Log in your eye, speck in mine...

Remember that parable that Jesus told about how some people notice specks in other people's eyes, but not the log in their own? I think He was trying to make the point that we should worry about ourselves first, then help others find their way. Which is sometimes... most of the time...always, hard to do. We are so consumed about what "they" are doing, or how "the world" makes us look, to be concerned about our own lives.
Last night as I laid awake in bed,( I have a job interview in a few hours...more about that later!) I began to think about how the church is so up in arms about the repeal of DOMA and Prop 8 here in Cali. Before we moved out here a lot of people spoke horrible things about my new state, something I wish they would stop doing because of how "liberal" it seemed.
But last night as I thought of all the things that most mainstream Christians would say are going wrong with the world I was reminded of the horrible things that happen IN the church.
We have pastors who are adulterers, gamblers. Leaders who are addicted to porn, alcohol, and food. Yeah, I said food... :-0  Elders who have eating disorders and some who struggle with homosexual tendencies.
We are a congregation who for the most part, hides these sins until someone finds out the truth and then we have to come clean to our congregation, and sometimes to the world. But yet we blatantly talk about how horrible the homosexual community is.  How they are ruining what we deem to be the right things in this world. How about we as a church community wake up and start living like we want 'the world' to live? How about we start being real? Telling the truth? What would happen then? If instead of pretending we are perfect, but still being plagued by all of our hidden sins we understood that the Grace of God, means the power to do things you thought you couldn't? What if we lived that way? Then would people feel more loved? More empowered to see God? More worthy of the love He has given them?

I'm not just talking to the choir here, I'm talking to myself and my husband and our friends.  I'm talking about living in a way that makes people WANT to know what sets you apart. I believe that it's the "kindness of God that leads people to repentance". But we aren't being very kind when we pretend to have it all together, only to bring the hurting into our community and then finally tell them the truth about our "real" lives.
You can't really love some one if you're not truthful to them. Because that in itself isn't loving. Love is telling the truth. Love is Kindness. Kindness leads to Repentance and Repentance to the Understanding that God Loves you, because He loves you, because He loves you, and that the Grace of God helps you become exactly who HE wants you to be. Period.
This is the only way people want to be like us. Because the world has enough closet gamblers, porn addicts and eating disorders. What they need is a church who will be real, speak truth and admit when things aren't perfect.

Make an effort to get rid of your log, before you point out the speck in others.

Learning from VBS

For years I have conveniently avoided helping at VBS. I never felt like it was something I was "called" to do, so I would weasel my way out of the volunteer meetings and avoid the director like the plague.
This year, something different happened. One of my new best friends in Cali is the Children's Minister at our church. Enter VBS. And this conversation, "So...I'm looking for someone to help me at VBS, just run around and make sure people have everything they need...you interested?"  In that moment, I wanted to say no. I wanted to, I really did, but what came out was, "Sure. Yeah. Can I have a clip board?" 
In the months that followed I helped her pick a theme, I went to volunteer meetings and I helped run the decorating committee. 
Last night was the big day. Opening day. In rolled 70 kids, ages 4-12 for a week full of VBS. In the midst of running around making sure the teachers had the right papers, answering questions that I didn't know the answers to, and make sure cute little guys didn't cry, I realized something. 
VBS is fun. 
It is. Real, genuine, fun.
 These kids don't care that my hair was a mess, that my paper chain drawbridge fell down or that I had no idea what I was doing half of the time. All they cared about was that I gave 3 hours of my time to make them a portcullis from duck tape, family crests from painted pizza boxes and told them if they were scared they could hang out with me.  They only cared about the hugs, love and attention that was showered upon them for 3 hours.  For those 3 hours, they were the star attractions.  
Then I realized, this must be a little taste of how God feels when we finally understand the love and grace He has for us.  He doesn't care that our hair is a mess, that we sometimes say the wrong thing or act in a way He isn't that fond of. All that matters is that we understand that He loves us.  All that matters is for that split second we understand that His grace means we can conquer the world. 

