Reformed Grits

"I can't get no..."

I have a new past-time that entertains me on nights when my beloved is out and away, whether at school or at a friend's enjoying his favorite past-time. 

I go to a website for a familiar seminary, and go to the "jobs posted" page where there are hundreds of open ministerial positions posted.  Some are for Senior Pastors, some are for Assistant Pastors.  Some for Youth Pastors; some for Worship Leaders.  Listings for Ministerial Administrative.  And so on, and so forth.  I look over the listings and where they are... and I wonder. 

I wonder where we will be.  I wonder what we will be doing.  I wonder if we will be far from home.  I wonder if we will love it-- or hate it.  I think about what our home will be like there. 

Which leads me to the next thing I do.  I open a new window on my computer and go to a realty website and type in the zip code of a job that sounds "interesting" and I see what houses we could afford there.  It's been very... enlightening.  Some places I get really excited about, and some make me cringe and think it would never happen.  (Those will be the ones God leads us to, I'm sure.  He's funny that way with me.) 

Last night, I "found" a job in an area of Texas that was near a large city and VERY close to the Gulf (because I LOVE the beach.)  They had a classical Christian school, which was a HUGE plus.  I looked up and houses that were significantly within our price range were considerably larger than the house we are in now-- and have pools, and yards that don't need napalm, and playrooms in addition to 5 bedrooms and "Texas basements" (a storage attic, LOL). 

And I began to get ready to move. 

One problem.  We are still about 2 years out from finishing school (I say "we" like a man who says "we" about having a baby) and then another year for ordination.  Three years.  Did I mention "we" have been in school for 6 years already?  That means we are only 2/3 of the way there.  Lately my beloved has been talking more and more about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  (Our pastor would say, "And I don't think it's a train!")  I want to be expectant, but I'm having a hard time being patient.  I know that this "adventure" could take us anywhere and we could be doing anything.  My personality makes me see all this as "an adventure."  Adventures, I have learned however, aren't always what they are cracked up to be. 

At the beginning of the summer, we were wanting to get away for a long weekend.  I love to fly-- that's how I feel like I'm REALLY getting away!-- and so in planning I decided to find the cheapest flight to anywhere and that's where we'd get away to.  Turns out, that place was New Orleans.  It was exciting to look forward to it and plan.  We'd romanticize and dream about what this adventure would bring us.  We had every expectation of sipping cold drinks as we sat and leisurely and chatted at restaurants that would bring us plate after plate of everything we could stand to eat.  We'd go to movies; eat dessert; sleep in; stay out late.  And relax. 

Now I am definitely not complaining about our trip-- it was a lot of fun and we enjoyed getting away together.   But let me tell you, it was HOT.  And we walked 95% of the time everywhere we went.  And for whatever reason, I felt exhausted and wanted to fall in bed by 9 PM into a deep, dark slumber.  And I had no appetite.  And like I mentioned earlier, I never found ice cream the whole time I was there outside of an Arby's Jamocha Shake.  And the people there made me sad-- from the beggars, the homeless, the gamblers, and those that were taken advantage of.  It wasn't like I thought it was going to be.  It was hard.  And hot.  And... different. 

Going away-- whether for the night with your husband or indefinitely with your family-- in search of a respite from life through the adventure of just going, is really not satisfying.  Well, that is to say it's not satisfying if you aren't already satisfied where you are.   When will I learn that?  Years ago at a Bible study Caroline and I went to, the author of the study said that when you set something in front of you and say, "THIS will make me happy" whether it's a certain car, achieving a certain financial status, time away, food, or whatever... when you set something in front of you as that which will bring happiness or joy, you make it more important that God in your life; in actuality, you are idolizing it.  I hope that scares you as much as it scares me!  I don't want to waste worship on anything that is not worthy! 

My reaction to this is to attempt to be satisfied.  And for me, that requires patience.  The grass truly isn't greener than the grass under my feet.   As a sheep, I can be sure of this.  Because my Shepherd has led me to the greenest of pastures.  What could be more satisfying than this? 

Keep your state outta my church

I hope you all are having a wonderful 4th.  I just wanted to post something for discussion.  Let me preface this by saying I'd really love to hear your views on this.  This isn't a flame session and I reserve the right to turn comments off if kind and intelligent discussion gets, well, unkind and or unintelligent.  That's right.  If I don't like your exercise of free speech on my blog I'll cut you off.  This blog is not a democracy-- it's a dictatorship. 
Ok, now I'm just trying to be funny. 
But seriously, I'd love your thoughts on this...

