When our social worker came to interview us she came with one concern, “You made this decision so quickly.” The day she left she told us that her concern was gone. She said that she had no doubt that we could love a baby that was not biologically ours and had skin much darker than our own.

Since a week after our paperwork arrived in Ethiopia, the Ethiopian government has made a couple of changes that significantly slowed down the process of adoption. We are still unsure of how long until we we receive a referral for our baby and are able to bring him or her home. It could be as short as nine months….it could be as long as three years.

I didn’t realize it was possible to long for a baby that I have no contact with…but I do. I dream about dark brown babies. Pictures of African American babies hanging in the children’s area of Target and department stores bring tears to my eyes, and when I see a black baby in real life, (which unfortunately is not common where we live) its all I can do not to ask if I can hold them.

Our agency is giving families the option of having a baby or adopting a child through a different avenue while they wait for the time to arrive to bring their Ethiopia child/ren home. I considered the thought of us getting pregnant…maybe it would make the wait easier. But I know it won’t. My desire…this place in my heart is for a child that needs a family and for a child with dark brown skin.

I emailed our social worker with questions about adopting an African American baby from the US while we wait through foster care or private domestic adoption. I knew that she worked with a domestic agency as well as with our international agency. She told me in the email that in the domestic agency she works for, that there was not one couple in line to adopt that was open to an African American baby. I was shocked. I was saddened, and I couldn’t help but assume why my heart was suddenly racing. The expense of adopting private domestic is almost as much as international adoption. We can’t do that since we are still trying to raise money for our Ethiopian adoption. But I am guessing that since there are so few couples willing to private domestic adopt a black baby, then that must mean they are going to foster care. Although that breaks my heart, I got very excited at that possibility of what that could mean for us. “Lets adopt from foster care while we wait!” I knew it must be God.

But Blake said no. Blake said we are going to wait. And oh how I want to argue, how I want to talk and reason and debate until he sees things my way…..  But then last night as I walked around my neighborhood God reminded me of how quickly we decided to adopt from Ethiopia. How I didn’t have to talk and reason and debate. How God had already prepared our hearts to be in such agreement that our social worker came in concerned about the speed of our decision. And I hear God say to my heart,

“To honor your husband is wisdom. To honor your husband is to honor me. To be quiet when you know you have the ability to talk him into anything is submission, and submission to your husband is sometimes the greatest thing you can do for Me.”

So I am going to be quiet. I am going to wait. Waiting is hard, but waiting is good for me. It builds character, it allows God the opportunity to soften and mold my heart. It makes what I am waiting for that much sweeter when it (he/she)  does come.

But while I wait I wanted to share that information with those who read this. All the experts say it is better to be raised by a family of your own race, but the fact is also that it is better to be raised in any loving family than it is to be raised in foster care. The TRUTH is that Jesus has a plan for each of these children and you MIGHT be part of that plan. His word says that He is the Father to the fatherless, but it also says that WE are the body of Christ. He wants to father the fatherless through us. I know that it is irritating when people think everyone should be doing what they are doing, and I don’t want to do that. I recognize that God is not calling everyone to adopt. But I also know that sometimes you can read something and it does something crazy to your heart. I know because it is why we are adopting from Ethiopia. It is why one day….we might adopt an African American baby from the US.  So read this:
There are African American women that are choosing to give their babies life, and no one is in line to adopt them.
Does this do something to your heart like it does mine? If not then just pray or spread the word, but if it does….talk to your husband, talk to your wife…maybe you’ll realize that your ready to make a a very quick decision as well….

PS. Please pray for the Ethiopian government – the MOWCYA (Ministry of Women, Children and Youth) to do what is best for the orphans in their country. Yes, we want them to carefully watch that international adoptions are being done ethically, but we also don’t want orphans to say in an orphanage one day more than is absolutely necessary.

I like to blog at least once a week, and its been nine days so here I am…but with nothing huge stirring in my brain. So this is just an update.

