Matthew 9:9-13

If Jesus came for the sinners, why are we all trying so hard to change? He loves us as we are, and yet, we are all desperately trying to do better, be better. It doesn't make any sense and it's killing me!

God calls me to be like Him. To love others, to love myself, so I guess I pretty much need to start there. What does it look like to love myself? It looks like me being kind. It looks like me being aware of when I'm hurting, when I'm stressed, and when I'm getting frazzeled being repair. I need to slow down and accept that I'm not one of those people who can go, go, go. Even though I want to be. I do things a little more slowly, and that's okay. I also go out of my way to help people, and that's okay too. It doesn't make me better or worse than anyone else, just lovable, for me and anyone else practicing the Christian faith.

I think what Jesus was looking for in the sinners was their dedication to him. See, they knew how far they had fallen. They were willing to get back up and to keep plugging along. They had experienced restoration in their lives and they wanted to show it to the world. We should be like this. We can be like that.

He is calling us into a world that doesn't know they are lovable. My mission is to show the world how lovable they are, and why? Why does it matter if we know, or they know, how truly loved they are and can be? Because that type of love is transforming. It changes us from the inside out. When I begin to realize that God accepts and loves me precisely as I am, AND that He wants me to love me in the same way! I'm changed. I'm awed. I'm incredibly humbled because to me, I see nothing special in myself, and that's okay. I can see God reflected in me, I can see the love and growth He has planted there, instead of the weeds that were strangling out any form of life that used to live there. I've been through a lot in the last 26 years and I can honestly say I'm stronger today than I ever was back then. I've learned a lot and grown so much over the past few years and I am so thankful that God continues loving me. Even when I haven't always been the person I should have been or could have been. He was waiting, in grace, for me to return to Him. No pressure, just loving arms open wide. I want to be that way to the world also. A symbol of God's grace and loving presence. That is what it's all about, after all.

But, why love? What is so special about love and the absence of hate? What is so transforming about coming to the world, as Jesus did, and dining with the sinners? Is it because in a world that tells you everything is acceptable, if you really go "too far," at some point they stop accepting you? If you start drinking in college, everyone loves you. They love being around you, partying with you, hanging out with you, getting drunk with you. But what happens when they've forgotten your name, you can't pay your bills, and the only person you want to blame is staring at you through the mirror? Then, there's Jesus. There's God. There is someone telling you that everything will be okay. That He still loves you. That He never grew tired of you or too weary to carry your load. Just open you arms and accept Him and that's all He's asking you to do. The rest is really up to Him, to change you from the inside out as He begins loving you and expressing how deeply and truly special you are to Him. It's a wonderful thing and a beautiful way to live your life.


Matthew 9:12 "On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13) But go and learn what this means" 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

A little piece of Heaven

Tonight, as I sip a warm cup of tea, I can't help but sigh with relief. I have brief moments in time when I can be completely myself. Alone, at last, with my computer, a snack, and a drink. Never mind the fact that my baby sleeps just inches behind me for only God knows how long and my husband sleeps only feet away until he must wake and go out on his night shift. It's been weeks now that he covers the graveyard shift and, as of yet, I am still not recovered. Can one ever really grow accustomed to the person they love not being able to sleep at their side and not returning until the morning has fully dawned. I'm not sure I will, but for now, he and I are making it work. The baby keeps me company anyways and for that I am extremely grateful.

I know things like this will not last. The times, rugged and hurried, seem to squeeze themselves out of me, but I am unwilling to let them go. I so badly want to stay in this moment and then the next. Is this what it means to be a mother? Always wanting to stay right where you are while all the time you know you must change, adapt, let go? I never minded change before, in fact, I welcomed it. I sought it out and now I only long to keep my family intact; enjoying this day and this day alone.

I am ready for change though. I see the need, the necessity, of newness. A new environment in which we can all grow. I would never dream of keeping anyone of them the same. I want both of them to flourish, to find joy, to succeed at whatever they put their hands to. Their minds to. I see greatness in our son. He is lovely and happy. He smiles so easily and loves so much to see his father's face. All that he is makes my whole life shine. I am complete in the moments when I know his smile will stay on his face.

