This Man

So this morning I am listening to Jeremy Camp music on YouTube, trying to psych myself up to cleaning my bathroom, which at this point includes sweeping and mopping the floor as well as scrubbing both the tub and shower. (NOT something I enjoy!) As I'm listening, I come across "This Man." Let me share the lyrics with you: "In only a moment truth Was seen revealed this mystery. The crown that showed no dignity He wore And the King was placed for all the world To show disgrace, but only beauty flowed from this place. Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? He held the weight of impurity. The Father would not see The reasons had finally come to be to Show the depth of His grace flowed with Every sin erased. He knew that this was Why He came. Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? And we just don't know the blood and Water flowed and in it all He shows just how much He cares, And the veil was torn so we could have This open door and all these things have Finally been complete. Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands? From His hands From His hands From His hands From His hands From His hands?" So I took a moment and watched a bit of it. The particular version I watched showed scenes from "The Passion of the Christ," where Jesus was being beaten and carrying his own cross. I didn't keep watching long enough to see if it showed Him actually on the cross or not--although I'm sure it did--because I wasn't sure I could stomach it this morning. It was pretty gory and gruesome stuff. The pain and suffering He suffered staggers my imagination. So, then I hear the chorus, "Would you take the place of this Man? Would you take the nails from His hands?" and the thought pops in my head: "WOULD I?" It didn't even take a second to think, "No. No, I would not." Truth be told, that kind of pain would be just too much and there are VERY few people on this earth that I would suffer like that for, and even then I might pray that death came quickly. To do that for all of humanity, for the very people who were causing me that suffering while laughing and jeering--spitting!--at me, for people I've never met, who wouldn't even be alive for thousands of years after my suffering? No, I couldn't. So now I think, "Man, I must be a terrible person! I thought I was a loving, Christian woman." Well, the truth is, that while I AM a loving, Christian woman, I am NOT God. When Bree was born, someone told me, "As much as you love that baby, just imagine... God loves you even more than that!" It was very humbling, because I knew that I loved that baby more than anything I'd ever loved before. Before she was born, I didn't know such a love existed. I couldn't imagine a love bigger and better than that! So that memory brings it into focus. I couldn't take the place of that Man, because I am not capable of loving humanity that much. I am only human, and human beings have, by nature, a bit of selfishness in them. It's always good for me to remember just how much my Lord loves me, it's humbling, and makes me feel all gooey inside. This is why Christians should be happy people: because our God loves us more than we could ever imagine. Have a great day everybody, and God bless you all!

"Above All"

Well, I have been kinda AWOL here on my blog because Sammy--our wonderful little rescue dog--decided that our laptop looked like a good thing to hike his leg on. Needless to say, although the laptop, mercifully, seems to not have died altogether, it does require a password to log in to and one of the letters in the password no longer works on the keyboard. Since it's extremely hard for me to type on my phone or Corey's tablet, I have decided not to post much. I am posting this (as I did the one on 11-11-11) from another laptop. So anyway, I've had "Above All" stuck in my head for a while. It's because of the part of the song that is in one of the Christmas songs we're singing for the Christmas cantata, "like a rose, trampled on the ground, You took the fall, and thought of me, above all." I love the lyrics to "Above All." It reminds me of all that Jesus sacrificed for me. I am very thankful for that. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I would like to list the blessings for which I am thankful for, starting with God Himself and His sacrifice for little insignificant me, continuing with Corey, the kids, my parents, my siblings, etc. The thing is, I have so many blessings--indeed, each breath, each second, each morning is a new blessing--that I could never count them all. For that, I am thankful. So I will close with the following Bible verses: "Yours, O LORD, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the majesty and the splendor, for everything in heaven and earth is yours. Yours, O LORD, is the kingdom; you are exalted as head over all. Wealth and honor come from you; you are the ruler of all things. In your hands are strength and power to exalt and give strength to all. Now, our God, we give you thanks, and praise your glorious name." -1 Chronicles 29:11-13 "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever." -Psalm 107:1 God bless you and keep you. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving if I don't get back on before then!

Every Season

Today, which is not only a once-in-a-lifetime day (11-11-11), is Veteran's Day. It makes me think of my grandfather, Ralph Helton, whom I've always called Pap-Pap. Pap-Pap loved his country, serving in the U.S. army for more than 30 years. He retired as Sargeant Major Ralph Helton, one year AFTER I was born. I never knew Pap-Pap as a soldier, I knew him only as my loving, doting grandfather, whose very presence made my day so much better! I do know that he loved his country: he was very into politics, always getting into discussions with my dad and uncle about it. He flew the American flag in his front yard on a flagpole that was there as long as I can remember. So it is in his memory, that I honor all Vets today. God bless our troops, wherever you may be! I love you Pap-Pap, and I miss you so much!

