instigator should be a legal term

Today, I did something I avoided the first time around.

The mere look of it's grandeur and height freaked me out enough the first time I saw it. The sign half lit, half falling off the building that seemed to climb the sky for days. Just as I remembered from seeing it years ago. I tried to erase this memory.

Today, heavy, grey clouds gathered around behind it as though they were orbiting around the eye of a storm that was instigating rebellion. Raindrops began to sprinkle, just as the forecast we chose to ignore said might happen. I knew we'd need to seek cover soon, before we were stuck in the middle of a bustling crowd with no awning left to seek shelter. I stared at the mass I had once avoided, and facing my fear, I knew this was where we would go. And I said the words I never thought I'd say.

"Let's go ride the Hollywood Tower of Terror."

I used to think of myself of somewhat of a risk taker. Someone who went against the grain, most times on purpose, and then some without my knowledge, only coming to the forefront after I had angered people or made an unfashionable statement. But I've noted a routine that comes with these seemingly devised moves.

I have to risk on impulse.

I have to risk when I'm feeling a certain rush of adrenaline, or a particular fear of self-paralyzation, or I won't risk at all.

I don't like heights, or rainstorms, or fake haunted things. I prefer Taylor Swift songs and cookie dough ice cream. I have no great experience from my past that would justify my random fears that someone has intricately crafted into an amusement park ride that brings in a lot of cash. Tall building. Eerie noises. Fake bell hops. A haunted elevator. I just don't like it, okay?

But for some reason today, that creepy fear of death that follows me like Louie Giglio's dark cloud pushed me to decide that I would not only address this fear of this silly ride that people come from all over to strap into, but I'd initiate our meeting. I would be the instigator.

I'm not saying it became my favorite ride in the park. In fact, I'll probably never ride the thing again. Though as I stepped back onto the wet pavement after the rain had stopped and after the dreadful ride was over, I felt a sense of relief. Not some sort of temporary adrenal high, but simple relief. Relief to have my feet on solid ground, of course. But more than that, relief that today, fear didn't own me. Fear didn't dictate my day. And I confess, some days it does.

Today, I felt bigger than the 13 story building that hovered behind me.

And I can't help but wonder, if this is what it feels like to initiate contact with my fears of an amusement park ride, what will happen when I muster the courage to instigate them with the callings of the Kingdom on the way I live my life?

What will happen when I face head on the reasons why my feet are still when they should be running towards the captives?

I wonder what will happen if you do the same.

And maybe if we do, we could have coffee someday and talk about it. I hope that someday is soon, we have more to talk about than we thought we would.

Paterno and the Pew

It must be said, that how we would treat Paterno and Sandusky if they walked through the doors of our churches on Sunday directly reflects the status of our hearts and what we really believe about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

That doesn't mean what happened is okay, or even that they should get to keep their jobs. It means we don't make disciples by kicking people out of our Country Club Kingdom.

My sin is as great as theirs. The world is in a broken state of emergency.

Children were exploited. And that should give me great sorrow.

Not the fact a football coach lost his job.

make redemptive use of your time.

I always have this nagging fear that I'm going to die.

I know that sounds a little dramatic, but have you met me?

I have an anxiety disorder, and as a result, have certain trigger fears and can spin me into a panic over situations that are unrealistic or highly unlikely.

I'll give you an example.

Recently my husband brought home a dozen, hot pink roses for me. They smelled sweeter than fresh honeysuckle, and I couldn't wait to see them fulfill their purpose - blooming fully as they were created to do, and radiate His creativity and glory. The next morning when I got ready to leave for work, I spent my last few minutes staring at these flowers. I changed the water in the vase, arranged each one just so, and inhaled their sweet fragrance.

I know they always say to stop and smell the flowers, but I confess, this was a bit excessive. And it was all because I was convinced I wasn't going to make it home from work. That this was the day it would all be over for me.