As for me, I'm torn. Is my life as a mother now? As a mom who stays at home and cares for her children and takes care of the house and the other maternal duties? Or, am I Mom who works outside of the home and takes home to her children her very hard-earned support and care. Or, am I both? Am I the one who must go work in order to provide and when I am home, only then can I give the love and support to my child, or children, that they need? Am I to recognize my child's benefit of having multiple family members in his life, to help raise him and love and take care of him? Am I to let go of him unquestionably because that is what is best for my family. I'm not sure and that is at the heart of my problems. I am not keen on letting go. In fact. I cannot see me doing so and yet I am called outside of my house, to make something of myself, to build, encourage and move on. I cannot do so.  I suppose I will work to earn a paycheck and then come home to love my family. To spend the precious moments that I can with them. To help raise them in the way they should go and love them how I know I should.. how should I love them? The defining question. My love would seem to best show through lavishing all of my affection upon them but we are also told to believe that self-love is the only way one can fully love another. Jesus, actually, tells us that we are to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. I would love myself by providing a secure future for me and so I would fully love my son by giving him that same opportunity. I know what I must do and now I pray that the Lord can help with guidance and wisdom and love so that I should have strength in order to get the job done. Amen.

you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:14

I woke up this morning and asked God, "Why am I here? Why have you placed me in this exact spot, with these people, in this life style?"
I was wondering. I'm finally wondering.
I could spend my time thinking of some other crap like why hasn't he given me this or that or why do I have to do such and such, but that seems terrible unfulfilling when the truth of it all is that I am here, make it or break it.
I do not want to break it. In fact, I want to thrive, so again I ask, "Why am I here?"

If I am fearfully and wonderfully made, as I am, then there is a reason for my moodiness and my reflection. There is a reason for the son I had and a reason I was given to him as his mother.

If any other avenue in my life was really so great, I would be there now, because God loves me and works all things together for my good.

I want to be unfiltered. Stop thinking about what to say or not, because the truth of the matter is, all of our walks are different. When my relationship is just about me and God, I think thats when the real change will come. It isn't like all of us are that different but our modes of communication are light years apart and it makes me feel inadequate. For example, I thought of something that made me angry while I was in the shower. I noticed, for perhaps the first time, that my initial thought was to push it down. Get rid of the feeling. Instead, today I thought, I am going to think of a healthy and normal way to tell that person why I am upset. I never thought of a way, but at least I realize what I need to do!

I know everything will work out because God is like that. I'm just wondering when and how. I don't know, I guess I'm feeling a little nostalgic.

Cloud Chronicles

  THE CLOUD CHRONICLES

Johnny is a young boy with a rather large imagination. All day long he could sit at a window and beg the clouds to take him away. He wasn't running from anything in particular, but he needed escape. He was on his way to somewhere grand and all he had to do was glance up at the sky in order for his day to begin.

Johnny liked to imagine shapes best. He wasn't any good at seeing people or places, but a figure in the sky, that was his specialty. He saw animals of all sorts. In fact, those were about the only shapes he did see. He was beginning to wonder what actually made up those wonderful drawings in the beautiful blue sea, when all of a sudden, he realized. Maybe it was not what made the clouds, but who and for who he should be curious about. 

Ever since that fateful day, when he asked all of those ominous questions, some very weird things began occurring. He wouldn't say he minded, except for the fact that he was getting terribly lazy 'round the house and that none of his friends were any good at playing nowadays. His imagination was getting him so carried away that it wasn't until night fall that he would even think about how long he'd been sitting there. "Daydreamin'," as his mother called it.

He knew. Even if she didn't. And even if his friends could hardly play along. To them, it was all in the realm of make believe. Which, as kids, is a really good thing. Nobody wants to be around another kid, so long as they keep interrupting a game to point out how unreal it is. Everyone knows they aren't real cops and robbers or children on a runaway train, but they play anyways, for the fun of it. That's what Johnny's friends thought they were doing when he would call them over in the middle of the day to fight off the angry dragon or to protect the blubbering sheep. Little did they know he wanted to sit around, staring up at the clouds, wasting away an entire day. It was after they figured out all of this that they suddenly could no longer play. Not at all, but not at all when their mothers said it was Johnny who was calling to play.

That suited Johnny alright anyways. He didn't need people to tell him what he was seeing or make-believing that the agitated elephant, with a very severe problem, was actually a mouse with a cricked tail. He was better off on his own. That way the animals felt more comfortable to tell him their stories and that way, he never had to wonder why he felt so all alone. Even when our closest friends are near to us, it is possible to not really feel connected. That's why when his friends were gone, he really believed he was getting somewhere. At least someone wanted to talk to him and at least those imaginations understood the way he liked to play. 

