caroline holzberger

08 Feb 2013

Splash Water Falls

I grew up in the DFW Metroplex during the glory days of Six Flags — and Wet N’ Wild, for that matter. There weren’t fourteen theme parks all over the place, making it super convenient to hop in the car and be in fun-land within twenty minutes. Nope. Six flags. Wet N’ Wild. That was it. Two choices. And they weren’t cheap.

And, for some kids, they brought a day filled with thrill and adventure. But, like I’ve mentioned before I was still am a big fat weenie. My social status mattered zilch when it came to not riding rides. In fact, it was pretty much the only time I didn’t care about looking cool. I simply didn’t want to plummet to my death. Instead, I wanted to live to see the 8^th grade Valentine’s dance. Period. Oh that you could see the dress I wore to that beloved event. Epic.

One of the few rides I would partake in was the classic summer-buster called Splash Water Falls. It wasn’t too fast or too high. It didn’t go backwards Godforbid or loop you around in weird directions. It was one hill, and it was wet. Period. And, in Texas, when it is 104 degrees in the shade – wet was all that mattered. Take a look for yourself.

And, while the ride wasn’t all that thrilling, per say, the payoff was in the after party. When riders exited the ride, they had the opportunity to walk across the bridge and go on their merry way. And, if you were a chicken (or wearing denim shorts), you would quickly hustle across the bridge for dry safety.

But, the brave, the bold, and the near heat-stroked would stay — grab a bar of the railing and hold on for dear life. The wave that was a comin’ was for. real. It would literally knock you on your butt in an embarrassing woulda-been-posted-on-youtube-if-that-was-invented-back-then kind of way.

But, oh the relief. The wet, beloved, sweet, cool relief. In an instant, you were changed.

That, my friend, was me Wednesday night.

What a dry spell I’ve been in lately. Call it a phase. Call it a funk. Call it complacency and big fat laziness. Tomato. Tomahto. Let’s just call the whole thing off.

The last five years have been such a devastating, frustrating, yet growing, maturing time. But, I equate it to something like summer camp romance. Anyone can date a guy at summer camp. It’s a bubble. He is most popular counselor, reads His Bible daily, is great with kids, and thinks you hung the moon. But, then fall comes. School resumes. And all of a sudden he is back on his home turf with a new class of fresh meat to choose from. Purely hypothetical analogy, of course. I got played like a fiddle.

And while my couch time, while surely for-real, and absolutely genuine – was a bubble. How hard is it, really, to have a phenomenal relationship with God when you have to spend ten hours a day, every single day for weeks or months on end, alone and flat on your back? One can only watch so much HGTV. At some point, God gets your full attention. He surely got mine.

But, now that I am sealed and healed I have been working my way back into the real-life-Mom-of-three-who-loves-Jesus world. And I’ve pretty much sucked it up at times.

I’ve tried to Ninjago for Jesus. Meaning, I’ve wanted to honor God while I spend a tireless amount of time decorating ninja lollipops for six-year-olds.

I’ve chilled with the least of these. Meaning, I’ve gotten out of my comfort zone and directly in to His comfort zone of loving those who society has mistakenly forgotten and/or purposely ignored.

I’ve stretched the wings of my creative talents. Meaning, I’ve been giddy while creating some crafty-goodness, in hopes to sell some of my creations online and perhaps help our family out financially a bit here and there. I’ll post pictures soon. Please buy something.

I’ve become more serious about this whole writing a book thing. Ps. I am on chapter three and I’m flat scared out of my mind. Don’t ask me about it. I’ll deny the entire thing completely.

I’ve volunteered at school. I’ve creatively cut my shopping budget. I’ve carpooled it up. I’ve chaperoned a field trip. I’ve read some books. I’ve made friends with one of God’s precious sons and served his darling family. I’ve failed miserably at learning Spanish, but I can say Que dios de bendiga! to my precious new friends who clean my kids’ school and flip burgers at my local Wendy’s.

But, oh how I’ve missed my hours of Bible study. My blueletterbible.com and all the nerdy joy I got on that site. Oh, how much I miss hearing nothing but praise and worship all day.

Dry. Dusty. 104 in the shade. No mo’ money left for a beloved Lemon Chill. This was my life.

I needed some Splash Water Falls, dangit.

Last night, I had the immense blessing of seeing this precious little boy get baptized.

Or, as my precious Benjamin says, “Landon got bath-tized”. No, I don’t correct him – it’s adorable. Not sacrilege. Leave it alone.

Landon’s Mama and I have been friends since he and my oldest were babies.

Look at these darling baby boys. We wanted to dress them alike. They wanted to nap. We won.

If I could have gotten her fired from her job somehow, I think we would have hung out daily. But, regardless of that whole job-thing, she and I have kept up, kept close and stayed with it. She loved me on my couch. She helped fund my Mayo trip. She did all she could. And she will vouch that we have literally b-l-i-n-k-e-d and those boys are almost NINE years old. Gulp.

So, tonight, sweet Landon invited us to celebrate his ‘bath-tism’ so of course, me and my boys wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Little did I know I was getting in line for this sweet, refreshing ride.

Our church does a lot of things well. (To be honest, God does a lot of things well and we just hang on tight and try not to screw it up!) But Worship Wednesday is one of them. On the first Wednesday of every month, from 7:00-8:00 (not 6:00-7:00 like some people me, yes me thought and showed up an hour early. Sigh.) the sanctuary is filled with praise, praise and more praise. People go public with their faith in ‘bath-tism’, we join together as a family and “Whoop!” and holler and darn near do the wave to celebrate this joyful event! Our church family unites in communion. And then we praise some more.

Oh how I needed it.

And I don’t know about you, but God…my God loves to show off. He desires good things for you. (Psalm 29 and 103) He has exceedingly and abundantly beyond all you could ask or imagine in store for you. (Ephesians 3:20) And He loves to knock you to your butt sometimes with the overwhelming wave of power by His Holy Spirit and His presence.

Man oh man, am I drenched!

They played one of my anthems. Yup, I cried.

I saw three of my favorite people on the planet. One of whom I’ve hurt recently. I suck. But, she loves me, still. She showed me grace. And I got to hug her. Needed that – bad.

I got to see my precious Benjamin rock out to praise and worship for really the first time in a corporate setting. I bout near cried. Everyone around us enjoyed his drum solos on the chairs in front of us, too.

I got to show my boys how much I love to praise. My oldest (who is like his father) sat back and ‘observed’ while praising in a subdued way. Totally fine…just not how I roll. This will surely mortify him in about four years. I can’t wait!

I got to watch my sweet boys stare in wonder as their buddy partook in the blessed symbol of being buried like Christ in baptism, to come forth raised to life new in Christ Jesus. I feel confident they will be dunked for Jesus soon as well. Oh what a day that will be!

And, the icing on the cake – I got to take communion with my boys. I am overjoyed (times a million) that both Jacob and Benjamin have accepted Jesus as their own personal Savior but this was the first time I’ve gotten to share in this sacred ritual with them. It was priceless.

God knew I was dry. He knew my funk. He knew I wanted to be close again, but didn’t know how to get what we had on the couch, without having to actually go back to the couch. He knew I needed a wave of His Spirit like none I’d felt in a while. And boy did He deliver.

Why?

I honestly have no stinkin’ clue. His overflowing grace continually humbles me. Especially after my lazy, busy behavior lately.

I’ve spent more time writing my book than reading His. ouch!

I’ve spent more thoughts on my future for me than for His future for me.

Yet, still, His grace abounds.

I wonder friend…do you suck it up like I do sometimes? If you say no, we can’t be friends. Do you feel parched and weak from heat exhaustion? Has the world drained you of the fresh spirit alive in you? Oh that you would come back to Him. Get in line. Await the wave. I surely wish you would.

The world can be such a blessing. Carpool, making lunches, volunteering in kindergarten…all ways I can honor my God by honoring my beloved roles as a wife/Mom and homemaker. But, the daily grind can make you lose focus.

Especially me. I am re-learning how to do all this well. Last time I was this “well”…I had a three-year old and a one-year old and worked part time at church. I didn’t cook. I didn’t clean. Somewhere across town my husband is shouting Amen! I didn’t have three kids. I didn’t have homework and spelling words and endless projects for school to work on. I didn’t have a heart poured out for the least of these and a desire to spend every single day with them. I didn’t have basketball practice and cub scouts and gymnastics and baseball and soccer and carpool and all of the other things I craved more than water itself all those many years on my couch. But, in Jesus’ Name I do have those things now! But, oh how I want to still have my precious Jesus too.