I think this fear also planted roots in an event that happened my junior year of college. To make a longer story not so long, a genuine, God-fearing girl who I grew in faith alongside during middle and high school lost a brief, and unforeseen battle with cancer.

She was 19 years old.

Lauren was beautiful, talented, and genuine. And I knew if someone like her could die in such unpredictable and painful circumstances, that my life could be that short, too. Certainly, if someone as full of life and as generous and loving as Lauren could go young, my life could be that short, too.

As unrealistic as my fear was the day after I tarried over the roses, the reality is that we're all going to die. The people few will remember, and the people no one will forget. None of us are exempt. Maybe you never had a Lauren in your life, but this entire generation got a glimpse of this with the passing of Steve Jobs. Innovative, wealthy, brilliant, well-known. Even his body was temporary. Just like mine. Just like yours.

I think there exists a middle ground between fearing death to the point where we are paralyzed and no longer live, and wasting our lives believing we are untouchable.

I think this middle ground is where we live like we believe that life is short and eternity is long, and not the other way around. This middle ground is where we trust that nobody goes early. Nobody slips through God's hands. Every single one of us goes right on time.

I am guilty of seeing only what is in front of me and not what is ahead. I not only see, but tend to focus on the here and now, and sometimes the next year. And it's usually in those times that I am comfortable. Wayward. Even lost.

Complacency is a dangerous place to camp.

It is when I look full in His wonderful face, that I merely taste a morsel of the Kingdom. That little something that says we were made for more than this.

And I don't know what that looks like for you. Perhaps it means changing careers or schools. Perhaps it means staying exactly where you are, even if you want to leave. Or maybe the most dangerous thing you can do right now is clothe your mind with that of Christ, and send every thought through the filter that says you were made by God, for God. The filter that says you and I were made on purpose for dangerous things that are worth spending our short time that we call life on. That He loves you and died to bring you freedom. That you cannot out-sin His grace and mercy.

As I sit and write this, I get that weird fear creeping up that says maybe I'm writing this because God is preparing me to die.

And even if that train wreck of a thought process were to prove true, and one day it will, I do not believe that God prepares us for death.

I believe that He prepares us for life, and life everlasting.

i am the wayward son.

Today, I got a swift kick in the soul.

It's no secret that in the past year, I've felt hurt and even angry with people who I thought were supposed to shepherd and disciple me. People I thought I could live in Biblical community alongside. People I trusted. It was these same people I later felt wounded and almost betrayed by. As though none of it was ever sincere. And that deeply hurt.

I've carried around this bitterness for quite some time and tried to use it as fuel to "do" ministry better. I used it as a constant reminder to do right by people, act justly, and worship with a genuine heart and attitude. I tried to focus on the simple ways I could carry out programming youth ministry without lights and fog machines, hoping for something organic to happen.

But here's the thing.

I can't transform sinful bitterness into beauty. And that's exactly what I've been carrying around. Sinful, selfish bitterness that in the end, profits nothing. And no one. And certainly, not the Kingdom I claim to desire most.

I don't have the capabilities or the right intentions to transform my sin, or anyones sin for that matter, into beauty. How does one white knuckle a situation they've become embittered toward and genuinely and sincerely use that for Glory? They don't. I know because I've tried. I know because my intentions weren't that of Glory, but of proving to people they were wrong about what they've done and said. I don't have the power to redeem that situation just like I don't have the power to redeem your soul.

And the truth of the matter is, I'm sure I hurt them, too. Perhaps in different ways, but I guarantee it happened. You know why?

Because I'm a sinner. I am a sinner.

And I need the grace I haven't been giving from the same people I've refused to give it to. And mostly, I need it from the God I've sinned against, because in my bitterness and resentment, I haven't been sinning against them. I've been sinning against a gracious God who knows that people, all people, are sinners. We say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing and act in selfishness. We've all done it. And we'll do it again.