Foot and Sugar: I have been nursing a sore foot for the past 2 weeks. Finally went and got xrays and was told… nothing to see on the xray – stop wearing cheap tennis shoes if you are going to continue your hour and a half walks. So I went out today and spent $75 on shoes.  I am going to consider it a “medical” expense. I can’t bring myself to consider it “clothing.” I have never spent that kind of money on something to wear. We are making homemade ice cream for the third time this week…this is why I am walking an hour and half a day. I like sugar. And pizza. And chickfila. I am getting close to weighing what I weighed when I had both of my babies. It bothers me, but not enough to deprive myself of sugar…yet.

Adoption: Things in Ethiopia have definitely slowed down on the adoption front. There have been very, very few referrals lately. It is difficult not knowing when our baby will be coming home. Difficult to come to terms with the fact that it could be a long time from now. Difficult that there is nothing at all I can do. Difficult when people ask “How much longer?” Difficult when people don’t ask… 

Ministry: I have decided the hardest part of youth ministry is seeing your seniors graduate. Learning to trust God to hold on to them as they move on to adulthood. Praying hard that their reliance on God is their number one goal and desire. Mercifully tolerating their “senioritis” moments. Letting them know how much I love them without bawling my eyes out…(I failed this one Sunday night). Learning to be okay with being vulnerable.

Here are a few of our seniors that I have had the privilege of photographing over the past year.
 
 
          
Parenting: The Bible tells us the most important thing is LOVE- loving God and loving others. I can raise children that are intelligent, good communicators, hard working, but if they don’t truly love God and love people then I have failed. The hard thing is love is a heart issue. I can’t force my kids to love. I could force them to “act” loving, but I know that God isn’t into His children “acting.” So I am praying for wisdom and direction in knowing how to teach my children to love. Praying for LOVE to be my life motto so that I can lead by example. My daughter and I were in Target the other day, when two little girls began looking at Hope and whispering and giggling. After passing them, Hope looked up at me with big, sad eyes and said, “Those girls were telling secrets about me and that makes me sad.” It opened up an opportunity for me to talk to her about never letting another persons words or actions cause us to forget that we are loved by our family, friends, and by God. To not forget, ever, that God has a plan for us that no one can take away.  To never forget that we are here to show God’s love.
“We have to love people even when they are mean, right?” my sweet little girl said to me at the end of our conversation.
So I added on that those who are mean often have hearts that have been hurt, and that we need to try to remember that. And that we also need to try our best to always be kind so that we never hurt someone else’s heart.

Praise Report: This could go under adoption, but I’m giving it a category of its own. This week we received a letter from Show Hope (Steven Curtis Chapman’s adoption ministry) letting us know that they are awarding us a $4,000 adoption scholarship. We are beside ourselves with excitement. God is faithful. His timing is completely impossible to figure out beforehand, but it is always perfect. I’m trusting Him to continue to write our story.
 
                          
                                          Excited Mommy/Mommy to be!

Our vehicles are old. They are not in the best shape. We were saving for new ones….until we started this adoption. Now we are driving by faith!

 On Sunday afternoon after unsuccessfully trying a “cheap fix” for a big problem in our mini van, I plopped myself on the couch in  a huff. I said to Blake in my best spoiled brat voice,  “This is just great -  people are going to look at us and say, ‘Look they obeyed God and now they have no money!’

An hour later I was listening to Louie Giglio teach on finding God’s will for our lives. He talked about how Christians ask God every day, “What is your will for my life?” He said that we can’t ever really know the answer to that question until we see the problem with that question…..  You see this is not MY life. It is God’s. He paid my ransom, and I willing surrendered. I gave up the rights to my life in exchange for His gift of love and salvation. A ridiculous trade from God’s standpoint….we get perfect love, salvation, eternal reward; He gets our hearts….well part of our hearts…and well …some of the time…

I consider entering eternity. I consider paradise and being welcomed by Jesus. And then I consider realizing that my chance to honor Him, to show my gratitude for His sacrifice was utterly wasted. I accepted salvation, I got in on the prize of Heaven, but I bring  to the feet of Jesus nothing but a lifetime of living for myself…a lifetime of pursuing my own happiness.