My understanding of our Constitution is that there is no place that mentions the phrase "separation of church and state" but that the actual line to which this phrase is attributed is "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion."  In actuality, there are lots and lots of instances where federal documents, buildings, etc. reference "God."  If you were to read the views of our founding fathers you'd know this is the "Christian" God-- not the "Moh*****" one or the "Bud***" one or any other.  Granted, many were deists, we've all heard this, and I'd be a fool to tell you that they were all indeed Christians. 
My point is, that the first amendment in my understanding was more written to keep the state out of the church; not the "church"--or God-- out of the state (if I were going to adopt that phrase, which I don't think is really accurate.)

Ok, now thinking forward to current day.  At any given church across this fine country, the Sunday before July 4th you will see meeting halls and sanctuarys decked out in red, white, and blue-- flags of our country.  Sunday morning we'll sing "God Bless America" and "The Star Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful."  We'll shed a tear and get chillbumps as we sing these songs, talk about our country and those who sacrificed to give us the freedom to worship as we please.  We'll say the pledge of allegiance and walk away talking about how great church was that day. 

Am I the only one who this bothers?  What is church?  Aren't we there to worship God?  Some will argue that these songs invoke His blessing on our country or that they speak of God's goodness to us.  Well, ok, but consider:

America, America
God shed His grace on thee!
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

To whom is this song written?  Sounds to me as if it's talking to America.  It mentions the name of God, and in truth He has shed His grace on us despite the fact that our country has turned it's back on Him.  But honestly, I'm unconvinced this song has any place in a worship service. 
A patriotic service not conducted in a place of worship?  Sure!  I'll sing just as loud as you, but keep your "state" out of my church. 
This is my personal feeling and conviction; I'm not throwing down my church bulletin in favor of seeking out a Quaker church somewhere but to me seeing an American flag in the front of a church sanctuary makes me wonder if it's been completely thought out or if there is something I'm missing.  If there is, I'd love to know! 

I've had some tell me that we have flags in the sanctuary to show that we are under authority.  Hm.  I'm wondering if the new testament time churches had Roman flags in their meeting rooms?  Just a thought.  Like I said, this is not some fit I'm throwing in anger and frustration.   I really just mean it to be food for thought.   I'm so screwed up in so many ways; I make bad decisions every day and am not intentional in every area of my life as I should be.  But if we are to be intentional in anything, shouldn't it be in our worship of a holy and jealous God? 

I really do seek your thoughts.  I'd love it if someone would give me some thoughts and change my mind about this.  It'd be very liberating! 

Was just thinking...

