Moses the ten commandments is the same God Henry bowed his knee to.  The same God who was gave us his Son, Jesus, is the same God Lucille followed.

Tonight, I’m calling on the God of Jacob—the God who never sleeps.  The God my grandson sings to when he sings this song.  I’m calling on Him to reveal Himself to me through His word. I’m asking Him for a heart that’s simple, pure, holy.  I’m kneeling humbly at his feet and asking Him for a child-like faith—a faith so that I can confidently sing “I’m calling on the God of Elaine” and mean it.  And not only mean it, but know He hears me, responds and moves. I’m calling on that God.

God Bless.

One Donut

Elaine Jackson <elaine@ninjalifecoaching.com>

10:23 PM (0 minutes ago)

to me

One Donut

We visited one of my favorite places in the world as part of my birthday week celebration—Krispy Kreme. Honestly, I could live there. And I’m contemplating and mentally calculating just how much money it would take for me to bribe the owner to let me permanently take up residence in one of their back rooms. Well, at least that’s a favorite fantasy of mine…

At any rate. I digress, as per usual…the ovens weren’t cooking and the conveyor belt wasn’t running. No new donuts were being made at that moment. But…here was one lonely little donut who was left behind. I started thinking about that donut…why was it just sitting there? Was it unacceptable? Did it fail quality control somehow? Or conversely, was the donut so beautiful and perfect an employee pulled it off the line to be consumed later with a cup of coffee, relishing every bite? Or was the donut merely a recalcitrant donut, a rebel, if you will. A rogue amongst the herd of compliant donuts who blindly floated to oblivion? What was the donut’s story? I really wanted to know. And I also wanted to know why I’ve spent way too much time thinking about this donut…

Which donut are you? Without hesitation, I know I am the rebel. I am that one salmon  who swims downstream when everyone else is swimming up. I am that one voice that says, “no, I’ll take a chili dog,” when everyone else wants a hamburger. I am that weirdo who questions, pokes and prods at every thought, every idea, and every conversation that comes my way. I am that ONE. And I am comfortable with being that one. I am comfortable with being that one lone donut, standing on the conveyor belt saying, “hold on a minute…I’m not going one step further until I get chocolate icing.” 

At the end of the day, we all stand alone, don’t we? We all have those moments of fear, loneliness, despair, trepidation and trembling. And we also have those personal moments of triumph, faith, conquering, inclusion, and defiance. In other words, we all have those “the cheese stands alone” moments—moments either too great or too small to share with others. It’s in those moments we discover ourselves. And if we are seeking, it’s during those moments, we find God. And at that moment, we realize that though we may be sitting on that conveyor belt, alone and fearful, we are never truly alone because God is with us. 

We aren’t abandoned. We aren’t destroyed, we aren’t desolate, even though we may feel all those things at once. It’s ok to feel those things. It’s also ok to walk away from those things, acknowledge our dependence on God and be that defiant donut who stands up and says, “I am enough because God says I am. I am at peace with who I am because God created me. I am loved because God gave His very own Son so that I could live. I am not alone because God says He never leaves me.” 

That is how the rebel donut becomes the perfect donut—by acknowledging our dependence on the One who made us. We are never the cull. We are always the chosen. 

God bless.

What Are We Doing and How Did We Get Here?

I haven’t written a blog in over a year. When I saw my last entry was over a year ago, that shook me. I didn’t realize it had been that long.

I offer no excuses. I really don’t feel like I’ve had much to say. Life has happened in so many ways…and in ways I didn’t feel I could write about. But today I feel inspired and for that I am grateful.

I say “I am grateful.” But how can I really be grateful when the emotion that led me here is…despair—despair for the entity that calls itself “The Church.” I am not criticizing. I am lamenting. I am a member of said entity and the entity has failed their members and their community.

Here’s an example, and I really can’t explain it any better than this. I was shopping in a local charity store this week that plays Christian music while you shop. It’s soothing, and it’s kind of comforting in a way, if you grew up in the Jesus culture, like I did. The song that played was an unfamiliar one, but the lyrics were mind-numbing in their repetition. The lyrics were merely “I don’t want to be afraid.” Over and over again, ad infinitum—to the point where I was thinking “Just get over it already, and stop being a little wimp!” I’ll admit this was not a very charitable thing to be thinking in a charity shop, but doggone it, be a warrior, for goodness sakes! And lest anyone think I’m uncompassionate, I get it. We are all fearful sometimes on some level. But repeating a mantra about it does not help the situation. All it does is bring fear to the forefront of our minds instead of focusing on the One who has the power to eliminate the fear. At any rate, I digress…

So…this started me thinking…a dangerous thing that doesn’t always end well. My thought was “How did we as a body of believers in the most powerful God in the universe regress to this?” How did we go from “Fairest Lord, Jesus, ruler of all nature? O thou of God and man the Son. Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor, Thou my soul’s glory, joy and crown” to “I don’t wanna be afraid,” repeated ad nauseum? Where did we go wrong? What happened to words like “Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not. As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be?’ We have re-created the image of the Almighty God into the image of ourselves. Convenient, but utterly incorrect.

The Church has believed the lie that we must look and sound like pop culture in order to be relevant. I get it. Everyone wants to be appealing and feel validated for their faith. It’s an enticing path, and one that’s, at strictly face value, ingenious. At the core, though, we have exchanged Truth for convenience. We have sold Faithfulness for ease. We have prostituted Righteousness for emotion. In other words, we have stunk it up. But don’t you think that basic humanism has miserably failed our society? Societal programming has never satisfied. It’s never helped a single blind person to see. It’s never healed the sick. It’s never sat at night with a sick friend and wiped their fevered brow. It’s never helped a single individual to not be afraid—in fact, the culture itself is permeated with fear—fear that the emperor has no clothes.

Can we somehow gat back the hearts of worship? Can we somehow realize that eveything doesn’t have to be about us personally? Can we focus a minute on the King of Kings and Lord of Lords? Can we do that, please? Can we lay aside our offences and our pride and just sit in God’s presence, humble and meek? Can we read His Word and let it guide our day? Can we just take a minute and take a breath for Jesus?

Folks, I live in the same world you do. I am guilty, too. We all are. To quote Francis Chan, “The God of the universe—the creator of nitrogen and pine needles, galaxies and E-minor—loves us with a radical, unconditional, self-sacrificing love. And what is our typical response? We go to church, sing songs, and try not to cuss.” Brothers and sisters, this should not be! Our response should be breathtaking, entraptured, invigorating, undeniable, passionate, heart-wrenching. In short, it should be life altering. Instead, it’s somehow turned into merely an exercise we do to make ourselves feel good about…ourselves.

I don’t know what the answer is. All I can say is I’m making a turn. This has GOT to be all about Jesus, or it isn’t about anything at all.

God bless. Maranatha! Grace and peace rest upon you all.

