I’m sitting in the high school theater. One girl sits behind the piano, playing a song I’ve heard on the radio. She sings it more beautifully than I’ve ever heard. A guy sits on the stage drinking soda out of a flask—very dramatic. The students filter in, greeting each other, hugging. One girl walks in with a boot on her foot. “What happened?” “How long do you have to wear it?” “Can you still do the show?” The questions hit her rapid fire. More chatter as the teens take time to acclimate to this space—the theater, a gathering of friends, of others who love the stage.
And then, the director calls out, “Everyone on stage. We’re working on the car song. Go ahead and take a seat.” The entire room changes in five seconds from the atmosphere of a cafeteria to a scene from Rise.
There was a time to arrive, get comfortable, exchange hellos, and there is a time to get serious. To get to work. Both are important. And even in the work, it’s not predictable. Two weeks from the show, the cast typically takes it from Scene 1, all out reading lines and dancing across the stage. But this day is a day for the details, to nit pick a song apart, and make sure it’s spot on.
I’m emotional today, because I’ve also gone though a shift of what it is time for. I’ve been under an insane deadline. The number of days I had to write the number of pages that were due did not compute. It was a time to keep my head down, stay focused, cut out anything extra, eat breakfast and lunch at my desk. It was a time to write for hours on Saturdays, to wake up early on weekdays, to skip a couple of blog entries. Grinding out, page by page, trying to make the words flow, trying to make it all Biblically accurate, trying to make it right. And yesterday, I turned it in. Insert giant exhale here. I sent my manuscript to my project manager, closed the document that had sat open on my screen for weeks, shut my Mac, and went for a run.
Yesterday afternoon I cooked a real dinner for my family—with sides and everything. I went for a walk with my husband, sat by the fire and watched a movie with these my kids. This morning I slept in, made crepe batter, and didn’t touch my computer until, well, now. I’ve entered a whole different zone. Not that I won’t have more writing assignments (I mean, I hope I will). But today I need to recognize I was in a season of deep, intense, work, and now I need to take a season of rest. I’ll get comments back from the editor next week, and I’ll have to get back to work, but now? Now I can hang with my family, enjoy a meal, sleep, write a blog with rambling words about how God has been working on me lately.
And here’s how He’s been working. God has shown me that just like it says in Ecclesiastes 3; there is a time for everything. God runs that eternal clock that we are all watching and checking and running around trying to stay in sync with it. But He does not see time like we do. God is less concerned with who’s first in the pick up line, who gets there early enough to get the best parking spot, who’s sitting in their desk when the boss arrives, who’s strolling into church halfway through the second song, and who arrives at the finish line in the middle of the pack.
God looks at it like this. “I have something for you to do. Please do it. Your life will be better if you do it and if you do it on my timeline.” And for each of us on each day and even in different parts of the day that’s something different—a time to plant, a time to uproot, a time to heal, a time to tear down, a time to rebuild, a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time to mourn, a time to dance, a time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them… God sees us and knows what is actually best –when we need to step out, step up, step to the side, and when we need to take more steps before we’re ready. These are the assignments He gives us with our time.
For me this meant lots of coffee, reading, writing, checking, rereading, rewording. But none of this work made sense, and none of it could happen for me unless I did something first.
Each day I closed my eyes and prayed. “God, thank you for this opportunity. For the chance to write these stories for You. Please help me use my time wisely for Your glory. Please help me write the words You want written, words that point people to you. Please give me endurance. Please give me focus. I am so grateful for Your love. That You allow me to do this thing I love. Thank You for my family. I love them so. Please help me balance all the things. And trust You when I feel like I’m dropping balls and praise You when things go smoothly. Please, Lord, let me use this day to serve You.”
Because of that prayer, on the days when I was super productive, or on days when I was super not, all was well. When I took three giant steps backwards to rewrite a whole section. When we had two soccer practices and play practice and an event at school. When I felt energized or exhausted, it somehow worked. Because it was for God and for His glory. And then it didn’t matter how much I’d written. I’d written for Him. And that’s all that mattered in the first place.