I want to do this life well. This Daughter of The King life. This wife life. This Mom life. This friend/sister/daughter/neighbor life, well. But, I don’t want to do it all. I don’t need to do it all.

I need less of all the excess and more of just the Jesus.

So…I’m going to do something that, by name alone, may sound a little like I’ve become Fruit-looped.

I’m going to fast.

That’s not a typo. I didn’t mean to say “I’m going too fast” as in not slow enough. But, I am going to actually partake in a fast. As in “to abstain from eating all or certain foods or meals, especially as a religious observance” No, it isn’t a diet. Although if I lose ten pounds, I’m totally cool with that, Lord

I am choosing to simply do the first verb in that sentence.

Abstain.

Do you know that word?

It means “to hold oneself back voluntarily, especially from something regarded as improper or unhealthy”. The life some of us live is exactly that. Improper and unhealthy. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to differ from believers to non-believers. That breaks my heart, and I’m certain God’s too. Here’s the truth of it, friend. As my pastor always says, “none of us are getting out of this thing alive.” Apart from Jesus actually returning we will die. Someday. Why in the flipping world are we wasting SO much time being caught up in the same junk non-believers are?

I say we, because I am a part of it.

No more.

In a world where no one ever abstains from anything, ever. I choose to do, as this Bible study I’m about to embark on says – surge forward in an “experimental mutiny against excess.”

I hope you will join me.

We will look at seven areas of our lives and stop. Reflect. Cut out. Abstain.

I am announcing to you now, my friend, that as of March 1^st – I will be leading/doing a Bible study called 7 by Jen Hatmaker. I have already introduced you to her through my super-cool-kids book club and I have actually already read the book with the same title. It ‘tis uh-maz-ing.

Then, I got this great idea. This generally every single time makes my partner in crime cringe when I open a conversation with those words.

Me: “ Hey! Why don’t we do 7?”

Thing One: “You mean like re-read it?”

Me: “No, like do it. Fast.”

Thing One: “Like, re-read it quickly?”

Me: “No, dude…like actually do it. Partake in the fast.”

Thing One: (leaves the room)

Obviously, she changed her mind. Actually, God did. She’s in. Are you?

Here is the down-low from the site. Check it out for more info! “The seven areas include – Food. Clothes. Spending. Media. Possessions. Waste. Stress. We will spend thirty days on each topic, boiling it down to the number seven. Only eat seven foods, wear seven articles of clothing, and spend money in seven places. Eliminate use of seven media types, give away seven things each day for one month, adopt seven green habits, and observe “seven sacred pauses.” So, what’s the payoff from living a deeply reduced life? It’s the discovery of a greatly increased God—a call toward Christ-like simplicity and generosity that transcends social experiment to become a radically better existence.”

Please join us.

Go online and buy the workbook. If you live locally, contact me for more info, because we will meet at Thing One’s house every other Thursday evening for Bible study. If you don’t live close…get your own group together! Link them to my blog and let’s all share in this journey together!

And…that’s not all!! I will be posting a giveaway in the next week or so for FIVE lucky winners! That’s right – Thing One has offered to BUY the Bible study workbook for FIVE OF YOU, if you promise to do it with us and comment on our blogs along the way, so we can share in this craziness for Jesus together!

Let’s grab a hold of the bars of the railing together, shall we? Let’s stand, throats parched, skin burned, as we anxiously await the knock-us-to-our-butt-flood of His Spirit that awaits us.

Let’s Splash Water Falls this thing, up, baby!

I feel certain we’ll never be so blessed to walk away in wet denim.

So…I guess my only question is…you in?

Posted in 7

25 Jan 2013

“Encore! Encore!”

As I close my eyes, I can almost see

The closing of a symphony

Divinely written, for all to hear

As Jesus made His love so clear

One humble child cried out for more

And heaven heard echoes – “Encore! Encore!”

So, in case you have lived in a hole for the last few months, a life of your own and somehow missed this blog I re-posted…please oh please take a moment and read it. “An Eternal Symphony – One God, Two prayers, Three beds” is a story of His divine symphony; and it is crucial to understanding the “Encore, Encore!” of today.

My partner-in-crime (aka. Thing One) wrote that beautiful blog about one of the coolest things God has done in my life lately. What a blessing it was to even be used. No, really. The fact that He knows my every thought, intent, motive, desire, and not only loves me still, but also uses me on the occasion to bless others – it is darn near unbelievable!

So, Thing One is basically the yin to my yang. Or maybe she’s the yang to my yin? We aren’t sure who is who. She helps keep me grounded when I want to give away all her our money. She helps my emotional roller coaster level out when I get into a tizzy – generally about how crazy-blessed everyone is around me, yet they care not for the poor, the homeless, the widowed, the orphaned. Anyway, God has made it very clear He desired to mess me up in a major way, as He grows in me a heart to pour love, mercy, grace, and joy to the least of these. Those who society has forgotten, ignored, judged, and abandoned. These are my new homeys. I am blessed by them.

Anyway, so when God introduced me to my friend Tony, who by the way, is a hard-working, employed, tax-paying, insurance-carrying, (not-that-it-should-matter) single-Dad on that divinely appointed fall day I had no idea how He would continue to show off. What Jennifer didn’t mention in her blog was the next conversation Tony and I had after God gave his precious kiddos each a bed to sleep on. Our phone call went a little something like this -

Me: Ok friend, I respect that your first instinct was to attain the things you needed for your kids. I love that about you. But, could you please tell me something you want, just for you? Not a need, a want?

Tony: No. Absolutely not. You and your friends have done so much for me. Thank you, though.

Me: C’mon, Tony…please?

Tony: No. The beds are more than enough.

Me: Seriosuly, dude, just tell me something. Just for you. Not a need, a want. I can’t buy you a car or anything, although God could, but what would you want if you could get it?

Tony: Caroline, I am fine. I don’t need a thing.

Me: Hence the word “want” not “need”. Tony, quit arguing, you know I can take you, right? (This would be a good time to mention that my new friend Tony is an almost six foot tall, 230 lb. large black man with arm muscles larger than my neck. But, still, he could tell I am fierce. He was scared!)

Tony: Ok, ok, Caroline…if I had to pick something that I really just want…I’d have to say…(insert sigh of hesitation)…a washer and dryer.

Sweet man. Still thinking of the best for his family.

Thankfully, before my loud mouth could say the words “That isn’t a want, Tony, that’s a need.”, God reminded me that to some people, owning your own washer and dryer is a luxury. It is a want, not a need.

Me: Ok, friend, let me see what God can do.

In true me fashion, I told a few people ok, everyone I know and asked them to keep their ears peeled for a washer and dryer available to donate. I had friends hunting on Craig’s List for me. People prayed. It was awesome.

And, I kid you not…by that time next week, we had three different sets of washers and dryers fully donated by people who’d heard this story. Not one. Not two. But three different sets for Tony to choose from. Wow.

Tony needed beds. Within 24 hours, he had beds, mattresses, bedding, and much more.

Tony wanted a washer and dryer. Within a week, he had three different sets to choose from.

Man, God, you outdid yourself.

But, still, He wasn’t done.

The craziness of the winter months came, with holiday-madness taboot. Tony and I texted every once and a while, updating each other on how we were doing, how good God is and how great it is that He introduced us. With every conversation, Tony expressed his overflowing gratitude for all God had done.

Then, it happened.

I received a call from a number I didn’t recognize.

It was Tony.

“Hey Caroline, how are you? It’s Tony.”

We chatted ok, I talked and talked, shocker! a bit about my kids, our holiday break, and so on and so forth. Then it happened. I asked how he was doing? His voice broke.

“Caroline, I wish I had better news.”

My heart sank.

“But, man, I didn’t want to call you. I hate to even bother you again, after all you and your friends have done to help me and my kids. But, I don’t have a choice. Caroline, we’re in trouble. I need help. I’ve called on God, and so now I’m calling on you.”

He proceeded to tell me about the confusion with his new job he’d just accepted in November. This was a great opportunity for him and would be the highest paying job he’d ever had. But, he wasn’t aware about the time-period where the GM plant would be shut-down and he would receive no income. Ugh. Can you imagine? No income.