And it's my turn to ask forgiveness. Because ultimately, I'd hope we are on the same side. And that is the side of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who came redeem all past, present, and future sins. Mine and theirs and yours. He is redeeming everything. All of it. Even me. Even you.

So what brought all this to bubble to the surface you might wonder?

I was listening to a Matt Chandler sermon in the car today, and I've listened to a particular piece of it over and over and over again. I swear God gave those words to Matt to enable the Spirit to speak to me in a way I couldn't deny. And as I kept listening to it on repeat, God pressed into me and pressed into me and pressed into me until His grace and push for repentance was so overwhelming, that it brought me to my knees. I realized I've been the wayward son, and it's time to come home. I pray if you find yourself having spoken or thought these things like I have, that this apology will be enough, you'll come home, too.


"Let me appeal to you. I don't want to make light of what happened to you in the past that you use to justify your rebellion against God. But I do want to push you in one area. You know what got lost in all of that, 'they're hypocrites'? You know what gets lost in all of that, 'they hurt people'? You know what get's lost in all of that, 'they're in it for money, they're in it for power'? You know what gets lost in all of that? Your short comings. Your hypocrisy. Your power play. Your love for this world.

And so if you would bear the same judgement on your own heart that you judged on the church, you'd find yourself just as lacking if not more. And then as a pastor let me just say this for what happened to you if it was around the church and it was sinful,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. There are imperfect, broken men and women, i'm one of them, leading the Bride of Christ. Part of that is the glory of God that He could use idiots like us. We make mistakes, we say the wrong thing at the wrong time - as much as we study, as much as we pray, as much as we try to. There are wolves out there. There are those who are in pulpits, who are about money, about power. who are about taking advantage of. The Bible tells us everything from weak-willed women to ignorant men. So if this is a legitimate wound, I'm sorry.

But here's the good news of the Gospel.

Jesus will by his cross forgive them like He has you, or He will rightly and justly judge them. So take the anger out of your heart. Vengeance is the Lord's. You've pledged allegiance to Christ and you've pledged allegiance to the world. You'll be miserable both places. Come home. Don't you know Luke 15? Don't you know the story of the prodigal? The father runs and throws the robe and throws the ring and celebrates what?. That the wayward son came home. Quit running. Don't let your life blow up to the point where there is serious collateral damage around your surrender to the Lord. Come home."

--From Matt Chandler's sermon, "Putting It All Together", The Village Church

a healing song.

Today I sat outside of the new building that holds the church community I will live life with for the next year, and I thought to myself,

You knew it all along, didn't You?

It was a peace almost unfamiliar. My husband and I sat in chairs facing the surrounding neighborhoods outside of our new church and rehearsed for hours, sweating and swaying in this unfamiliar area that somehow already felt like home. Guitars, tapping feet, and songs of joy and new beginnings. And our only audience was the Breather of Stars...and our Pastor who could hear us from his parsonage.

It's no secret that the past year has not been an easy one. Dreams uncovered selfish rather than selfless, idolatry I never knew humans were capable of, and hope lost in a crowd of disillusionment and disappointment.

But today, I breathed in the blessed assurance that can only come from the Artist of Seasons. And it wasn't assurance that this job was going to work out beautifully unlike the last. It wasn't assurance that we'd love our neighborhood or make a ton of friends who shared our faith, or that we could share our faith with. It wasn't even assurance that "we made it" and "everything is going to be okay". It was the peace in knowing that God is sovereign, and He loves us. And should He need to again, He will release us from environments harsh to our hearts, and in His mercy, refine us in order to be and make better disciples.

I felt protected, and I knew His hand was on us. It was rather overwhelming.

I knew He heard every word we were singing in that moment, and every song we were too exhausted or too embarassed to sing in the past year. I confess, we allowed ourselves to be wounded, perhaps longer than necessary. However, healing is a process, as is with almost everything. We are slowly but surely being sanctified, and have the tattoo's to prove it. Godliness does not happen overnight. It is an uphill, dirt path, littered with gravel.