It was a junk yard dog that started it all for Johnny. He was just a lonely puppy at first, placed in the junk yard as a type of scarecrow. Except there were never any burglars and the puppy only ever really wanted to play. Anyone who spoke to the puppy tried to make him tough. They'd tease the mane between his ears and speak to him real gruffly, trying to get him to understand the importance of his work. Oh, he got it alright. It was his job to defend the palace, the sanctuary of garbage and he would have done it too, if anyone would have ever felt like barging in.

He dreamed of another dog to play with. To make the rounds with, to share the scrap bits of meat with and to share the human attention with. Sometimes, he didn't feel so much like being pet by those owners. They never had anything new to say and he was bored of acting happy at, "Sit Fiddo. Now, pounce. Good dog. Good work. Go, fetch." It was always the same and not that it was bad, only... Only, he longer for something more. 

Maybe it was the longing in this pups eyes that caught Johnny's attention. The rest of him looked pretty standard. Long scraggly ears, a soft shaggy tail. He was, of course, only shades of blue and white, but when Johnny allowed his imagination to take over, the whole story finally came to life.

***********************The tale of the lonely dog***********************

Fiddo wasn't even his real name. He was adopted when he was only six weeks and his new owners called him that. Originally he had been called, Buddy. He loved that name. He wore it proudly, like a badge. His first owners would look down on him and call him over affectionately, saying, "Come here, Buddy. Come here. Good boy." And it didn't even stop there. They'd scoop him up and hold him tightly against their chests and just rock him back and forth, or play with him a bit. He loved those days, even though they were becoming distant memories by now. These days, he was practically a full grown pup. Almost two years old, in a few weeks, but he wasn't really counting. He knew no one who remembered the date and for that matter, did dogs even really get to have birthday celebrations?

If it was up to him, they would. Dog parties would be the best kind of parties, too. Instead of cake and ice-cream, which were usually made of chocolate (Yuck!) he would serve hamburger pie! There would be chew toys as party favors and all sorts of races for the games. The one exception to this all, the thing humans never think about, is that instead of boring old water to drink, the dogs would be served ice cold vanilla cokes! There isn't a dog on this planet who can resist the cold fuzz of a soda, or any other bubbly drink. Whoever got it in their heads that sodas not for dogs has another thing coming when they finally see the truth. Anyways, he'd have soda at his birthday party, for the special occasion. And dog biscuits right along side biscuits and gravy! He could smell it now! But, he'd better stop. With all this fantasizing he was getting awfully hungry. That wouldn't do when it came time to eat the slop they served here for dinner. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before he found the perfect friend to play with though. In all his time at this junk yard, he never saw a thing that didn't come along side a matching pair. He noted the objects as he did his usual patrol; the tires, for example. They were always rolling up to another tire. They never did too much but sit there and lean on each other, but Buddy assumed that was what tires liked to do best so he never spoke too much about them. The other thing that always came in pairs were the cats. He would see them late at night, when he had almost started sleeping, creeping over the wire fence, right into his yard! Buddy wasn't sure if it were part of his job to keep the cats out too, but it never seemed like they took anything the owners missed, so he let them slide. Besides, he kept an eye on them, to see how they played with each other and to see if he too would like to be part of the group. Cats didn't act very friendly though, so he thought he better not try it. They looked at him crossly and then stole into the night to go after whatever it is that cats like to get into. Just like with the tires, Buddy thought that was one more thing he might be better off not knowing. And then there were the birds. He loved watching the birds! He could sit there and scan the sky all day if his job would let him. He loved to see them soar up in the sky and then leap down. He liked to look at them dancing with each other and then cuddle on the tree and sing songs to one another. It sure must be sweet to share those good moments with a person you had so much in common with, like, wings. He wouldn't know much about them either.

He loved to learn though! It was about the best thing there was to do as a junk yard dog. Everywhere he went, he could find little scraps here and there that told him about the life outside. Plus, his owners were constantly watching the T.V. which made it nice for Buddy to catch the news, given that reading was still a little difficult for him. One day, Buddy saw something that shocked him. 

As the news came on that evening, only two nights ago, Buddy was going on his normal stroll. He had barely passed the owner's house when these few words stopped him cold in his tracks. "The monkeys then spit right through the fence!" You must know why this caught his attention. He had never heard of another animal living behind a fence, as he did. All the other animals he ever encountered either came and went as they pleased or flew so high above the ground, they would have hardly noticed the fence at all. This was something different, something extraordinary! And , to think, the monkey spit! At whom? And, why?