"My Own Little World"

"Father break my heart for what breaks Yours. Give me open hands and open doors. Put Your Light in my eyes and let me see, That my own little world is not about me. What if there’s a bigger picture? What if I’m missing out? What if there’s a greater purpose That I could be living right now? I dont want to miss what matters. I wanna be reaching out. Show me the greater purpose. So I can start living right now, Outside my own little world." ("My Own Little World" - Matthew West) So today I was thinking about this one situation that inconveniences me. While I can't give the entire story, let's just say that I was not having very Christian-like thoughts about this situation and how I wish I had nothing to do with it. The reason it inconveniences me is not because of anyone's doing. There is nothing anyone can do. However, because this situation makes my life more difficult, I automatically think selfish thoughts about how much easier my life would be without it and get mad because this is something I am "stuck with." What if I thought about it from another point of view? What if, instead of griping and complaining, I tried to do something about it? What if I decided to be more like Jesus and turned the other cheek? How much happier would I be about this situation? Clearly, getting angry isn't going to do anything. Pray for me. I need to get over myself in this matter. I need to get out of my own little world and see that my own little world is not about me. Father, please help me get over myself and look at things You would have me look at it.

Witnessing: He is "Strong Enough to Save"

*I have discovered that most of my blog titles involve titles of Christian music songs, so I think I've found a gimmick. "Strong Enough to Save" is a beautiful song by Tenth Avenue North, whom I have just recently discovered.* So I was reading my Sunday school book last night, following up on the lesson from last Sunday, which was about evangelism. I came across the question: "why do we take it so personally when someone does not accept Christ after we've discussed Him with them? [We don't get upset when someone doesn't agree with our opinion of a movie, book, music, sports team, etc.]" This made me pause, but only for a moment, because the answer to me is quite simple: Jesus is very personal to me. He is who I am, who I want to be; my past, present, and future. Movies, music, sports, none of these things reflect who I am the way that Jesus does. In some ways, not accepting Christ is like not accepting who I am. I don't mean to make this all about me, but that is why I think we get so upset when someone doesn't accept Jesus after we talk about Him. He is very personal. Oftentimes sharing Him means sharing a part of ourselves and our own story (testimony). Testimonies are very personal, and not easily shared. Could I just go up to people and share mine? Maybe, but possibly an edited version, depending on to whom I was speaking, which I do realize might make my testimony less powerful. There are some things about me that I just don't want getting back to others. I am embarrassed by some things I did. I wasn't addicted to anything, I didn't do anything incredibly stupid, I didn't live a horrible life, but I made mistakes. Is it easy to just go up to anybody and share my testimony? No. Will I? If the situation calls for it. Will it be easy? No. So if I go through the emotional wringer of sharing my testimony, will I be upset if the person with whom I shared it with doesn't jump up immediately and ask for God's forgiveness of his/her own sins? You bet. So in my opinion, this is why we are afraid of evangelism, of sharing God with others. He is very personal to us. He affects our very lives, which anyone will tell you is personal. We don't go sharing our lives with just anyone. We don't go around to every stranger and tell them our life stories. Some people might be told when and where we were born. Some people might know who our parents are; they might even know some stories of us as children. They might know us as adults: who we're married to, how many kids we have, what we do for a living. But think about other things: what about your social security number? How many people know this? How many people know your deepest, darkest secrets or our deepest wishes and desires? How many people know the details of your relationship with your spouse? Not so many, right? My relationship with God feels just as personal to me as my relationship with Corey does. This is why I would get offended if someone I shared God with rejected Him. I wouldn't want anyone to reject Corey or my relationship with him. I do not want anyone to reject God or my relationship with Him. It's that simple. We, as Christians, are considered the bridegroom of Christ. Therefore, our relationship with Him is just as personal as the relationships we have with our spouses. The only difference is: we are encouraged to share Him with others, and even though our relationships with Him are personal, sometimes sharing Him means sharing our own testimonies. The great news is: we are NOT the only path to God, so you don't have to feel like a failure if they reject you. God will find a way. Then it will be up to that person to accept Him and have everlasting life. I strongly encourage you to check out these videos from YouTube. They say it much better than I ever could! (I tried to link them on here, but it isn't working, so I'm just going to type the web addresses here: "Strong Enough to Save Video Journal" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNpw-kCUEtk&feature=relmfu and "Strong Enough to Save" (song with lyrics) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIRk5bebycI. May God bless and keep you always!