And we're all barefoot.

As hard as Caleb and I tried to flee to the sunny skies of South Carolina, we'll endure another snowmagedeon in Western Pennsylvania. God had something different in mind for us. We're confident it's no other cause than His Kingdom. And you know what?

We're amped.

Our anxiety of the future has been replaced with an anxiousness to share what He's done and is doing, and not just in redeeming us, but redeeming all of creation.

Perhaps it took a year-long kick in the soul to remind me, these things are much bigger than us, and the fact that all isn't revealed on this side of eternity is on purpose. That's why faith doesn't require eyes and order.

Today, I only see in part. One day I'll see You right. And then maybe all of this will make sense.

Or maybe I won't need it to make sense anymore.

I hope you live to tell about it

Last night, I went to sleep tired.

Since I've had a few weeks off work before starting my new job, I've been taking it easy. I've spent my days reading, writing, relaxing, and spending quality time with my husband - things I haven't had time to do for a long time.

Oh, and I answer my cell phone a lot more, too. (I have a bit of a reputation.)

Needless to say, I haven't been very tired lately. Not emotionally, physically, or even sleepy. I haven't done anything disciplined, consistent, or stressful. I've resesarched new projects I'm working on, done some homework, washed dishes. Normal things for me. But when you sleep until 11am and watch an episode of Teen Mom in between each chore you do, your day is not very productive. Or tiring.

Yesterday was my first busy day since I quit my job. I went bridesmaids dress shopping with one of my best friends, and afterwards, we went out for lunch. We drank martinis, ate delicious food, and shared stories about life and love and work. My brother visited me and my husband, and we all went out and watched the Pitt game. And all day I thought to myself, I have read about this feeling. This joy and contentment. This seizing of moments and time.

Ah, yes. This is exactly what Solomon was talking about.

Seize life! Eat bread with gusto,
Drink wine with a robust heart.
Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don't skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God's gift. It's all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.
Make the most of each one!
Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily!
This is your last and only chance at it,
For there's neither work to do nor thoughts to think
In the company of the dead, where you're most certainly headed.
-Ecclesiasties 9:7-10 (The Message)


But there is a reality here that I like to ignore. Living comes with dying.

Eventually, there won't be another day to procrastinate away your ambition. There won't be time to develop ideas for thrift stores and social programs. There won't be time to dream of opening music venues and coffee shops. There won't be a next week's paycheck to tithe or a different day to say you'll serve. There won't be time to talk about the things we really wanted to do.

Eventually, I will die. And so will you.

When I get to heaven, I want to have stories to tell. When I sit at His grand table with the disciples. The forgiven. The faithful. After I die, I want to live to tell about it. My life before that was never really mine. I want to join the conversation about the times I was faithful and opened myself to the beauty God had for me in life on earth. I want to talk about the fear that accompanied that faithfulness. I bet they'll pass me the bread and share a similar stories. I want to talk about the risks taken for His Kingdom come, and how He carried us and gave us ideas and desires. I want to see their scars that reflect His. I want to have similar scars to show. I want to kiss His feet and sob and sing when He offers me wine.

When I get to the table, I want to be relieved because I'm exhausted, not disappointed because there was so much more I wanted to do.

You know that sigh of relief you felt when you finally finished the mile run your teacher made you do in gym class in middle school? It was long and tiring, (and you knew you had to look stupid in your Umbro shorts and baggy t-shirt), but you felt so good when you accomplished it, because secretly, you thought you wouldn't make it? I hope to feel a little something like that.

When you're sitting home watching Teen Mom and washing a dish or two, you will not go to bed tired. You won't take any risks, and you won't read your Bible for hours like your told yourself you would "if only you had the time". When all is said or unsaid, done or never started, I hope you're tired.

I hope when I die, I live to tell about it. And I hope you'll be there to pass the bread.

have a little dedication to your dreams

When I was little, I wanted to be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.

