humble pie

I prefer the taste of pumpkin pie over humble pie any day of the week. What was I thinking today when I opened my big mouth and inserted my foot?

A friend of mine who never, ever compliments me finally gave me a compliment (or at least I think so) and I immediately shot it down because I've had my feelings hurt and I wanted him to know that he's the one who's been hurting me the most. Even though everything in me was screaming, don't say anything...don't say anything...I said something....and then I said some more...and then some more. Of course, remorse inevitably and immediately followed. Bitter humble pie in my big, fat mouth.

It's not that what I said was so terrible. In fact, I tried very hard to carefully choose my words. It's just that at that particular moment, it would have better for me to just say nothing at all. When will I learn to just be quiet when silence is what is called for?

Why is it that I say that I trust God and in my mind I know that I do honestly trust God and His timing and yet my actions repeatedly say "Move over, God, because I have a better idea!"? There's something deep inside of me that causes me to leap head-first into action when there's a problem, thinking to myself all the while that I can fix it or solve it or make it feel or look better. But shouldn't I have learned by now that God is in control of all things and that He is infinitely better equipped than I am when it comes to mending broken relationships and broken bones and broken hearts and broken anything? When will that knowledge that is so firmly planted in my head and heart finally translate to my words and actions?

In the grand scheme of things, am I more worried about getting my point across than I am about shaping my character to better reflect the image of Christ? The answer is no. Sometimes, however, my eyes wander from the cross and I lose sight of what's important. God always directs my eyes back towards Himself. He always forgives me and reminds me to forgive others just the same. He loves me and reminds me to love others as He has loved me. And so I do.

I am definitely a work in progress. Stinkin' humble pie. Sigh.


Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. James 1:19-20

The fear of the Lord teaches a man wisdom, and humility comes before honor. Proverbs 15:33

proud to be a treehugger

Today I took a walk with God.

I started out my day as I would any other Saturday, but then God took me by the hand and led me so graciously, lovingly, and tenderly along a beautiful detour.

The weather was so absolutely gorgeous today that I felt compelled to spontaneously set aside my plans for the day and just enjoy some time alone with God. With my iPod plugged into my ears and a book in my hand, I parked my car and just started walking. I didn't have a destination in mind really. I kind of let the music guide me. It was sort of like those guys back in the day who searched for water with a Y-shaped stick or Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride who let his sword guide him. Maybe watching August Rush twice in one week has had an effect on me. All I know is that I let the music set my pace and when Beyonce said "to the left, to the left"...I literally turned down a side street to the left.

As I walked down sidewalks and cobblestone streets, my eyes wandered over landscapes and architecture. Even without my camera in hand, I see the world in photographs sometimes. A stone church steeple rising into the air in contrast against a brilliant blue sky. Brightly colored flowers in full bloom. Palm trees towering high overhead. Children giggling. A couple walking hand in hand. A dog sleeping contently at his master's feet. I see God's beauty everywhere.

For awhile I laid down on a park bench and read from my book. I could have fallen asleep there if it weren't for the fact that park benches make lousy pillows. But as I lay there looking up beyond the white gazebo towards the trees, I felt like I was looking at a deserted movie set. Several deflated balloons dangled from a branch high overhead, remnants of a picture perfect party some days past. Now the party was over and I was the only one left. It was bizarre how quiet and still the world seemed as I stretched across that bench. I read from my book there in the quiet stillness. I read about God's power and I felt something stir in my soul as the truth resonated there.

Eventually the music guided me to a park. After that, it took me to a lake. It was there that I spotted the tree. The perfect climbing tree. Seriously.

I climbed up into the tree and got settled. Perched high above the ground, I felt at home. Looking out over the lake, I watched the snake birds dive for their lunch and then air out their wings at the water's edge. I watched the ducks paddle their way from one bank to another in perfect synchronized formation. I laughed at the squirrels chasing one another in dizzying circles around the branches high above my head. I watched the Spanish moss swaying in the breeze and listened to the distant whistle of a passing train. The Russian Easter Overture began to play from my iPod and I swear nature danced to the music. For fifteen minutes (yes, it's that long of a song), the tall grasses bowed and the breeze shifted as the music swelled. Maybe August Rush has gotten to my head. I don't care. It was beautiful.

I alternated between looking up at the clouds in true daydreamer's fashion and reading Godly words of wisdom from my book. I let God speak to me without distraction. I was still. And it struck me. "Be still and know that I am God" the Psalmist writes. That's one of my favorite Psalms and yet I'm rarely still. I am always on the go, always running from one scheduled commitment to the next, meeting this friend for coffee or helping that friend with a project. I spend my time wisely for the most part and much of it is spent serving God, but most of it is simply spent. Not set aside. I am rarely just still for the purpose of being still and listening to God's voice.