Life Beneath the Baseboard

Last summer, during the pandemic, I was searching for things to do and decided to clean up my makeup station. I call it a station because it’s kind of a rest area where I change myself from Crypt Keeper into Passable. At any rate, while I was cleaning, I dropped a makeup sponge behind my station and had to move the thing away from the wall. When I did, a lizard ran out from under the desk and under the baseboard. After I finished screaming, I realized I had a dilemma, namely how to get the lizard out. It took me a hot minute, but I realized I was never gonna get that lizard out of there because they absolutely terrified me. I had already envisioned that monster from the pit of hell was probably gonna run across my face in the middle of the night and/or crawl in my mouth while I was snoring. The lizard had to die. It took me a hot minute, but I disposed of the lizard. Not to go into too much detail, but it involved a hammer and a few sharp raps to the baseboard. Bye, bye lizard. For all you lizard lovers out there, please do not judge. I have had a total of FIVE lizard encounters in my life, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s FIVE too many!

Last week, while I was at my doctor, I was waiting my the room for the doctor to make an appearance and I happened to glance down at the baseboard, because I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I fully expected to see the reincarnation of the lizard coming back to haunt me, but no….it was a small spider that crawled out from the top of the baseboard and up the wall. Since I have no strong feelings one way or the other about spiders, I left it alone as it meandered up the wall and then back down into the baseboard. I thought about telling the doctor, but decided against it, mainly because I was still preoccupied by a potential lizard haunting, and because of the thought that struck me when this happened—there is life beneath the baseboards of, not only our homes, but of our minds.

Yes, I feely admit that I my mind works in strange and mysterious ways. But aren’t baseboards strange and mysterious things? They serve no purpose other than to conceal where the floor and walls meet. They look nice, but underneath lurks all manner of lizards and spiders. In short, they conceal things we don’t want to know about. No one wants to think about where the walls meet the floors. And I don’t even want to get started on crown moulding…

What is your baseboard? What does it conceal? Is it something you need to look beneath? Or is it something better left undisturbed? Do we need to knock the mold off the dark recesses of our past? Usually what hides beneath is something we don’t want to deal with. But what started out as a small lizard can turn into a dragon if we don’t confront it. I’m not saying we need to slay the dragon every day, but once we put it to rest, we need to let it die a quiet death. Graveyards were built to house the dead, but the living are the ones who visit. But at some point, the living LEAVE the cemetery and go about their daily lives.

Don’t let the baseboards get you down. We all have them. We all have things buried in our minds that we just don’t relish looking under. It’s a fate common to humans. But, unlike the cemetery, once we deal with it, bury it and leave it, there is little to no reason to visit it again, unless it is as a reminder of how far we’ve come, and the goodness of God to bring us where we are today. You see, God has looked under the baseboard and He didn’t recoil with horror of what He saw there. No stranger to lizard, spider, and even dragon slaying, is He. He has placed His foot on the head of the enemy and He has won, and so have we.

What we do with our lives and how we progress has everything to do with how we clean our baseboards. The baseboards in my home thrive on sheer neglect, because I clean them seldom. But our minds…Ah, that’s another thing altogether. It gets dark in there frequently, but we know how to turn on the Light.

God bless you, dear friends!

Let It Be

This morning, for some inexplicable reason, I am humming the old Beatles song, “Let It Be.” There is something comforting and mysterious about the lyrics “whisper words of wisdom, let it be.” Let it be is truly one of the most difficult things in the world to do, at least for me. I want to pick at things, like a junkyard dog worrying at a bone. I don’t really like to stop until said bone is desiccated into a pulpy mess that’s impossible to clean up without gagging. Too graphic? Well, it’s just that kid of morning here at the Jackson house…

How often do we allow adversity to dictate our response? Where does our peace and contentment come from? Where does our joy go when confronted with unpleasant circumstances? In short, how often do we need to remind ourselves to “let it be?’

I am a frequent user of the phrase “let it be.” I have to be, or I’ll worry myself out of house and home. I have to remind myself that “though the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me.” I have not yet mastered the practice of living a worry-free existence, though how I wish I could. I try, but then somehow, somewhere, it seems the insidious “little foxes” creep in and before you know it BAM! I’m noodling around the edges of the water, and dipping my toes in the deep end.

What can we do about it? If you’re a worrier (like me), and your mind just seems to be geared toward it (like mine), then I have determined there’s not a whole lot I can do about it. My mind functions like that, and it just doesn’t seem to want to stop; however, just because my mind works like that doesn’t mean I have to let my mind run wild, like a demented Edward Scissorhands. No, I have control over what I think. I have control over how I act. I have control over myself, and that’s the ONE thing I CAN control. I can create positive self-talk and positive body image in my own mind and in my spirit. I can do this by believing what God says, regardless of how I feel or how I think.

At the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter much what I think. My thinking is frequently erroneous, and can lead me down a path of destruction. My own thinking has led me into more trouble than I care to remember. But God’s thinking has never led me to anything but goodness, kindness, mercy, forgiveness, self-control, temperance, joy, peace, comfort. These are things worth thinking about.

So, while we may never be able to change our thinking, we can change our hearts. We can remind ourselves of who we are, what we are, and who we serve. Frequent reminders of these facts, plus meditating on God’s Word, helps us to know two things: 1) our existence here on this earth is going to come with troubles, sometimes with a capital “T” and a whole lot of exclamation points; and 2) the direction we turn is up to us—we can run TO God or AWAY from God.

What does it look like to run away from God? What does it look like to run to God? Having been someone who repetitiously ran away from God in my misspent youth (youth is TRULY wasted on the young), I can say with one hundred percent certainty—that’s the WRONG direction. Because when you run away from God, you leave yourself with only two options…run further, or turn around. There is no such thing as halfway. We are either in or out. If you run TO God, the options are limitless, because His love is limitless, without boundaries, and eternal. How can we run away from that?

Jesus is the one who is standing right in front of me, beckoning me to rest. I believe He goes ahead of me when I walk. He guards me from behind. He listens to me. He saves me. He helps me. I am encompassed by a “Jesus bubble” everywhere I go. And a lot of other things too numerous to mention. He is the one whispering words of wisdom to my heart and calling me to Him.

God bless you on this fine day. Let it be!

What's Your Red Ball?

My grandson spent the night with me last night. He has been spending a lot of time with me now that school is out for the summer, and I have to say—I relish that. He is a witty little thing, just like his mamma. I’m gleefully delighted she’s getting paid back for every sassy comment she made to me. Revenge is a dish best served cold…

Anyway, I digress….my grandson and I have a tradition, We play a game called kitchen basketball. Kitchen basketball is a game played with a little red ball and a plastic basket. It involves me sitting in a chair, my grandson throwing the ball and me trying to catch it with the basket. Sometimes it’s a simple game of HORSE. Sometimes we play one-on-one. Sometimes we just play catch. But it all revolves around that little red ball.