Keep in mind Pittsburgh, I didn't live in Steel City at the time. I did gymnastics for years and could never nail my back handspring. My mom scraped up the cash to let me take some one on one gymnastics lessons for the sole reason of getting my back handspring down. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get it. So finally, I gave up.

After losing my hopes of being an NFL Cheerleader, I decided I wanted to be an actress. And not just any actress - I wanted to be TWO actresses. Mary-Kate AND Ashley Olsen. I remember having a shrine to them in my room. They were gorgeous and talented and traveled everywhere for their movies. And they always got the guy at the end. Who wouldn't want that? So I decided to give it a go.

My elementary school was putting on the play 'Cinderella'. The day the cast list went up, I could feel the adrenaline making my fingers tingle as I waited for the bell to ring. As soon as it i did, I along with every other 6th grade girl bolted down the hallway. Not only did I not get the lead, but I didn't even get a named role. I'm pretty sure I played a bush. (Or a tree. For the sake of this blog, we'll go with bush.) I sat outside the castle where Cinderella would dance with her prince, and held up a green, cloud-like shaped piece of butcher paper. I held my prop in front of my face and watched Cinderella and the Prince dance on stage. The sinking feeling of envy took over me and I felt warm all over. I didn't like this feeling. I'd rather give up on wanting the lead than than feel this way. Time for a new dream.

As an adult, it would be easy to look back on those dreams justify giving up based on how illogical they were. I mean, statistically, what are the odds of becoming a professional cheerleader or actress? Or a twin for that matter?

But when I was a Senior in High School, I got the lead in my High School's musical. I had been an extra ever since I played a bush in the 6th grade. And I got comfortable dancing in the background. So I gave up on thinking I had a chance at something big. I always auditioned because my Mom said I should, but I never anticipated getting anything great. So when I got the lead, you can imagine my disbelief. I thought it was a mistake. That is until the Director congratulated me later that day.

Next to the stage in my high school, there were stairs that lead down to a room with mirrors and lit vanities with the big light bulbs where we all did our make-up before shows. When you were a senior, you got to paint your own "block". They were just the cinder blocks on the walls, but it was something all of us had looked forward to since we got to high school. As the lead, I got to paint my block next to the previous musical leads that I looked up to: Amelia Degory and Kate Gongaware. And next to them, my name. I remember the smell of powdered make-up and heat from the fluorescent bulbs as I painted my block and decided what to write on it. There was only one thing I could think of.

"God Dreams Bigger."

Since I've gotten older, my dreams of course, have changed. I think it's okay for dreams to evolve. And not only do I think it's okay, but I think it's necessary. We get older and our eyes are opened to new things and new passions are awakened within us.

But there is a big difference friends, between evolving dreams and dying ones.

You and I both know the feeling. Thinking what you really want to do is illogical or unreasonable. It happens for some people, just not you. Settling for what seems realistic.

Where did we learn this?

I think Satan feeds us these lies to stop us from doing something big with our lives. Satan wants you to waste your life in a 9-5 job that pays the bills and enables vacations for you and your kids. He wants you to be comfortable with what you're doing and stay there. He doesn't want you to venture out and try new things. He doesn't want you to study abroad, get married young, or quit an unethical job. He wants you to be logical. Do things in order. Conventionally. Safely.

I have yet to witness a life where 'safe' and 'Kingdom of God' coexist.

Maybe your dream is to open a thrift store. Maybe you want to write music that touches the world. Maybe you want to do something completely different than what you studied in college.

Stop giving up so easily.

You are not alone. Dream and live in confidence that someone else already dreams bigger than your wildest.

in justice.

I applied for an internship last summer with a non-profit called "The Mocha Club" in Nashville. I was very blessed to be offered the opportunity to intern with them, but life took my husband a different direction and I turned it down. (Check them out though - amazing people. www.themochaclub.org) One thing that I'll never forget about this process was a quote I ran across on their website.

