Challenge

Lately I've felt like there was more to life than what I was accepting. The devotion I get everyday through email from Proverbs 31 ministries really got my attention and made me realize just what my purpose is and that when my eyes are on my Lord and Savior then the little things in life lose their power over me and the greater purpose gives me great hope and joy. Check out what God shared with me this morning:

Honoring God with Your Life
By Marybeth Whalen

“It never occurs to them to say, ‘How can we honor our God with our lives, The God who gives rain in both spring and autumn and maintains the rhythm of the seasons.” Jeremiah 5:24 (NIV)

Devotion:
Last night God brought a little boy to my mind. This little boy is nothing special. He has never been on the front page of a newspaper or achieved a world record. No one recognizes his name; he isn’t a celebrity by the world’s standards. And yet, he was on my mind last night, though I’ve never met him personally. I just know about him because I read something his mother wrote years ago.

At about eight years-old, he felt burdened to start a cookie ministry for elderly people, new neighbors, and others in his life. And so, each week this little boy would make a big batch of Snickerdoodle cookies (I still remember what kind because they sounded so good), divide them into packages, pile them in his wagon and deliver them to whoever was on his list for that week. He would visit with the people and sometimes share a verse or prayer with them and be on his way. Some people heard about what he was doing and donated money to pay for the ingredients in his cookies, and he enjoyed having his very own ministry at a young age.

It has been many years since I read that, and I imagine that little boy is a young man now. I don’t have any idea what he is doing, but something tells me that he is still finding creative ways to honor God with his life. As I thought of him last night, I was struck by how flimsy my excuses must sound for not being more purposeful about ministering to others. What keeps me from reaching out to those around me—the hurting, the grieving, the sick, or the hopeless? What makes me shrug my shoulders and walk away? Why does a little boy’s cookie ministry matter? Because he used what he had and he did what he could. And I know I could stand to do the same.

We are supposed to honor God with our lives. And yet, we have a million reasons for not doing so. Money, time, and resource constraints are popular excuses—and yet, this little boy was bound by the same things. I know that even if I just bake a loaf of banana bread and take it to someone that God puts on my heart, then that is honoring God with my life. Sometimes it is in the simplest of acts that we make the biggest impact. Instead of making excuses and leaving ministry to other people, I can set out to do what I can with what I have.

Many years later this young man’s cookie ministry has served to inspire a busy woman to honor God with her life. He has no idea how impacting his example was on me. I hope he has inspired you as well.

Dear Lord, help me to act on the things You lay on my heart and not make excuses or feel silly or inadequate. Help me to see the bigger picture in the little things You call us to do. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

God is Mighty to Save

May the beauty of salvation embrace you, may your need for Christ capture you, and may the power of the Cross overwhelm you.

The Room by Joshua Harris

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the mysterious array of black filing cabinets. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked “Lust,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?
Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.”
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Of Men, or of God?

I've noticed lately that I worry a lot about the opinions of others. I am consumed by worry sometimes wondering if something I've done is good enough or if something I said was wrong and I constantly seek the approval of others. Not until last night, in light of this beautiful holiday, did I realize that worrying about the opinion of others is SO futile.

My honey sent me this verse last night, "Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."--Galations 1:10

**Side note: Speaking of my honey, he's blogging now! Check out his blog @ http://www.sweetwilliet.blogspot.com/ . (Yes, it says sweet willie T)

Back to what Jesus is doing in my life...I must admit that after I read his text, I was uber convicted. I didn't sleep very well last night battling worry. Praise this Lord that this morning I was a lot less stressed about the upcoming (in just a few hours) Christmas meal with my rents and future inlaws.

What God showed me this morning is that the reason we celebrate today is not about how great the gifts are or what the meal is like. It's all about the fact that Jesus was born and that we get to go to heaven because He lived, died, and rose again. Who cares if the soup is good or if someone already has the present you bought them? We get to spend eternity in heaven because God sent his son into this world that we might be saved. Why should I worry about what others think when the creator of the universe loved me enough to send his son to die so that I could hang out with him for the rest of eternity?

Are you trying to win the approval of men, or of God?

Texas

If you don't see posts for a while, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my blog. I'm going to be in Texas visiting the future fam from Saturday until the 22nd. Feel free to leave me some lovin! PEACE

101--my 3rd post today.

I'm a loser. This is my third post today. What else am I supposed to do when I'm sick?! Huh?!

Ok...so when I say something funny, I have to share it with the world, b/c it doesn't happen that often. My friend Allie said that I didn't have the teacher look b/c I wasn't wearing those vests with numbers and letters on them and I made her promise me that she would not let me become frumpy when I student teach next semester...then came the funny thing I said. "I'M TOO YOUNG TO FRUMP!!" I think it was funny. It might not be all that funny to you, but I made myself laugh...and laughter is the best medicine, which reminds me it's time for my meds. I'm going to kill this schtinkind cold before I go to Texas.

Oh btw...I'm going to Texas this Saturday to see Will's family. I'm sure I will post some videos from my new camera when I return! auf vida sin