The little red ball is nothing special. In fact, it’s a rather mundane, spongy stress balll—the kind you have in your desk at work and squeeze the life out of when your coworker calls in sick one.more.time. But that little red ball has brought us countless hours of enjoyment. Gabe lives for those moments when I whisper in my best cage fighter voice, “Come on, boy.”

As he has gotten older, the games of kitchen basketball have given way to light sabers and card games. Tablets and videos. Movies and mayhem. But today, he said something to me that showed me what an impact those silly kitchen games had on him. He said, “Grammie, when you die, I’m gonna put one of those red balls in your coffin.”

While I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of him slipping that red ball into my coffin like some sort of creepy Dracula, I was absolutely thrilled with the idea that those kitchen basketball games WOULD be remembered. In that one little sentence, he reassured me that I wouldn’t be forgotten. He would hunt down one of those balls, many, many, MANY, years from now, I hope, and he would tenderly place that in my coffin. And in doing so, he would remember. He would remember the laughter, the tantrums, the exhilaration, the high fives, the dejection. In short, he would remember the best version of me that I could give him.

So my question today to ponder is: What’s your red ball? What is the one legacy you will leave behind when you leave this world? What will you be remembered for? These are questions that we think about more and more often as we get older. Ultimately, the greatest legacy we can hope to leave is pointing others to Jesus, emulating Him, being salt and light, loving others, helping others, being kind, joyful, good, patient, honest souls. And kitchen basketball doesn’t hurt…

God bless!

Tender Mercies and the Hallmark Channel

Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.
Colossians 3:12

This verse is a “God-wink” moment, as they say on the Hallmark Channel. Yes, I am a fan of those mindless, sappy films. I installed an app on my TV just so I can watch Christmas movies continuously from Halloween to New Years. I would never make a living as a movie critic, because I detest relevant little pieces by indy producers about teenage angst or left feet (sorry, Daniel Day-Lewis, you hyphenated curmudgeon). I like movies that entertain and nothing bad happens to the people in them...In short, I like tenderhearted movies...Movies where dogs go to heaven, Bill Murray repeats Groundhog Day, and Dolly Parton ties Dabney Coleman to his chair. Ok, maybe that last one wasn’t so tenderhearted, but...Dolly Parton, y’all!!!

What does it mean to be tender hearted? Webster defines it as “being easily moved to love, pity, or sorrow.” There are many benefits to being tenderhearted; there is also one major downfall—you get hurt easily. I am going to leave that as a discussion for another day and approach this from the opposite angle. How tenderhearted are we towards others? How compassionate are we? Do we take a moment to think about where others are coming from or do we immediately go on the defensive and react like it’s third and ten and we are going for a first down? I am posting a picture of me today when I was just a young whippersnapper. I am four years old, and all I wanted for Christmas was a football helmet. I have this picture sitting on my nightstand to remind me to never lose my quirky spirit. It reminds me I was once young, vulnerable and tenderhearted. A million tomorrows were in that young child’s heart that Christmas. I didn’t know one single thing about life. I didn’t envision the slapping around that was going to take place over the next half a century plus of my life. I didn’t know how many times I would be called on to exercise tender mercies to my fellow brothers and sisters. Nor did I realize just how many times I would fail to grant said mercies to those who were really in need because I was too busy, too stressed, or didn’t want to be bothered. Life is actually NOT a Hallmark Movie. In real life, there is pain, suffering, sickness, hurting, death. Where are the tender mercies then?

One thing I have discovered is that God does not comfort us in order for us to be comfortable. He comforts us so we can be a comfort to others. In fact, I really don’t think God cares if we are uncomfortable. I’ll go a step further and say I don’t think God minds MAKING us uncomfortable if that’s what it takes to get our attention.

Here’s the thing—we really don’t know the entirety of other peoples stories. We don’t know what causes Johnny to cry or Susie to be mute. We just don’t know. Even if we ask, we have no way of knowing what impact pain and suffering has on a persons mind, spirit and soul. Some seem to bounce back with disgusting regularity, ever the perpetual cheerleader (ok, I may or may not be a Tigger instead of an Eeyore). Others get depressed. Still others close themselves off. But no matter which category we fall into, we all have one thing in common—we all need tenderhearted mercy, kindness, love and compassion. Ultimately, that takes the form of Jesus. But if we are to be His disciples, shouldn’t we show the same mercy? This is one of the most difficult struggles in the Christians journey, in my opinion, because when we get hurt, our initial reaction is often to retaliate in kind. We get offended, we strike back. We get angry, we explode. We get bruised, we gossip. We get devastated, we wreak havoc. In other words, we act like humans. I am submitting this today for your consideration—As Christians, do we have the right to strike back in kind when we are wronged? An “eye for an eye” is simply not a Biblical concept. I’m not talking about being weak, or letting someone stomp all over you. Jesus was far from that kind of person. He was bold, courageous, and strong. But while he operates with those attributes, He is also meek, humble, compassionate, kind, tender, moved by our pain.

In our anger, we do not have the right to sin, nor do we have the right to injure others. Rather, we take our fears, pains, failures, and troubles to God and let Him heal us. This isn’t always an easy task. The devil will make certain we get hurt. He will do his dead level best to harm us, both physically and spiritually. I know this from personal experience, as most of us do. But if we take a few moments (or longer) to pray for our brother or sister who has hurt us, then we are truly acting like disciples.

Ok, so my southern is coming out again, y’all...I will freely admit this is the LAST thing I want to do. Most of the time, I am poised like a panther, ready to pounce (well, since I’m not really very panther-like, I’ll say I’m poised like a small marmoset ready to viciously gnaw the ears off a chocolate bunny.) In other words, I am not kind, tenderhearted, merciful, or compassionate. I am ready to open a can of carbonated beverage and spray it all over them. But when I react like that, the devil wins. Every.single.time.

But we have the ability to change our reactions, thank God! We have the ability to love others, curb our tempers, capture our thoughts and communicate our feelings in a controlled and humble manner. Isn’t humanity wonderful sometimes? We have the ability to make choices—good ones or bad ones. We can choose tender mercies, compassion, love, hope, joy and peace. Mercy and tenderness are all choices we can choose to make. Or not. Love is not merely a feeling. It’s a choice we make every day to either include or exclude it from our lives. We can turn toward love or away from it. We can choose love and mercy. We can show mercy for the lovable and the unlovable.

I have to go now. I am going to put on my football helmet and find a Hallmark movie with the word “Christmas” in it. I am choosing to love today. I am choosing tenderhearted mercy toward my brothers and sisters. I am soothing the marmoset by feeding it chocolate.

God bless! Maranatha!

Loss of Vision: Looking Back Can Devastate You

Luke 9:62 - "No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God."
I have often pondered this verse. On the surface, it’s a straightforward commentary of “don’t look back.” But me being me, I want to know the “why.” Why does looking back make me unfit for Gods kingdom?
I am lying in bed on this gloomy Saturday morning. The doggie and I are cozied up under the covers, and I’m trying to make a move to get up and get going. I don’t want to, and Trixie appears pretty comfortable, too, if her snoring is any indication. But, now that I’ve read this verse, I am wondering about the dreaded “looking back.”