He had no time to prepare for this, and was now facing eviction from his apartment. He didn’t have enough money to pay his rent or his bills. He’s been turned down for unemployment and food stamps (since he technically was still employed) and was facing a tough reality. “I just can’t let me and my kids lose our apartment. I don’t know what to do.”

God did.

God knew Tony’s humble heart. He, once again heard the plea of a desperate Daddy, doing all he could for his kids, and He answered His prayer.

Tony’s facebook posts the morning before he called me –

“Lord I know some things in life happen unexpectedly and we have no answers, no resources, and basically no control of. But your grace, mercy and power along with our faith u can make the unthinkable and impossible work. This is my prayer today and now I can relax and be stress free because u have it already worked out in your name. Amen!”

“Even when I get discouraged I am still waiting on God. He taught me too many lessons when I get impatient with him.”

I prayed with Tony. I assured him I would do anything I could to help. I told him I’d call him back as soon as I knew something.

The conductor bows His head in gratitude as the cheers raise to the heavens. “Encore! Encore!”

When I received Tony’s phone call, I happen to be with Thing One one of our favorite new churches full of some of our favorite new people. Check it out, it’s amazing!

I immediately told her Tony’s story and we discussed what we should do.

Me: “Let’s just go on facebook and see who all can help out. Everyone will want to!”

Jen: “How ‘bout we contact a few people who know our story with Tony and see if they want to help, first, before we announce it to the world.”

Me: “Oh, ok, that’s probably smarter.”

Yin to my yang. Yang to my yin. Whatever.

Then the cheers began from the back of the auditorium, as the conductor received all the praise He deserved.

From my cousin stationed in Korea – “Encore!”

From another cousin and her Bible study group in Nebraska. – “Encore!”

From a single-mom friend of mine, from my writer’s group, who is struggling for her own fresh start from abuse and danger. She heard Tony’s story preached at her church, and when she heard the newest development, she immediately got out her checkbook to help. – “Encore!”

Super neighbor and Fav friend both helped (again!) even though Fav friend has since moved halfway across the country. – “Encore, Encore!”

My accidental friend, who met me through a mis-sent email in the first part of this story, now a treasure to me, who already gave three mattresses to Tony’s precious children. – “Encore!”

The blessing of a friend who owns my kiddos’ preschool, and four of her teachers, as well. Oh how I love those ladies! One of them even gave up the cash she’d received for Christmas to get to spend just on herself. Instead, she gave it to Tony. – “Encore!” “Encore!” “Encore!” “Encore!” “Encore!”

Friend after friend. Servant after servant. Reached into their hearts with love, and even more importantly, into their wallets for real, tangible help.

The next morning, Thing One and I drove to Tony’s apartment complex office and wrote a check. In less than twenty-four hours, we had enough money to pay his rent for two months, and give him a check to pay his utilities and water bills as well.

Over two-thousand dollars in less than 24 hours.

The conductor stands back, pride gleaming, as His child after child anxiously cries out “Encore! Encore!” in hopes to hear His eternal symphony once more.

And we heard it.

Loud and Clear.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21

Ps. These are the pictures of the three Thank You notes Tony’s kids wrote to all of us. Read and be blessed by Tavi (age 13), Dorian (age 12) and India (age 11).

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment

07 Jan 2013

Oh Mutt Fun

Hey, friend! Remember that time I was blogging consistently? Ya, good times.

Then, December happened.

Enough said.

Statements like that used to annoy the fire out of me when I was flat on the couch. I would have given anything to have been able to complain about all I had to do around Christmastime. Instead, for the last three Christmases, I have been flat on my back, while everyone Tra La La La Las all around me. But, I am upright now, PRAISE GOD ALONE, and December did hit like a hundred tons of bricks. I was unprepared. But, it is what it is. Or should I say, it was what it was. December came and went.

I must extend me-the writer some grace as me-the wife/Mom/chauffeur/volunteer/friend/neighbor/daughter etc overdid it a bit this month. It wasn’t bad stuff either. Lots of it was Jesus stuff. But, regardless, it was a lot of stuff. And none of that stuff had anything to do with typing words down.

Not sure about you, but i kinda roll like this — grace flows freely from God, through me, to others. But often grace gets stopped up somewhere when it is supposed to go from God, through me to me. I am by far my own worst critic. All I can say is I’m working on it.

Moving on.

During this blessed holiday season (and it really was a precious time!) my darling Abigail delighted us with numerous moment of hilariousness, as only she can

None quite as funny as the video I am about to ask you to watch. This is classic Abigail. Click to watch sister friend teach her Daddy something new.

That’s right ladies and gents… “Oh Mutt fun it is to ride on a one horse open sleigh. Hey.”

That’s my girl.

I must commend my best girl for her dedication. Her confidence. Her joyful ignorance. She gets that from her father. But, clearly she was wrong. Like, com-plete-ly wrong.

But, oh she was cute. And, she was having fun. C’mon, people it wasn’t that far off, right? Still the same song overall, yes?

Um, sure, I guess. But, still…flat. out. wrong.

Lately, as I have been recovering from a world doneflippedupsidedown I kinda feel I’ve been doing the same. I’ve been singing Jingle Bells in my Christian life, but still Oh Mutt Fun-ing myself away from the true heart of the His song – my life.

And yes, God and I have chatted quite a bit regarding What in the heck does all this mean?!? Or something like that.

What now? What am I supposed to do with all this!?

My post-couch life?

My blog?

Publishing a book? Becoming a speaker? Writing a Bible study?

My heart for the needy.

His love for the poor He’s poured over me.

The three Hatmaker books he used to divinely screw up my life. Darn those Hatmakers

My burden for complacent Christians to wake up.

My heart breaking for those who are missing the boat.

The record player in my head of Beth Moore describing the book of James – “James won’t let you grace yourself out of obedience.”

Whoa, that’s a lot. Trust me, dude. I agree.

You mix all that together and toss in a few baaad cases of writer’s block and twelve hundred pounds of chocolate-holiday-eating…and you have the current status of my brain.

It ain’t been pretty.

Let’s be honest — my brain has never been super normal…but lately, it’s been down right trippin’.

No, not weirdo, un-Biblical, outlandish, losing my religion type of trippin’.

But, trippin’ all the same.

But then, this weekend I was doubly blessed.

My friend and pastor of my church, Bill Ramsey spoke this weekend about one of my favorite new verses of Scripture. Obviously the verse isn’t new…just my affection for it.

Micah 6:8 “He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

Pastor Bill (aka P.Bill – that’s my ‘street’ name for him. Which, if you knew him at all would make you laugh hysterically, because he couldn’t be more down-home-country.) spoke about being “On Target”. He asked us to stop and prayerfully evaluate if our lives were on target with God’s plan, His will for our lives? Do our choices line up with Scripture? How about our priorities? Our intentions? Our desires?

What I loooved about this sermon was that P.Bill was speaking to us just like Micah was speaking to the people of God a few thousand years ago. Micah was speaking to God’s people, who’d just enjoyed about forty years of peace and prosperity. They enjoyed God’s blessings but weren’t necessarily engaged with Him. They had a connection with Him, but were not living ‘on target’.

“Um, hello pot, I’m kettle, you’re looking black today.”

Does this not perfectly describe most of us me! me! me! Christianfolk nowadays? (ps. The answer is yes!)

We enjoy the blessings of a life with eternal security, but are we living the days we’ve been given with spiritual purpose? Are we doing these three simple requirements God spoke through Micah to His chosen people?

Act justly
Love mercy
Walk humbly with your God

Friend, please note these aren’t suggestions or favors. They are not options or electives. They are requirements. Period.

If, in this life of abundance, we fail to complete His requirements, He will deal with that disobedience. It won’t go overlooked.

Panic begins.

Ok, so should I join a Bible study?

I wonder if I could still find that devotional book someone gave me last year!?!

Ummm, Maybe I should give money to church? Ooooh! And to the poor. Ya, ya, the poor too!

Ironically, in the two verses just prior, God’s people frantically ran through questions similar to these.

v.6-7 “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the High God? Shall I come before Him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”

Whoa. That’s intense. They were so desperate to rectify this situation, they were willing to kill animals and even sacrifice their own firstborn. Ok, they win.

Oh wait. Nevermind, we both lose.

Micah’s simple answer so purely displays the heart of God, I can hardly stand it.

If it were me as God we’d all be screwed, I would have said “Stop it already! Quit trying to do, do, do as empty acts of nothingness. Instead…line your heart up with Mine, you fools. Love what I love. Serve who I served. If I can be humble on earth, you darn well should be humble too. It really ain’t rocket science, people. Which, by the way, I invented also.”