Today I was talking to my beloved about what I was doing 2 years ago today.  The week before, we had had VBS at church and I had brought snacks for the teachers which basically meant I dropped stuff off in the morning, had my kids in VBS all day, and had the day free.  That whole week, Caroline and I, who were due 2 days apart, utilized that time by driving all over town in search of the last of our baby needs.  We each got an infant car seat, pacifiers, burp clothes, and other last minute things.  This pregnancy was the only time I have EVER been ready before my due date-- and I was only 33+ weeks then!  I tend to go late (JD was 12 days late!) and I really thought I had time.  My pregnancy had been perfect.  I felt good; I was happy as a lark (no pregnancy blues I'd had in the past), I was sleeping, and I was full of joy.  I actually was enjoying being pregnant!  
But let's back up... do you know what a gift my girl was?  We announced our pregnancy with John Knox on the day we took Sugie's baby bed down.  When we told the children, JD cried-- no, sobbed  --big, beautiful tears of joy.   He was smiling so big I thought his face would crack.  They were all so excited!  They were SO happy!  Every conversation they had was about "the baby" and how thrilled they were that another one was coming.  They couldn't wait to tell all their friends at school and church (one of our children actually stood in the hall of the Sunday school rooms and said, "Hey everybody!  We are having another baby!!!")
Almost 3 months later, when we gathered them around us again to tell them that our baby was dead, the scene could not have been worse.  I won't tell you what it was like in that moment, but telling them was almost harder then hearing the news for myself.  They openly grieved for a long time over the death of what we found out the next day was their brother. 
After all was said and done, Mr. Grits was over the baby-business.  He was ready to "end" our childbearing years and my stomach churned whenever he talked about it.  I could not fathom closing that chapter of our lives on such a bitter note.  He received wise counsel to not be hasty in this decision on the heels of such loss.  I was desperate to have another baby, immediately.  But we decided to hold off until we could make a better decision that would not be made early in grief.  We would wait and think about it again, say in 6 months or so.  Maybe at least after his due date.  We didn't know. 
3 or so months later, we had been at a soccer party where Taco Soup was served.  When I came home, I could not quit burping onions (sorry to be so gross.)  I remember telling Mr. Grits, "I don't know what's wrong with me... This only happens (it then dawned on me) when I'm pregnant!"  I happened to have some pregnancy tests in the bathroom left over from... well, who am I kidding-- I had them around all the time!  I took one, and had a faint positive I thought.   Sure enough... I was pregnant.  And not even late yet.  (Do I know my body, or do I know my body.  Say it with me, sistahs!) 
So back to the awesome pregnancy I was having... when all of a sudden I started with preeclampsia symptoms which I was told was impossible.  (Guess what?  "With God, nothing will be impossible")  I wrote her birth story here which you are welcome to go back and read.  Why on earth would I get this "impossible" case of toxemia when I've lost one baby and this pregnancy was going so well?  Why God?  I was in terrible physical pain and the joyous birth moment I had anticipated-- oh, how we talked about the swell of emotions we would feel as we heard this baby's first cry!-- was replaced with a little 4 lb 2 oz baby, a life-threatening disease, and so much nausea that I don't even remember her cry for all the throwing up. 
Yet, the more I ponder it, the more I see beauty from ashes.  This baby is a gift.  Yeah, yeah, I know-- they all are-- but she's like redemption. From simple things like being ready at home for her, and the time I had to prepare ahead of time when I didn't know she'd be early.   And even from being sick, I can tell you that God is good.  We didn't know it at the time but after she was born the doctor told us that her placenta was extremely under-sized, and had a huge clot under it that was cutting off her life-force.  This "bad disease" saved her life.  She would have died before we reached her due date. You tell me by whom we live and breathe and have our being?  Who knows all things?  Who puts to death and gives life; who wounds and heals, and no one is delivered but by His hand?  Who is in heaven and does whatever pleases Him?  And Who makes everything beautiful in His time? 
My God.  That's who.
So on the eve of this father's day, I give honor to my Father.  Take it from me... He's worthy.

... the Lord hath anointed me to... bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound... to comfort all that mourn;  To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
Isaiah 61:1-3

Just say no...

It's hard to say no. 

Well, I mean, to some things. 

When I was in the Bahamas a few years ago at the straw market and was naively "ooing" and "ahhing" over the cute hand-carved pipes with funny faces, it wasn't hard to say "no" to the Bahamian fellow who noticed my pleasure and wanted to know if I would like some "good weed." 

But it's hard to say "no" to good things.  My dear friend Meg brought this to my attention not long ago and it has resonated within me that there are seasons in life where you have to say no to "good things."  This next week I have actually for the first time ever, had to say "no" to working in VBS.  Ever since the spring and summer became so challenging with work, I have habitually said "yes" to working VBS even though it's my busy season for work and it completely drains and overwhelms me and makes me want to sit in the back of my closet with my blankey, sucking my thumb.  VBS is a "good thing."  But Mr. Grits has assured me that I physically and emotionally can't do both.  He decided for me, laying down the law (which he NEVER does except in situations like this where I can't be relied upon to make a wise decision and I know it) that last year was my last time to work VBS as long as I'm doing this job.  He's right, but it's hard to say no to good things. 

Something that wouldn't surprise most folks but they may not know is that Mr. Grits is a gifted soccer coach.  He has great knowledge of the inner workings of the game, strategy, skills, and what it takes to be a great player.  Not just physically, but he knows when a player is a liability to their team with their attitude and temper and is able to coach this as well.  He coached Jojo's teams for years until Jojo got on a traveling competitive team and then we decided that it would be a "good thing" for him to learn what others had to teach.  Two years ago, it looked as if his team would need a coach so Mr. Grits stepped up and coached him again in the competitive "2nd" team.  By the end of the season, the team found itself playing the club's "first team" in a tournament.  With his leadership and having been under his coaching for 2 seasons, our team dominated the game and almost won-- a last minute corner kick score did us in.  It was a great experience... except for the fact that Mr. Grits is called to full-time ministry and seminary.  That year of coaching, a new baby, and seminary classes almost stressed us to breaking.   I wish we looked back on that year as "good times" but whenever we look back we groan and say, "We will NEVER do that again." 