These were ideas he had never had before and the mere image of a monkey spitting at anyone was enough to get his tail wagging. He went to bed merrily that night, thinking of all the learning he was going to have to do.

Chapter 2:

Why the Monkey Spits.

Did you know, I had never been in captivity before coming to the LA Zoo? That's right! The  first two blissful years of my life were spent winding around trees in the jungle and I couldn't think of anything except those trees and the next banana I was going to split! 

That was all until I found myself very much alone one night. It wasn't scary or anything, swinging there from branch to branch. We monkeys always split up and go in search of food, so even at two I was used to being on my own. I'm adventurous. But, when I noticed it was night and that the atmosphere wasn't what it should be, I started planning on returning home. I wasn't supposed to stay out so late, my clan was always telling me so. The only problem with being out at night is that the canopy to the rainforest blocks out all the moonlight. I figured I'd have to camp out, just for the night. Just until morning when the bird songs might be more helpful in leading me home. 

There must have been a fire that day, a trick of fate that kept me away from my home. When I returned, the wreckage was fierce! I didn't even recognize our community tree, the largest in the region in which we all pulled our food from scavenging. It was bare, all of it, and I wondered where on earth everyone had gone. That was, until I spotted the humans. I had seen them before, once or twice. Normally, we were pretty safe this far south, but lately there had been words thrown around, such as, "expansion" and "population growth." Those words didn't mean much to me then, but looking around now at my depleted home, I recognized my unfortunate predicament. 

I was about to swing away, in search of the others when I heard it.

"A spider!" 

"Aye mate, it's a spider monkey alright. Come on, little fella."

"Oh, he must be scared to death. All alone and at his age." 

"Come on down little monkey. I've got a treat for you." 

And at that moment, I saw what brought the biggest grin to my face of all. You bet!  A gloriously large, yellow green banana and I had hopped onto the ground in seconds. Flying through the air, swinging on my tail, soaring through the trees. It was a miracle! He said I could have it and so I stayed near their troupe. He never asked permission when they loaded me into a crate, but I suppose I let it happen. I wanted to be safe and I felt that curiosity again in me. Where was he taking me? Would it be where the others were? I wasn't sure, but I certainly hoped so. This was a journey I wasn't very prepared for, but then again, what journeys in life are we ever really prepared to go on?

Let's Be Real.

I'm not sure if you're like me. You hold your tongue because what you have to say might sound rude. You aren't trying to be offensive, but the possibility that you are going to be perceived that way is relatively high, so you steer away from that comment. Maybe you make light of the situation and maybe you bring up a whole different conversation altogether and maybe, still, you default on affirming the person, rather than addressing the real topic on hand. But, why? Why, if our intentions are not confrontational do we side-step our original comments in order to avoid potentially uncomfortable conversations?
I'm acknowledging my own weakness in doing this exact same thing before I dive into my irritation with those who do it too. (If I call it like I see it with myself, I'm therefore allowed to call others out as well, right?). Well, anyways, I was thinking about all of this because of the religious posts I put on Facebook.
I know full well that some of my friends aren't Christians;  people I consider friends in my daily life, but also the mere acquaintances who were forced to adopt the friendship title based on Facebook's strict regulations of our social status. Beyond that, they probably don't agree with most of the verses I post from the Bible. Yet, as I think about why they don't reply, why they don't ask what in the world am I talking about in those verses, I can only think of the above reasoning and perhaps one other. They see the Bible verses and think the sentiment is nice, they aren't bothered by my outward expression of spirituality and thereby skim on to the next post. This latter reason for the slim comments on my posts could be discouraging because, let's face it, half the reason for my posting scripture is evangelism. At the very least, I'm going for encouragement.
That's why I like today's verse from Romans 8.
Verse 26 says, "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans."
I need that. I need to know that I have weaknesses. To know that sometimes, I don't say the "right" thing, but maybe it was what needed to be said. I need to be reminded that I don't always need to hush myself and think through every conversation, afraid of offended someone, if that is not my intention. I cannot control everyone's reaction to my thoughts and feelings and ideas, that is for them to decide and for me to say what is really on my heart. I'd like to remember that. I'd like to get better at that. I'd like to have more trust in God, that He is leading me to say what needs to be said. Whether it is during prayer or before or after. I needed to hear that verse, which is kinda the point of this entire blog. Even I don't always know what I need to hear, but God does. This morning's devotional was spot on, if you will.
I hope you all are having a great day and that you go wherever the Spirit leads you! Whether in conversation or otherwise. Remember, a flattering tongue doesn't do any good, but words thought out to bring edification to a friend are really from the heart. That's from the Bible too, I just can't quote it word for word, yet. I'm working on it :)
~Jenn

What do you have to lose?