How Great is Our God - Baring My Heart For the World to See...

So I've been on a Christian music kick lately and have discovered Chris Tomlin's "How Great is Our God," which I am probably late in discovering, but I thoroughly enjoy it anyway. (I found out while listening to a string of music from Mr. Tomlin, my favorite of which is "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone).") So anyway, as I am typing this, if you've never heard the song, look it up on YouTube and listen to it while reading this blog entry. When I was 18, my parents were invited to attend my mother's best friend's church and we started going to church as a family for the first time. It had been a long time since I'd attended church--5th grade to be exact. I had forgotten little things like tithing and had recently went to the House of Mercy's service as my high school marching band was getting an award for marching in a parade in their honor and I, as band captain, along with the drum major were asked to go. Imagine my embarrassment when I had to let the drum major drop in money for me to tithe with because I had forgotten all about it! (I never admitted to forgetting about tithing until now.) Anyway, so we started going as a family. I had been to church before with friends and neighbors, but never with my family. It was an awesome feeling. Finally, something good we could all do as a family, even though none of us are morning people and were usually cranky until we got there. It always turned out that we were happier once we got there, simply because we were in God's house, being with people who were warm and welcoming and we LOVED our preacher. Over a couple of years, the rest of my family stopped going, but I stayed true. I rededicated my life, got baptized, and kept going to church by myself, much to my preacher's delight, who frequently told me how proud of me he was. I joined the Baptist Student Union at CSU, made great friends there, and served our Lord with all I could do, pushing my comfort zone until I felt greatly rewarded. I loved going to the BSU and praising and worshiping and serving God and the fellowship that such a group brings to your life. The BSU remains one the best times of my life and one of the greatest times of my premarital era. I even met my To-wee there, whom I still feel is one of my great rewards for serving Him at the BSU. When Corey and I started dating, he had just moved to Columbus and did not have a home church, so I invited him to mine. The first time we held hands was during Wednesday night service, singing hymns, in the sanctuary. I loved sharing my church family, fellowship, and God time with him. Over the years, we continued to enjoy our church, helping with Fall Festivals and VBS; I sang in the choir and occasionally played my flute for them (especially since the preacher loves the sound of a flute so), and the church accepted us as a couple long before we got married. Soon, they did not expect to see one of us without the other and when Corey's new job made him start missing Wednesday services and I had to go by myself, I frequently got asked where he was. Right after we got married, we even did a stint of teaching Children's Church on Sunday mornings. However, somewhere along the way, we lost our way. We got off of the God track and started on the selfish world track. We got a new Sunday school teacher shortly before I got pregnant with Bree and the new teacher started out with teaching Revelations--with great relish. Now, I admit I'm no fan of Revelations. Not only is it a hard read, but I've always worried about the people I love whom I won't be able to successfully witness to before it's too late. I'm not worried about myself, just others. So, because I didn't want to hear her glorious interpretation of Revelations, we quit going to Sunday school. Until this past Sunday, I hadn't been since. I taught VBS that year. I had volunteered before, but only as an assistant. I had never taught it, taught it. I had kids that were in fourth grade--I think--and I didn't mind it. I enjoyed participating in the classroom decoration contest--which I did not win, but it was fun--and once it was all over and I had to go clean it up, I got to be in the Sanctuary alone for the first time. I was upset because I wanted to get pregnant and was getting impatient--so much so that I was picking fights with everyone, including poor Corey (not exactly conducive to getting pregnant, I know.) So that morning, I prayed at the alter, all by myself. Then I looked over at my favorite window--a stained glass window, depicting a white cross with flowers behind it--and saw how the morning sun was shining just right so that the cross was shining on the adjacent wall. It was gorgeous! I knew then that God would answer my prayer, I just had to learn patience. (A month and a half later, I found out that I was pregnant with Bree.) So to make a long story short, eventually, even going to church for regular Sunday morning worship got to be too much. Corey and I got a little too fond of sleeping late over the weekends and decided it was easier just to stay in bed. So then we just went on Wednesday nights, but then we got too tired to go after work. So eventually, our attendance petered off to almost nothing. One day my preacher said to me--without any prompts from me--that he knew what was wrong: that we'd gotten lazy. Truer words were never said. So I tried harder after that. Around that time, I found out that our church was not going to be able to do VBS that year. This was disappointing to me because Bree was finally old enough to go to VBS and I wanted her to have that opportunity. My sister, Chrissy, had started a new church by then with a friend of hers and invited Bree to go there. So that's where she went. She had a blast! Plus, she got a t-shirt. Our church had never done this. At the end of VBS, of course you know they have their Sunday show-off day at the end of the week, so we attended Chrissy's church for services for the first time. (This was not the first time I'd met the preacher there, he had recently preached my grandmother's funeral, and I knew I liked him.) We