This summer, Mr. Grits and I have been plotting strategy for him to finish school inside the next 2 years.  We've talked about getting "gazelle intense" with his schooling.  Meanwhile, it looks as though an opportunity would come about to coach again this next year.  This prospect, like the proverbial carrot hanging just out of grasp of the horse's mouth, tempts like a siren.  He's a good coach.  A GREAT coach.  He enjoys it.  He could make a difference.  This opportunity is a good thing.  But it's a good thing we have to say no to. 

I've tried to think about a Biblical basis for this.  Why should I say no to something that's good?  The thing I keep coming back to is how Paul often mentions he had to turn away from trips or opportunities to go visit those he loved to continue on with difficult and challenging ministry opportunities.  In 1 Corinthians 16 he says "...I do not want to see you now and make only a passing visit; I hope to spend some time with you, if the Lord permits.  But I will stay on at Ephesus until Pentecost, because a great door for effective work has opened to me, and there are many who oppose me."  He is delaying the gratification of the "seeing you now" in order to be obedient to what the Lord has actually called him to, with the hope as well that he'll have a longer visit later. 

So basically, it's about obedience.  Our primary call is to get through school and for me to do my job.  (Obviously secondary to The Primary Call of parenting our children and raising them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.)  Coaching soccer, working VBS, volunteering in the kids' classrooms, working in the library, having the kids in music lessons or even playing soccer (yes, there I said it) truly are good things.  We just have to pick and choose which things help us in our call and which ones distract us from it.  Sometimes we don't know.  Sometimes we have to make bad decisions and learn from them.  And sometimes we just have to do the hard thing by saying "no" to "good things."

Nothing worth doing is easy. .

"Slow and steady wins the race" or "How did we get here?" part 6

Drolling along here, I hope to wrap this up soon as I'd hate to drive you all away and make enemies.  If you are wondering why, it starts here.   I'm not really sure how this all fits in to the story, but bear with me and I do a little "stream of consciousness" writing tonight. 
This weekend I'll be leaving early for Jojo's state cup.  If you are one of the ones who can actually see the updates on Twitter in the sidebar, the I'll post updates!

There must be some mistake.  I mean, I'm sure God doesn't make mistakes-- maybe it was us.  Or just me.  What have I done?  What have WE done?  I'm no Ruth Bell Graham.  It was a harsh reality that came crashing down when the reality of what was to come fell on me.  I was going to be she-who-was-under-a-microscope.  The lady in a glass house.  Me and my perfectionist tendencies. 

Cue screeching halt record music.

Hold on.  Have you been to my house?  Do you remember pictures like these?  Not what you'd expect from a perfectionist, huh?  I guess what I really mean is that I am a pride junkie.  When it comes to what people think of me, what I do, who I am, I tend to think that I should be uncriticizable.  Unable to make mistakes.  She who amazes and impresses.  I've always been this way.  A long time ago, an a place far, far away, I wrote:

I realized tonight that is what I am. (A pride junkie)  Katie emailed me frustrated bc of the way people have been telling her she can't do this or that and people treat her like "a kid." ... She isnt saying people are giving and revoking permission "can and can't" but that she is unable or incapable.

I can so relate! 
I started hearing the things she heard at her age but mine were a little different:
"You dont think you can afford to go away to college, do you?"
"You are too young to get married."
"You wont graduate from college since you got married so young."
"You cant afford to buy a house right out of college." 
"You shouldnt have kids yet!  You are so young!" 
"You should wait to have more kids." 
"You have enough kids!" 
ETC, Ad Nauseum....
I need a shirt that says, "A sure way to know what I'll do next is to tell me what I 'can't' do!" 
Why the heck do you suppose that is? 
Well, in response to Katie I realized it is because I am a pride junkie. Some of my favorite things are to see people's faces when I tell them:
-how many kids I have
-how big my babies were
-how young I was when I graduated from college... with honors... in 3 1/2 years
-what I've been up to, whether it's walking on kitchen countertops painting my kitchen as I'm 6 months pregnant or cooking all the food for a shower or it's running to a million soccer games or revamping the school's bookkeeping!