But, thankfully, it wasn’t me. It was God. And His direction was very simple.

Dear My darling stiff-necked people,

Act justly = Act in a just, righteous, fair way towards others. Not simply others who look like you, live like you or vote like you. (although act justly towards them too!) But to others, as in all others. Treat them (yea even them!) the way you want to be treated.

Love mercy = Don’t just show mercy, but love to show mercy. It isn’t an obligation. It is your honor to do this for Me. Give others the same measure of mercy you want to receive from Me. And trust me, you need a lot!

Walk humbly with your God = Remember who I am – your God. Supremely perfect but surprisingly personal. I am your God. If you keep that in mind, you will walk humbly before Me because you will see who you are in light of Who I Am.

Love,

The One Who Saved Your Scrawny Stiff-Neck For All Eternity

What God required of them was not mysterious or too difficult – they simply did not do it.

They were paralyzed in their obedience because of their greatest weakness – their own spiritual pride. Oh that we would not make that same mistake my friend!

I beg of you to stop seeing church as a place to serve you, please you, and tend to your needs.

I beg you to jump off the revolving door of worldliness that has blurred your Vision of what your life should stand for. it REALLY isn’t about all the crap that surrounds us.

I beg you to step out of your comfort zone and serve others who could never repay you. And those who wouldn’t even try. Like my friend and I say…we will serve those in need because Jesus told us to. We will do it if we get a “Thank you!” or an “F— you!”.

The very wise Charles Spurgeon said, “Humility must be in the heart, and then it will come out spontaneously as the outflow of life in every act that a man performs.”

It is one thing to dip your heart and your mind down low for a moment, to serve someone…only to return back up high where you ‘belong’. That is just charity. Jesus wasn’t about charity. He was about humility. In fact, He still is.

Instead of dipping your heart down low to serve others with mercy…it is when you realize you too, are just as lowly…that is when true humility is born.

We, as Christians have come so far off target, we forgot which direction we were even shooting in. Micah reminds us exactly what aims directly at the heart of God. And if you are reading these words right now, you may no longer Oh Mutt Fun yourself through life, claiming ignorance.

You been done told, my friend.

So what the heck are you going to do now!?!

What the heck am I going to do now!?!

I have no stinkin’ clue.

But I do know this. The second blessing of my weekend was sharing a beloved fajita plate and a margarita didn’t share that part, she’s on her own there with a dear friend of mine.

She was the first person I ever told God had called me to write. She was the first person I told was supposed to write a blog. And a book. And a Bible study. She has lovingly sat by and strategically asked me “So…how’s it going?” for a few years now. She walked alongside me during the couch time — faithful and true. And the other night, she sat across the table from me, where I mayormaynot have completely hogged the chips and queso, as she gave me ‘the look’ and basically told me to get my butt in gear. In Jesus’ Name, of course.

She cautioned me to keep my priorities true. My God. My man. My kids. Then everything else.

But, she knows I’m lazy. She knows I’m undisciplined. She loves me in spite of my flakiness. She has seen my procrastination at its worst. And yet, she remarkably still believes I have a gift to share God’s truth. She has a way of building me up without puffing me up. That’s crucial in my world. And mostly, she knew I needed this loving kick in the hiney.

I am grateful for my friend. I am grateful for my pastor. Most of all, I am grateful for Micah for loving God’s holiness more than his own happiness. Micah desired His purpose, His calling, His Truth and His heart above the adoration of others. I am thankful He was willing to speak up to his fellow ‘Christ-followers’ to encourage them to, Oh I don’t know, actually follow Christ.

I only pray to do the same.

With my words.

With my actions.

With my heart.

Let me prepare you now that I will fail miserably quite a bit sometimes. Let grace abound in this place. Lord knows I need it! Ps. so do you.

Posted in Confessions | Leave a Comment

29 Nov 2012

2 Comments

Wholey, Holey, Holy

My life has been a bit tough lately.

Not lately, meaning this week. I’m talking lately, like the last five years.

And, in case you are new here (Welcome! So happy you’ve joined us!) and wonder what in the heck I am talking about, feel free to detour a bit and read the facts or the drama. It well help you “get it.”

As for the rest of you faithful followers, you know about my medical roller coaster. You know about my high times and my low times and lower times. You laughed at my Nut to the Head and laughed harder at my Happy Wetpants … and God bless you, you even cried at my Déjà vu and “Seriously!?” moments.

So, this news will be big to you. Maybe even as big to you as it is to me…

You ready??

We. Went Camping.

Like, me, my man, and my kiddos piled in the Gracevan, just us Team Holzberger, and we got away from it all. It was absolutely the most amazing two days!

If you would have told me eight months ago, that if I’d just hold on for a little bit longer, if I’d just keep believing, keep trying, keep getting stronger, that I’d get to go camping with my kids, I’d have probably shook my head, burst into tears and ugly-cried snot all over your new Gap sweater.

But, we did.

I speak the beloved truth when I tell you that my man and I packed up our three sweet little babies and drove an hour north to a local state park and did this thing up right.

We had a tent. (borrowed)

We had bikes to ride the trails. (mine was borrowed)

We had sleeping bags, a lantern, a Dutch oven for cooking, and two blow-up mattresses. (Borrowed, borrowed, borrowed, borrowed. Man, our friends aren’t bright have blind faith, don’t they?!)

With hardly anything that actually belonged to us, we still felt fairly prepared for the life outdoors.

And, this life was beyond what we could have imagined.

I will not paint you a picture of camping utopia and mislead you greatly. Not enough foooood! Where’s the first aid kit!? I can’t feel my legs! But, I will say that this was one of my favorite weekends, ever. Like, in. my. entire. stinkin’. life.

Modern mathematics cannot count the number of breaths of thanksgiving I gave to God on this trip.

Thank you, God for their wonder of your creation.

Thank you, God, for this family hike.

My God, thank you for this sleeping bag laughter…music to my ears.

Oh Lord, what a breathtaking sunset you painted for us.

God, this moment, right now, is perfection on earth.

Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you a thousand times over.

As I sit here tonight, in my jamis, listening to my Pandora radio, I am unable to restrain the tears, as I try to find the vocabulary to encompass these moments of pure, unadulterated joy.

Then, I realize there are none.

Me — the one who never ever, ever, ever shuts up — cannot think of a way to describe to you how special this trip was.

I guess I could try to tell you a story of someone who was bedridden, alone, in pain, feeling destitute and outcast from normal society. Someone, who day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, suffered from pain, stress, fear, seclusion, unanswered questions – all the while watching as the world spun around just fine without her a part of it. I could tell you that this same girl, alone every day, was poured out completely in every single way — empty, broken, alone, desperate. This same girl no longer allowed herself to picture a healthy life. Because…what if? What if God would be glorified more by her living her life just this way? What if?

But, then it happened. In God’s perfect timing and not a moment earlier there was a phone call to a friend, an acorn to the head and that was that. This same girl, who’d had her faith stretched further than she ever thought it could go…finally had physical hope. She had, by the grace of God alone, maintained her spiritual hope, her emotional hope…but now…this was act-tu-ally happening. She. Was. Getting. Better.

Four years. Four years – the better part of it spent alone, staring at ceilings, in and out of hospitals, unable to live a normal life, with no answers in sight. This girl was actually now getting stronger. Mentally stronger. Spiritually stronger. And finally, physically stronger. She delicately and slowly began to believe that maybe God could be glorified through her healthy body again. So, stronger she got.

That was my life. Always flat on the couch, always with an ice pack strapped to my head.

But now, by God’s grace, this is my life.

Because that same girl, who watched her babies grow up in front of her eyes, yet beyond her reach from the couch, was now packing a bag. Setting up a tent. Leading a hike.

There really are no words.

At one point, as we were walking along the shore of the lake, the kids giggling and throwing rocks into the water, it hit me. — when God worked His mighty way in the Bible, the overly grateful people almost always built an altar.

Moses. Jacob. Isaac. Abraham. Daniel. The list goes on.

As I remembered these stories of great faith, I looked along the shore, at my feet, and noticed the rocks I walked upon.

I whispered to myself…Well, wouldja look at that. All of these rocks are holey.

In my head, I’d simply noticed the rocks all had holes worn into them from the waves crashing over them time and time again. But, as the words came from my mouth, I didn’t hear the word holey meaning, “filled with holes”…all I heard was holy…as in holy.

