Fair Warning...

Photo Credit Creative Commons

I am having one of those moments this morning... One of those, I-really-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me moments where I go all bat-crap crazy and say EXACTLY what is on my mind. There it is... Fair warning, the shot over the bow, whatever you want to call it - I have given it.

I am feeling pissy and defensive and downright self-ritous. Yeah, yeah... I hear the doomsday music too, but sometimes you have to forge ahead and say it anyway, right?

I am so sick and tired of defending my stance that Christians are not these sterile, never have any fun, never laugh at themselves, never take a drink, never crack a sideways joke types that once they "drank the Kool-Aide" have to sit on the sidelines with pursed lips and wagging index fingers, judging everyone who does. Sick. Of. It. I don't believe it, I don't ascribe to it, and I won't be shut up by those who do.

Let me make this crystal clear - No holds barred.

I AM A CHRISTIAN WOMAN. I am not perfect. I say things I shouldn't. I drink. I don't smoke now, but I did at one time. I have tried certain drugs. I slept with men that weren't my husband as a young woman. I made mistakes. I found Christ. I pray daily that I never forget the place I have come from because: #1 - I could be back there with the blink of an eye; #2 - My testimony may be exactly what someone needs to know the unconditional love of Christ. I have developed a love for Christ and His desires for me that none can know but myself and Him. If I offend you because you don't like what I say, if your sensibilities are affronted because I refuse to pretend perfection, if you somehow have managed to excise all sin from your own life and cannot be party to me and mine - I wish you well. I will not beg you to stay. I will wish you no harm.

I believe that there are plenty of people out there who have been wooed by the Holy Spirit, only to be chased away by those same pursed-lipped, wagging-fingered zealots who started out the new Christian's education with all manner of "don'ts". I shake my head at that and the frustration rises... How different would the body of Christ be if we could somehow shake our preconceived notions and let all manner of person revel in the love that He wants to shower on us. How amazing would life be if the love of God was allowed to be experienced, untainted by our own fears and baggage? If I were covered in tattoos, piercings and had a drug addled past am I any less acceptable to God? Am I somehow damaged goods? If I love Him and He loves me, how is it right to hear people say I somehow cannot have purchase unless I cover up, shut up, look more the part? What does a Christian look like anyway?

Let's pretend (and let's all thank the Lord this isn't real!): If it were natural for a mark or scar to appear on your body every time you sinned, even though you love Christ, would it be fair for those with fewer marks (if there are any), to judge you? If for every sin, the mark was indiscernible from the next (because all sins are equally horrendous in God's sight), could you stand in judgement of another, not knowing what it was they earned the mark for? Even if you knew what caused the mark to appear, do you have the right, as a sinful human being with marks of your own, to judge your brother? Or is that domain of the Almighty alone? Maybe God doesn't mark out our sins because we all have them and every one of them is a personal affront to him no matter how "big" or "small" they are. Or maybe God does mark out our sins by covering us in human flesh. Just a thought...

I am not an idiot, I get it. We should all attempt to be more like Christ with every moment we have on this earth. I understand that there are new Christians out there that may find my brand of frankness off-putting and confusing. I am not saying I don't have flaws or that my sins are justified. Not at all. I am saying that living out loud is incredibly important to me. I am also recognizing that Christ sat with sinners, ate with prostitutes, associated with crooks, thieves and political aspirants. He didn't deny them a seat at his side. What right do I have to not do as Jesus did? And He also states very clearly in His Word, that there is no way on Earth that we can ever possibly be sin-free. Hmmmm....

(Takes deep breath...) Not everyone has to like me. I am not going to be everyone's brand of Christianity. I am ok with that. But do not mistake my admission of my fallibility for acceptance of such. I try daily to balance out the "bad dog" inside with the Christ-loved aspirations I harbor. I want to reach as many people as I can but I refuse to do it behind a faćade. I will love all of Christ's people with arms that once did nothing but evil. I will listen to them confess Christ with ears that once heard nothing but despair. I will encourage them with a mouth that cannot be tamed and fails in constancy. I AM A CHRISTIAN WOMAN, and I am loved by One who knows every hair on my head and every hope in my heart. I dare you to tell Him I am not worthy...

Hope in My Heart

Photo courtesy of Eli Paulsen

I could hear the other horses milling about in their stalls. The quiet contrast of the barn at night is so stark it's hard to comprehend how busy we are during the day. I was here on a whim, running something to the freezer, but something told me to look in on her. Standing outside the stall is never good enough - I had to go in. I squatted down, back against the wall and waited as my legs fell painfully asleep. Just being in her presence calmed my breathing, slowed my mind, made things simpler in an otherwise exhausting day.