I love to shock people with what "I" can do! This is very upsetting to me. The first thought I have is, well I must change that! God must get all the glory for what happens in my life! But in all honesty, I like the attention and I dont want it to change!
What do I say to that, but to confess it and say, "Lord, I know it's wrong. Make me sorry and repentant." I cant honestly say that Im repentant now, but I do recognize my foolish pride and I pray that the Lord changes my heart without having to publicly and painfully force me to be sorry.
It's something for sure "I" cant do.

So you see, pride was the root of it all.  I realized that then, and increasingly in the time since then.  In the years since those panicked "first days" of stepping forward, I've stubbed my pride more times than  I care to count.  I've made mistakes.  I've embarrassed myself by sinning in the whole wide open. Oh to publically and painfully.  My faults have been laid bare.  I really, REALLY hate to admit when I've done wrong.  Messed up.  Sinned.  The things that I like to "shine forth" to impress?  They are a diversion... a diversion so you won't see my flaws.   

It's been a really painful time, but much more profitable for our future real-life ministry than possibly even those times of great growth.  Our pastor shared the story of how trees used for the masts of ships were found solitarily on hilltops.  They grew plenty tall, and the swaying of the constant wind on both sides with no "wind breaks" made the tree evenly strong enough to withstand the power of the ocean gusts.  In a lot of ways I can relate to that story, not that I'm strong or tall or powerful, but just knowing that the winds that blow now will strengthen me for the tasks ahead help me, if I remember to keep perspective. 

And now, we are just 16 classes away from graduation... what's next?  Who knows...

"Slow and steady wins the race" or "How did we get here?" part 5

Mr. Grits got home with Poo from soccer practice and decided to watch some documentary on meth, which grosses me out and bores me to tears.  The top 2 kids have fever and went to bed early, so I grabbed the laptop and thought I'd try to pound out a little more of the story, which starts here. 

I hung up the phone and sat with a stunned smile on my face for quite a while.  It was the rush of doing something different.  Of making that move.  Of going forward.  It was a real rush.  I was so excited that we were finally responding.  My honey was in seminary.  We were going into the ministry. 

I know what you are thinking... that how on earth would I be thrilled that he just up and decided to start seminary without telling me he was going to do it?  Well, we had talked about it many times, that we thought that's what he should do.  After a while, we were convinced it was the right thing to do.  That's where the disobedience came in.  We hesitated to do it. 

But at last we were underway.  Almost like a long anticipated journey, and you've just gotten in the car or on the airplane.   We were almost giddy.  Almost immediately we began to feel the Lord's blessing on what we were doing-- I don't know that I've ever shared this with anyone, but his schooling has even been paid for and all he has to do is get his books.  We were finally feeling the joy that comes from obedience. 

Shortly after he started school, I remember all of a sudden one day flipping out-- I was going to be a pastor's wife one day?  Um, does anyone know me?  Surely you know that I'm no Sallie/ Barbara Barker or whoever.  I'm the most impulsive, emotionally-charged, immature person I know.  And I'm an open book.  I never know when to keep my mouth shut.  There's no way that I will be the person I need to be to fill these shoes!  I'm going to make some mad, for sure.  I'll be insensitive.  Everyone knows I'm not a compassionate person.  I got panicked.   I was so thankful that Mr. Grits had settled in to a good steady routine of doing most of his reading and studying on his lunch break and while he waited for Jojo at soccer practice.  Meanwhile, I was flying apart!  And one day, we'd have to leave our wonderful little church and all our friends... it was just too much...

To be continued...

"Slow and steady wins the race" or "How did we get here?" part 4 (because I know no more French)

You are all gluttons for punishment at this point if you are back for more SSWTR/HDWGH.  Since you all are a bunch of suckahs and since Mr. Grits is involved in movie and I don't wanna go to bed yet, I suppose this will put me to sleep.  The whole sad affair begins here. 

I looked at my beloved with a look of helpless abandon, of fear, of excitement, and of... peace.  How can you feel all those things at once?  I don't know, but it must be God; especially if your spouse is feeling them all at the same time. 