This is holy ground.

Whoa.

At that moment, God so clearly spoke in my spirit that this.was.holy.ground.

I just kept grinning like an idiot, whispering it over and over as tears filled my eyes,

Holy. Holy. Holy.

Then, God spoke this blog into my heart in such a complete way. Not just Holy, Holy, Holy is this ground. But, look, my beloved…

Wholey, holey, holy.

These rocks, were a perfect representation of me and my couch time with God.

They were completely (wholey) filled with holes (holey) because of the Sovereign, divine (holy) waves who were permitted to crash upon them time, and time, and time again.

They were wholey, holey, holy.

Did she just call herself holy? No, I’m not calling myself holy. Although the Bible says I am set apart for His purposes, (Jer. 1:5, Gal. 1:15) a holy priesthood (1 Peter 2), but it still sounds pretty cocky to call yourself holy. Especially if the you, is me, and I know how unholy this holy can get.

I do not believe God caused all I’ve been through, yet I most certainly am confident He allowed it. And while I am beyond thrilled to be off my couch, I wouldn’t give up that time with Jesus for anything. He met me on that couch. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year. When I felt alone and afraid, confused and angered, disappointed and depressed…Jesus joined me in that moment. He joined me in my trial. He joined me on my couch.

How could I not build an altar of praise?

So, I bent down, as I walked, and began to collect these wholey, holey, holy rocks. One by one, I scooped them up into my shirt, smiling from ear to ear.

Forever, will I look at them and be reminded of this camping trip. Not the coyotes. Not the injuries. Not the lack of food. But, of my rocks. Of my altar.

Of my Sovereign, trustworthy, holy God.

Who captured my heart wholey.

And allowed a holey four years to strip my life of so much.

To make me a little bit more like His holy Son.

I stand before Him now wholey, holey thankful for His holy couch and this beloved weekend.

Amen and amen.

Ps. After sharing the less serious and more funny camping stories with my family at Thanksgiving, my brother chimed in. In the spirit of sarcasm and silliness, i.e. my two shining qualities I feel I must share my big brother’s views (via a comedian) of camping. It’ll make you laugh, I promise.

Posted in Finding God in Texas

08 Nov 2012

1 Comment

“Mitt Womee” and “Bockabama”

First, a disclaimer.

This is not a political blog. I am not a political person. Like, at all. As in, understatement of the century.

In fact, it has been strongly suggested that I am a neglectful American, too selfish and/or lazy to care about important political issues. Ouch.

How can you not watch the news?

What do you mean you don’t know the name of the Vice President?

I know, it’s bad.

I guess.

Maybe it’s not. I’m unsure.

I mean, I’m not a Republican. Gasps heard round my Bible belt area.

Don’t worry, I’m not a Democrat either. Sighs of relief come over the crowd.

I don’t associate myself with a political party.

But, don’t unfriend me on facebook just yet. I think we can still be friends.

I support our troops. I thank God for them.

I am not in favor of abortion.

I am not in favor of same sex marriage.

I am in favor of the extremely wealthy giving money to help the extremely poor. But, I am also in favor of the not so wealthy giving money to help the extremely poor.

I am favor of public education.

I am in favor of freedom of speech and religion.

But, hear me, friend…I am also in favor of the people who don’t agree with me on any of those issues.

More importantly than any of that, I believe the Bible to be true. It is my authority on subjects political and not.

I believe God meant it when He said to care for the needy, neglected, and forgotten. The homeless, the widowed, the aliens, the orphaned…those precious people are dear to Jesus. Therefore, they matter to me.

I am in favor of different churches worshiping in different ways.

But, I am not in favor of churches spending millions of dollars on church building expansions and coffee bars, when there are people starving on the streets within ten miles of them.

I am favor of churches banding together for the greater good of others, despite what the ‘label’ on their church sign says.

I am not in favor of complacent Christianity, which so many of us suffer from severely.

Should I vote?

Yes.

Did I vote?

No.

Fairly certain I just lost a few friends.

I didn’t ‘not-vote’ because I’m selfish. Or lazy. Or complacent. Or ignorant. I may be some of those things, but that isn’t why I not-voted.

Honestly, I didn’t want either man to be president. I believe voting is important, and my vote, this time, was for neither one.

But, once again, this is not a political blog. I am not a political person.

In spite of my not-vote, I still feel pretty good about my last few days though.

My partner in crime and I went to an amazing church and fed some homeless people yesterday and provided blankets for ten of them to be warmer at night. I feel pretty good about that.

I just had two very deep conversations with my sons about their character and how their choices impact all people around them. That, I’m proud of.

I honored my husband with a party, thrown in his honor, with his personality in mind, not for me and my desires. That blessed him and me.

I supported a precious friend through a time of anxiety, using the many, many, many times I’d totally been there, and the Truth from God’s Word that got me through. Blessed by that, for sure.

I’m not saying you can’t do all that and also watch Fox News. But, I just don’t.

We don’t really watch much TV at all, actually. But, for sure not the news.

I don’t read the paper. I do clip the coupons.

Can I love Jesus, America, and Americans, but still not care much for politics? Is that possible?

Can I love our country, our freedom, and our Lord and still choose, this time, not to vote in November?

I think the answer is yes. But, I could be wrong.

Anyway, like I said, this is not a political blog. I am not a political person.

What I really want to do is to tell you about Mitt Womee and Bockabama.

Who are these people?

I have no idea.

But, neither did Matthew.

Let me explain.

You see, my kiddos were given the opportunity to vote at school last week.

I didn’t know they would be given this opportunity.

I also didn’t know how/when/why they were asked to do so.

And, I certainly didn’t know what they were told about each candidate.

I didn’t know anything.

I only knew that when I welcomed the four crazy, energetic boys jumping into the car at carpool, I noticed that one of those wild boys that I birthed, had a sticker on his shirt exclaiming in big, bold, patriotic colors, “I Voted!”

I asked Benjamin, “Son, where did you get that sticker?”

Throwing his backpack at me, he answered matter of factly, “At school.”

Gee, son, thanks.

“No, buddy, I guess what I meant was, why did you get that sticker?”

“Cause I got to vote for president today at school.”

I was intrigued.

Mainly because my precious six-year-old just recently discovered he had nipples (LINK), so I was dying to find out what his new found political position would be.

My first-born child, Mr. Accurate, interrupted, “We only got to pretend to vote, Mom. It wasn’t for real.”

Thank you sweet Jacob. For a minute, I thought they’d lowered the voting age to six.

(Love that boy. He and his need for accuracy remind me of his dear ol’ Dad, who I happen to love.)

“So, Benjamin, who did you vote for?”

This should be good.

“Mitt Romney, of course.” He replied, as if that was the most ridiculous question I could have ever asked him.

Of course?!? Ok, this is getting pretty interesting.

“Why did you vote for him, bud?”

“Mama, I looked at his picture, and he just looked like he was gonna win.”

(Obviously my kid isn’t a prophet.)

Then, the car full of kiddos began their own little political talk. It was pretty comical. Three kids were mine. The other three kids were not. One kid voted one way because the ‘other guy’ already got a turn at being president. Benjamin voted his way just because he liked the guy’s picture. I guess there is validity to keeping elementary students from voting for real.

Benjamin went around the car, asking each elementary student who they voted for.

Three for Romney, one for Obama.

Interesting.

I know the parents of these kiddos pretty well, and I feel certain that most of them do not have specific political debates at the dinner table. Not at this young of an age, at least.

The two preschoolers stared in awe, as if they were watching a big kid ride a bike with no training wheels for the very first time. Mouths open, they just took it all in.

Then, it happened.

After the big kids chimed in their cheers for their candidate of choice, Benjamin turned to Matthew, my darling neighbor and honorary nephew -

“So, Matthew, who would you have voted for?”

Mind you, Matthew is only four years old. He neither knows what voting means, nor what a president is. Unless you are voting for your favorite Rescue Hero. Then, it’s Billy Blazes, hands down.

Matthew had just witnessed his brother and two honorary cousins chime in gleefully, as if voting for their favorite flavor of snow cone, “Mitt Romney! Mitt Romney!”

So, he happily mimicked, “Mitt Womee”

Benjamin sighed with a great amount of relief and approval to the younger kid, “Oh, good!”

“What about you Abigail? (his three year old sister) If preschoolers were old enough to vote hilarious! Who would you have voted for?”

“Mitt Womee, like Maffew!”

