A New Look for Fall

Because I couldn't sleep... and because I was tired of looking at the blue and brown... I changed my look. HTML code is kinda fun to play with... in a frustrating, confusing sort of way. =) Enjoy! I'll be playing with it here and there so let me know if I do something really ugly. Heh.

Non-blogative Me

I haven't been very blogative lately (you know, the blogger's version of talkative). It isn't because I've been busy, though I truly wish it was. I've been thinking to myself: how many times can I whine about being unemployed before my four readers throw their hands up in disgust and move on? =)

There just isn't a whole lot going on in my life.

Well, OK, so maybe God is using this time to speak to me through the Bible Study our women's ministry is doing... and that, by itself, is a LOT. And I'd love to share it.

But God hasn't released me yet.

Because, let me be honest, I am too likely to write for my own affirmation and praise rather than for God's. And He's made it clear to me that He won't share His glory.

There is a reason for this season of inactivity and I am certain God will reveal it to me... when I am willing to sit down and listen.

A mother's foolishness

My oldest daughter says she wants to be a missionary. A lot of young children growing up in the church say that - and let's be honest, a lot of churches romanticize missions. Missionary work is often portrayed to our children as some kind of overseas adventure filled with Bible stories, kumbaya sing-a-longs and sweet-hearted natives. So her desire didn't really phase me. I thought I wanted to be a missionary once upon a time too.

Hmm...

We all know, or should, that the mission field is not a blissful adventure. Blessed, yes, but not blissful. A blogging friend of mine, Donna, has parents who are experiencing the reality of bringing the Gospel into all the world - a reality that is filled with opposition, persecution and hatred f0r the sake of Christ. Pray for them please?

I told myself that I just wanted to gently show my daughter that being a missionary wasn't what she thought it was.

What I really wanted was to keep my baby out of harm's way. Not *my* daugher.

Then who?

The men and women who risk their lives to bring truth to the lost are all someone's parents, children, brothers, sisters or friends. God calls, and they go.

So when I first heard about Donna's parents I told my daughter about them and about what was happening in South Asia and other areas around the world. Then we sat and prayed for them.

I talked about how scared they must be, and how scared their families at home must be.

And my daughter just looked at me.

"Mama," she said, "They don't have to be afraid."

What?

"They don't have to be afraid because they know Jesus. Even if God lets those people kill the missionaries, they don't have to be afraid because they are going to heaven. The people who are hurting them should be afraid because they don't know Jesus."

Oh, baby. Do you still want to be a missionary, even though it isn't always safe?

"Mama, Jesus wasn't safe either. I don't have to be afraid."

No baby, you don't have to be afraid. And neither do I.

See the Burn and other tidbits of life...

*24 hours ago a HUGE fire started in a woodproducts warehouse less than a mile from my house and only a few blocks from the kids' school. We saw the flames from the highway on our way home from AWANA. They were easily 100 feet tall and the alarm had gone out only minutes before.

The fire is STILL burning. Most of what is on fire is this composite decking material that apparently burns really hot for a really long time. The warehouse is nearly 3 acres in size - yes, I said THREE ACRES - and the building material is stacked 30 feet high. That is a LOT of combustable stuff packed in a small space. Oh, and the stuff is putting off cyanide gas. Not a threat to the community, so we've been told, but a few of the kids at the school who live closest to the fire had some breathing/nausea/dizziness problems today and were sent home. Scary stuff.

*I just really don't know what God is doing with this job thing. Job hunting is so stinkin' frustrating. Even jobs it seemed I was guaranteed to get have fallen through. I know that God has a plan and that He will provide. I do know this. But I'm getting impatient to see that plan through. Have you ever wanted to say, "just hurry up already God!"?

*AWANA started last week at church. It is a mixed bag for me. I'm not officially helping, but I do help as needed since my kids are there and I don't want to waste gas to go back home for two hours. A couple years ago there was a LOT of drama over the AWANA program and it pretty much divided my church. It was ugly ugly ugly. I hesitated to send my kids back to the program because a lot of the drama was coming from our club leaders. Things are better, but I still hesitate a bit. These are my kids afterall...