God is always speaking, always trying to show us something new. I'm sad that I waited so long to let VBS teach me this lesson. Tonight I'll go back and patch up my paper chain drawbridge. I'll hope that no one cries for their mom, and I will wait for the next lesson these little guys can teach me. 

Cut back...

I love food. In (most) sizes, shapes and forms. Fried, grilled, baked, smothered in cheese, or icing. I love food. I always have.  I come from a long line of food lovers, you can ask my mom if you don't believe me.
And until I entered the 6th grade, I thought food loved me too. Until my pediatrician asked me what my favorite foods were and cringed when I answered, "Sprite and Cheese Pizza."
Enter the words..."Cut back." My mom, God love her, never told me I had to diet, she just told me we had to "cut back" on things like Sprite and Cheese pizza. One slice, not two, one can of Sprite, not a bottle... you get the idea. I lost weight and bought size 4 jeans and loved it! Then life happened again and I found my love for brownies, ice cream, Hershey bars and Pepsi. Now I don't wear as size 4 jean, and I hate it!

I was thinking this week, as I shimmied into my snug jeans about how I always say I'm going to cut back, but never do. Some what like I always say I'm going to have an abundance of Faith in every situation, but when the going gets tough, I get worried.  Cutting back on food is a lot like cutting back on worrying.  I am in control of what goes into my mouth, and God is in control of what happens to my life.  You would think by now I would have learned to take everything in stride. To not worry when we need new brakes or when someone unknowingly hurts my feelings, or when I get homesick, or when I long to go out and buy tons of new things, but we just don't have the money...but I haven't.  Much like my mom urging me to "cut back" in the 6th grade I find God urging me to "cut back" on the worrying.
Matthew 6:34 tells us, "So do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will take care of itself..."
This week, I've decided to cut back physically; and I've lost 3 pounds! Yay Me!
But I've also made a decision to cut back on my worrying. Whenever problems arise, I trust that God put me here for a reason and that He can take care of the extra weight.

In the next few weeks my food cut backs are going to be more interesting. I'm starting a 3 day juice fast next week. Perhaps while I'm drinking juice and watching my jeans get loose, I'll be even more confident in the physical and spiritual cut backs I'm making.

You gotta have faith!

When I was fresh out of college my dream was to interpret in Washington DC, though I encountered a few set backs on the way I finally made it. While I was there I met some awesome people, some of which I stay I touch with, but I also encountered the hardest 6 months of my life.  I was broken. My mentor wasn't the best fit for me, and I allowed her to speak heaps and bounds of negativity into my life. On one occasion she told me I should go back to college in hopes of doing something I "would be better at". Needless to say my 6 months were filled with heart ache and tears. 

On the last day of my internship I squared my shoulders and stood tall on my last interpreting assignment, at the end she said, "if you had done that all along I would have told them to hire you, but you didn't, sorry." Those might not have been her exact words, but the damage was done.

  I was defeated. No one could save me. Except for Sam, or Momma Sam as we called her in Nashville. I went home, gathered my things and drove to her office in Franklin, TN. I sat there and told her all about DC. I cried, she cried. Then she started putting the pieces back together. She spoke life into my dying heart. I interpreted with her in Nashville just long enough not to be completely broken. Then life moved on, I got a full-time gig in Paducah and then we got married and I moved to Cali. 

And then the brokenness crept in- truth be told, it never fully went away. Looking back, I needed more time with Momma Sam, hind sight is 20/20,no? 

When we moved, I convinced myself and J that I needed a break from interpreting. My heart and head was too hurt to start over. So for the past 7 months I've worked another job ignoring the longing for silence and communication at the same time. 

Until today. Today I met with an interpreter here in Fresno. And though she doesn't know it, Momma Sam saved me again. This Fresno interpreter asked me about my experiences and I told her about Sam. Turns out that Momma Sam's performance interpreting workshop almost made its way here last year. Turns out one of the people that could potentially be my employer loves Momma Sam's work. Turns out that could help me get my foot in the door, it's all about who you know ;-) 

Once again, my faith in humanity has been restored. Once again Momma Sam had something to do with it. 

I might still be a little chipped, but I'm not broken anymore and I'm on my way to being made whole. One sign at a time.