“Good girl, Abigail!” Benjamin replied.

It was settled. As for Carpool #8 (is great), the votes were in.

Barak Obama – 1

Mitt Romney – 2

“Mitt Womee” – 2

(Can you tie with yourself? Not sure about the political logistics of that one.)

Matthew and Abigail still have no idea what a “Mitt Womee” is, but they cast their vote nonetheless.

This carpool situation really stuck with me for many reasons – none of which are political, but all of which are essential.

Reason #1 – Kids are always listening. Always. What you do, or do not, talk about at the dinner table matters. “We don’t like Bockabama.” comes out of their mouths quite easily, even though they may be certain that a Bockabama is a type of evil ninja game. They have no clue. But, they’re certain it ain’t good. They hear Mommy and Daddy say it, so they say it. Period.

My friend, this is good and bad. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if, for at least the next three years and eleven months, we spent as much time and energy talking all about Jesus, and Peter, and Paul, and James at the table? Would they be able to go to school and say, “I want to be brave like Peter. He faced death because he loved Jesus. They even cut his head off. Whoooaaa.” Or, maybe they’d meet a new friend named James, and say “Oh, cool! That’s the same name as Jesus’ brother. Did you know, he didn’t believe Jesus was the Son of God until after Jesus died!? Isn’t that crazy!?” Kids listen to what we say, especially when we don’t know they are listening. That’s their favorite time to listen, in fact. What would happen if we now focused those debates on which king of the Bible was the noblest, or which disciple they are most like? I can only imagine the impact it could have on their sweet little minds.

Reason #2 – If you don’t address an issue with your kids, someone else will. I heard a sermon today by James Dobson on talk radio (see, I listen to talk radio…just not the political kind) say “You need to set the priorities for your family. If you don’t, someone else will.” Great point. My own children had never heard anything about this political debate from Ryan or I, until after they’d already cast their vote. Thankfully it was pretend. Thankfully it wasn’t a crucial issue in their current moral or spiritual lives. It wasn’t about them taking drugs, or getting into a car with a stranger, or showing someone their private parts. If we don’t address it, they may not be prepared for when it’s time for them to cast their vote about the subject. They may hear what the other kids are doing at school, and just go along with what they say, and with what they do. It doesn’t take much for our kiddos to get swayed one way or another.

Look at my sweet Benjamin. He went to kindergarten that day a normal six-year-old kid who still can’t tie his shoes and just lost his first tooth. He came home a Republican. Just like that. His decision had been made. His conviction was strong. And, I had nothing to do with it. I had no influence. I had given him no guidance. Scary, isn’t it?

Please hear me, friend – this is not a political blog. I am not a political person.

I am not shaming myself for not previously talking about the political election. Although, I am thankful for the many discussions we have gotten to have about it all since then. It did open my eyes to the impact politics can have (or not have) on a family.

I am sharing this because of the possible tragedy that could occur -

If we are more intentional about informing our kids how to vote for president, and not on how to live for Jesus.

If we focused more on their knowledge of party lines, that their desire to cross society’s lines to help those in need.

If we modeled our tendency to see everything through a political lens first and a spiritual lens second.

It could be bad, friend. Very, very bad.

Now, can you successfully do all of the above? Can you love Jesus and Fox News as well? YES! Of course. But, if we have to pick a side to emphasize, I wonder which one we’d choose.

They both matter. One, just matters for eternity.

But, please hear me, friend if we are still friends, I do love Jesus. I do love my kids. And I do plan on investing a ton of time, energy, effort, prayer and love in trying to make sure they know both of those facts. I want them to know where I stand on matters of the heart. I want them to know where I stand on divorce. On drugs. On pre-marital sex. On gossip. On fear. On giving.

I want them to know, not so I can force my beliefs on them. I want them to know because I want them to know the Truth of the Bible more than anything else in this life.

I don’t let myself get appalled at who won this election. At how the media skewed the coverage of certain issues. Or, at the backlash from all of the above.

I honestly don’t have time.

I’d rather get appalled that 25,000 people in this world will die today, yes TODAY alone, because they don’t have food and water that’s safe enough to eat and drink.

I’d rather get appalled that the church is dying, those who profess Jesus do it quietly, and more people are willing to put a Romney sticker on their SUV than their church’s sticker.

I’d rather get appalled that people will strongly support their candidate in public, but cower at the opportunity to stand up for Jesus in public. Fortunately, Jesus is God and doesn’t need us to stand up for Him. He sure does want us to, though, for the record.

It wouldn’t hurt to remind you, that this is not a political blog. I am not a political person.

The time, energy, and money you spend on issues like politics is between you and God. The amount of brain space you save for that stuff is your prerogative. But, here is the truth, my friend, your kids are getting older every day. Your moments of time with them are short. The words you get to say to them are few. They words they actually listen to are even fewer.

Make. Them. Count.

Not for election day. But, for eternity.

Because, one day, you will literally look our Savior in the face and answer for these things and more. Your vote for president, while important here, will be irrelevant there.

God is bigger than all of this stuff. He knows the electoral spread for every election for the next thousand years. He is in control.

And in case your heart needs one more encouragement…

Romans 13:1 “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.”

Does that mean God wants Obama to be president. No. Maybe yes. Who knows?

But, He most certainly allowed it.

He can be trusted. In all things – He is big enough.

Now, enough of this mess. Go play with your kids!

Amen.

Posted in Uncategorized

24 Oct 2012

3 Comments

Mr. John Tucker

I love my kids. They are all so very different, yet all so beautifully the same. They are mine.

I took said kids to my folks’ house a couple months ago so we could have a day full of adventure. We had no idea what was coming.

You see…we live on the Fort Worth side of things. My mom and step-dad live on the Dallas side of things. I lived half my childhood here and half my childhood there. I like the Dallas side of things, but I have grown to love the Fort Worth side of things.

It’s quieter over here. It’s more laid back. It isn’t so fussy. There seems to be less people, less congestion, less drama.

So, when I packed up my babies into our Gracevan and drove seventy miles to the other side of things, it was a big day. The kiddos had no idea, but Mimi and Papaw had planned a day o’ fun like they’d never had.

Six rounds of Lady and the Tramp read-a-long books shoot me now and two bags of donuts don’t judge later, we were there! Mimi and Papaw announced we were going to get to ride the train to the Children’s Museum today! Wahoo! There was much rejoicing. Yaaaay.

When I picture the event of riding on a train, my mind is transported to 1902 when wealthy people owned trunks with paper stamps of where they’d traveled by train, wore fancy hats, and were traveling across the country to explore the new world. Women with umbrellas and petticoats, standing at the train station, awaiting a kind man to pull his pocket watch out of his vest pocket and give her the time of the next departure.

This. Is. Not. What. We. Saw.

We (meaning my children and I) saw a world we’d never really seen before. Been present in; yes. But, not really seen.

Upon arrival to the train station, I immediately felt nervous. Happy to be there with my six foot four stepdad, I clutched my babies’ hands, and noticed the other patrons around us were, howshallIsay…poor.

One man approached us immediately.

He was white, probably in his late sixties, and obviously had some sort of physical disability. His limp was severe and his movements were slow. His clothes were well worn-out, his personal grooming was nonexistent, and his face was quite weathered. But, he made a direct yet slow bee-line towards us, calling out from afar – “Do you folks need help with that ticket machine?”

We noticed his Transit Authority attire – “Yes, we do!”

He then proceeded to explain how many tickets we would need, what type of tickets we should buy, and how to enter this information into the automated machine. He was bossy, yet helpful; gruff, yet still kind, as the kids told him where we were headed on our day full of adventure. Then, almost in a burst of caution, he raised his voice with a warning –

“Be aware of some of those people – when you are done for the day, they’ll ask for your train one-day pass. Don’t give it to them!! They just want to ride the train for free and who knows where they’re going and what they’re doing. They always bother nice people like you. Don’t give it to them!!”

I stood there utterly shocked.

Here was a man, who, by visual judgment alone, could very easily pass of one of those people, if it weren’t for the little satchel he wore around his neck with the mass transit logo on it. With conviction and distaste, he warned us ‘nice people’ to not help those people out.

For the life of me, I can’t remember that man’s name.

I know this; he was not Mr. John Tucker.

We thanked him for his time and hopped on the train.