*I am sick of living in a funk - of both the literal and spiritual sort. I am tired of being depressed. It is stupid and it sucks (pardon the language). And my house is a direct reflection of my state of mind - as in DISASTER. There are days when I've thought it would be easier to just strike a match and start over - sounds great.... other than the go-to-jail-and-still-be-responsible-for-the-mortgage part. And this emotional state is just annoying. I am annoying myself with all the whining I've been doing. It just has to stop. Yesterday.

*My ex-husband has been giving my contact information to people we knew when we lived in MD. I haven't talked to these people in years and I'm not thrilled about it. I mean, some of them I miss, and some of them were the same people who thought I just needed to submit more to stop the violence. These are not the voices I really need to be hearing from right now. And who knows what he's told them. I do not owe an explanation to anyone but God. (Let's hope I can stick to that).

*I went to the most FABULOUS restaurant last Sunday (thankfully on someone else's dime! =). It is called Marrakesh and it is a very ethnic moroccan establishment. I'll post pictures later. We sat almost on the floor on these surprisingly comfortable stools and ate a 5-course meal, had our hands washed with rose water and had a blast. The food was amazing, but the cultural experience was beyond belief. I haven't had that much fun in a very long time. I want to go back... they have belly dancers and we weren't there long enough to see them... if only I could afford it!

*My dear blogging friend Amy Beth has been hit left and right lately. She followed God's leading and now heads up a fantabulous girls' ministry called Starlite in her local area public schools. From all her reports it has had an amazing start this year. And someone doesn't like it because AB is getting hammered personally and professionally on a scale that no 24 year old should have to face. Thank God she doesn't have to face it alone. Could you pray for her please? She has become dear to my heart. A year ago, I didn't put a whole lot of stock in spiritual warfare... my mind has been changed.

That's it for now... I have nothing profound to share today =) Blessings all!

Be careful what you pray for...

...because you just might get it.

Like if you ask God to close the door on something if it isn't His will - and it SLAMS shut in your face.

Because, as awesome as it is to hear from God in such a clear manner... the "in your face" part kind of hurts. Maybe even broke something.

As I'm sure most of my 4 readers are aware, I'm job-hunting. I've actually been on the hunt since the beginning of May, knowing that my temporary position with the School dist. was coming to an end. I have had ZILCH in the way of luck finding a job.

Things are a bit desperate.

A week ago, I was offered a job. The manager just had to work out a schedule. Only, it was looking like I would have to work Sunday mornings, at least for a while... "to get my foot in the door."

I felt sick about it. I have a committment to Sunday School and my four kids are watching every move I make.

I know, I know, lots of Christian people work on Sundays and I was desperate. I mean, I've been living off the generosity of my mother for heaven's sake! Talk about a blow to the pride. (Yes, yes, pride is a stronghold... moving on).

I didn't want to be in the position of refusing a job that I need so badly. Especially since there are no other prospects on the horizon. So all of last week, as I was waiting for the manager to call me with a schedule, I prayed something a little like this:

Lord, You know my needs and You know the needs of my family. I know You
have a job in mind for me that will meet those needs and will bring You glory.
If this job isn't it, please close the doors.

:::SLAM!:::

On Friday evening, I could swear the heavens echoed with a resounding crack. My ears were certainly ringing. And boy does it hurt.

You know, there was a part of me that wasn't entirely sure He would do it. Guess God showed me, huh?

Unfortunately, the fallout of the closed door may be much worse than I bargained for. I have to make some phone calls today to find out how bad it really is. I am half-terrified this may mean God is slamming the doors shut on grad school and a future in counseling as well. I don't know yet.

Update: No one seems to know why the door closed - but it isn't something that will have long-lasting effects - so it is entirely a God thing. Back to the hunt I go.

Have we forgotten?

Seven years seems like such a long time, doesn't it?