That night we talked a lot about what was going on.  We weren't sure, but we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we had both just been called into ministry-- to prepare to go, but to be willing to stay.  So we did the next thing that any person would do if they had received a definitive call-- we sat on it. 

We did nothing for a long time.  Like, a year or two.  We mentioned it a few times to our pastor at church who talked to us briefly about it.  But he didn't try to push us down a path.  We talked to some of our closest friends about what was going on, for their prayer support and counsel.  What was this call?  What were we to do?  We didn't know.  We prayed a lot.  We continued to study and be in the Word and walk the path put in front of us, but we did nothing. 

I've heard our pastor say there is no hesitation in obedience.  But in many ways, I don't think we truly knew yet WHAT we were to do.  Were we supposed to be missionaries?   If so, shouldn't we have a burden for a specific place?  And if I was to be a missionary wife, shouldn't I start growing out my hair?   I told one of our pastors, a former missionary to Africa, that my big fear about being a missionary wasn't dying or having my children taken-- although I'm sure I would have been scared of those things if I thought they were in danger-- my biggest fear, was being poor.  We had just bought a house-- and my security was tied up in that.   I didn't want to have to live like a vagrant because of my own insecurity.    Shouldn't I have known that the God who saved me, who made me, and who cares for me knows these things?   Yet we did nothing. 

And we were miserable.  The inaction was now disobedience, because we knew we were to be "preparing to go, but willing to stay."  Time marched on, and the call never went away.

Until one January night in 2002, Mr. Grits called me just before he left work and said, "I won't be coming home tonight.  I'm starting seminary.  Tonight." 

To be continued...

"Slow and steady wins the race" or "How did we get here?" part tres

In an unselfish quest to satisfy your questionable curiosity, here's the next installment of SSWTR/HDWGH.  As if that's an abbreviation. It all starts here. 

After the service was over, we were much more relaxed and eager to meet more people in the church.  There was a big variety of families in such a small church... and we were beginning to see a number of other young couples.  One such couple came up right after the service and introduced themselves as "Caroline and Stephen."  I was amazed that she and I were about the same age.  (Of course you must know she's older than me.  By OVER a year.)  I was barely 21 at the time and virtually none of my friends were married so to find another young married couple was just-- thrilling!  We stayed and talked until most everyone had left.  And it was funny because we just fell in naturally, like, "So where are we going for lunch?"  The four of us had lunch that day... and have been close friends since. 

You know, it's funny how it's important to have friends in a church.  You just really can't be invested in what's going on in a church if there are no relationships there.  And as time went on, we built plenty.  We went to young couple's Bible studies.  Granted, Mr. Grits and I and Caroline were by far the youngest  but we were all in the same "phase" of life as the other young couples so it fit.  And a funny thing happened.  All of us young couples started getting pregnant with our first babies.  I think there were probably 8-10 couples by this point.  It was a small community and it was great.  We were being challenged at church by the teaching, out of church by the sharp fellowship, and we grew. 

And our church grew.  And our family grew.  And our faith and understanding of the Scriptures grew.  We joined that church that challenged us to "be as the Berean Christian" and "search the Scriptures."  And we did.  And we began to understand things like covenant theology and "predestination."  The men met together to sharpen each other, on their own time, not even for "scheduled" studies.  Our families met together and worshiped together.  It was an unparalleled time in our lives.   We were there every time the doors opened, drinking deeply of the teaching and the faith and the fellowship.

One of those times was a missions conference when an enthusiastic, charismatic (not theologically speaking) man named Dale Cutlip spoke.  Mr. Grits and I settled in to enjoy hearing what missionaries around the world were doing, but to be honest, this wasn't our thing.  Missions, I mean.  We just were there, because at this point we were always there. 

We were immediately taken in by his rapid-fire delivery of what the ministry he was with, Globeworks International was doing.  He began to talk about "preparing to go; but being willing to stay."  I still can't explain what happened that night.  Over and over he said, that ALL Christians should be "preparing to go; but willing to stay" but that most were preparing to stay and not even that willing to go.  He and I both remember that phrase about that night. 

Mr. Grits and I picked up our children from the nursery-- I think we had 3 by that point.  We were both very quiet until we had buckled the kids into their carseats and before we ourselves got in the car, we looked at each other, and we both knew.  It was just like that. 