Her mother eyed me suspiciously. I scratched her neck and she relaxed with a sigh as I squatted to peer at the foal, standing opposite me at her mother's side. The big mare dutifully snuffled at my hair, lipped at my cheeks and generally checked me out before turning to allow the foal a closer look. This little one was not like the last. She was not as curious, not as willing to fly in the face of her mother's protective stance to check out the two-legger encroaching on their night. I held my breath and prayed my legs would hold up.

She nursed from her mother and stretched her neck to sniff at me, tiny nostrils flaring with each breath. Her big brown eyes were tranquil pools of mild curiosity. I cautiously reached out with fingertips to touch her  muzzle... Softer than I could imagine and such a treat, I sat stock-still, hoping for her curiosity to get the better of her. She inched closer, walking under her mother's belly on tiny, halting hooves. The mare nickered her approval softly and I quit breathing for a moment...

The filly stretched her elegant neck out as far as it would reach and lipped softly at my fingertips. I closed my eyes and felt as her mouth determined that my hand held no milk. It was only a second, a short fleeting moment after long stretches of waiting and legs that couldn't move any more... But in that instant my heart melted into the goo that would love her all the more come morning.

Her name is Hope and she is filled with promise...

It Isn't Fair...

Photo Credit: Morgan Nati

He stood there, amazed. Slack jawed and more than a little irritated; he was fuming! After a long day's work in the fields he was returning to bedlam. Where was his father? The revelers were dancing and playing instruments, the smell of roasted meat filled his nostrils and not far away a familiar but heartbreaking sound of a man's voice filled his ears. He pushed his way past the partiers, to find his brother seated with his father. Laughing and feasting he was wearing one of Father's finest robes over tattered rags and as his hand reached for another chunk of succulent meat he caught a glimpse of the ring as it shone in the firelight. A ring? The robe? Really? Fury began to build in his gut, fiery and acid with the taste of betrayal. As his father looked up and saw him, he spun on his heels. He couldn't stand it any longer - He had to get out of there before he exploded.

"Son?" His father caught up with him outside the large tent. "Won't you come in and celebrate with us? Your younger brother has returned! He is back!"

"How could you?" His heart pounded loudly in his ears, his chest near bursting with anger and humiliation. "How could you treat him like a king when you know as well as I do he was laying with prostitutes and wallowing with pigs? He wasted everything you gave him! Why on earth are you celebrating?"

"But he is back! Your brother is back - We had to celebrate!" His father looked genuinely confused.

"He doesn't deserve it. I never asked you for anything, yet he demands it all and you give it to him! You never threw me a feast for being the good son... It isn't fair!"

Have you been there? Have you ever watched as someone less deserving got the best piece of the pie? Have you ever wondered if there is justice in this world? I have. Many times. I have watched as our own family struggled, ate less than glamorously, didn't vacation, prayed as our business languished. I have looked up from the devastation that I felt and seen those that are so smug and wasteful, less than Christianly, prosper and flourish. I have watched as others enrich themselves on the soil of our despair... It was terrible. It was excruciatingly painful. It wasn't fair.

So where is God's justice? I mean, we hear about how fair He is and how He will be our ultimate Judge at the end of time. Does that mean that we don't get justice until then? We have to wait until the Rapture and return of Christ to see those that are undeserving get what's coming to them? Well, do we????

If I am waiting for that kind of justice, I hope to be waiting a very long time. I hope, for all of our sakes, that it is never fair.

God's love isn't built on justice. It isn't measured out in deserving spoonfuls based on what I have done for Him or how much I have tried to be a "good girl." Thank God for that! God's love - What we all crave whether we are aware of it or not - God's love is based in Mercy and Grace. I cannot earn it or achieve it. I can only ask for it. The very best part about having Him operate that way? If I ask for His love, genuinely and humbly, He will give it every time. Without fail, God will never deny me His love and His grace. That means no matter how ugly I have been, no matter how selfish, how hateful, how murderous my heart, God will always open His arms and welcome me back to His celebration. I am never turned from His table of plenty. He will never ask that I sit in the corner and watch as others eat. He always has my seat reserved for me.