liked the service and that day, I told Corey that if we ever needed a new church, I thought we should go there. Eventually, though not as often as we should, we wound up going to Chrissy's church more than our own church. My family started going there too. I told my preacher that it's just too tempting not to go to church with my family and that's why they rarely saw us--I didn't mention that I didn't go to that church all that often either. Each visit made us seem more and more welcoming, no matter how long or short it had been, and ours seemed less and less so. Maybe it's because our church has an older congregation; maybe it's just because I knew in my heart it was time to leave; but I will never forget the day we went to our church on a Wednesday night before Valentine's Day and when I walked Bree in the door, the teacher of the class kinda groaned to another lady standing there and complained that they had an unexpected one and told me that they would have to find something to give her since they were having a party for their class that night but they didn't know Bree was coming. I had never felt so unwelcome in my life. That truly bugged me--it still does, especially considering who she was. I don't think I've been back there since. Maybe once, but not again on a Wednesday night. So going to church began to feel like a chore--an obligation I did not find enjoyable at all. So anyway, here I was, stuck in this rut, feeling as though I'm torn between two churches. I love my church and the few people there who still talk to us and the memories I've made there. I love the sentimentality there. I love to sit and look at the place where I was baptized and married, the spot where we dedicated both of our children, my favorite window and I love to try to catch the sunlight on the wall again--I never was able to see it like that again; I love to look at the place on the pew in front of where we usually sit and look at Austin's teeth marks where he was teething and we were so busy paying attention to the sermon, we didn't notice he was chewing up the pew in front of us. I love the preacher, his wife, and the couple who always sit nearby and talk to us. Most of my friends that are our age from that church have moved on to other churches so no one really talks to us anymore. Then, there was my sister's church, where we always felt welcomed; people asked about us when we weren't there; and Bree had more adult friends and fans than I do. (The best way to a mother's heart is to love her children.) They sing contemporary Christian music, which Corey and I both enjoy (hymns are great, don't get me wrong, but the contemporary stuff reminds us of the BSU, which we both count as a special time in our lives.) The (now former) preacher at my sister's church is funny, younger than our own, infinitely more accessible through email and Facebook, and we all love him too. Bree leaves this church and can tell me what she learned that day, and even sometimes brings it out when she's playing with her dolls and thinks no one is listening. Despite all the signs to switch, I just couldn't do it. Maybe I'm afraid of change. Who knows? So, on September 11, I get up and go to church with the kids without Corey, who wasn't feeling himself that day and stayed home. This is my sister's preacher's last day at her church and I want to listen to him preach again before he moves on to his new church. During his sermon that day, I remember him talking about holding on to things that didn't really mean much to anyone but him, and talking about how great it is to see people he brought to Christ doing work for Him and bringing more people to Him (to which he started crying, which made me cry--men can't cry in front of me and expect my face to remain dry), and then he started talking about relationships and how you can watch TV sermons all day long, but you'll never get that fellowship that we as Christians need so badly; and I realized that relationships was exactly what I was missing in my church. No one really talks to me there anymore except the preacher. The last time we went, we talked to him, but no one else really even looked at us. Then I think about how much I loved serving God at the BSU and how I never really had the opportunity to do that at my church and how I desperately want to find a way to do that now. I realize that this church could provide me with the opportunities to do just that. I started crying. I don't know why. I decided right then that I was finally ready. It was the relationships that did it. So when they did the alter call, I waited--rather impatiently because I felt like this was my last chance, like I was about to miss the train and I did not want to miss it--for the guy in front of me to quit talking to the preacher, and I walked up there and told him--and how he understood me with all the sobbing I was doing, I don't know--that I was ready to switch memberships. So I was welcomed into my new church family. The preacher of course, made a joke about me waiting until he was leaving to do so, and I told him I just waited too long, but I have my theory on that too. I always said that if my preacher left, I would leave too. Maybe this was God's way of telling me that there are important people in your church family that are not preachers. Do I wish we still had him preaching there? Absolutely. Do I feel that this is a major deciding factor on whether I will continue to go there? No, not one bit. As he told me that day, "It's a good church." Yesterday, we went to our first Sunday school service at the new church--or since before Bree was born, I'm ashamed to admit. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm in a class with people I've met before and who are friendly and welcoming and I feel like I've always belonged there. I look forward to serving God at this church. In fact, I've already inquired about joining the choir and plan to attend practice Wednesday evening. How Great is Our God, that He would allow me to stray for this many years and still accept me when I wander back His way? Thank you, God. I am back again. Please forgive me for neglecting You this long.