"If you remain neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor." - Bishop Desmond Tutu

I read it and thought, hey, that's a pretty good quote. It reminded me of something my mom used to tell me when I was in elementary school. You know, if you see someone being bullied and you don't stand up for them, you're a bully too? Surely your mother gave you a similar talk when you were younger. And if she didn't, maybe that's why I'm louder than you. Blame my mom.

This quote has stuck with me ever since I read it. But it's not like it revolutionized my life or anything. At least, I never thought it did. Until recently.

To say the least, life for me my husband in 2011 has already proven to be nothing short of eventful. I've had to make some very difficult decisions - ones I didn't think I would face unless I worked in the corporate world, or at least until I was 45 years old. But like the guy on the Nationwide commercial says, life comes at you fast.

To make a long story not so long, I know now from experience that you can only look injustice in the face and walk past her desk for so long before you stop denying that you've become party to the injustice that you've seen. And not by initiating it, but by being neutral. By saying and doing nothing at all.

Injustice will try and appear distant. Out of focus. Like it has nothing to do with you. Not your country, not your salary, not your boyfriend, not your fault. It won't seem worth it. It will seem like it's not your fight. But the Gospel says something different.

It is your fight. It is absolutely your fight.

On this side of eternity, it will always be your fight. And if the church is being the church, it will be our fight.

In justice, we will carry each others burdens.
In justice, we will find holistic community. (thank you Pastor Jim.)
In justice, there is sacrifice.
In justice, hard decisions are made.
Injustice is too easy.

And I bet Satan makes it that way on purpose. Because he knows that you are scared and lazy. And he knows I am, too.

Sometimes in life, you are going to be faced with really hard decisions. I mean, life changing, rent compromising, tear ridden, up all night for days decisions. Ones that will show your true character, and if to no one else, to just yourself. And you will make these decisions in justice, or injustice.

Trust me when I say when you make a decision in justice, God will see you and know. He won't come down on a cloud and pat you on the back, but He will know.

And when you make a decision injustice, even if it's an "it's not my fight decision", you will most likely go on living your life. You will go home to your warm house and comfy bed and get up in the morning and drink coffee and go to your job and come home and do it all over again. And I don't know whether in justice, God will reveal your true character to you whether God will simply be just.

Let's pray He reveals your true character to you first.

I don't say this to scare you into doing the right thing. I say it because if He doesn't show you or you don't decide to stand up for what you know is right, you will slowly become more and more desensitized. God won't strike you with lightening or punish you by giving your kids cancer. He doesn't work that way. But something will happen.

Your heart will slowly become worn down. When you sing, you won't mean it. When you dance, you won't feel it. You'll lose your zest. Your compassion. You'll lose sight of the goal. And you won't realize it until you're blaming God for that something that's "just missing".

I'm pleading with you friends, make the hard decisions. I promise you, it's worth it. There are people on the other side of your sacrifice. They are the same people you've been sacrificing while you've been letting injustice live and breathe in your life.

While at first it seemed embarrassing, as my current job description goes from "Youth Pastor" to "Waitress", I now feel lucky that God has decided to give me a dose of this early in life.

Plus, I get more time with the 7 pound terror I like to call Lilah. Oh, and my husband, too.

if you want to learn about Jesus, get a dog.

A few days ago, my puppy bit me. And I don't mean just nipped me a little. The sucker bit me so hard I bled. And I was shocked at what it taught me.

I could hear things rattling around in the bathroom and saw light beaming out of a crack in the door. I knew my puppy had weaseled her way in there somehow. Nothing surprises me with this dog anymore. She probably even turned the light on by herself. This is a puppy who obliterates armies of socks, boxes of tissues, and jumps puppy gates. She is the cutest 7 pound terror I've ever met.