What is it time for in your life? It might be time to get accustomed to new space, to familiarize yourself with the people around you, to take time to give someone a hug, to check in and see how they’re doing. It might be time to get going, to do the work in front of you. For you it might be time to practice—to run through that presentation, that drill one more time even if you’re exhausted, look through your notes, rehearse your lines, your part. It might be God wants you to take time to fix some broken things—the flat tire on your car, the broken ice maker on your freezer, the way you’ve been looking at things, the way you’ve been treating someone else or yourself.
Maybe for you it’s time to sleep, to take a hot bath, to stay inside, to do your nails, to sit by a window and gaze out as the raindrops trickle down the window, or sit outside and listen to the birds twittering, grateful for the promise of springtime.
There are times for everything. And everything works brilliantly when it’s done in God’s time. For the cast of this play, today is time to go over the third measure of one song with the vocal coach over and over, feet dangling over the edge of the stage. But in a week and a half they’ll be performing for a full theatre in costumes and makeup. It’s all important. The work. The rest. The performance. And they’re all best executed when we realize they are all from God, all part of His plan, that they all hold equal credence.
What is God calling you to do today? Work? Rest? Rebuilding? Going for it? Settling down? Nesting? Going out? Waiting? Charging forward? He will use all the times in perfect ways. Trust Him. Talk to Him. Then go out and do what He’s called you to do in this specific, priceless season.
You were created in the image of God. (Genesis 1:27)
You are Christ’s masterpiece. (Ephesians 2:10)
God has His hand on you for something special. (1 Thessalonians 1:4)
All of this is true. And easy enough for me to list in my head or on the page. Harder to hold onto in the throws of real life. Especially the days when we’re being evaluated, when we’re auditioning for something in this world.
In the past week my son had a try-out for a play, my oldest went through sorority rush, and I was waiting to hear back from a publisher on a proposal. In all of these arenas we are being evaluated by the world on some sort of input we presented--my son’s stage presence, my daughter’s conversational skills, and my writing. My son loves to act. My daughter’s personality is amazing. My writing is the thing I feel God has called me to do. And so, how we “perform” at these things is going to reflect how God made us to be—take them or leave them, but honestly none of us want others to leave them.
But it happens. We put ourselves out there. We audition for the things we long for, hope for, to propel our dreams. We get examined under someone else’s magnifying glass, because that’s the only way to take next steps, to get from A to B. And when we submit ourselves for review, we will be judged. That’s the nature of the beast. Was my son loud enough? Was my daughter witty? Did my writing pull the reader in? And just because one person checks the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ box next to these items doesn’t mean they’re true or not true. It is one person’s opinion on any given day. And although we know better than to let the world’s opinions influence us, they still do.
Is there anything you’re auditioning for today? Anything about your performance you’re waiting to hear back on? Are you maybe evaluating or judging yourself?
It’s the excruciatingly long waiting period that seems to be the worst for me. I’m guessing I’m not alone. Did they like me? Did I presented enough? I can go crazy town in the waiting space imagining all of the possible endings, the yeses and the nos, even the maybes and what that would mean and look like, and what I’d have to do from there. I waste my time and energy and stress out about imaginary scenarios in my head that might never even play out. And because I have this tendency, I need to work at getting out of this space. I have to be intentional. I need to shift my thoughts and focus on truth.
The Apostle Paul instructs the Galatians, “Don’t compare yourselves with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life” (Galatians 6:5). Meaning it doesn’t matter what monologue someone else read, what story someone else told, what rave reviews another author’s book is getting. It also doesn’t matter what she wore, what her hair looks like, how many goals he scored or achieved, how much he gets paid, how many likes their post got, if they got invited or chosen, or what their grade or performance review said. It doesn’t. What matters are OUR inputs.
Did my son prepare for his audition?
Yes, he did.
Was my daughter brave enough to be herself?
Yes. She thrives at it.
Did I edit my work, get others to review it, and run spellcheck before I submitted?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Did I pray over all of it? Yes.
Cool. Then we did our part.
Time to let go.
Because this is all God’s work in the first place. As it says in Proverbs 16:9, “The Lord establishes our steps.” God gave my son the desire to act, knitted each beautiful facet of my daughter’s personality into her soul, and placed in me a love of words and stories. God set us in these particular places in these particular times. And God made you exactly as you are, able to do the things you do, and He placed you exactly where you are—in that office, on that team, in that neighborhood, in that classroom, in that small group. And so…we bring our best, maybe or maybe not the world’s definitions of best, maybe not a specific director/sorority girl/editor’s/fill in the blank’s definition of best, but the best version of our true selves, of the people God created us to be in the first place. And that is a beautiful offering. This is all we need to bring.