"Legacy," My Life and Human Stupidity

I don't remember the first time I ever heard "Legacy" by Nichole Nordeman. I only know that from the first time I heard it, it clicked with me. I knew that that was EXACTLY how I wanted to be remembered. In "Legacy," Ms. Nordeman says that she wants to leave a legacy to be remembered as one who chose to love and pointed to God enough to make a mark on things; to be remembered as a child of mercy and grace who blessed God's name unapologetically. That is exactly how I want to be perceived. I want people to know that I am a child of God. I want them to know that I am a happily--no ecstatically--married woman who was blessed enough to marry the man of my dreams. I want people to know that I am a mother, and I love my children VERY much and I thank God for them every single day of my life and will continue to do so forever. So here's the thing: while I am sure that people are well aware of my marital and motherhood status, I am not sure that I let God shine through enough for people to know that I am a Christian woman. It's hard to reflect that in my profession where I can get into trouble just for mentioning His name--thank the Good Lord that I don't work in a climate where people would really complain if I did! It's hard for me to decide to get up and go to church on Sunday mornings and it's harder still for me to stick around on a Wednesday evening--getting home much later than usual on a day that I was probably already tired and worn out from a long day at work. I just want to sit home and relax after my stressful day or week. Sunday mornings make a great time for sleeping in, and my alarm clock and I have been arch nemeses for as long as I can remember. The problem with that is, what kind of example am I setting for my children? First, there's the whole church issue. We are members of a wonderful small church with a preacher whom I love dearly and is somewhat like a grandfather to me. He is the one who baptized me, performed my wedding ceremony, and presided over the dedication of both my children. He has been a comfort in times of grief and a sounding board for worrisome and exciting times. There's only two problems: (1) It is an older congregation and the (count them) two other couples even close to our age (one a couple years older and one a few years younger) never talk to us. (2) While I love our church dearly, it is not satisfying my family's needs. In children's church, my children play with Play-Dough the whole time and barely discuss the Bible or its teachings that I have seen. So enter church #2. A couple of years ago, my sister befriended someone who got her to start going to his church and--long story short--eventually my entire family wound up going there from time to time. This was wonderful and addicting! I had never had the pleasure of routinely going to church with my family as that's just not something we did when I was growing up. Oh, I went with friends all the time--and pretty regularly, even hopping a church bus and going by myself for about two years between third through fifth grade, but I never got to go with my parents and siblings. So this church is great. It has my family (now only on a "sometimes" basis), it had people my age (or close enough) and they TALKED to us! Even with the people our age gone to another church, there are my sister's friends, whom we get along with and will talk to us. Best of all, when Bree comes out of children's church, she usually has something to show that she did in class and she learns something! Suddenly a child who had never really discussed God with us before started discussing Him in the van on the way home! Not to mention that this church plays more contemporary music (not from hymnals like ours does) and Corey enjoys it more and I can tell that he enjoys this church more, even without having to tell me, but will go wherever I say we go because he wants me happy. The only problem: I was afraid to change, even knowing that church #2 was a better fit for us. So I went into a stalemate. I couldn't decide which church to go to, so I didn't go to either. On the rare occasions that we go to church, it's mostly to church #2. About a year and a half ago, I finally realized that since our church wasn't meeting our needs that we should go to church #2 most often, although I still couldn't bring myself to officially change our membership. It just seemed too permanent and I did NOT want to imagine the look of disappointment on my preacher's (or his wife's) face when they had to send our membership information over to the new church. It just broke my heart to think about it. So a few months ago, I finally got myself talked into deciding to take the plunge and switch churches. I mean, we've only been to our church maybe once or twice in the last year after all. Then I get a text from my sister informing me that the preacher at church #2 is leaving. One of the things I LOVE about our church is that they've had the same preacher for 30 years--and he has no plans of ever leaving or retiring until the Good Lord calls him Home. Preachers moving is one reason why I quit one church when I was a child. To some degree, I guess you could say that I don't like change. I never cared for substitute teachers when I was a kid and I don't like having to get used to a new preacher. So now I'm stuck. I guess I can try to stick it out and see if I like the new preacher--who knows, it could happen. So what kind of legacy am I leaving? Do people know that I am a child of God? Most importantly, do my children?? I pray that they do, and that, despite my human stupidity and laziness, they will know Him and love Him the same way I do; the same way that Corey does. I pray that I am setting a good example and being a good, strong role model for both my husband and my children as well as everyone else I encounter. But I just don't know. I'm working on it. Please pray with me on this.