I found her in the bathroom...mouth stuffed to the brim with tissues, q-tips, and your typical bathroom garbage finds. Delicious, right? Definitely not. And definitely not good for a small puppy to swallow (or anyone for that matter!) As soon as I walked in, she knew she was in trouble. She peered up at me with her huge brown eyes, and then ran. She went straight to the Lovesac (a real piece of furniture...not what you're thinking - www.lovesac.com - thought even if it were what you're thinking, I'm married now!). It's like her huge princess puppy bed. As I chased her and tried to pry her jaw open, I started to worry, thinking about all the stuff in the garbage that could hurt her.

Oh my gosh. I am so stupid. How could I have left the door open? I could have swore I shut it. How does she find her way in? What happens if she swallows a Q-tip and it get's stuck in her little puppy belly and won't come out? What if they have to do surgery on her little body? The vet would think I neglect her. Everyone in the waiting room would know what a horrible puppy mother I am. What if they told PITA? And they sued me for leaving the bathroom door open....

I was rattled out of my thoughts when I felt a quick and lasting burning sensation in my right index finger. She bit me. It felt worse than my tattoo. I let out a scream, and those jaws of life clamped harder. I lifted up Lilah and she let go. I was dripping blood.

And the little buzzard still had garbage in her mouth.

My husband heard me scream and ran into the living room. Since Survivor wasn't on, he knew I must have been yelling at Lilah and not the TV. He looked at her and yelled, "NO!" and made an attempt to take the rest of the garbage out of her mouth. As I was rinsing my finger in the sink and complaining that it was going to fall off, I heard Caleb yell. "SHE BIT ME!!" I knew this meant trouble.

Lilah would stay in her puppy crate the rest of the night. Caleb and I proceeded to whine like parents we see on sitcoms about how we feed her and play with her and take her on walks - and how does she repay us? By eating garbage and biting us when we try and protect her from what could hurt her. And then it hit me.

I looked at my husband with tears in my eyes and he calmly asked what was wrong. I looked at Lilah in her crate, sitting pretty with her head cocked to the side, not making a sound.

I do that to God all the time Caleb. He takes care of me, provides for me, gives me everything for my joy. And yet, in a moment, I will find something that my life deems more important and run to protect it. And when He tries to keep me from what will harm me, I bite His finger and make Him bleed.

I didn't enjoy seeing Lilah stuck in her puppy crate all night. I knew she'd rather be chewing on her bone, and I would have much rather played with her than watch her sit alone. But Lilah is just a puppy, and if I didn't punish her, she'd never learn that what she did was wrong.

If God never allowed me to experience the consequences of my actions, I would never learn. Now certainly, I was not going to let Lilah eat garbage and die because she doesn't have the mental capacity of a human. However, you do. And I do. We have discernment and a conscience...not to mention Scripture that holds all the secrets. And yet Scripture also tells us if we want our sin bad enough, we will be given over to it as to learn that even the sweetest of sins will not satisfy. The most innocent of sins...


It's not like I've killed anybody. I just wanted a good job so I could give my family a better life than I had. So what if I'm working 70 hours a week? I make most of my sons games. And my wife, she knows I love her. She makes me dinner all the time because she knows how hard I work. She even left a job she loved to take care of the kids full time so I could work my way up. I buy them everything they ask for. The only thing I'm guilty of is giving my family a good life.

Trust me. You're killing them. And yourself.

Maybe you don't have kids, and maybe you aren't married. But I bet you fall into this trap all the time. I know I do. It's almost too easy. Justifying our sin until we are knee deep in it, then blaming God for letting us go that far.

Maybe it's because He knows we know better. Or maybe He knew something worse would happen if He didn't allow our actions to teach us something the first time. Or maybe He is sick of watching you protect your garbage with all the might that my puppy did. Maybe He knows grace has to be taught, experienced. His love cannot merely be read about in a book.

Looking back on my short 22 years, I am now grateful that God gave me over to some of my garbage. I no longer think it's because He didn't love me, but rather because He did. I pray this becomes the case for you.

And if you want to learn about grace firsthand, buy a really, really, really cute puppy.