So what exactly does looking back mean? Is this a literal looking back like Lot’s wife, craving the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah? I truly don’t think that’s all there is to it. Of course it’s obvious looking back can entice us into sinful behavior. I get that. But looking back can rob us of something precious—our vision.
In the book of Habakkuk, God tells Habakkuk to “write the vision and make it plan that he may run who reads it.” It’s hard to run backwards. Try it. I just did, and I almost broke my foot and Trixie looked at me like I was crazy. No, the human body was created with forward impetus in the body, as well as in he human spirit. We are designed to MOVE FORWARD. If we continually live in our past, we are destined to fail. Why? Because the Holy Spirit isn’t going that way. He moves in the present and operates in the future.

It’s not that we are unworthy. We are merely unfit. When you look at the word “unfit” it means “not of the necessary quality or standard to meet a particular purpose.” We are disqualified, just like an unfit runner in a race. We aren’t destroyed, but we just can’t run, because our legs are broken or injured. Injured athletes can’t run.

Our past may make us who we are today, but it does NOT define us. It does NOT control us, nor does it have anything to do with our God-given vision, unless it’s uniquely equipping us to do what we are called to do. For clarity, let’s look at it like this: I once won a hog calling contest. Yes. That is true information. I actually got up on stage and called hogs in front of a bunch of people. With two old men. In overalls. At a fair. Don’t even say it. But, even though that was a funny event, a tiny piece of that experience was influential in giving me the courage to start my own YouTube channel and helped me when I had to stand in front of the church and talk about ladies ministry stuff. It was just a small piece of the puzzle leading me to where I am today. When I recall that incident (and yes, it’s humorous. Add this to the mental picture: I may or may not have been wearing Hawaiian shorts at the time), it’s not with embarrassment or shame. It’s with laughter at how God works. I had no vision about my future at that point in my life. I was young and I was dumb. I didn’t realize that incident was going to factor into my future. But the experience does not make me a professional hog caller. It was merely something that happened that God used to mold me into being more, well...ME!

What are we doing to look forward? How are we shaking off the past in order to look to our future? What are we doing to live in the moment? Or are we remembering our past to the point of being paralyzed about the future? When are we gonna let go of old hurts and let God heal us? And that, my friends, the crux of the matter. Those of us who look back are far more likely to nurse old wounds than those who don’t. Which are you? Which am I? Speaking for myself, I am not much of one to bemoan my past. There are far too many hog calling similarities in it, and not humorous ones. It was not pretty, and it would be like trying to put lipstick on a pig to say it was. Why wallow in that? It doesn’t improve the looks, and it annoys the pig. Our vision MUST be forward-looking to succeed. It must be plain. It must be written, engraved, etched into both the surface and the deep recesses of our hearts. We must run and we MUST be fit, lest we disqualify ourselves from the race. We train, like a spiritual Olympian, to be ready to plow. So that when our hand hits that plow handle, WE ARE READY!!

May God bless you today, my friends! Maranatha!

Life Coaching: When An Eagle Chases a Crow

I saw something rather wonderful today…

Let me backtrack for just a moment…like most of the free world, I’ve been feeling my oats during the pandemic. I’ve vacillated between uncertainty and anger. I’ve dithered between fear and faith. I’ve dilly dallied with acceptance and frustration. I have danced with depression. I have eaten of the table of rage and slept in the bed of despair. As most of us have. I’m not always the perky little pinto you see before you. Trust me, I have times of struggle…

So after a night of crying and slinging snot and missing my Daddy, I decided to do something about it today. I got up and tuned my Pandora to a station plays good old fashioned hymns. If I’m gonna get out of a funk, I need solid, familiar music I grew up with from my young, wild days at Temple Baptist Church. Well, not so much wild…I was an independent, fundamentalist back in those days. The wildest we got was wearing jeans to the roller skating rink…

Anyway, I digress, as I am prone to do these days. Too much alone time, I reckon. I was looking out my back door and singing along to the music, looking up at the sky, which happens to be lovely and blue at the moment. As I looked and sang, a flock of birds (and when I say “flock,” I use that term loosely. It was a HERD) flew directly over my hose, headed away from me towards the highway. They were crows. They were booking out of here like Dale Junior at the Brickyard, if that’s still a thing. I haven’t watched an entire NASCAR race in a while…ok, I keep getting off track here…the crows were leaving—fast. I had a random thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if a dove was chasing these pesky crows out of here?” I don’t know why I even had that thought. I was thinking more metaphorically, like light chasing away darkness, the dove being a symbol of the Holy Spirit. That’s the way my mind was working at the time, and it felt right to me at that moment.

I started to move away from the door and go on about my day, but I immediately felt the urge to wait…wait and watch. I didn’t know quite what to expect or even why I was waiting. I had things to do. I had to go to the post office. I had stamps to lick. Dishes to wash. Hallmark movies to watch. In short, I had absolutely nothing else to do. I just stood there, looking at the sky. And waiting. Just as I was about to turn away, a gigantic bald eagle flew overhead, gliding like a dive bomber. He was chasing that herd (ok, FLOCK if you insist) away from the area, and he was relentless. I saw him swoop down above the field behind my house and (honestly, I am not making this up) round up the last couple of stragglers. I have never seen anything like it, but it was wonderful.

I know this may sound silly or simple, but have you ever had a moment, just one shining moment where you KNEW God was with you? When you KNEW the scenario was orchestrated just for you? I have had a few such “God winks” (ok, too much Hallmark) in my life, and I always want more. Sometimes Gd has a way of showing up when we least expect it and in ways we couldn’t possibly imagine. What did all this mean, you might ask? One of my life verses is Isaiah 40:31 - “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” That eagle probably meant nothing whatsoever to the average human. But to me, it was confirmation that the eagle was soaring. The eagle was gliding. The eagle was through with waiting. Time to mount up and take to the sky.

If you’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately, please take a few moments to just praise God for one thing—just one tiny thing in your life. We all have one thing. Just one. Look for him in the small, the meek, the humble. Look for Him in the great, the awe-inspiring, the magnificent. He is everywhere. Let Him permeate your being. It’s surprising what you’ll find.

God bless!

The Day After Tomorrow

I haven’t written anything in two months, but today I feel inspired. No, that’s not entirely accurate. I feel less inspired than I do motivated.

I am a person who doesn’t get motivated easily. I really like things to go along pretty steadily, with a little spice thrown in here and there. And by “spice”, I mean eating at Litton’s (a local hangout) instead of Cracker Barrel. I am pretty much a creature of habit. I wouldn’t so much say I am comfortable, because I am definitely not that. But I am extremely fond of things going smoothly. This presidential election did not go smoothly, nor will the transition go quietly. I am not a fan of that.