I realized how completely foolish it is, on my part, to demand anything from God “I did this for You so I should get a reward….like NOW.” Really, Christina? Do you deserve anything from God? Do I think that our small sacrifice is even worth a drop in repayment for the blood of Jesus Christ? Will not the reward of a child be enough? Will not the blessing of being apart of God’s plan for this little one be worth more than any material possession? Do I dare tell God He owes me more? I am undone by His mercy that keeps Him from giving me what I DO deserve.

Besides feeling remorsefully convicted, this truth of my life being His also feels like freedom. I find I can tolerate driving a mini van without AC, or find a way to manage with one vehicle. I can’t help but giggle to myself at the cardboard stuck at the base of the window to prevent it from falling into the door. It dawns on me that it is truly a wonder that Blake’s car still manages to get us where we need to go even though it roars like a spaceship taking off when it goes faster than 10 mph. I decide its kind of adorable how the rubber seal hangs out of the trunk like a tail if it is not closed just so.

 I will drive our vehicles with joy and gratitude when I am reminded that my life is not my own. Everything of this world will pass away. Only my love and worship of Jesus Christ and the love that I offer to others will last until the end. Our vehicles will be left behind whether they’re worn out or brand new. I think I would rather leave behind that which is worn out if it means having more to lay at the feet of Jesus when I reach Heaven, wouldn’t you agree?

This day has been difficult. I awoke this morning feeling anxious about how I have been feeling physically…just weird; I think my immune system is down…I guess. I don’t know. Also Hope twisted her ankle last night. It is swollen. That worries me. Our adoption agency has not given out any referrals in over two weeks and today they announced the referral time for a boy which was 4-6 months when we applied is now 7-11 months. Felt like a punch in my stomach. I found out the only person I know in “real life” who is adopting from Ethiopia is going to be moving her paperwork to another country. I am having a hard time with that.  There are a few other things I won’t go into, but I feel like I should say there are other things..I have this need to assure myself that I have just cause to feel sad. That its okay to be gloomy today. But under the disappointment, the frustration, the anxiety, the sadness…is just a knowing that God is near me.

 Hope and I were sitting in the car this afternoon waiting on the boys to get done in the auto store. Hope was rummaging among our CDs and chose a David Crowder CD to put in. The first song to play was this one:

He is such a big, powerful God. When circumstances appear to have taken a turn for the worse….and I start feeling that I might be in this thing alone. Me and my emotions, my anxious heart, my hands full of my disappointment and my eyes downcast

He reminds me “Christina, I am your reward. I am your destination.”

Intimacy with such a beautiful God is enough. When I fall before Him in worship, tell Him that He is all that I want then He loves me back to the deepest part of my being. He reminds me of all the things that He has done in my life up to this point.

And then…He tells me that I am at the “water’s edge”. The edge of something that looks so impossible but its not…..not with God. He is just preparing to show off again. To show Himself incredible, to knock me off my feet.

Praise our God, for He is Good. 

 Yesterday our pastor talked about the story of Lazarus and the rich man.  (I won’t re-tell it, but it is found in Luke 16.) As I listened to the story, I wondered to myself, “What would make the rich man think that Lazarus would even consider helping him. I had always imagined that the rich man had completely ignored Lazarus. We read, however, that the rich man knew the beggar’s name. He also must have had some reason to believe that Lazarus would help him. Maybe I have had it wrong. Maybe as the rich man walked outside his gate each week he and Lazarus would speak. “How’s it going today Lazarus?” “How are those dogs and flies treating you.” And maybe Lazarus as much as he longed for a scrap from Lazarus’ table in a strange way appreciated the attention. Maybe his eyes lit up a little that the wealthy man dressed in purple knew his name. Could it be the rich man thought he was doing this sick, homeless man a favor by acknowledging him? Is it possible that every once in a while he even tossed him a coin or shooed away a dog or two that was antagonizing Lazarus?