When we do, we can trust that things will work out as they’re supposed to. “God not only loves you very much but also has put his hand on you for something special.” That means He wants the best for you. He’s looking out for you. He has amazing plans for you. And if this role, sorority, book, house, job, team, relationship, move, position is the one He wants you to have, by all means it will come to fruition. Yes, God asks us to do our part, but then we need to trust that He is the God that invented stars—burning masses of energy millions of miles away and that He put one star in particular close enough to earth to give us the exact amount of light and heat to live without freezing or combusting. Since He can do that, I’m pretty sure He can make the tryout or interview or test go as He planned.
Sigh. Such sweet relief in this spot. Now to stay there.
Even if things don’t work out as we hoped or thought they should, we are still exactly who God intended us to be when He created us. And He will still use everything for His glory. Hmm. So I don’t have to rethink the whole thing?
If God had wanted us to be more or less melodic, more or less of a jokester, less or more intense, better at geometry, saltier, sweeter, taller, shorter—He would have. But instead, He designed us exactly how He envisioned us to be. This means we don’t even have to impress God. This leaves me speechless.
When we really let that sink in, it doesn’t matter what the results of the evaluation are, because, the One whose opinion matters most is that we’ve already got the part. Breathe that in today. Whatever you’re waiting for. However you’re being graded or rated or judged. You were handpicked by the Almighty.
You don’t have to prove yourself. You’ve already been chosen. Cling to that while you're trying out, while you're waiting, and most importantly once the cast list is posted--whether your name does or does not appear on the list.
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I think most of us have at least two personas.
One is the uncomfortable, uncertain version of ourselves. When we are around specific people or in certain settings we tend to feel insecure and underestimate our capabilities. Personally, in these situations I lower my head, keep quiet, stay on the edges of conversations and groups, unsure of what to say, not feeling like I have much to contribute. I have friends who react the opposite in these same scenarios. They become louder, spewing things they don’t even mean to say, things that are a bit too snarky, or that challenge others as protective armor from having to reveal themselves. You might have a different default mode altogether that you use to cope with the places and people where you feel out of place. None of these is our best or brightest. These are the places we need to spend less time.
But then there is our true self. The way we feel and act when we are in our element. Where laughter comes easily, where we believe our ideas matter, where we can look people straight in the eye and say how we feel without any fear of being judged or misunderstood. When the weather seems perfect and our clothes feel comfortable and our phones stay tucked in our pockets and purses and we never glance at the clock, but wish we could stay a long while. These are the places we need to spend more time.
Which one of these personas are you currently living?
There is a scene in The Little French Bistro by Nina George where one of the main characters sees an artist’s portrayal of her. She is overwhelmed, because the woman the artist has depicted is stunning, captivating, positively beautiful and mesmerizing. Conversely, the character finds herself quite ordinary and unremarkable.
She asks the artist, “Is that how you see me?”
The artist replies, “That is how you are.”
It is a powerful scene. Because the woman was amazing. She just couldn’t see it in herself. Just like all of us are captivating. But we’re quick to dismiss our value and often struggle to see our true reflections. But Jesus? He always sees our true selves. And He always sees us as magnificent.
When we compare ourselves to others, measure ourselves against social media, and strive to make ourselves known—to get our numbers on the board. We often sell ourselves short. We focus on our faults and the places we do not excel. But Jesus created us. He created you and I uniquely and distinctly. He formed us to do amazing works. Allow Him to remind you who you are in Him. That you are as captivating as a masterpiece in a gallery—able to make those passing by pause, ask questions, and ponder. You truly make hearts beat faster, mouths curl into smiles, and brains expand their thoughts.
How do you find this beautiful self that’s sometimes so hard to see? Start by hanging out with Jesus. When I’m with Him, I see a me that doesn’t even resemble the woman who sits awkwardly on the fringe of a conversation or pants to keep up in a race or whose brain hurts when she looks at financial statements. Instead I see a woman who gets high on telling stories, who is loved by her family, treasured by her Savior, and therefore beautiful in a distinct way. Spending time with Jesus opens our eyes to better see the people who see our true personas and to the things that make us more of our true selves.