I am comforted by that - for me. I don't much like it when I see others I judge as unworthy allowed the same grace. Why? Because my justice is skewed, my grace is nonexistent, I am without mercy in my heart. I am human. He is God. I look at the situation and want to view the repentance in action. I want to see that the person is really going to be sorry and change their ways. I look at the outward view of a man. God looks at the man's heart. He sees the repentance where it starts, He looks into the soul and judges there - There, where I cannot go.

It seems too easy, doesn't it? That someone can just say, "I'm sorry," to God and He accepts it without prejudice. It doesn't seem fair or right... It is the same with salvation. You don't have to DO anything. You only have to ask and viola! It is done for you. You instantly become a part of the family with all rights to inherit the kingdom of God. You would think that people would be signing up by the droves to get that kind of booty. They don't. It's too easy. Our human nature says there has to be some kind of ceremony, some sort of sacrifice...

The ease in which you and I are saved from an eternity of darkness came at a very high price, the ultimate in sacrifice. The only person to ever live this life without sinning (not even once) took all of it on for us. He did it all! Christ did everything we couldn't do, so that He could climb onto a cross and be covered in every sin - EVERY SIN - past, present and future! His own Father, who vows never to turn from us, turned from Him so that we could have it so easy.

I won't tell you that I don't struggle with the prodigal son thing... I won't tell you that I don't wonder at times why on Earth God allows such painful injustice to wallop me on the head and bring me low. I will tell you I get it. I get that God wanted it to be so easy that to not accept His love would be folly. I get that if I am allowed His grace for every nasty thing I have done and will do, I have to allow others the same process. God's love isn't fair.... And aren't I glad of that?! After all, I am the only one that stands in my way from attending the same feast - And if you know me, you know I rarely miss a party!

Be blessed... not fair.

Simple Stuff

I know! It has been too long! (Reaches out and gives you that uncomfortable "pat-pat" hug.) I try desperately not to give apologies or false hope here. I won't tell you "real life got in the way" or that I have been very, very busy - All of which is true. I will tell you that this is still my happy spot and I miss you when I don't show up here. I have been out in Analog World doing Me.

Me? Well this chick is a mess! She does things like lays laminate floor and crochets sweaters, draws cell phone covers and decorates glassware. She has a card business and lots of creative ideas. She writes reams and then doesn't write at all. She's simple and she's complex and all of that inside a 30 nano-second time span. I won't pretend to know why I have been out of the blogosphere for the last two weeks, I only know that I have accomplished much, gotten some much needed chores done, reclaimed an entire room in my home, lost a dog and been dealing with an insurance company. It has been a little hectic... And yet, I have been happy. Well... As happy as I can be when I am not writing.

Writing is just so much of who I am. It is the essence of Me. When you do what you love it is as if you suddenly exist. When I neglect it - Well, I become shadow - bodiless mist, as it were. Don't feel sorry for me, I can be damned productive shadow-mist! But I still pine for that space in my head that feeds my writer-self. I miss it. And so... Here I am!

It hasn't been an easy week, but I am still here, all of my loved ones are safe and the hard decisions are made. It is in these weeks, when I rely on God most, that I become aware again of how important it is to say thank you for the simple things and take a moment to appreciate them fully. Here is my list:

• I love the smell of fresh ground, fresh brewed coffee, hot in my mug, the color of warm caramel.
• I love to see my dog stare at me. Such innocence and love, unconditional and unwavering.
• I love realizing that the cat who loves only my husband is sitting next to me and allowing me to absently stroke his incredibly soft head. I love that he pretends not to notice I am touching him and I love that I touch him without thinking about it.
• I love that if you leave honey and lemons in a mason jar long enough they ferment into a lovely addition to your Vodka.
• I adore text messages from my love. He gets me... Mostly.
• I love my bed and the sound of my fingernails on the keyboard. They remind me that I am doing what I love in the best spot in the house, surrounded by the things that I love and love me back.
• I love the smell of cut lumber.
• I love the feeling I get when I accomplish something I was afraid to start (Yes, laminate floor and cardigan sweater, I am talking about you!)
• I love remembering to write things down so I don't forget them later and then actually remembering where I wrote them so I have them at my disposal when the time comes...
• I love the feel of crisp, fresh paper
• I love knowing that all of my choices, good and misguided, make me who I am and no one can say they have done it exactly like I have.
• I love feeling my purple converse get wet from the slush because it means we have snow on the ground.
• I love knowing that no matter what I fear, God already knows how it turns out.
• I love the curls and waves in my hair that are so trendy right now and all I have to do is give it a spritz and I am done...
• I love being a sister.
• I love finding a bargain at the Goodwill at just the right moment and confirming that it was a really good deal!
• I love just being...