But obviously those “efforts” were not found to have any worth. They were not from a heart that was pure. This morning I asked God to show me what the rich man should have done when it came to this beggar lying outside his home. And this thought formed quickly, “He should have given him a place at his table.”

I was reminded of the story of David and Mephibosheth. Shortly after David became king he began to search for any remaining relation to the previous King Saul. You see he had the right, and was expected to kill any remaining family of the king before in order to protect his position. His search was successful. He found one young man: a cripple named Mephibosheth. But to the surprise of everyone, especially Mephibosheth I am sure, David did not kill him. He welcomed him to his table. This crippled man had the honor of dining with the king for the rest of his days.

When Jesus was on earth the gospels tell of Jesus sitting and eating at the “table” of sinners….of pharisees, of prostitutes, of tax collectors.

The gospel also warns us not to save the head of the table for the rich and important, but instead to bring the poor and needy to the front of the table. To honor those who, in our society, have not earned the right or privilege to be honored.

Jesus showed a beautiful example of servant-like love at a table during the last supper with his disciples.

The Bible speaks of the banqueting table that is being prepared for the bride of Christ. We will dine with our God. We will sit at His table….with Him, our King, for eternity.

To follow in the footsteps of Jesus, to carry in us the heart of God….we must love the unlovable. We must love them in a way that causes them to feel honored and valued. We must reach out and bring them in, and allow them to become (as if they are) family.

Our church has grown a lot in the past two years. Just this month we have had to begin a second Sunday morning service. Our pastor always refers to transitions like these as “making room at the table.” I had gotten to the point that I wished he would come up with another slogan…it was getting a little old to me. But not anymore. God has opened my eyes to the significance of the “table.” The table is a place for family. It is a place to enjoy the nourishment and comfort of food provided by those who care for and love you. It is a place to be real, to share your joys and your struggles; never fearing that you will be rejected.

Did you know that you are welcome to God’s table? In the story of Lazarus, Father Abraham tells the rich man, “No, Lazarus will not come to you. His lifetime was full of bad things, but now he is being comforted.” How beautiful! All of the pain. All of the struggles. All of the rejection and humiliation. It will come to an end. And for eternity we will be comforted. Hold on, friend, wherever you are….for there is comfort for your soul. He is saving you a place at His table.

There are so many, many people sitting outside of our gates. The gates of the church. The gates of the body of Christ. So many poor, needy, broken, people. 147 million orphans. 1 billion people living in extreme poverty.  32 million suffering from Aids. Countless men, women, and children in every city in our nation, and in our world are being tormented by every imaginable tool of Satan. Divorce, Abuse, Cancer, Depression, the list goes on and on and it is heartbreaking. We need to take a minute from our lives of luxury (if you are reading this online right now – you have luxury) or even our lives of heartache, to see others from God’s perspective. The perspective of love, empathy, and compassion. A perspective that is not disgusted by sickness, frailty, and raw carnality, but is instead disgusted by greed, overindulgence, and snobbishness. I am so grateful today that God sent his Son down to our table so that we could have a place at His table. Out of this gratitude, out of worship I want to “waste” my life finding ways to invite Lazarus to my table. Lets beg God to burden us for the broken, and to show us who our Lazuaruses are. The ones that God has called us to love and honor and serve.

First Clue: Look for those whom your first instinct is to turn away.

After church yesterday, we ventured a few streets over to take pictures at some houses that are being built. It was just the kids and I first because Blake was still finishing up at church. I love how when he shows up time gets sweeter. His laid back personality relaxes all of us and a photo shoot goes from being a tad on the stressful side to silly and fun.

Happy Monday everyone!!  Give yourself time and permission to relax and be silly! And don’t forget to invite someone to your table this week.

I always knew that I wanted to be in the ministry. My dream was to marry a man that wanted the same thing. I would daydream of a man that would play the piano and the guitar, sing to Jesus, smile at me with his eyes, and adore our children.