Once you’re vision has been cleared up a bit by Jesus, start doing fewer things that empty you. Do more of the things that thrill you, bring you peace, make you feel whole—that could be kicking instead of throwing the ball, teaching or taking a class, rocking a baby, or hiking a trail. Slowly stop spending time with the folks who drain you, who make you feel small. Your stunning true reflection is lost on them. Instead seek out the people who recognize you for the treasure you are.
How do you see yourself?
How do others see you?
How do you want to be seen?
The truth is you are Christ’s masterpiece. It’s time to allow Him to show you who you truly are. You might be surprised at the capable, worthy person you see in the mirror. You might turn to Jesus and ask, “Is that how you see me?” He is certain to reply, “That is how you are.”
Seven new planets were discovered orbiting around a star named Trappist-1 last week! Seven! They’re about the size of earth, and we didn’t even know they existed!
Closer to home, this Amaryllis grew out of a bulb in the middle of winter in my own house. It’s not quite as remarkable as the planet thing, but considering any plant I come in contact with withers at my touch, it’s pretty amazing. (I’m like the Freeze Miser without ice).
And the God who created these stunning blooms, literally unfathomable when you look at the brown onion-like bulb they spring from, and our solar system packed with all those stars and planets (apparently way more than we could ever imagine) He created us, too.
Some days it’s easy to go around doing our thing. Rolling over, tapping our alarms, checking our phones, brushing our teeth, driving to school, work, spin class, and before we know it we’re washing up the dinner dishes, sliding on pajamas and crashing into our pillows, so engrained in our routines that we don’t notice. That we don’t notice the daffodils are poking up their heads, the people we love most have something behind their eyes, something on their minds, the song on the radio is the one we kept hearing at the beach, the scent of our soap smells like Grandma’s pies, that some time during the day God used us in some incredible way, that God created us for unbelievably phenomenal work.
Yes, I’m still a bit amazed by this whole planet thing, and I’ve pointed out the flower on our counter to my kids about 94 times each, but I also stand in awe of the way one of my girlfriends sings like a rock star, when I can’t carry a tune, how my mom makes meals for every neighbor and friend she knows when I struggle to get dinner on the table for my own family, how another friend can walk in a room and effortlessly remake the space with her instincts for color and layouts, when I’m just hoping to get around to the dusting. I’m not saying that I wish I had those gifts, sure they’d be nice, but this is not a jealous rant, just a moment to observe how many incredibly awesome and irreplaceable people God has created. To pause. And be in awe of how He uniquely gifts each of us.
And as I see the beauty in each of the women I get to hang out with, it reminds me that God created me to do specific work as well. Just like He created some of you to teach a certain skill, to listen to somebody’s problem, to mediate another disagreement, to create delicious cupcakes, to make people laugh, or to block the other team from scoring. What did He create you to do?
Don’t go through today without noticing.
Without observing the beauty in each of the individuals around you.
Without realizing the potential within yourself.
What amazing skills and talents do your friends and family members possess? Compliment them. Remind them. Encourage them, in case they haven’t detected their talents for themselves, in case they’re about to give up.
What do you do well? What comes naturally, something you might take for granted, that the people around you marvel at? Thank God for the ability to sing, run, analyze, listen, navigate, tell jokes, be patient, think outside the box, be silly, cook, make a difference. Thank Him for making you you. Now go out and shine like a planet, bloom like a flower, and knock the socks off the world.
Two nights ago my husband woke in the middle of the night because our power went out. I know, who needs power to sleep? He does. Because when the electricity went out, so did his fan, and the silence woke him. Go figure. He walked around the house with his phone flashlight shining, trying to solve for the outage. He later got back in bed, rolled around, sighed, and eventually fell back to sleep.
I’m no better. Last night I woke up because there was such a strong scent in our bedroom I worried there must actually be a skunk in our bed. Thankfully, there was not. But the skunk in the woods outside our window must have had some turbo-powered perfume. I sat there in the dark pondering the probability of a skunk getting in our house, climbing the stairs and snuggling in, after awhile got a glass of water, crawled back in bed, rolled over, tugged the covers, prayed silently and concentrated on relaxing and falling back asleep. I eventually succeeded.