What are your simple things? Say thank you right now and count them out loud!

Be blessed!

Fitting It All Together

Photo Credit Creative Commons

I grew up thinking everything had to have a purpose. I don't know why and I don't know how it came to be my modus operandi. It just did. Suddenly I was sitting in my grown up life and everything had to have a reason for doing. You ate when you were hungry, you spoke when there was information to impart, you moved because things needed doing... All of it had links to something important in your life. Homework was to get you to college. Jobs were to teach you responsibility. Careers were to earn money and buy things, have a family, do the right thing. It all linked together in this jigsaw puzzle of life and someday, when I was grown up, it would look like something spectacular. The trouble is, I had these pieces that didn't seem to fit the rest of the puzzle.

I had pieces that I loved. Pieces that were shiny, beautiful and touchable but they didn't fit into the puzzle. They didn't have the same tones, the same shape... So I set them aside. I left them there to gather dust and wondered if there would ever come a time where the puzzle they belonged to would surface and I could make them fit somehow. I waited for permission and purpose to use those pieces.

I don't usually watch much tv before I write. It saps me of creativity. Sunday Morning on CBS is different. The format pokes my creative spirit in the ribs and asks, "Did you hear that? Did you see what they did there?" I love it. Seeing the artists they feature and hearing stories of how they came to be so in tune with themselves... It gives my muddied muse a douse with the garden hose and lifts me back up to the easel. I get inspired.

Today I watched a piece about rock and roll artist turned Broadway musical creator, Trey Anastasio, formerly of Phish. It was soothing and pleasantly enjoyable until his parting words slammed into my chest, "I love writing music. It's like food!" Not that I love writing music, that wasn't where I instantly related. It was the "I love _______. It's like food!" Put in that space anything that fills you up, anything that truly rejuvenates you, completes you in ways that all of your chores for purpose don't. That was what struck me today. There are things that I do in life because they need done and there are things that I do in my life because they feed me. FEED ME... It was as if I had in earplugs and I finally removed them to hear that desperate plea, now so loud it was shocking. I had been ignoring that cry because I had other things to do; important, purposeful things... I was drowning out the pleas, waiting for permission.

The epiphany wrung my heart with surprising strength. The puzzle pieces that sit outside my daily life: my writing, my artistry - They are not pieces to be set aside to gather dust or be forgotten. Worse yet, they are not pieces to be used as rewards for a job well done in purpose-puzzle-land but a vital part of me to be cultivated and grown and built upon in their own right. If I cannot fit those pieces into the puzzle of daily life then I need to build another puzzle. I must start by realizing that those fragments, whimsical and fragile and frivolous, refuel my desires and my abilities to stick with a puzzle filled with responsibilities and things I have to do.

I had a meltdown the other day. I was overwhelmed, frustrated and desperate. As in most times like that, my mother called. I don't know if she has a radar for my moods, but she could instantly tell that something was off with me. I poured out my heart to her, I explained my frustration, I cried, I admitted that I hadn't a creative drop of juice left in me. Her answer was not to head into the house and get some laundry done. It wasn't her advice to clean a bathroom or head up to the office and do some accounting or web updates. Her advice was to go out to my studio and soak it up. Even if I did nothing at all but sit on my couch and take in the light, she advised me to go to my happy place and just BE. She told me that not everything has to have a purpose to be good for us. It was like a balm to an open wound. It soothed me and gave me permission to minister to myself.

As a woman and a caregiver I tend to deny myself that luxury of doing for me. I feel guilty if I am not serving someone else's need. I hold myself to a standard no one could achieve and one that I am sure God didn't intend for me to model. I was created to serve a God who wants me to be lit afire, burning brightly and cheerily, giving to others without draining myself of my own fuel. That "food" that I crave it is like a Sabbath to my soul. It feeds me in ways that I don't always understand. Like different cuisines, each of us craves something unique. I am fed by putting words on a page, by creating art that touches others. It becomes a Sabbath refuge for me - A place of rest and rejuvenation. It is in this space that I feel most alive, most myself, most ME. Seems counter-intuitive that I would avoid being more of who I am, doesn't it? It is time to change that perception.

Those odd puzzle pieces aren't a part of my daily routine quite yet, but I am turning them over in my hands now. I am studying them and starting to look for other pieces that will fit. Someday they will become a part of the larger picture. Until that day, I will build on them in their own right. I will create around them and be refreshed by that sensation - The sensation of being full, being satisfied - being Me.