"Oh, no,"  I said.   He just smiled. 

To be continued....

"Slow and steady wins the race" or "How did we get here?" part deux

So, I'm trying to tell the story of how my beloved and I were dragged kicking and screaming called to full-time ministry.  Without falling asleep each time.  This portion explains how we got "stuck" in a presbyterian church.  It's important.  Trust me.  For the first installment, go here. 

We pulled in to the parking lot of that Presbyterian church and took a deep breath.  "Here we go!" one of us said, not sure if it was he or me.  If only we had known that our lives would forever be changed.

We went inside the small church on the hill and were warmly greeted as if we were the first new faces that had ever graced the door.  (We weren't.)  Our friends met us immediately and began to introduce us around as "the young couple I told you about."  We had been expected.  There were probably 50 people there at the most if I recall correctly.  That would make about 1/5 of the population of that Sunday meeting the family we were invited by, as they were a family of 11.  (Granted, one was grown and married-- my former roommate-- so 10 were there.) 

The service was about to begin, so we began looking for our "back row Baptist" seats.  To be sure, they were empty.  No one sat on the back row here.  Our friends sat on The Front Row.  "Oh, you've filled up the pew.  We'll just sit behind you."  (Whew, that was close.)  With a critical eye, ready to judge why this church was The Wrong One, we held our bulletins and began scouring it for flaws, mostly looking at the order of worship for the morning.  Hm.  Nothing weird there.   We sang familiar hymns and nothing was-- wrong.  We began to relax and actually enjoy the service. 

As the young-but-gray-headed pastor began to speak, we both listened intently, occasionally jabbing each other discretely, the squeezing each other's hands at different intervals.  Not because we were shocked or disgusted by the message.  But because we were floored.  We were amazed.  We were challenged.  Yet there was no point of contention with our firmly-set system of beliefs.  They didn't try to tell us that you had to be sprinkled.  The sermon wasn't about predestination.  It was just about... The Bible.  And we actually used it.  For the first time as adults, we sat in a service where we opened our Bibles and flipped constantly to passage after passage in a quick pace to chase the pastor who was preaching The Word.  This was no sentimental, topical sermon meant to challenge us and charge our batteries for the week.  This was a totally different ballgame. 

At the closing prayer, the benediction, Mr. Grits and I squeezed each other's hands, as if to tell each other, "Welcome Home." 

To be continued...

My attitude of gratitude

I've noticed with myself and my children as well, when we pray we have those "rote" things we say such as, "Thank you for this day and everything You have given us", "Help us to have a good day", "Keep us safe", etc.  I've been really aware lately that our "thank you" isn't very heart-felt and when we do ask for "a good day" and "safety" we never say thank you. 
What am I teaching my kids about prayer, and what am I failing to learn about God from this misuse of a powerful and wonderful gift?   I want to determine that when I pray aloud with them that I will model an "attitude of TRUE gratitude."  That I won't barf out the rote prayers and saying that we start each prayer with, but that every time we begin our conversation with the Lord we will begin by thanking Him for the blessings He has given us-- not just "Thank you for this day and everything You have given us." 
My hope is that we will all be more thankful and as a result more content-- spending less time praying that God will "do this" and "give us that." 
Today I'm feeling especially thankful for the help He has sent in the form of my friend, Disty and the hard work she does.  Normally this time of year, I'm already locked in my room from dawn til dusk not only pounding away at the keyboard but second guessing myself and stressing out and doing all sorts of stuff like that.  This year, she's doing all that for me.  But with out all the second guessing and stressing out.  She's good that way, and I wish I had that kind of confidence.  She does a great job, (yes, I've told her as much) and I so appreciate her.  Which also means I appreciate the WONDERFUL board we have at the school and the support they give me.  They are the best.  They have a thankless job that they work tirelessly at, and they are gravely unappreciated.  I pray God will heap blessings upon them for their work. 
I'm thankful for clean, caught-up laundry, a clean kitchen, a little boy with a slight fever who is home again and likes to tell me how wonderful I am.  A hot shower.  A family who loves me even though I was grouchy with them last night.  A sweet husband who puts up with me and even seems to like me.  Hot tea-- Scottish Blend of all things.  (Thanks, Connie.)  Salvation and eternal security, for heaven's sake.   Good friends who leave comments.   
What are you thankful for?