Thursday, June 30

Disappointment

Today I’m doing some video taping for a follow up curriculum with Made to Crave.  I’d love to know you’re praying for me.  I’m tired.  And tired doesn’t translate well onto the video screen.  Thanks so much for asking the Lord to help infuse my body with an energy beyond my reality. 

Here’s an article I posted several years ago that reminded me of the beautiful way God redeems.  He redeems in the moment with doses of perspective.  And then sometimes years later he redeems with second chances.

The same opportunity I’m referring to below has come back full circle.  Amazing how that happens sometimes.  I don’t know what you’re waiting for… but I’m praying your full circle comes soon.

The other day a friend asked me if I ever get disappointed.

I said yes and threw out a spiritually sound answer.

And then the next day happened.

The day where a really big disappointment whacked me upside the head and sent my heart sinking. I’d been asked to speak at a really big event- one of the biggest of my life- and then things fell apart.

Invited- thrilled- excited- honored-included-

turned into

Uninvited- bummed- sad- disillusioned- left out.

And while I still have solid spiritual perspectives to hold on to, my flesh just needs a minute to say, “stink!”

Because sometimes things do stink.

But right when I wanted say, “stink” a few more times, I spotted a bowl that’s been sitting on my dining room table for weeks now. Brooke found some caterpillars a while back, put them in a bowl, and has been holding them hostage ever since. I mean she’s been lovingly admiring them underneath a layer of cellophane.

Wouldn’t you know that those caterpillars formed cocoons inside that unlikely environment.

And then today, as I was muttering, “stink” I glanced across that bowl and sucked the word back down my throat.

The cocoons were empty.

Expecting glorious butterflies, I had to chuckle when I got right over the bowl and closely examined the product of my little girl’s hopes for new life.

Moths.

I just had to chuckle. Yet another thing in my day that wasn’t quite right.

Or was it?

When Brooke spotted the moths, she was beyond thrilled. Grabbing my hand, she led me outside, ripped off the plastic barrier, and watched the beauty of tiny wings beating- beating- beating and finally fluttering into flight.

Hmmmm.

As I watched Brooke’s sheer delight with the rich evidence of life before her, she couldn’t have cared less if it was a moth or butterfly. A creature that once only knew the dirt of the earth had just been given the gift of flight. Reaching- soaring-up- up- and away.

And with that, this simple creature pulled the corners of my mouth up into a smile.

Disappointment only stings as long as I let it.

Wednesday, June 29

All Twisted Up

In light of the message I gave this past weekend at Elevation Church, I’m reposting this from a year ago. Let’s dialogue today about how we can remember our reactions determine our reach- even in the everyday moments of life.

Like Pastor Steven says at the end of my message, it’s all about making that next step of progress. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts and advice today.

I once had a toy car that had a twist knob on it’s bumper.  With each twist the tension inside the car ratcheted higher and higher so by the time I released it on the floor, the car went buzzerk.  It shot across the floor with no regard to anything in its path.  It jammed into things only to reverse its direction and ram into something else.  Nothing stood a chance in its wake until the tension knob inside untwisted completely and the car slowed to a halt.

Sometimes I feel like I have that same kind of twist knob inside my heart.  I let things build inside until I’ve been twisted one to many times and then wham!  Off I go in an emotional fit with no regard to anything in my path.

You won’t see this in me because I’m good at managing this with the world at large.  And even if you do some things that twist my knob three or four times, I’ll probably just have a simple conversation with you where things can get cleared up.  And if they don’t clear up, then I’ll reason we’re too different to be in close community and I’ll just quietly distance myself from you while the churning emotions subside.

All of this is totally hypothetical because you know of course this would never happen to you and me.

But it does happen with those I live with on a daily basis.

Take my amazingly handsome, chicken flipping, pick up truck driving, patient beyond measure husband.  We try to have a date night every Sunday.  This worked without a hitch until I started doing a special diet plan over a year ago that required me to be done eating each night by 7pm.  This meant we’d have to start our date each Sunday a little earlier than normal to accommodate my new eating schedule.

But things kept interrupting that plan.

Art’s workout on Sunday afternoon would run a little long- twist.

Someone needed to be driven to a last minute youth group event- twist.

Art had something he had to do for church and he was running late- twist.

The playoffs were on and they went into overtime- twist.

These things kept twisting every Sunday until one afternoon all that tension let loose in a fit of frustration and disappointment.  “You always make us late!  Date nights aren’t important to you anymore!  Why don’t you treasure our time together anymore?!  I’m starting to wonder if you still love me!  ”

Lovely.

I can’t think of a more endearing conversation to have right before a date.  Sigh.

And because Art hadn’t been aware of my mounting frustration, my run away response seemed to come completely out of left field.  One minute he’s watching the game in overtime about to take his wife on a date and the next his wife is zipping around the room accusing him of not loving her anymore.  Hunh???

It seems so silly to me now.  But at the time, my ratcheted up feelings had truly hushed any and every logical thought.  Suddenly, I’d reached a tipping point where it was no longer just about running late for our date, it was a marriage defining moment of epic proportions.

Do you ever struggle with this? What causes your tension knob to twist, twist, twist?  Have you found any simple, practical strategies for releasing the tension of the twisty knob before it sends our emotions ramming and jamming into those closest to us?

Monday, June 27

Letters to Pastors

I have to keep it short and sweet today sisters.  I have a serious case of snow globe brain.  Like when you see a three year old shake the dickens out of a snow globe and before the snow can settle they shake it again.  Yes.  That would be my brain today.

I spoke at 4 services at my church this weekend.  It was one of the biggest honors of my life.  The staff, volunteers, and members of Elevation blessed me so much I can’t even talk about it without getting choked up.

And my biggest take away?  I don’t know how pastors do it.

Honest to goodness, I don’t.

Sitting on the front row as each finished worship song signaled it was getting closer and closer to the time for me to step on stage, my heart became more and more desperate for Jesus to come back.  Right now.  Rapture?  Hello?  God?  Please?

But no rapture came.

And soon there I was in front of my home church sweating like a toad on a hot tin roof.  If toads sweat.  I have no idea.  And I’m way too tired to Google it.  Anyhow.

There is something so different about speaking at your home church.

I felt a weight of responsibility. I felt it in my heart.  I felt it in my soul.  I felt it in my brain.

And I thought to myself, how does my Pastor do this every week?  How does he craft a new sermon, get comfortable with that completely new material, carry that weight of responsibility, feel the anxiety of walking up on that stage, deliver a timed message in tune with the Holy Spirit, and then do it 2 to 3 more times during that weekend?  And. Then. Do. It. All. Again. Next. Weekend.

Y’all.  Seriously.  We need to stop right this second, pull out a piece of our good stationary, and write our pastors a thank you note.  And if you happen to know what his favorite restaurant is, send him a gift card to take his wife out for dinner.  She carries the weight too.  In a big way.

As a matter of fact, let’s write her a note of thanks as well.

I’m not kidding.

And heaven help us if we were thinking of writing a note of constructive criticism to the pastor today.  Please don’t. Just love him and his family.  Please and thank you.

My pastor’s wife, Holly Furtick, has a Monday morning commentary up on her blog.  And because Holly and the members of my church were so gracious and generous and lavished me with more encouragement than I could ever possibly deserve… would you leave her a comment today?

If you’d like to see a link to my message, click here.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!  Now, I’m off to figure out how to make the pieces flying about in brain settle back in place again.