After graduating from Bible college, Blake accepted a job as a technical director at a church in a very affluent city. My heart and calling had always been for the “non-affluent”. I found myself in a place and around people that seemed so far from that which I believed I was “called” that I couldn’t help but feel that God had decided I wasn’t up to the things He had placed in my heart.
 
So I made a plan. I had spent my teenage years in all different types of children ministry and child evangelism. I had recently graduated from Bible college. I decided to get involved in the children’s ministry for sure that they would jump up and down in excitement at the opportunity to have me.

I remember being told that first Saturday night that  I could rock the babies, but was not talk to the parents or even go by the door. That was the job of the lady in charge (I forgot the fancy name for her).

For the next six years, my pride suffered one injury after another. I grew to despise those who were important in the church. I was overly sensitive and easily offended. I remember being in a room with several women when half of them, who happened to be pastors wives, began to talk about what they were going to wear to the upcoming pastors’ wives event. I sat there and listened, and allowed extra fuel to fan the flame already blazing hot by the recent conversation my husband had shared with me that took place between he and his boss (a pastor). A conversation that went something like this:

Blake: “I’m sorry, I don’t think there is a possible way that my team can get that done on that timetable.”
To which his boss replied, “Make it happen. Pastors get what pastors want.”

Oh how my bitterness grew as I sat there that day.

I worked through a lot those six years. Forgave and then forgave again and again and again when the resentment would raise itself from that shallow grave I kept throwing it in.  God would be so gracious to remind me who I was in Him, only to have me forget and have to dig me out of the bitterness pit over and over.

I had to learn to let pastors and pastors’ wives be human. I had to see my pride and insecurity, my selfishness and jealousy for what they were. I had to admit, that for the most part, my struggles had nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. I had to realize that I had the ability (if I chose to) to twist and manipulate every situation to make those of whom I was envious look like villains in my mind. I had to see that the devil was completely scoring point after point in my identity and in my God given responsibly to love and honor those in spiritual and employment authority. Even as I type this, blinders continue to fall off. I see how I held on to silly things way too tightly.

Soon I will write a blog on how my husband handled those six years. That deserves a blog of its own, unpolluted by my journey.

I made a lot of promises to myself during those years. If I am EVER a pastor’s wife I will NEVER……..

Now here I am, coming up on two years of being just that….a pastor’s wife.

The third week of being in our new roles, Blake came home from work with a worried look on his face. “What?” I asked nervously. “Pastor told all of us today that he wants all pastors wives to sit on the front row.” He cringed as he said it, waiting for my tirade. He knew that was on my list…..that was one of my “I will nevers.” “I will never sit on the front row by myself while my husband is on stage. I will reach out to other women. Sit with whomever God leads me to sit by.”

I “tiraded”. I admit it. And then the next Sunday I sat on the front row and prayed for no one to judge me. You know just in case there was anyone sitting behind me that thought they had me all figured out….”sort of” like I thought I had all of the pastors’ wives figured out a few years ago. If that “judge and you shall be judged” scripture is literal (and I’m afraid it is) heaven help me with the judgment I will endure.

That is not the only promise to myself I have broken. Some not of my choice, while some were of my choice because I see things from a different perspective now. But I have tried with all my heart to keep one thing constantly in mind.

 Every single person in my church has the potential to minister to me just as much, if not more, than I can minister to them.

They can pray for me, speak prophetically over me, give me Biblically sound advice, and even speak in such a way to bring Godly conviction. I might sit on the front row, but I know that I am far from being “front row” in my walk with the Lord and in my character. The same God lives in every believer. We might have different roles. We might have different anointings. We might even have different authority. But we all live and move and have our being in the same powerful and loving Holy Spirit. No matter your place in your church: you are called to minister. God has people that He wants to touch through YOU!

He has people that He has called you

To Pray For
To Love
To Offer a Smile and a Listening Ear
To Serve
To Lead

Don’t put your potential in a box. Don’t believe that you can only minister to those who have walked a similar path as you. If you have gone through pain and have felt the love of a Savior embrace you in your pain, then you can minister to anyone in any situation. God is the only answer and if we have God, if we KNOW God. then we know and have the answer for every person.