Our lives are filled with interruptions—things that disrupt our regularly scheduled programming. Whether that’s the addition of something (a pungent odor) or the subtraction of something (white noise). We are interrupted by the buzz of a text or a car cutting in front of us. Our work is impeded when we can’t get a signal and dinner is delayed when we accidentally set the oven at the wrong temp or spill the spices while measuring them into tiny spoons.
In all these circumstances, we eventually put down our phones, pull into a parking spot, tap into the 4G network and pull the lasagna out of the oven. But it takes patience, concentration and focus.
The same is true when our true reflections get interrupted, disrupted, disturbed. We can go around knowing full well we are created by God, that He loves us, that we have a God-given purpose in life, and then like a rock being thrown into a still pond, something comes along that causes ripples in who we see ourselves to be. We get a rejection letter. Our best friend bails. We get in an argument with our spouse or sibling, or get blamed for someone else’s mistake. We let someone we care about down. The coach benches us. Our friends do something without us. Someone casts a snide comment our way. We lose our balance in a yoga pose or our way on a bike ride. Some days we just plain lose our way and our balance—no exercise required.
And when that happens, we have to get back to who we are, that we are Christ’s masterpieces (Eph 2:10) that we are wonderfully made to inspire awe (Psalm 139:14), and we need to do it with patience and focus. We might need to get up from where we are and move around a bit, get a new view on things, shine some light on them. We might need to hydrate with living water (Jesus), wrap ourselves in the cover of God’s love and pray. We need to turn back to our Bibles and fill up on the truths that God loves us. He’ll give us courage and strength. We have nothing to fear with Him on our side. Jesus offers us peace. He is our hope, light and way.
We need to go hang out with the special people who remind us of these truths, who love us for exactly who we are. We need to do the things God created us to do—the things we’re good at, eat our favorite foods, wear our favorite clothes, listen to our favorite bands, and talk to God over and over again until we remember, until we fall back into our rhythms and find the blissful peace of knowing we are beautiful, we are priceless, our lives have meaning.
And even when it feels like nobody else knows or notices, God is there loving us—in the middle of the day, in the middle of the traffic jam, the disappointment, the self doubt and even in the middle of the darkest nights. It just takes a little focus, concentration, and turning it over, but soon we can tune out the interruptions and settle back into knowing we have value and worth, because we are loved by God. We can once again embrace our true reflections.
Different folks and different faith backgrounds within the Christian church meditate on different words or ideas during the four weeks of advent as they prepare for Christmas. This week I’m focusing on love.
One of my favorite Christmas movies is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. How I trembled at the sight of the Abominable Snowman when I was little. Gratefully, I’ve conquered that fear.
Each year as I watch, I’m a little befuddled when Rudolph and his buddies arrive at the Island of Misfit Toys. To me, none of the toys live up to their “misfit” name. A cowboy riding an ostrich seems exotic. A toy gun that squirts jelly sounds super fun, especially if it’s strawberry, because yum. A Charlie in the Box is clever, and that spotted elephant is so stinking cute. I have no idea why he’s a misfit. And Dolly? No one in my family can even figure out what makes her not fit in. Yet, each of these toys bemoans their quirks, the things that make them different. They play the comparison game and end up feeling unloved and unwanted.
Sounds a little bit like us.
We wish we had skin like her, or a set of wheels like him. We think if only we had this aspect, that job, those boots, that relationship, or wore that size, then we’d be happy.
But God tells us differently. God tells us we are His masterpieces, His perfect creations, who He has equipped for the specific work He has uniquely designed for us. God asks, “I made you in my image, why would you want to be any different? Why would you want to be like someone I created for an entirely different purpose and destiny than the phenomenal one awaiting you?”
Why would we?
Santa shows up on the Island of Misfit Toys and puts every toy in his bag. He doesn’t turn down any of them. Not one. Santa doesn’t say there’s no room for a train with square wheels or that only flying birds (not swimming ones) can sit with him. Santa sees and values each toy’s individuality. He understands that every toy has the power to bring joy and love into the heart of a child. Santa loves them all for exactly who they are. And at the end of the movie, when each misfit toy grabs a colorful umbrella and floats to the home of their future child owner, they are transformed. They are still them—polka dots, square wheels and all—but they realize their potential, they begin to see their true reflections.