Be blessed - And be YOU!

After God's Heart

Photo credit: Creative Commons

He stood there, in his youth, fresh, strong, ruddy and handsome. He felt the rush of blood through his veins and excitement sped his heart rate to ear pounding levels. He was in the presence of every one of his brothers, his father and the leading holy man of his time. He knew he'd heard it right, there was no denying it - And from the looks on the faces of his kin, it was no less shocking to them either. David had been anointed as the next king of Israel. There were some details he didn't understand, of course - like how he could be king when Saul was currently on the throne - But that didn't matter right now. He would be king... Soon!

I love David. I thank God that He let us know his story intimately. David was small, a shepherd (one of the lowest jobs you could have at the time) and not your typical hero. He was hot tempered (yeah, I can relate to that), red headed (one of my people!) and he screwed up on a regular basis. These things are not what Hollywood would have you believe make up the most recognized hero of the Bible. But most people, even non-Christians, have heard at least part of David's epic tale. Yeah, he's THAT guy. David is the diminutive under-dog that killed the giant. He's also the guy that fell in love with Bathsheba, another man's wife, and had her husband killed so that he could take her for his own. I cherish the allowance God gives us with letting us see David for such a long period in his life. To be able to learn that he starts out strong, is pursued by evil, kicks evil's butt, fails, then epically fails and ultimately ends up exactly as God says he would is a treasure trove of love. I strongly advise reading David's story (1 Sam 17:1-1 Ki 2:10), it is beyond amazing. Be warned, his rule spanned 40 years and he was a busy guy... Not to mention the years before he ruled.

Yeah, that is what I am really talking about here. David was dubbed King of Israel amid his family by the prophet Samuel FOURTEEN YEARS before the crown was laid on his head! Fourteen years, people! And we get impatient waiting for our burger and fries... Before we dismiss that thought with a sage nod of the head and let our brains wash out how long that actually is let's think about it. There isn't one thing I have waited for in my life for that long a period of time. There is only one thing in my world that even comes close and that is my son - He is fourteen. (yeah... Moving on!) Imagine being told you won the lottery... Now imagine that your first check won't come for fourteen years! That's right, you have to go on working for the same boss, worrying about the same bills and responsibilities, deal with the same lines at the grocery store and live in the same house. You have the winning ticket, you know you won, but for fourteen years nothing is going to change. And here's the kicker, you know it will be fourteen years - David didn't know when he would finally be king! Are you getting it like I am?

The years David spend waiting for that moment he would get to wander the halls of palaces and be waited on hand and foot were long and arduous. Not because he lived in ancient times without running water, indoor facilities and wi-fi, but because he was pursued. Yup. The current king was being ousted, but it was going to take a while and in that time period, King Saul found out who his successor would be. Um, can I say that he wasn't thrilled? It made him cuckoo, in fact - literally. Saul went nutty trying to make sure he would stay king as long as he possibly could. He drifted from having David among his court members playing musical interludes (where he also used little Davey for target practice) to chasing the young ginger in and out of caves, around the country-side and onto fields of battle.

If you thought that made any difference in what our young hero did, you would be wrong. David proved to be a resourceful man. We all know the story of how he took down Goliath when everyone else hid, but you have to read on to see how loyal, inventive and intelligent he is after the meeting with Samuel. He is fearless in his youth and nothing seems to sway him. He stays in service to King Saul as long as he can, only leaving when his best friend, the kings own son, advises him and aids him in his escape. He then partners up with some men of questionable reputation (some of them open criminals) and wanders the countryside, trying to stay just out of Saul's reach. He is pursued relentlessly, hungry often, worried for his men, his family and himself and he is often exhausted beyond comprehension. He has lost the company of his best friend, he is under a death warrant for something he didn't ask for and it all seems surreal and unfair.

How easy it would have been for David to chuck it all and figure he somehow got it wrong. To think that David could have walked away, thrown the inheritance of a kingdom and the glory of God down the drain is a testament to his perseverance and his patience. He had every right to say "forget it!" He didn't deserve the wrath of a crazy king. He didn't do anything to be left friendless. He was a godly man who started out a lowly shepherd, did a courageous act in battle for his country no one else would step up to do, and he had been thrown aside and forsaken, even it seemed, by God. He could have done all that, and we would have understood. Except for one thing... He didn't.