This years presidential election has been a wild roller coaster ride. I have never seen anything like it, nor do I ever want to again. Let me say this right here and now—Donald Trump’s tweets frequently make me facepalm myself. I am not necessarily a fan of the man, but he is the duly elected official of this country, and I respect the office of the president. I think he has done some good things and I also think he’s made some mistakes. However, he is not my moral compass and I can sleep at night knowing I’m not accountable for the way another human conducts their life. My role as a Christian is to watch and pray for whomever is in leadership at the moment, and I have done so. He is our governing authority, and as such, deserves that.

Having said that and gotten it out of the way, let me say this…a person can be all of the above and still be chosen by God to lead this country. Romans 13:1 tell us “Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God.” This statement is pretty straightforward. There is actually not a whole lot of room for misinterpretation of this scripture. Yet, we will use this verse to justify one and crucify the other. I would submit, for your consideration, that the same God who placed President Trump in power, may be getting ready to place Joe Biden in power. If we believe this verse and we believe God is in control (like we always say He is), then we must believe BOTH (if indeed we are gonna have a leadership change) are appointed for God for reasons known only to Himself. I do not presume to know the mind of God on this, nor should anyone else. All I know is that God is usually up to something, and He seldom lets me in on His plans.

The way I see it, God can put anyone He sees fit into positions of authority. We have no idea of what’s in a person’s heart. We can speculate and we can guess, but we have no way of truly knowing. That being said, God didn’t always choose the most righteous or the most holy one to be the leader of the people. He chose the weak, the cowardly, the broken. He chose the Ones who were least likely to succeed. He also chose the good, the godly, the righteous. He chose humans.

I am an evangelical Christian. I believe God’s Holy Word, and I believe God is absolutely not surprised at anything we humans do. He knows the end from the beginning, after all. Not to put too fine a point on it, we humans are a fairly predictable lot. We can mostly be counted on (if left to our own devices) to choose the lowest denominator possible. We don’t make good decisions, and we smell funny (well, some of us do). Yet, in this messy mishmash of humanity, we somehow make our way towards God. Even though we are a tribe of knuckleheads, we somehow know we lack. And there is where God does His greatest work. In order for us to improve, we first have to look for God, find Him, and receive Him. There is no other way.

Here’s the deal…at the end of the day, who are we to say someone is or isn’t our president? The children of Israel were wicked and wanted a king, so God gave them King Saul. But at no time did God ever say, “Well, I’m just giving in because this is what you want. Saul really isn’t your king. I was only joking.” Over and over again, we see God giving the people what they wanted and even turning them over to wicked rulers to bring about repentance. God has not changed.

This country is in for a drastic change. It’s time for us Christians to man up, put in our mouth guard, buckle our chin straps and get ready for the game. If we’re out of practice, we need to hit the field and do push-ups. I don’t presume to know what God has in store, but we need to be ready for whatever that is, and the only way we can BE ready is to practice using our spiritual armor, pray, practice unity, love others, and watch carefully for what’s ahead, using Gods Word as our guide.

May we be wise as serpents and harness as doves. God bless.

A Walk In The Park

I am writing this after many months of silence. Frankly, I haven’t felt like I had much to say. To be honest on a gut level, this social distancing has taken its toll, on both me and society as a whole. I am tired.

A few evenings ago, I was at the World’s Fair Park with a friend. The picture below reflects what we saw. At first glance, the picture appears quite normal, lovely…tranquil even. But in summers past, this was a fountain filled with children splashing about in the early heat of the evening. Their laughter would pierce the muggy evening, bright and startling, sharply echoing off the foothills of the Smokies. Families picnicked on the lawn, college students played Frisbee, couples walked hand-in-hand. Fortunes were won and lost on this site. Children danced. Concerts played. Secrets shared. Soccer practiced. People lived.

Now, in the relative silence, the once thriving park is mostly still. I have visited there almost weekly throughout the summer and it’s been the same every time. No fountain, no playground, and no picnicking. “Keep off the lawn” signs are prominent. And although silent (except for my flip flops beating a tattoo as I walk along), the park may be fighting back, struggling to be a vestige of it’s former self. Don’t get me wrong…it’s still well maintained. The lawn is perfectly manicured and it’s meticulously clean. No one could fault the city there. The fault lies with fear—fear of the unknown and fear of one another. We are scared, and fear has made us wary and antisocial.

Yet, there is hope. A group of young folks had gathered at the Amphitheater for an evening of praise and worship. Yes, they were sanitized. And yes, they were masked. And yes they were social distancing. But small clusters of them gathered here and there, interacting, talking and laughing. And when the music started, Jesus was praised. The music wasn’t spectacular. In fact, it was rather rudimentary. But it seemed God didn’t care. These fresh faced students were singing, lifting their hands in worship, and for a few breathless moments, there was nothing in the world that could hinder them from singing out to the One True God. It was enthralling, invigorating and humbling. Heaven touched earth. Fear fled in the face of faith. And the park was once more ignited, if only briefly.

It gave me hope—hope in the young adults that will some day lead this country. Hope for the millions of places that are sitting in desolation. Hope for new songs and new singing. But most of all, it renewed my hope in Jesus.

Dark days may be ahead. In fact, I’m quite certain there will be many of them. But hope deferred makes the heart sick. So that hope must be kept alive, lest our hearts fall ill and fade.

Worlds fair park 2020

Surviving Widowhood: Guards Around The Palace

The Lord will destroy the house of the proud, but He will establish the boundary of the widow. Proverbs 15:25

I am sitting in my living room this morning, wind blowing, rain crashing, lightening flashing, and thunder rolling. I am watching the weather on the local news and it’s fairly easy to be uneasy. The doggie and I are covered up with an old blanket, trying to chill. Really happy Trixie isn’t scared of storms…

I read this verse this morning and thought I’d share it with you. I’m not really alert yet this, having been awakened before 5:00 a.m. by a weather alert. But when I read this, it seemed to sorta fit the mood. As a life coach, I talk to folks a lot about boundaries and when and how to set them. Boundaries are necessary in order to have vital, healthy relationships. Boundaries are good things.

I have been having a bit of a writer’s block for the last few months. Honestly, it’s been rather brutal. It’s been difficult to find a topic, and frankly, I’ve seen little to inspire me. I am fairly easy to inspire, but the last four months have been intimidating, to say the least. I actually wrote the first two paragraphs in March, 2020, and am revisiting some of my unfinished blogs to garner some spark of creativity in my poor beleaguered brain. Then I found this, and felt I had to complete it. Mainly because I am again awake at 5:00 in the morning, due to a restless grandboy tossing and turning like a worm in hot ashes. Early mornings make me think. And I’m not sure I like that…

Most of the time, I no longer feel like a widow. I feel like an ordinary woman who has seen a lot of sorrow and has somehow managed to claw her way out of a hole, with Gods help. Today, however, I feel widow-ish. I have had my late husband on my mind for the last few days, and it’s been tough. Quarantine has not helped with my mental state of mind, and in fact, has made it worse. But when I read the above verse, it gave me pause. It made me think. And it comforted me.