As the train doors closed, I looked around at our fellow sojourners, immediately realizing we were the only ones headed for a day full of fun. My fear and nervousness melted away as I looked into the eyes of one of the most precious little black boys I’ve ever seen. Oh how I wanted to be his friend. Or take him home with me. Glancing around, I truly saw God’s children. Every color. Every nationality. Every age range. And mostly every economic level. I say mostly, because our family of six would need to make up the entire middle class and upper class, which we absolutely do not…but we sure represented them that day.

The kids had a blast!

Jacob analyzed the train map.

Benjamin swung on the poles.

Abigail kept leaping from adult lap to adult lap, clearly exercising her newfound freedom of traveling without a car seat.

And I just soaked it all in. My folks. My kids. And all of God’s other kids.

We made a few stops, before it was time to change trains. The excitement and suspense was exhilarating for my kiddos. I am sure we looked like rich white idiots as we stared with novelty at the big, shiny, digital train schedule. I would have thought that, had I been punching my train card for the tenth time that week headed to work yet another fifteen hour day.

Once on our new train, we sat next to, what I can only describe as a young thug. He looked about eighteen, and was, what this white girl would call ‘pimped out’. Gold jewelry (and teeth). Big baggy pants with enough room inside for two more of his skinny friends. Graffiti on his hat and shirt. One of those black panty hose looking things on his head. Dreads in his hair. He sat in the seat in front of me, earphones plugged into his iphone as he jammed his head to his music.

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

Talking with my kids and enjoying the ride, I kept trying to make eye contact.

Finally, he glanced outside, to see where we were on his commute, and saw me out of the corner of his eye. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Not a fake head nod. Not a sly grimace. A real smile. And, a big one, at that. He quickly pulled one of his earphones out and said “Hi.”

He talked to me!!!

Poor thing, he did not know what he was getting himself into.

Abigail (who had just moved back to my lap) and I said Hi back to him.

He smiled at Abigail and asked “Is this your first time on the train?”

Must be a bright kid. How in the world could he have guessed that, when we blended in so well and all. Ahem.

“Yes, it is, we are going to take the kids to the children’s museum.”

That began our fifteen minute conversation. Again, poor kid probably would have loved a quiet train ride. Boy, did he sit by the wrong chick for that.

This young man, who was twenty-eight, by the way, even though he could have easily passed for a sophomore in high school, had just moved here from New York City. He came here because he was accepted into culinary school.

Thud…as my chin hit the floor. Crap! You mean this kid can cook better than I can!?!

We had a great conversation about his family, my kids, and what New York was like both pre and post 9/11. He showed us video of his new puppy and we razzed him about baseball. My boys had on their Rangers hats, aswelltheyshould, and he admitted to being a Yankees fan. Poor misguided youth of America. Then it was time for our new friend to get off the train. He smiled at each of the kids, and my parents and I each encouraged him and wished him well in school, and off he went.

Such a neat kid. But, for the life of me, I cannot remember his name.

I know this; he was not Mr. John Tucker.

We had such a great time at the children’s museum! There was so much for my kids to play with, pull on, and investigate freely…they had a blast! We meaning I took a hundred pictures of them playing with each display, and enjoying every moment of it. My folks had fun watching the discovery unfold right before their very eyes. I think they equally enjoyed watching me deal with the occasional strong-willed moment from my baby girl. Ugh, they enjoyed that a bit much, if you ask me.

Then, it was time to head home. We were tired, had completed our huge day of fun, and were ready to make our way back to the train.

We were in the Fair Park area, for those of you who know DFW, therefore we wanted to head home before dark, formorereasonsthanone…so we began to make the trek back to the train station.

That’s when it happened.

A homeless man approached us.

He looked my stepdad right in the eye and said “Hi sir, how are you? Sir, my name is John Tucker, is there any way you could spare some money so I could please get something to eat tonight?”

My kids were bug-eyed.

My stepdad got out his wallet and shook his hand. I instructed my kiddos to do the same. “Guys, say hello to Mr. John Tucker. It’s nice to meet you!” They each gave him a high-five and said hello. We then spend the next few minutes talking to him.

Yes, the homeless guy.

He pointed to an abandoned building right behind us, describing the job he used to have at a restaurant there. With pride in his voice, he shared how much fun it was to work there, and the people he missed. How he had changed the flat tire of a stranger one day. How that lady said so many people just drove right by her, and she was so happy he stopped to help. He was homeless then, too. But, she said to him, “You come to my restaurant tonight and I’ll give you a job.” He worked there for seven years. Until he went to jail.

“There was a disagreement. I was protecting my Mama. It shouldn’t have went down like that. But, I served my time and am just trying to get back on my feet again. (pointing at the building) I wish this old place was still open.”

My kids just stared in awe as we listened to Mr. John Tucker’s story.

After a while, we needed to head home. But, before leaving our new friend, we offered to pray with and for Mr. John Tucker. Yes, the homeless guy. He looked a bit surprised, but welcomed it happily! So, I grabbed his hand and my son’s hand and we all made a circle together and went before the Lord. It was precious. It was real. It was something I will never forget.

At amen, it was time to say our goodbyes, so I gave him a hug. Yes, the homeless guy.He was dirty. He smelled. But, I honestly didn’t care. I didn’t have any of my own cash on me, so a prayer and a hug was all I could give.

The rest of our walk, my kids flooded me with questions about Mr. John Tucker.

“But where does he sleep?”

“Where is all his stuff?”

“Why did he go to jail?”

“How come he doesn’t have a house?”

“Where is his family?”

Tough stuff to explain to kids who are seven, five, and three.

Tough, but important.

My kids have no clue. Most kids have no clue. Correction: most people have no clue.

This guy is homeless, so he must be a drug-addict.

He could get a job if he really wanted to.

We live in a free country, he has made his choice.

The churches or something in that area should really help him out.

There are plenty of opportunities for him to better himself.

There is no telling what danger that guy has been in.

I’m just listing off some things I have thought in my own head. I’m just sharing with you, the things in the past, that have come through my brain as I’ve stared at, judged, and ignored homeless or poor people in the past.

Me.

The rich, Christian, white chick.

Those were my thoughts.

I’m the one who bears the name of Jesus, and those were my thoughts.

Maybe they weren’t ever yours. Maybe you have had a better heart about those in need.

I didn’t.

But, lately, God has been messing up my world in a very tangible way. I have read a book or two and written a blog or two (or three or four or five:) that have helped shove me along this humble path of serving the least in the name of Jesus.

But, really, it is the Holy Spirit’s alltoofamiliar nudge (read: repeated 2×4 to the head) that has been the deciding factor.

And I am forever changed. Sola Deo Gloria.

My kids have mentioned Mr. John Tucker no less than fifty times in the last two months.

They wonder about him. They pray for him. They continue to ask questions about his life. Benjamin even cried while we talked about how cold he must be outside that night.

“Mama, what if that ever happened to you?!?”

(God gave that kid the biggest heart ever and I can’t wait to see what He does with it!)

I didn’t do a thing for Mr. John Tucker. But, I couldn’t be more thankful that my stepdad looked him in the eye that day and gave him twenty dollars. It has impacted three children (and one adult) in a life-changing way.

I pray all the time for Mr. John Tucker. I pray for his safety and his health. I pray for his protection and his security. I pray for others to bless him and speak to him in kindness and love. I pray for his dignity and his heart toward God. But, most of all, I pray that God allows me to see him again one day, either here or in heaven, so I can look him in the eye and thank him.

Because I do remember his name.

He is Mr. John Tucker.

God’s precious child.

Oh, and by the way…yes, I did give our train one-day passes to one of those people that night. He was Mexican. He didn’t speak good English. I am unsure if he here legally. But, I honestly don’t care.

Because, even though, I didn’t ask his name. I know He is God’s child too. So, I ignored the advice of the transit worker (and sadly, so many others), and decided to bless someone in real need.

And I am so glad I did.

Posted in DoneFlippedUpsideDown

28 Sep 2012

6 Comments

Rain, Rain, Don’t Go Away!

It poured today.

Like, someone-go-find-a-guy-named-Noah-and-follow-him-wherever-he’s-headed kind of rain.

The clouds loomed for hours, but didn’t release one drop until their appointed time. Which, of course, was carpool.

2:57 – drip, drip, drip

2:58 – make a decision.

Will I welcome the rain, or complain about the rain.

All of a sudden, I was flooded with memory after memory of lying on my couch.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year, after year, after year, after year.

I can’t tell you how many times, lying on my couch, I was able to hear the drops of rain on our skylight.

The kids would want to go and play in the rain, but once again, Mama had to say No!