And when we understand how loved we are by our Creator, that He crafted us perfectly and intentionally, that there’s room for all of us in God’s kingdom, that He doesn’t reject any of us, not a one, that our uniqueness can accomplish things no one else can accomplish, that we each have the power to bring love and joy to this world, just as we are, then we too, can begin to see our true reflections.
This is what Christ’s love looks like—a flawless mirror showing us we are not misfits. We are worthy, and we are treasured.
As you light your Christmas candles or your tree or plug in your giant yard blow-up Minions with Santa hats, breathe in God’s incomparable love, and remember that to Him you have infinite value.
No man can be the perfect father. Just like I can’t be the perfect mother, sister, daughter, wife or mom. I’d like to be, but I’m not. I can’t. It’s not possible, because we’re all human.
Yet, all of us can imagine what that perfect father might look like. Maybe he’s a combination of Daniel (Liam Neeson) in Love Actually, Nemo’s dad, Marlin, Atticus Finch and Jean Val Jean—only their best parts, their scenes and dialogue that moved us the most. When we picture that, we’re getting closer to understanding who God is.
When I fall down, mess up, make the same mistake I’ve made over and over and wish I would never make again, yet find myself scuffed and bruised, how would I hope the perfect father would handle it? I’d want him to ask me where it hurts. Get out a bottle of peroxide. Clean up my wounds and hold me until I stopped shaking. Later, when I’m a bit calmer, he’d talk me through what happened, help me strategize how to prevent from falling down again.
When something interesting or hilarious happened during my day, I imagine the ideal father putting down his phone or his newspaper, looking me in the eye and listening to every word of my story, like it mattered, like I matter.
If I were having relationship trouble, I’d like to think the perfect father would make us both steaming mugs of hot cocoa with extra marshmallows and sit down with me on the couch… and listen. Then he’d share with me how he wishes my friends would treat me, how He hopes I’ll interact with the people in my life, what he hopes others see in me. How he expects me to behave. If it were boy trouble, he’d proceed to tell me the kind of guy he always dreamed I’d marry, the attributes he’d like the man I end up with to have—things like integrity and faith and honesty.
As a busy mom of four, I know I don’t always listen fully or comfort before I criticize. Sometimes I try to fix a problem when my child wants me to listen or just offer perspective. I’m far from perfect. But I know how passionately I love my children. That even in my flaws, I want to be fully present for them always and to help them grow into the very best versions of themselves.
If I want that for my kids…I can’t even imagine how much God wants that for us. And since God is perfect, he always gets it right. He’s never distracted or too busy for us. He never shoos us away or gives us half answers. He never ignores us or treats us unfairly. He always guides us on glorious paths and loves us with perfect love.
That’s what the perfect Father looks like. That’s how He loves you and me.
So, the thing I’m most thankful for is God—the perfect Father. It is through Him that a table of Thanksgiving is before me. That the people I love so dearly are gathered around it. That a feast of plenty is spread across it. My thanks are for God who sent His only son, Jesus, to save me and to save you. It is to Him that I owe all of my thanks.
Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all his creatures. —James 1:17-18
I got my hair done yesterday—trimmed, highlighted, eyebrows waxed. I had let it go w-a-y too long. My ends were split. My roots were dark. Stray brows were pricking up in random places. To be honest, I’ve barely had time to even look in the mirror the last couple of weeks, let alone tend to my appearance. Sure I’ve washed my face and brushed my teeth, slathered on moisturizer morning and night. Dotted foundation under my eyes and brushed a quick coat of mascara on my lashes. But that’s been about the extent of it in September.
This morning I notice a difference. All of my pieces are a little better assembled. It oddly motivates me to put on an outfit, instead of leaving my workout clothes on all day. I might even remember to slide in a pair of silver hoops.