Seven years ago I lived in Maryland, just 20 minutes from D.C.

My youngest son is seven years old. He was just over nine weeks old when I woke up that morning and turned on the TV.

I NEVER watched the news that early in the morning.

And there was Peter Jennings, just seconds after the first plane struck the north tower, speculating about a tragic airplane crash... thinking it was an accident.

Until, as he was speaking, the live feed showed another plane plow into the south tower. I sat, stunned, as I watched the towers burn, watched as reports came in saying there was an explosion at the Pentagon, watched as the towers collapsed. I watched in horror as they showed video of people jumping from impossible heights to escape burning buildings. And, as news of the crash of United 93 broke, I prayed that our military hadn't been forced to make the terrible choice of shooting down a passenger plane.

At some point I called my parents in Oregon. My dad answered the phone, groggy because I'd woke them up and I said, "Turn on the TV Daddy, we're under attack."

The world turned upside down. I looked down at my two month old son and I wondered how much of life he would get to live. I looked at my older two children, 2 1/2 and 19 months old, and wondered what kind of future they would have. I wondered things that had never crossed my mind before that morning - things I would never have believed possible on the day before our world changed.

Over the next few months, I saw the best and worst in people. I saw people going out of their way to help others in whatever way possible. And I saw people exhibiting the ugliness of racism.

I sat in a women's retreat in October and listened to devout Christian women spew hatred and suggest that every Arab-American should be placed indefinitely in internment camps "for the safety of Americans."

Umm... they ARE Americans. In fact, the majority of Muslims in our country aren't ethnically Arabic. And the majority of people in the US who are ethnically Arabic are actually Christians who came here to escape persecution in the Middle East. But enough of that soap box.

Our world has changed irrevocably and there is very little in our daily lives that isn't touched by the events of seven years ago.

But people forget.

Just like Israel forgot.

Just like Christians seem to forget.

Even though we've experienced something earth-shattering and life-changing... We grumble and complain at the "restrictions" that have been put on us. Even though they are for our benefit - for our safety.

As Americans we chafe at the neck to thread barefoot through checkpoints at the airport or face extra security at the bank. It is all so inconvenient.

We forget that seven years ago 19 men stole or fabricated identities, made use of American dollars and American technologies, and with nothing more than box cutters brought our entire nation to a screeching halt.

As Christians we complain about the "rules" and rebel against the things we should do. We watch the TV we want to watch, no matter how much it corrupts our conscience. We eat and shop where we want to, no matter how many sinful practices our dollars support. We throw our time, our votes and our money away without regard to the consequences.

Because taking the moral high ground is inconvenient. Because we've forgotten.

We've forgotten the lives lost to bring the Gospel to us across oceans and centuries. We've forgotten the spiritual danger we are in - and the souls that are lost because of sin and the powers of this present darkness. We have forgotten that the very things we rebel against are those things that keep our spirits filled with the Spirit and free of Satan's control.

My friends, we have it easy, and like Israel of old, when we have it easy we forget how much this "easy" has cost. Remember the price.

366

11 - my age when I first started hurting myself. I was 15 when I started using a blade.

77 - the number of visible scars left on my body. Every one of them has a story and today I wouldn't trade them for the world.

1,000+ - the number of scars that have faded over time. Too bad it isn't that easy for the scars on the inside.

36 - the longest number of days I'd ever gone without some kind of self-injury. Until...

366 - the number of days since the last time I cut (leap year).

Countless - the number of times my Almighty Father has picked me up from the brink of disaster to provide the comfort and peace that cutting never could.

I serve a truly AWESOME God!!

A perfect quandary...

In five days I will be speaking at a Women's Breakfast. Me. The socially inept chick who travelled 1,500 miles a few weeks ago and fell apart at the the thought of talking to anyone.

I know, weird, huh?

Of course, there will only be about 20-30 women there... (thank the Lord!) so no pressure, right?

Uh huh.