But there, above the ground...in a tree...I was just still. I forgot for a little while about all of the tasks I needed to accomplish. I let go of the worries that are weighing me down. I set aside the pain and the fear and the doubt that accompany this life. I just enjoyed time with Jesus. I listened as He whispered to me through the beauty of my surroundings. I let Him romance my heart and I think my soul even did a little dance as my iPod played on.

Why is it that I find it so difficult to make time for God in that way? Why can't I slow down more often and just find rest and peace in the arms of my Savior? Why am I always so ridiculously busy? I bought two rocking chairs for my front porch, but I'm never at home to sit in them and relax with a friend over a lazy conversation. I bought a TV for my bedroom so that I would relax in bed during a movie, but I've only succeeded in making time to watch one movie in the last three months. Why is it that I have to climb a tree in order to sit still long enough for God to speak to my soul without having to shout above the distractions I surround myself with daily? And if it takes climbing a tree to achieve such stillness, then why do I not long to climb a tree every single day of my life?

God, I want to wake up tomorrow and long to climb a tree with you.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:10

rubies on tuesdays

I don't know what it is about Tuesdays, but Tuesdays are usually rough days for me. Crazy and tragic and sad things just seem to happen to me and my loved ones on Tuesdays for some reason. Well, actually I know there's a reason. I'm sure it's no coincidence that Tuesdays just also happen to be the day that my home group meets. We're studying the book of James and it has been a deep, intense study of God's Word. All nine of us have laid our hearts out on the table. We're actively seeking to learn more about God and serve one another each week as we meet to discuss the truths found in the Scriptures.

And so, on Tuesday mornings, when I get out of bed....I'm pretty convinced that Satan shudders a little at the potential threat of a woman who is truly pursuing God with her every breath and he scrambles to see what he might find to throw in my path. Fatigue. Illness. A wounded relationship. A hard day at the office. Whatever Satan can think of, he lays it out before me in hopes that he might cause me to stumble as I hike along the rocky, narrow road of righteousness. He longs to rob me of my joy long before seven o'clock rolls around and I walk in the door at home group.

Every Tuesday is a battle. And every Tuesday Satan loses. I love it!

No matter how drained I feel before walking in the door, no matter how ill-prepared I feel to lead a discussion on the Scripture we're reading, no matter how many different directions I feel I'm being pulled in...somehow God supernaturally redirects my thoughts and allows me to focus on Him with renewed strength. Each Tuesday I leave that Bible study with such pure joy in my heart that I feel like I might explode! And the crazy part is that I'm not really exaggerating.

I was thinking a few days ago about when I was in North Carolina and we were sifting through the dirt and debris at the bottom of a waterfall looking for rubies and garnet. I thought about how that search was so similar to our spiritual quest. God has all of these great treasures for us. He has beautiful rubies that He desires to gift us with, but Satan works as hard as he can to cover them up with dirt and debris. He wants them to seem unattainable. He wants to cover them up and bury them so deeply in the things of this world (the monotony of daily living, stress, arguments, sickness, weariness, broken relationships, etc.) that we forget about them and stop even trying to pursue them.

Each Tuesday I find myself with a handfull of rubies in my pocket by the end of the day. The rubies come in the form of Bible verses that speak to my heart, text messages that make me smile huge Orbit chewing gum smiles (ding!), surprise packages left on my doorstep, out-of-the blue phone calls from loved ones, bear hugs that lift me off of the ground, blue skies that cause me to daydream, and sunsets that quite literally take my breath away.

I love ruby Tuesdays! :) ....not to be confused with the restaurant.

roadside redeemer

I don't know why or how, but somehow I let the Devil get the best of me the other day. It started out an ordinary day. The sun rose in all its glory as it usually does. I joyfully watched its early morning rays glisten in the morning dew and never thought for a second that in just a few hours' time I'd be going to battle with Satan and his evil forces.

It was later in the afternoon when I started feeling like I was so alone. That's where the Enemy gets me. He is the father of isolation. He wants me to feel alone, betrayed, abandoned, fearful. I know these are his games, his clever tricks. He whispers "you're not good enough" in one ear and sings "you're not truly loved by anyone" in the other ear. He's good at what he does, but my God is so much better. The best thing about battling the Evil One is that I know that God is on my side and that He has already defeated Satan and his armies. But in that moment of doubt and uncertainty, it can be hard to shake loose from the devil's grip on my arm. He pursues me in my thoughts relentlessly even though he knows that my heart already belongs to Jesus Christ.