We all have days where we look (and feel) more put together than others, but in all days, we are still exactly how God planned for us to be. I was reminded of this at a recent trip to the zoo with my kiddos. I know some of you are opposed to zoos, and I get it, because the animals are confined, and that’s an issue. But I love the zoo, because I find each animal so incredibly remarkable. Because they remind me of God’s handiwork. They’re all so crazy different, and yet so unfathomably amazing. They help me remember how God made you and me and how when He created us it wasn’t random, but intentional—as an artist painstakingly brushes colors of paint on their canvas.
The next time you feel like you’re having a bad hair day, or like you hate your hair in general, think of the lion and his majestic mane sticking out in every direction and yet, signifying royalty and grace, perfect exactly how it is, exactly how God intended it to be.
The next time you think your nose is too long or too small or too crooked or too pointy, consider the elephant. Her trunk amazes us. Our noses also have purpose. They’re how we breathe. #Grateful. And the cozy, comforting scent of a PSL or lavender oil or fresh flowers from the farmer’s market all come to us via our snouts, no matter what their shape or size. Not to mention smell enables us to taste. And I’m oh so thankful I have the gift of being able to taste the salty-sweet of a fig prosciutto pizza or the scrumptiousness of a chocolate chip cookie hot out of the oven. You?
If you ever think your ________ is too long or too short or too small or too big remember the elegant giraffes. I’ve never looked at one and thought, “You know their necks are too long.” No. I say, “Wow, they are so graceful, so tall.” That’s how God sees us, too, phenomenal, just the way He formed us.
Who are we to question the shape and structure God has given us? Can you imagine any of these animals any other way? From a step back we can see purpose and beauty in each creature’s unique features. God can see purpose and beauty in each of our unique features too. So no matter if you’re way overdue for an appointment with your barber or if you have a standing date with your stylist, no matter if you’re going for a run or always feel like you’re on the run, remember that the God who created the world, and all of it’s amazing creatures, also created you. And He did so with intentionality and precision, so that He could call you His masterpiece.
You are Christ’s masterpiece Ephesians 2:10
What is your favorite feature and why are you grateful for it? I’d love to hear.
Are you a Prince fan?
In high school there were so many mornings as I was getting ready, when I popped a Prince cassette into my jam box (80’s girl), cranked up the volume, and sang along at the top of my lungs. I’m sure my parents loved that.
Tragically, it was confirmed this week that the cause for Prince’s death on April 21 was a drug overdose. Tragic, because Prince was so talented, so young, and apparently, so very unhappy.
Prince seemingly had it all. All those things we wish for? All those things we dream about—that we think would make life idyllic? He achieved so many of them. Have you ever said…
If only I could play an instrument.
If only someone would notice me.
If only I could sing.
If only I could dance.
If only people found me attractive.
If only money wasn’t a problem.
If only I could get a record deal.
If only I could be in a movie.
If only I could be on the cover of a magazine.
If only I were famous.
If only I could win a Grammy award.
If only I could play the Super Bowl.
If only I had millions of dollars.
Items on our bucket lists Prince achieved. But despite being able to play 27 instruments, winning seven Grammy awards, an Academy Award, selling over 100 million records worldwide, being considered one of the greatest guitarists of all time, living in a palatial multi-million dollar estate, Paisley Park, Prince died alone. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t content. Because he was missing something.
See, we’re all born with a longing in our hearts—a longing to be loved, accepted, recognized, to use the gifts and talents we’ve been given in a way that will make a difference, get us noticed, earn us applause. This is not a bad thing. This is truly how we were created. God longs for us to seize the day and live life to the absolute fullest. But no matter how much we achieve, there is only one thing that can truly satisfy this longing. This one thing will satiate us completely when nothing else will.
All these worldly things—popularity, fame, money, success—give us a temporary thrill, a temporary high. But the next day we’ll want more. One gig, or sale, or tournament win, or A on our report cards, or client, or heart on Instagram, as we all know, is great, but it’s never enough. Because once we have one, another one looks awfully sweet, and we crave more. Not only will we want more, but our coaches and teammates will be counting on us for another point, our bosses will be looking to us for another deal, and (I speak from experience) our agents will be expecting more book sales.
And although our accomplishments should be celebrated (as we talked about in last week’s blog), none of those things will fulfill us; they aren’t truly what we crave, as Prince could have told us. Author Matthew Kelly says, “You can never have enough of something you don’t need.” But there is one thing that will make us feel full and complete. One person whose applause is constant and counts for everything. Jesus.