I knew I was in for it the moment I heard that tiny whisper in my ear that said, "Tell her you'll do it."

A few months ago I called my friend to chat about some personal things in our lives and during that conversation we started talking about the women's ministry and the upcoming breakfasts. My friend organizes most of the women's activities and she mentioned having someone for July and August but no one lined up yet for September.

And before I even knew what I was doing... "I'll do it." To be quickly followed by "I'll be speaking on perfection."

Perfection?

Ok. Where did that come from??

From God, of course. :::sigh::: Is this ever going to get any easier? I like to be in control. I like knowing what I'm doing. I... am whining. :::double sigh:::

I have the topic, I have the verses, I have my Strong's concordance and plenty of research. And I still feel woefully UNprepared. I've done dozens of presentations over the last few years for school... but this isn't an academic presentation, and everytime I try to make it into one the Spirit puts up a brick wall.

I don't get nervous. I like to have any presentation written out word-for-word, even though I memorize 99.9% of them anyway. I like to know every point I'm going to make and have the timing down perfectly. (I was also a drama geek). I am very picky about the delivery.

But I'm blocked. Seriously. I go to write it out and I can't seem to get more than a word or two on paper.

Because the Holy Spirit keeps telling me to speak from my heart, not from my head. And that just doesn't fit my perfectionist nature.

Which is ironic since I'm speaking about perfection - redefining it, to be exact. I'll let you know how it goes... and where, specifically the Spirit leads.

Listen to the sound...

...of Silence.

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him; to the one who seeks Him, it
is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. (Lamentations 3:25&26)

Silence has a few meanings for me this week.

First, I am enjoying blessed quiet at home. Today was my youngest child's first day at Kindergarten (speaking of, I better hurry this post up so I can pick her up from the bus stop). Honestly, I almost feel a little guilty for not being more upset that my baby is growing up. But I accepted that months ago, and after the rough summer we had, I am glad to see them all in school. Of course, if I were working, I wouldn't be enjoying this silence, so it is a bit of a mixed bag for me.

Second, I haven't written in the last few days. Seems to me I am suffering from blogger block. I have a million and one things running through my head but no matter how hard I try, I just can't get them to come off my fingers and onto the computer screen. So... silence in the blogiverse too.

Third, I've been "enjoying" silence with God. Not His silence exactly, but mine. I've recently gotten the impression that God is saying, "Bethany! Sit down and shut up." Because, I've been doing a lot of talking lately... and a whole lot of complaining. So, in my quiet times with God, I am truly being quiet. And this silence is deafening.

Genetics

We have new genetics in Jesus. This is something Beth said in San Antonio and it has gotten me thinking about what it really means to be new creations in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17).

How many of us have had powerful conversion experiences, only to return to the status quo a few months or years down the road?

Maybe we've added church and Christian music and a few church-related activities to our daily lives - or maybe football or T-ball or soccer are more important that gathering together to worship.

Maybe we've changed the places we spend our time, the television we watch and the things we choose to talk about - or maybe we've traded gossip about co-workers with gossip about fellow Christians.

And maybe we've overcome powerful addictions or walked away from destructive relationships or been pulled out of terrifying circumstances... But outward appearances and changes aside, we still wallow in self-destruction and self-pity.

When the things of this world are more important than the things of God, we are in chains. When we live a life that is no different from the world around us, we are in chains. When we change "big sins" like promiscuity for the hidden sins such as self-loathing...

We are still in chains.

And by "we" I mean I. I know that I often find myself settling back in to my chains with thoughts of;

"I can't help what has happened to me."

or, "This is just the way I was made."

or, "Nothing is ever really going to change."

What? WHAT?!?

Everything in the world has changed!!

Eleven years, eleven months and eleven days ago (wow! weird how that worked out!) God swooped me up out of the death of sin to claim me as His.

To change my genetics and re-write my identity.

To redeem my past, inhabit my present and guarantee my future.

Why do I keep putting that old self back on? Why do I keep wearing an identity that isn't mine anymore?

Why do you?