David was patient and he persevered. David trusted God and what He said through Samuel. He didn't need to be reminded over and over that God had said he would be king. He knew it. He trusted that God doesn't lie. More importantly, David understood the magnitude of the job. To be king of Israel would take a man that could lead a people reputed for their stubbornness and refusal to obey God's commands. To be king and survive it in humility, David had to learn strength and reliance on the one person who could see him succeed: GOD. He doesn't do it perfectly. In fact, he becomes a murderer and an adulterer, he loses children because of his own sin and he is not allowed to build things he once thought he would. He deals with consequences that most of us would crumple under. He perseveres.

I love David and his story because it shows me how trivial my problems must look. It gives me a focus that is so simple and clear: Do it because it pleases God. It is that plain. Because it pleases God... Not because I will get anything from it, although I may. Not because I will have fame and followers, although I might. Do it because God has asked it of me and my obedience pleases Him.

Whatever you are going through, be reminded that patience and perseverance are rewarded mightily at the hand of a God that knows every hair on your head. He loves you, wants to bless you and will discipline you with the hand of a devoted father. Christ sealed the deal for us with grace and mercy so that we can walk confidently into the purpose set before us. Don't give up... You never know when that promise might be just over the next horizon.

Be blessed!

Chucking the Heebie-Jeebies

Photo credit Creative Commons

I have this weird secret. It isn't sensational, it won't leave you breathless. It's kind of lame actually. I have a terrible time accepting compliments on my writing. I get this weird butterfly feeling in my stomach, I try to think of an appropriate joke or self deprecating comment and I usually can't or realize I shouldn't... So I stand there, weak smile on my face, shuffling from foot to foot and feeling very aware that I don't know what to do with my hands. I usually say thank you... Do you have any idea how lame that sounds? Gah! Barf... (rolls eyes) Is that humility? Is it weakness that compliments on a job I feel pushed to do for God make me supremely uncomfortable? Or is it false? Should I revel in the accolades and feel blessed that God has given me a talent that touches others?

Like most of us, I struggle with discerning genuine humility. I can recall to mind those, "Aw shucks," foot-shufflers, but I also know that those shoes don't fit me. I read once that false humility is a form of pride. Well, craptastic! There's no doubt that that is wrong. Then what is it really? How can I humbly respond without sounding like a complete dork?

You know I "googled" it, don't you? You should know I google things a ton by now. It shocked me to find that one of the easiest quotes to understand came from a person I would not qualify as humble: Charlie Sheen! He said, "Uncertainty is a sign of humility, and humility is just the ability or the willingness to learn." OK... Then there was another Charles (one a bit more somber and recognizably qualified): Noted theologian, Mr. Charles Spurgeon said, "Humility is to make a right estimate of one's self." Getting closer... Now for the nail in the coffin: "True humility is intelligent self respect which keeps us from thinking too highly or too meanly of ourselves. It makes us modest by reminding us how far we have come short of what we can be." Ralph W. Sockman. (Emphasis mine.)

Authentic humility is recognizing our God given gifts while at the same time realizing that we came from nothing - "dust," as it were. Humility is not making light of our abilities, as if just anyone could do the things that we can do. That would be silly. I cannot sculpt or sing or paint like others can. My medium is words and my pallet is my computer screen and I am gifted. I recognize God's grace in my abilities and I seek to sharpen my craft the best I can for His purposes. To keep my tools sharp and to use them is to be obedient to God's purpose in my life.

My writing brings me immense joy and when it brings God glory, in the form of compliments of my writing, that is the ultimate high! Do I have a gift? Yes. Is it direct from God? Definitely. The thing is, there is a fine line between realizing that God is the author of all glory and knowing that my compliance and willingness to do what I am asked is a vital part of the reach. To minimize its impact by making a joke or saying anyone can do what I do is flying in the face of God and, quite frankly, isn't true. Being falsely humble is as sinful as being prideful. Being so self deprecating that I diminish God's gift to me is insulting; insulting to God and to those who took time to express their gratitude and admiration for what I do. Don't get me wrong, I won't be doing a happy dance or saying things like, "Oh yeah, I rock!" anytime soon. But I can graciously say thank you and express that I am happy God used me to touch someone's heart. That is all true.

Realize today that God has gifted you in a very specific way to reach others for Him. Now, stand up and accept that there will be folks who will want to tell you how much that helped them. Say thank you, tell them God is amazing and smile! Be the face of Christ so that others may know He loves without hesitation.

Be blessed!