A boundary line is much like a fortress. I envision mounted knights with jousting spears loudly proclaiming “None shall pass!” Guards around the castle, keeping enemies away. The enemy of the widow is mostly in our minds, as it is with all of us humans. We plan our strategic attacks, obliterate the enemy, or he obliterates us, all in the space of 10 seconds in our brains. Wars are waged and boundaries breached without us ever leaving the comfort of our beds. My scenarios aren’t pleasant ones, and the battle is real.

When the Lord sets a boundary line, He doesn’t play around. He says what He means and means what He says. He says, “This far shall you come, and no further.” He is the ultimate dragon slayer. He is the final thunderbolt. He is the inevitable finish at the end of a lightening strike. None shall pass.

What does this all mean? I really don’t know, most of the time. But this time, I do kinda understand. I think I get it. The Bible tells us that the Lord is near to the broken hearted, he never leaves us, and He loves us. Of course He’s going to establish our boundaries for us. That’s what someone who loves does. It’s what a parent does for their children. It’s what a husband does for their wife. It’s what one friend does for another, when they’re too weak and weary to do so themselves. A true Guardian does these things.

I am grateful I don’t have to worry about such things. God will lead me, guide me, and speak to me. He will let me know when there’s a breach. His Word does a fine job at that without any help from me. I am content with that knowledge that He’s on border patrol. It’s enough.

Life Coaching: Overcoming Fear

But the Lord is faithful; He will strengthen and guard you from the evil one. 2 Thessalonians 3:3

If there was ever a time in modern history that we need guarding, it is today. This year has absolutely been a roller coaster, and not in a good way. At least with a roller coaster you get a little break every now and then before you take that heart stopping plunge to the bottom. We have had no such respite: first the coronavirus, then the comet, then the murder hornets, then murder and mayhem. If I was a valedictorian and had to give a graduation speech this year I’d say, “I have no words except those of Winston Churchill—‘Never, never, never, never give up.’”

If ever a people had a reason to give up, 2020 is certainly it. Tomorrow when I open my newsfeed, I expect To see aliens have landed in Marrakesh. And they’re drinking tea with Crosby, Stills and Nash. Ok so maybe it’s because I just listened to that song, but the weirdness of it all would not surprise me. Perhaps this disaster of a year was actually caused by the death of John Prine, whose death has surely caused a gigantic rift in the time/space continuum.

But I digress…thank you for hanging with me on this one. I am awake at 3:00 in the morning. Never a good thing. I am coming to a point, I promise. I honestly believe when COVID-19 first made its appearance, people’s first reaction was fear—fear of the disease, fear of people, fear social distancing, but most of all, fear of the unknown. Then came the comet, whose course was supposed to impact the sun, according to some. We dodged a bullet on that. Then came the murder hornets who honestly looked like the spawn of Satan. Then a murder which was the catalyst for change. And everyone’s fear levels kept rising and rising. And rising. Mine included.

Here’s the thing…the world may end tomorrow. I don’t know that and neither does anyone else. But whether we have one minute, one day, one month, one year, 10 years, or more left on this planet, we cannot live our lives with fear at the helm. That isn’t living. It’s existing until the next object of fear comes along.

What is the answer? I don’t claim to know everything, but it would seem to me that the first thing we could do is to believe what God says. Let’s ask ourselves, “Do we believe He is faithful.?” “Do we believe He strengthens and protects us?” “Do we trust Him?” Most Christians would say yes. And I truly believe we believe that. But In those dark sleepless nights (like tonight), what do we REALLY believe? I can guarantee most of us doubt God and we doubt His word. This isn’t a scolding that’s intended to make us feel bad. Rather, it’s a call to arms—a call to examine our hearts and see what we’re lacking. Do we need more love, faith, hope, joy, comfort, peace, laughter, righteousness, companionship, relationship, forgiveness, silence, vocalization? What can we do to simply believe God?

The answer will be different for everyone. For me, it’s a matter of ceasing to strive to “fix” things. I’m a fixer. So are many others. But I can’t fix anything better than God can. He is the ultimate carpenter. He mends what’s broken and builds new things. He creates something from nothing. We can’t do that. As much I love crafting, I can never make a wreath out of thin air. No, it requires trips to the craft store and the Dollar Tree and many versions of watching “Olivia’s Romantic Home” on Youtube. Not so with God. He has never physically stood in long lines on Black Friday at Michaels or Hobby Lobby because His crafting supply was in short supply. No, The only reason for Him to be in that line is because I WAS THERE! He was there with me to strengthen me and guard me from the evil one, who wants to kill me if he could.

What’s your take away from this? It’s a bit of a ramble, but that’s ok. If it made you think and brought you closer to God, I’m good with that. God bless you!

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Change The Story

I am sitting here on my couch this morning, looking out my back door. Come to think of it, isn’t there a Creedence Clearwater Revival song about that very thing? I’m looking out my back door to try to gain some semblance of peace of mind during all the turmoil. I’ve read my Bible this morning, I’ve talked to the Lord, I’ve done some cleanup work on my business, and I’ve had a good morning. That is, until I opened my Facebook newsfeed.

For the life of me, I simply cannot understand why people have to be so doggone mean to one another. The hatred and total disregard of the opinions and more specifically, the feelings of others is mind blowing. I do not understand a world like this. I am 64 years old and we are still as a country, and as individuals struggling with racism. Why is that?

Most folks will concede the fact that murder is wrong, and it should be lawfully punished. However, folks seem to think it’s OK to murder their fellow man with their keyboards. There is a time to speak, for sure. There is also a time to remain silent. I didn’t write these words. The Bible did. I guess my questions are if we are speaking out, what are we speaking out about? And if we are remaining silent, how can we possibly combat racism? What are we speaking out against? What are we remaining silent about? What are we so scared of?

I’ve seen it written that people are afraid we are losing our country. Fair enough. But do we really understand that we don’t need to cling to a country that doesn’t promise justice for all its citizenry? Do we really understand what it is we are holding so dear? I love my country. My dad was a World War II veteran. My dad fought for liberty and justice for all our country’s citizens, not just the ones we agree with. Yet, he did not risk his young life only for people who agreed with his set of morals and his set of values. He did not fight only for white civilization. He fought against Nazi Germany and their evil plan for world dominance. He fought for the end of discrimination. He fought for the constitution of the United States which declares “all men are created equal.” My dad may not have articulated his battles in quite this way, but as an American citizen and his daughter, I am articulating it for him. Because I know how he felt about freedom. I know how he felt about Justice. And I know my dad knew God on an intimate basis.

Fast forward to the 60s and early 70s… I remember seeing rioting on TV. I remember seeing images from Kent State. I remember the Vietnam War protests. I remember POW bracelets and Woodstock. I remember a dance at my high school where a young black man asked a white girl to dance and both were ostracized for the rest of the school year. I remember listening to the scandalized voices that spoke in whispers about the incident and I remember thinking, “why? What was wrong with that?” Yet, I said nothing because I was young and dumb. Then, a few years later, I did start to speak out and was called names. I was a coward and did nothing.