So step out. Ask the Holy Spirit to open doors and provide opportunities. Ask Him to help you take your eyes off yourself and to see those around you in the church and outside the church with His compassionate perspective.
Never wait for a role or a title.

You have a role: Gospel Spreader (Matt 28)
You have a title: Child of God (Gal 3:26).

Let God remind you of your identity. Pray for God’s mercy to honor His leaders in the church and in the world. And lets go out there and love on people!! Your potential through His Holy Spirit is without limits. You can be a world changer one hurting person at a time.

I am reading a book right now entitled Stepping Heavenward by Mrs. E. Prentiss. It was written in the 1800′s and it is stuffed full of really good truth. I read a lot of it this past Friday. I also listened to three sermons online from our former pastor when we lived in the DFW area. By end of the day, I was on conviction overload. I wanted so badly to be receptive of all that I had taken in. I wanted to be good soil, yet before I knew what was happening, my conviction had turned to guilt. Realizing how far I was from the mark of Jesus-like perfection, left me feeling like I had been given my test back with a big, circled in red “F”.

Fortunately Stepping Heavenward addressed this feeling of self-frustration. I reminded myself what the wise Mrs E. Prentiss had said about focusing on self.  Even if all of the focus is on my faults,  I am still focusing on myself and that in turn will feed my love for self. My focus has to remain on my Savior who has crossed out all my red “F”s and made them all “A”s. Sanctification is just as much God’s work as salvation. Salvation comes by one prayer. Sanctification comes by daily prayer.

 I heard God speak to my spirit on Friday morning. As I stood in front of the mirror washing my face He said, “You can fake it, or you can step up your game.” I knew what He was saying. I knew what He was wanting from me. It doesn’t have anything to do with trying harder to get an A.  It is about recognizing in a more intentional way that God is my source.

….Surrendering my humanness and clinging on to His perfection.
…..Worshiping and Standing in Awe of who He is.
…..Telling Him (and myself) that I have nothing and can do no good thing outside of His mercy and grace.

From what I understand from other adoptive families in our agency that have already made trips to Ethiopia, there are two transition homes which house the children that have been referred to families and are waiting to go home. One of the homes is for children birth through 2 years old, and the other is for children ages 3 and above. Today a lady sent out an email telling about her recent trip to meet her baby. On this particular trip all the parents that were there were either adopting infants 0-18 months or a child/children over the age of three. She said that as a group of them sat on the porch with their babies, the older babies (1-2 year olds) stood on the other side of the glass door trying to get the attention of all the parents out there loving their babies. My heart twisted as I thought about these little ones looking on as the smaller babies got snuggles and hugs and kisses. Most, if not all of these toddlers, have mommies and daddies trying their best to get to them too, but they don’t understand that. As I told Blake about it at lunch I looked across the table to see my eight year old’s eyes filled with tears.

Tonight I was thinking again about these precious children. About my precious Ethiopian child. I was picturing their little faces on the other side of the glass window when all of a sudden I saw my face. Looking out at all the people who seem to be doing a lot better than I am. They have it all together. Some financially, some socially, some spirtiually, some all of the above. And I start feeling like I am not very valuable. I don’t deserve the acceptance of a perfect God. I realized that I think like an orphan a lot of the time. As if I am the only one looking out for me, and when I fail at the same thing again, when money gets tighter, when my dreams seem like they are never going to come true, I find myself wishing I was like those other people on the other side. When all along, God is waiting for me to realize that I have a very good and very big Daddy watching out for me. A Father God that has done so very much, paid the ultimate price just so He could call me His own.  Tonight my rescuer, my adopted Father God, my salvation and my Hope spoke into my heart and said, “My daughter, You have no idea how precious you are to me.”