Jesus made you and me and Prince and Morris Day. He made us exactly who we are. And when we live a life in relationship with Him, talking to Him, trusting in Him, turning our problems and cares and worries and mistakes and victories and triumphs all over to Him, then not only does Jesus cheer more loudly and clearly than a thousand retweets or a thousand fans, but His acceptance of us for who we are, for who He created us to be is, all we need. Jesus totally satisfies our cravings, fills the empty hole inside that seems to be always longing for something more. Jesus’ love is what we were created to seek. It is His applause we were made to pursue. Because it is completely gratifying. And when we allow Jesus’ love to surround us—we don’t need another anything else, we have everything we need.
I always suspected that there was something of goodness in me, but I just couldn’t find it. Until one day—one day I discovered it here, in my heart. I found it…goodness. And ever since that day, I have always known who I was. And now, nothing can touch me. ~Miguel
How does a gang member in Los Angeles find his goodness? Racial tension is ugly. Gang violence is ugly. Drugs are ugly. Los Angeles County is home to over 1100 active gangs comprising over 86,000 people. According to the LAPD, in the last three years over 16,400 violent crimes were attributed to gangs in the City of Angels. How can someone possibly find his or her worth in the midst of this?
Miguel found his beauty thanks to Father Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest in Los Angeles who didn’t look at the drugs, or the crimes, or the violence, he didn’t look at the different ethnicities, or the rap sheets of his parishioners, but he looked at them as humans—as humans who were struggling to find and believe in their true value. Boyle saw a way to help gang members like Miguel find the true beauty not only in themselves, but in each other. He knew if the teens could start fresh, get a high school diploma, get a job, they could break cycles of poverty, be less reliant on the drug trade; begin to understand that they had skills and gifts. When Fr. Greg, or as his friends call him, “G”, talked to these teens, they wanted to go to school. But the schools wouldn’t take them, not with their records, their backgrounds. So, Boyle created a school for them.
And when they graduated who would hire them? As Boyle explained when I saw him speak in Cincinnati, “Surprisingly there wasn’t much of a job market for ex convicts.” Insert laughter of the crowd here. But again, the barriers of society didn’t stop G. He put on his entrepreneur hat and started his own company, Homeboy Bakery. Its purpose is “to create an environment that provides training, work experience and above all, the opportunity for rival gang members to work side by side.” Side by side? As in teaching people who have been raised to hate one another to appreciate each another, to respect one another. Boyle challenged listeners during his talk, “We belong to each other. How do we bridge the gap?” He continued to explain his motivation to bring these gang members together and to give them purpose, “What Jesus took seriously was inclusion and acceptance.” Good point.
Did it work? You bet. Not only did Homeboy Bakery take off, but it was the catalyst for Homeboy Industries, which now includes multiple businesses. It is recognized as the largest gang intervention and re-entry program in the world. The jobs, the opportunities, the new life Homeboy Industries has given the poor, marginalized, desperate gang population in L.A. blows me away. But what blows me away even more is story after story about how people who hated each other now love each other. Fr. Greg told one story about “homies” who just a few months ago were shooting bullets at each other, and now they’re shooting texts at one another”. He told more tales of individuals who had always despised each other who are now not only working side by side, but calling each other “brother” and “friend”. A miracle? Not really. Because this is how Jesus always envisioned things. Treating each other as we would like to be treated. But is it easy? Are we doing a good job at keeping the Golden Rule?
How did Fr. Greg do it? He saw these individuals for the beautiful creations they were made to be. He recognized their true beauty. He proclaims, “It is our job to hold the mirror up, tell people they are exactly what God had in mind when He made them, and watch people grow into that truth.”
What if we took a lesson from Father Greg, sought beauty in all humans, realized we all have potential, we all have talents, we all deserve to be loved? How can I hold up a mirror for someone else today? How can you? Show someone who they truly are, that they are exactly what God intended when He made them? We can start with ourselves. Go find a mirror, gaze into it, and say out loud, “You are exactly what God had in mind when He made you.” And we can watch ourselves grow into our own true beautiful reflections. Then we can point others towards the mirror, and let beautiful ripple effects take over.
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