I was driving to a party where I'd be meeting up with thirty to forty friends, yet I felt alone. It was a long drive. No, it was a very long drive. Each mile seemed to stretch on forever as the devil battled for the control of mind. He told me lies. No, not the kind of lies you hear out loud in creepy, taunting voices like in the movies. The quiet kind of lies that start somewhere in the back of your brain…so far back that you think you must have come up with them all by yourself. And since you think they've come from your own mind, you think certainly they must be true. Surely, you wouldn't lie to yourself. Would you?

At last I'd had enough of this torture and I gathered all my strength to pray against the lies that were swarming my thoughts and choking my joy. As hard as I tried to pray, as much as I struggled to cast out all doubt and uncertainty, the thoughts persisted. My soul felt heavy and dark. I felt so alone.

Finally, I pulled my car over. It was a lonely stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. There I sat in my car next to some swampy water and reeds probably twice my height as cars periodically whizzed past me. I took out my "emergency Bible" and began reading the Psalms aloud. Soon the tears were flowing freely as the Psalmist's cries became my own. I begged the Lord to deliver me from my Enemy. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked," I read and wept and still the darkness persisted, weighing heavily on my soul. I tried to pray and I felt helpless to do so.

I got out of the car and walked closer to the water. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon and it was casting long shadows across the marshlands in front of me. Tiny birds were darting and chasing one another around the reeds. I heard something moving low in the grass and wondered if I might get to see a gator up close and personal. The wind whipped my hair around my face (especially as cars drove by) and the sun threatened to blind me as it continued to dip even lower in the sky.

I sat there at the water's edge and looked at God's creation stretched out before me. Nothing speaks to my heart like the beauty of creation. For me, to be outside is to feel alive. Usually that's all I need to ground me, to awaken my soul to the awesome majesty of the Creator. But on this night the darkness prevailed. The heaviness didn't lift. I prayed and prayed. I prayed so earnestly. Why wasn't God there for me? Why was I so alone?

Eventually I got back into the car, still heavy-laden and oppressed. I went to the party, but never felt truly present. I prayed throughout the night without ever understanding what I was experiencing. In fact, my night got worse. "Why are you allowing this to happen, God?" I was so dumbfounded. "I know my prayers are heard, so what's the deal God? What are you doing here? Why am I alone in this? "

It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened the night before. I was driving again, this time without the devil's whispers in my ear. I saw a sign that said "You've never cried alone. God is always there." And at that moment, it dawned on me that God had been there with me as I cried by the roadside.

I was so consumed by my self-pity as I sat there in the grass that I didn't even notice when Jesus stooped down and lifted me with such gentleness, tenderness, and strength and sat me on His lap as though I were just a tiny lamb. I didn't even notice when He wrapped His strong arms around me and held me tight, cradling me close to His chest. I was too distracted to notice the warmth of His calloused and nail-pierced hands as He laid them over my own. I never even noticed that as I was weeping, tears were streaming down His face as well.

There, on the side of the road, Jesus met me. I was never alone. I never will be alone. The Bible says it and I know it to be true. It says in Deuteronomy chapter 31, "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

What a blessed and wonderful thought to dwell on! The Creator of the universe who causes the sun to shine so brightly, who hung the stars in the sky and causes the moon to wane and wax…that very same Holy of holies, King of kings and Lord of lords…He met me at the roadside. He was with me in the car too. Tonight as I ran, He was right there next to me. He pounded the pavement mile after mile at my side whispering "I love you, my child" from start to finish.

There will be quite a few lonely car rides before my life is over. Satan doesn't grow tired of trying to hinder the work that Christ has begun in me. But he is doomed for failure because Jesus defeated him at the cross over two thousand years ago. I will have my dark days when my eyes are shut to the goodness of God and I temporarily forget the certainty of His love and faithfulness. But He will be there nonetheless. He will hold me in the sanctuary of His loving arms. He will feel my sorrow and He will share in my joy. That's what a Father does.

ready to fly

Last weekend was an amazing weekend. A few friends and I surprised my friend Stacy for his birthday by "kidnapping" him and taking him to the mountains of North Carolina for some early birthday hiking and exploring during the peak of autumn with all of its radiant colors. Around each curve in the road, something new and beautiful awaited us. At one point, someone pointed out that as the colorful leaves fell from the trees, the person who caught each leaf was the first person to ever touch that particular leaf. Incredible.

We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.

Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.

On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.

This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.

Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?

I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.

Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.

Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?

I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.

Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.