I have strengths that are not Blake’s strengths. I am stronger at public speaking, communication, grammar, spelling, and creative writing. It is not difficult for me to get places on time. I am a deeper thinker, more organized, and more proactive about planning for the future. Blake, on the other hand, has many strengths that are not my strengths. One of his greatest strengths “happens to be” one of my greatest weaknesses, and that is: Mercy

I have compassion for causes, but I tend to have little mercy for individuals. I go through times where any mercy that I do have dries up to a small, muddy puddle. That is what I found in myself last night. Yesterday was a very good day. It was uplifting and just plain fun. Church was awesome, lunch with friends was relaxing and inspiring, and I had the opportunity to speak to our youth about purity which is one of my most favorite subjects. But sometime during the late evening I made a comment to Blake about something that frustrated me and out of me came an outpouring of haughty judgment on a broad range of subjects. He listened quietly. We had to put the kids to bed, and get ready for bed ourselves and it was at least an hour before we were laying in bed, alone once again. By that time, conviction had hit full force. I inched myself as close to him as I could and in the darkness of our room I confessed, “I don’t like all these feelings inside of me, but I don’t know what to do about it.” He pulled me close and began to talk…..about mercy.

About how we are each full of humanness and imperfections.
About how we don’t want people to define us by our imperfections so we should not do that to others.
About how if we are really going to love people we have to love all of them: the good and the bad.
About how freeing it is to decide to see the good in people.
About how forgiveness and understanding brings joy and makes your life more beautiful.

And as he talked I easily clung to every spoken truth, because each word was covered in mercy for me.

I was embraced in mercy by my husband.
I am embraced in mercy by my Heavenly Father.
And now, I am ready once again to embrace those around me with the same mercy that has been so lovingly shown to me.

I wonder sometimes why God didn’t call us to adopt three years ago. When we made more money,  had better benefits and our house had a spare bedroom and 1,000 extra square feet. God just doesn’t work that way does He? We have all heard the saying, “He meets you where you’re at.” I think that there should be a second part of that saying that goes: “And get ready to be blown over by what He will have to say when He meets you!”

I have been thinking about how human-nature it is to be afraid of the voice of God. His voice often interrupts all of  our preconceived ideas of how our lives need to look. I think for those of us who really want to live our lives in complete surrender to Christ, God does what He needs to and uses what He can to keep our hearts abandoned to Him. I am learning, however, that this challenges the not so uncommon belief that God only allows good things to happen to us. Have you ever met a child that got everything he or she wanted? Yes, so have I. It is not pretty. Would we, God’s children, be any different if He only gave and allowed things in our lives that we, in our human thinking, deemed “good.”

A couple of weeks ago Blake and I went through something really un-fun (seriously it had to be the enemy!). The situation put Blake and I on our faces before God. Over the next few days the tv didn’t come on, our communication became deeper, our prayer life doubled (at least) and the Bible came open several times a day. Our relationship with each other became intricately stronger as we talked and prayed and listened for the voice of God.
Instead of just letting this situation fade in the rear view mirror I have been trying to soak up any bit of truth I can get out of it. Wringing out anything that might strengthen my walk, my faith, and my character. I started thinking about how we automatically ascribe anything bad that happens to us to the devil.  I pondered the fact that I had blamed the devil for this latest “escapade” “You know what?” I thought, “The devil knows us well enough by now; we’ve walked similar situations before. He surely knew what our response would be; that it would drive us straight to the throne of God. So why would the devil have done this?”

And I had to admit….. Maybe the devil didn’t do it.  Maybe God saw that our flesh was battling our hearts and gaining ground and He was left with three choices:

#1. He could overlook it.

# 2. He could give us something that we would consider good. (lets just say: a new mini van with a working AC)
Yet would that have made us desperate for God? If you consider a few days of, “Thank you Jesus!” then yes. But I know desperate personally and that is not desperate.

#3. He could give us something we would consider “bad.”

And that is what I believe He did. It was uncomfortable. It was painful. It was a struggle. But you know what? God made it beautiful.

 I thank Him for the painful in my life and for the many, many times that He has made painful: Beautiful.