Some people are effortlessly calm.
Others are naturally sweet and kind and affectionate.
I am none of these things.
Not because I desire NOT to be, but because even when words of affirmation or a genuine smile might come, a blanket of shyness overwhelms those other abilities. Or, a shudder of questioning waves off my attempt.
I'm not complaining. I see gentleness and extraordinary acts of friendship in strangers and it captures me.
"How beautiful," I think. That one person can make such a difference in my little world! I don't know them. They have no reason to show grace, to connect. And yet...

They do. Moments. Moments like these and the moments when I have blinders on; to sadness, to anger, to passivity, to deceit. All of these make up my day and they capture my attention and I, so easily, become the observer, only occasionally affected by the world around me. That is until...

I look up. I listen. I pray. I stay silent. I sing. I smile. I interact. I try. And I'd rather do any of these than not. Not live. Not breathe. Not feel. Not be. 

Take a step. Leap. Give up. And see. See what type of change you can make. What a beautiful world you can contribute to! We can change and we can make a change. It's wonderful! Besides, what do you have to lose?

This quote came from Joyce Meyer's book The Confident Woman. "If you will do what you can do, God will do what you cannot do. Doors will open, a way will be made, and creative ideas will come" (119). From every reaction, there is a chain-reaction. Let it be a positive initiative that makes you take action and then sit back and enjoy, once you see what happens!

The Whistleblower

The story of Kathryn Bolkovac. A film made on her experience in Bosnia where several peace-keeping officials on a mission as part of the United Nations were forced to resign, but not prosecuted, after being connected to human-trafficking and child prostitution. 

2.5 million people are reported to still being trafficked. Apparently these rates are higher in places of post-conflict, such as, Iran and Afghanistan.

The movie is disturbing, harrowing. I can't shake it and I'm not sure I even want to. 

Kathryn describes herself as a whistle-blower, the title is perfect. Meaning that while she cares for human rights, her mission was to enlighten the world of an issue. To get us to see what was, and still is, going on.

I went to the Bible, finally today, after a long day of self-pity and confusion. It's no use wallowing, something a smart grandma of mine said once when I was in the third grade. I couldn't find a second shoe and as I sat down to cry about it, I heard her swift voice from around the corner. It might as well have been God's. "Well crying isn't going to help us find your shoe any faster." I heard the reason, there was no denying how right she was. So, why as a 25 year old mother do I still find myself face down and weeping? Old habits die hard, again and again and again.

After I pulled myself somewhat together, I headed for the park to clear my mind. I knew doing something would help and, as always, I had a trusty golden retriever to keep me company, and busy! This time it was my sister's pup and even though he is better on the leash than my dog, his people skills are lacking. He barked at every one who passed by and informed me that he didn't think very highly of an old man carrying a golf club. Even though I don't condone growling, I could hardly blame this protective puppy. I caught a glimpse of my pregnant belly and sided with my dog. Sorry old man, but I wouldn't go swinging your golf club around any more dogs.

Anyway, once I got home and showered, etc. I FINALLY, finally, acknowledged my desire, my need, to open the Bible. I turned right to Ezekiel, the part about God wanting to destroy Jerusalem because of its total demise (Chapter 7). Kind of a grimy topic, but when I think about it now, how far have we really come as a people?

I fell upon this line, verse 26, and could see a resemblance,

"They will go searching for a vision from a prophet,

priestly instruction in the law will cease,

the counsel of the elders will come to an end."

I won't argue that it is daunting, but how much more so that we have reasons, such as the accounts of human-trafficking, that if God did come down again, to see His wrath poured out and the innocent lives defended, not to be surprised?

I won't leave you hopeless though. In Chapter 9, verse 4 God called to a man to protect those who mourned over the detestable things being done in Jerusalem. Those who grieved would be saved. Those who still had souls enough to realize that life was going horribly wrong. Maybe sitting down and acknowledging a deep pain isn't the worst thing we can do. Maybe it allows for God to intervene and get rid of the wicked. Then again, he called on Ezekiel to spread the word. I guess I have a reason for doing both this time.