I am no longer a coward. Well, maybe I am a little bit cowardly because I’m posting this in a blog instead of on The Book of Faces. The point to this entire blog is this: Racism at its finest cries the loudest that it’s not racist. It cries that it’s a Patriot. It cries that it believes in equality, as long it it suits its agenda. It cries out against injustice, but only when it doesn’t upset it’s set of values. It screams loudly, but it’s screams are too strident and shrill to be believable. If you have to use the words “I’m not racist, but…” Well, guess what? You probably are.

I came to these conclusions after a long stretch of soul-searching and long talks with God over my own heart. I didn’t consider myself a racist. I didn’t think I had racial bias. But I did. I did because I was clinging to other things more than I was clinging to what Gods Word said. At the end of the day, my opinion does not matter. The only opinion on the table for consideration is the Lord God Almighty’s opinion, and guess what? He ain’t racist. Never has been. Never will be. We Christians have made him such. Jesus was not a white man. God is not a white God. We need to stop and think about who and what we are worshipping and do we really know and understand who and what that is!

I write these things because I’m tired, my friends. I’m tired in my heart and in my soul. I’m weary with the weight of it. Lord, give me strength to serve You, to worship You and love Your people. All of ‘em. Even the ones who espouse the things I abhor. Let me love them anyway.
✌️

Let’s work together change the story!

Check Your Perspective

I haven’t written in over a month, because I haven’t felt the need to say much. Well, today, I have felt that need.

I normally try to fly under the radar. I post zero political posts on social media. I try to stay out of pointless debates. I try to live my life and mind my own business. In light of the events in Minneapolis, I can no longer do that.

The Bible teaches us to esteem others as better than ourselves. It teaches us to forgive. It teaches us to turn the other cheek. It teaches us that God is our Defender and we need no other. I agree one hundred percent. The Bible also teaches there is a payment day coming when we will pay and pay dearly for our sins. We don’t like to talk about that much…we’d rather focus on grace and mercy. But, one of the Ten Commandments is THOU SHALT NOT KILL, one that should be relatively easy to follow, but apparently it’s getting trampled more and more every day.

Let’s stop beating around the bush, shall we? George Floyd was murdered. It doesn’t matter if he was resisting arrest. It doesn’t matter if he was guilty of a criminal act. He was literally smothered to death without any sort of due process. He was murdered as he was begging for mercy. A heartless act of violence perpetrated by the police.

My grandchildren have been raised to respect law and order, to respect authority and respect police officers. I agree with this. But yet, on the other hand, they will never feel the terror of walking home and being stopped by the police because they have their hands in their pockets. They will never know the feeling of disrespect as they have their car searched while they are patted down for a random traffic stop. They will never feel less than because of the color of their skin. One some level, I’m glad they may never have to feel the sting of discrimination, but on the other hand it makes me furious for all the other innocents who DO have to feel it. It makes me righteously indignant that someone’s grandson be made to feel less than just because their skin is dark. It makes me angry that someone’s granddaughter may not get that promotion because she is viewed as not deserving because she is black. A mother will cry tonight somewhere because their child was bullied because of their skin color. Why is this still happening in this world? And more importantly, what can we do to fix it?

The words “white privilege” make me cringe just a little. I am white, but my life has been far from privileged. My family wasn’t rich, and my parents struggled to make ends meet, as many did during the 60’s and 70’s. I feel the term “white privilege” can be misleading and implies something I simply do not feel—privileged. I have led a difficult life and there has been nary a shred of “privilege” anywhere. I do, however, totally feel the words “white perspective.” Because I am white, I have a perspective on the world that is a product of my environment, my culture and my religion. I can’t view the world through anyone else’s perspective other than my own. I can, however, know my perspective is skewed and I can take whatever steps are necessary to change it.. A view from the ground and a view from a rooftop are two entirely different views. Changing perspective means something has to change. And that change has to be me. I can’t change the world, but I can change my perspective. I can change the way in which I interact with others. I can change the way I view life. I can change my thinking, and who knows what might happen if we all did that? The world is larger than just myself and if I bury my head in the sand because this situation doesn’t impact me personally, then I am no better than the policemen who perpetrated this atrocity.

I know this blog is hard. It’s not going to be universally loved. And that’s perfectly fine. I have to sleep in peace at night with my actions and my reactions to wrongs. I am good with that because I am taking a stand for what is right. Murder is WRONG. There IS only one side of this story…it’s the side that is right. Call it what it is. I don’t pretend to know the stress that police officers face every day. I’m sure it’s tremendous. But if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! There is zero excuse. None. Nada. It’s one thing to restrain a prisoner. It’s quite another to press your knee on their neck until you kill them. It appears to me to be a clear case of abuse of power. And there’s no excuse for that. Perhaps, you might say, the officer didn’t mean to actually kill the man. Tell that to the victims family. Try to make that excuse stand up before God. It won’t. Ever.

I am truly not a pot stirrer. I like peace and quiet . I deplore conflict and drama. But the only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. What are we gonna do? What changes are we willing to make in our lives in order to STOP THE MADNESS! I suggest the following: Stand for justice. Stand for equality. Stand for righteousness. Refuse to be silent when we see wrongdoing. And most of all, Pray. Pray for right to prevail. Pray for justice to be served. Pray for God to intervene on behalf this sick country of ours. But pray. Pray loud. Speak loud. Follow God’s leading and let Him heal this rift between our brothers and sisters. Be strong and be courageous, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go (Joshua 1:9).

“If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourSelf and make a change.” Michael jackson “man in the mirror”

Life Coaching: Wigging Out

Most of my followers know I review wigs on my YouTube channel. It’s something I started in an effort to make people think outside the box, and I wanted to make people laugh. It’s what I live for.

Recently, I was contacted by a wig company I review for, and they were launching their Spring line. They wanted to send me a wig to review and a wig to give away. This company was the first “major” wig company to approach me to review after I started my channel. In short, they believed in me, and we have had a great collaboration ever since.

Part of the deal was that I had to go live on YouTube, and I was scared half to death. I’d been live on Facebook, but that was normally around 20-30 people or less. I have over 4600 subscribers on my YouTube channel, and what if they all decided to watch at the same time? I prayed two things: One, that I wouldn’t be petrified and mess the whole thing up; and two, that the person who won the wig would be someone who really needed it. I couldn’t bear the thought that someone with 25 premium wigs in their closet would win this wig, when there are ladies going through chemo who can’t afford one. Ya know?!?

To make a long story short, the lady who won had had a very rough time of it. She’s lost all her hair, her husband was going through chemotherapy, she was going on for surgery today and she had no money to buy a decent wig. God heard my prayer and He answered that prayer. He is good.

I am telling this story because there is a lot of talk going around this country to only buy products made in America. Listen, folks, I am as patriotic as the next person. But think about this…if the wig company hadn’t believed in me, if the fellow hadn’t contacted me, if he hadn’t had a working relationship with me, if they hadn’t given me the wig, if I didn’t have the wig to give away, if the woman hadn’t been blessed with the wig ( I know that’s a lot, but bear with me)…I wouldn’t have been able to tell this story to the man at the wig company whom I collaborated with…in China. Let that really sink in. I was able to talk about GOD (Jehovah, the Great I Am, the Mighty One) to a fellow thousands of miles away in a communist country who may have never heard the Name of the One True God!

He may delete my email. He may never collaborate with me again. He may do a lot of things. I have no control over that. But I know this for sure—we cannot cut our ties with an unbelieving world. How will they ever hear about Jesus if we do? There are a LOT of our fellow brothers and sisters in China that work in those factories. They depend on our American dollars to feed themselves and their families. I don’t want that on my head.

I’m not trying to be political here. I’m merely trying to point out this—we don’t know what God can use to bring about His Will here on this earth. We simply do not know. That why He’s God and we’re not. Let’s rest in the not knowing. We don’t have to know everything, after all.

Life Coaching: Childhood Games And The Dud

When I was a kid, my sister and I had a game called “Mystery Date.” It was a weird little game, the premise of which was to open a door and get a dream date with a guy holding a carnation or a set of skis. But then, there was the Dud…a messy dude with rumpled hair who resembled John Belushi in The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave. No one wanted the Dud. Except…me. I always thought the Dud looked more fun than the buttoned down carnation holder or the preppie with the skis. The Dud had been places. The Dud knew things. The Dud was a rock star…I had questions for the Dud. My mother was disturbed.

When I look back on those moments of nonconformity in my life, I am ashamed to say that’s it’s taken me all these years to embrace who I am—a Dud lover. I revel in the unusual. I dance with the odd. I examine the different. And I actually kinda love that about myself. It took me years to figure out I loved the Dud because I AM THE DUD! I am the one who’s a little out of sync. I’m the one who is content with funky costume jewelry when I could’ve had a diamond. I’m the one who has curly toes. I’m the one who has ice cream stains on her tee shirt. I am the one who sits in quarantine and makes weird videos. I am indeed the Dud. And I like myself and I like Duds.

it’s ok to be a nonconformist in a world that tries to stuff us into a box. We were created to be individuals who worship God in unique individual ways. Maybe we shout it from the rooftops, or maybe we whisper it in the basements, but our hearts soar in His majesty as we uniquely and corporately contemplate His greatness and His goodness.

Don’t despise the Dud. The Dud hears his own drummer, however measured or far away. The Dud is going about his business, happily fulfilling his purpose and his calling. The Dud wasn’t scared to knock at the door exactly the way he was, humble, messy and broken. He KNEW he was a Dud. Yet, he knocked. He stood unashamed in his “Dud-ness” and he was ready to rumble.

There are worse things to be. As I embrace my “Dud-ness” this morning, I am happy in who I am. Are you? What can you do to embrace your uniqueness? What can you turn over to God to be used for His glory? What steps can you take? What does it look like to you? These are questions to contemplate today, while we have time on our hands.

Here’s a little secret: We are all Duds. Jesus just wipes the crust out of our eyes, pulls us out of a mud pit and plants us firmly on solid ground. He love our “Dud-ness”. And He always will.

A Blast From The Rooftop or A Whisper From The Cellar?

Blow the trumpet in Zion, And sound an alarm in My holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble; For the day of the Lord is coming, For it is at hand: Joel 2:1

It has been a while since I’ve written anything. To be honest, I haven’t felt at all inspired. The state of the world and the state of my mind have seemed to go hand-in-gloomy-hand. I’ve been anxious. I’ve been fearless. I’ve been worried. I’ve been at rest. I think it’s fair to say I’ve been messed up and mixed up.

Until yesterday. Yesterday, I had a moment of clarity that has remained with me throughout the day, through the night, and is still here today. It’s a simple thing, really, at the heart of the matter. I had forgotten who I was and what my purpose and mission on this earth was to be. I just needed reminding.

My pastor sent an outline to us to meditate on for a couple of weeks, since we aren’t having church because of this wretched virus. My favorite day of the week has been disrupted and hijacked by an unknown entity. But in that outline, I re-discovered my purpose, something I may never have done while sitting and listening to a sermon. I’m not sure if this is what he intended, but it’s what I got from it, and for that I am very grateful!

We Christians weren’t reborn to be passive, weak creatures. No, we were meant to be warriors. We are in a battle—a battle for our very souls and the souls of others. And we were meant to sound an alarm. We are reborn to blow the trumpet, to be watchmen and watchwomen on the fortress wall, like the sentries of old. And we need to learn how to do that again.

Some would say being a trumpet blower is harshly rebuking the wrongs of others. Some would say it’s all about love, love love, no need for rebuke. And still others say there’s no need for a loud trumpet sound at all. I suspect all of the aforementioned are true in some respects. Some people respond well to rebuke. Some respond to love. Some respond to whispers. Yet, some respond to nothing. And I fear our society won’t hear unless the trumpet blares out an ear-splitting sound. I think the Apostle Paul put it best: “I must be all things to all people, in order that I might win some.”

So how do we sound the alarm? How do we blow that trumpet so that it blasts, but doesn’t deafen. I am still working on that one myself. The warrior part of me wants to sound a “barbaric yawp”, much like Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart. And the cry “FREEDOM” does spring to mind…Yet, the words of the Apostle Paul just will not leave me alone. Love is patient, love is kind, love keeps no record of wrongdoings. There is a time to scream from the rooftops, and there is a time to whisper from the valley. The wisdom is knowing which is which.

It is my firm belief that this is the time to speak truth. The REAL truth, not our version of it. The REAL truth is that Jesus Christ was born, crucified, rose again, and is coming back. The REAL truth is that two things leads us to repentance: Godly sorrow and the goodness of God. Without those two things, and without true knowledge of those two things, repentance will not come. No amount of trumpet blowing, screaming, love, or silence will cause true change of heart. Without the proper heart alignment, change will not happen. Ever. Yet, in the book of Joel, Chapter 2, we are commanded to blow the trumpet and sound the alarm.

I said all that to say this…We sound the alarm because we are commanded to do so. We can’t worry about the outcome. The outcome is God’s business, not ours. We only obey with love. Because those we love, we warn. Those we love, we attempt to keep from harm’s way. Those we love we temper our words with kindness and grace. But those we love we also reprimand. We reprimand in love, but we reprimand with truth. It’s our responsibility to stay in that love and be “all things to all people.”

This is short, and difficult to write. My temperament is such that I enjoy people immensely and I love approval. I am proud of the fact that I love people. I am not so proud of the fact that I love approval. I am sure some won’t like what I’ve written. I’m okay with that. I’m merely trying in my own confused way to make sense of the world and my purpose in it.

Be blessed.