Not because I didn’t want to get wet. I’d have given anything to get wet.

I couldn’t sit upright. If I could sit upright, I couldn’t move around. If I could move around, it sure wasn’t for very long.

Mama had to say No! many more times that she said Yes. Oh, how my heart said Yes, but my body said No for the better part of the last five years.

But. Not. Today.

Today, as God’s buckets in the sky poured out all over the luxury SUVs all around me, I gave thanks.

I thanked Him that my family has cover to safely keep dry from the rain.

I thanked Him I had healthy children who could dance in the rain.

I thanked Him for the warm meal we would eat once we dried off.

I thanked Him for the freedom to be silly, or spontaneous or ridiculous with my children.

I thanked Him for the pouring rain He has used to cleanse my heart of so much self-centeredness lately.

But, most of all, I thanked Him that my heart and my body were both screaming YES! when my sweet babies got into my Gracevan squealing – “Can we play in the rain when we get home!?!”

“You better believe we can!” was Mama’s reply this time.

This time, my body can handle it. This time I am healthy. This time I get to say Yes!!

I snatched up my honorary nephews across the street (sons of Super Neighbor) and took them three, along with my three (in case you’re counting, and I was, that’s six kids under eight) to play in the rain! You took six little kids by yourself out in the street to play in the rain? Are you nuts? You should know that answer by now. Here’s the deal…Super neighbor called me every single day for the entire five years of my illness. Did you read that? Every. Single. Day. I didn’t even want to talk to me every single day. But, man oh man did she don her galoshes and rain gear as she weathered this medical storm with me, right by my side. And, then, as God would have it, right across the street, as of a couple years ago. We are so blessed.

We must have played out there for almost an hour. We made tin foil boats to race down the cul-de-sac. We splashed in puddles like a marching band on parade. We turned our faces upward to rinse off our muddy faces. We laughed. We played. And, I’m pretty sure my kids made a memory today of Mama getting to say Yes!

And Lord, I give you thanks!

My sweet friend, life is hard. It is tiring, messy, draining, stressful, exhausting, overwhelming, expensive, and jam-packed.

But, other times, it is precious. Other times it is joyful, silly, spontaneous, friendly, simple, pleasantly surprising, orderly, and easy.

Please take time to play in the rain. Take it from someone who has been forced to watch her children have fun through the living room window, time after time. Your kids are getting bigger. They are one day closer to leaving your house than they were yesterday. There will soon be a day they won’t ask you to play in the rain with them.

Do it.

And give God thanks for playing in the rain kind of days.

But, do it soaking wet, with your face towards the sky.

You won’t be sorry.

I know I wasn’t.

See?

Posted in Bloglets

26 Sep 2012

4 Comments

So. Very Interrupted – Week Five (Last Week!)

The insecure side of me shouts in my head, Don’t even bother writing your post today. People aren’t reading. It doesn’t matter anyway.

Fortunately, I was able to kick that side of me to the curb. It took a good amount of prayer and time today to do it. But, kick, I did.

So, just know that I am writing out of pure conviction, belief in the good of each of you, and obedience to my Maker. The hope for people still being my friends has officially left the building.

In fact, I will not write this one to you. Jesus has changed my heart and my world these last few weeks, so I truly feel I simply need to write this one to Jesus –

Here we go.

(quote from Ed Stetzer) – “The church is one of the few organizations in the world that does not exist for the benefit of its members. The church exists because God, in his infinite wisdom and infinite mercy, chose the church as his instrument to make known his manifold wisdom in the world.” (pg. 145)

Thank you Lord, that you have given us the opportunity to be Your hands and feet. We get the immense privilege to get out there in our world and shine your light to people who desperately need it. We have the chance, if we choose to take it, to truly serve others, live out your teachings, and, by the power of your Holy Spirit, be a small part in the true and eternal transformation of lives. That you would use us for this great a goal is beyond me. But, I thank you.

I pray, God, that we re-shift our thinking. May we not enter our church walls seeking to be served and made happy. May we enter our church walls, walking alongside someone we met outside the church walls who our heart breaks for, aches for, and longs for them knowing You. Continue to flip my world upside down, until I arrive at the closest possible life that mirrors Yours. Amen.

(quote from Halter and Smay) – “Jesus didn’t and we shouldn’t. He doesn’t need us to stick up for him; he needs us to represent him, to be like him, to look like him and to talk like him, to be with people that he would be with, and to take the side of the “ignorant” instead of those in the “know.” … Love has won infinitely more converts than theology. (pg. 149)

Jesus, you set the perfect example of how to love people with Your life. While I know I will never be anywhere close to where you are, I desire to have the same heart behind my work. May I genuinely see people as you see them. Open my eyes, Lord, every single day; please use me to show those precious people your love. Thank you for your faithfulness despite my lack of it. Continue to grow in me a heart of compassion for all of your kiddos. I want to be like you. I want to act like you. I want to talk like you. I want to serve like you. Only by your power and strength can I do any one good thing at all. It is you I cling to and trust. Teach me how to truly love.

Insisting that unbelievers or disoriented believers defer to our convictions is the quickest way to repel them from God. Even if our posture isn’t arrogant, broadcasting our extreme Christian principles without sensitivity makes us seem so weird that we’ll lose credibility anyway. (pg. 151)

Lord, while I am fairly confident you inspired Jen to write this for me and me alone, I cannot help but stop and wonder. You know my heart and you know the fire you, Yourself, placed within it. And while I tried to explain myself both through writing and through personal conversations with some of my closest friends, I am still not sure how to step forward. Thankfully, you know each of my steps. Help me to seek you for each one of them. And, you know I don’t want to repel anyone away from You and the work you’re doing…so please Lord, continue to work on me. I am so thankful that you are not even close to being done with me yet. Refine me and make me more how You want me to be. Help my attitude and actions change to only how You want them to change. If I am still ridiculed and misunderstood, then so be it. I want your will. Not mine. Not my friends’. Only yours. Forever.

Theology very naturally follows belief, but belief very rarely follows judgment. (pg. 152)

I am not the judge. Lord, PLEASE continue to strip that robe off of me and remind me of where I belong in the courtroom. Help me to see with my eyes wide open, the heart of your kiddos. Relationships are key to this lifestyle of being on mission for you. Help my authenticity bring people in so they can see how deeply they are truly loved by You. Let my life be my testimony. Not my words. Not my blog. Just the life you live through me.

How would our communities be transformed if our churches became servants in our cities. If at every turn, believers labored for others as if they were our masters, we could not be ignored for long. (pg. 152)

Oh that this is lived out through myself, my family and my friends. Pour us out, Lord. Help us to willingly and joyfully take on the role of servant to all. To our neighbor down the street, and the homeless man who stands at the corner of a street. May you receive every bit of the glory. Transform our communities, Lord…and please use us to do it, for Your Name’s sake.

Blessing blessed people and serving the saved eventually leave us empty – and despite a church designed to meet our needs, these words come out of our mouths: “I’m not being fed.” The largest factor in feeling unfed is not feeding others. (pg. 163)

Lord, I want to be used anywhere and everywhere. Please help me to keep this mind-set of it not being about me. I am never more like you than when I am serving others, so help me Lord, to focus on that, and not on my own desires and needs. You daily pour into me, so that I can pour into others. Help me not to keep any for myself in the spirit of spiritual gluttony. I want to be used. Keep my heart pure for the desire you have placed within it. Only by your strength, Lord…only by your strength.

Living on mission where you’ve been sent will transform your faith journey. (pg. 163)

Lord, your body is made up of many parts. All important, but all with different tasks. You call us to serve where you can use our gifts, talents, personality, etc. to do Your best work and bring You the most glory. That is, if we will answer your call. The specifics are different for each of us, but the mission is the same and it is simple.

Serve.

The woman serving us coffee at the restaurant.

The man cleaning the floors under our feet as we sip that coffee.

But, I beg you Lord, help us not to stop there. Remind us of the lonely and forgotten who live under the bridge we had to pass to get there, too. The men working outside for fifteen hours that day, building yet another fast food place placed on that street for my convenience. Help me see them too, Lord.

Only You know the true answer as to how, where, who we will serve. I guess the question Lord isn’t that; instead the question is IF we are willing to answer the call.

The battle is for souls of humanity, and our secret weapon is love. (pg. 167)

Oh Father, this is all so much bigger than me. This is eternity Lord. This is for real. Please help me to stop focusing so much of my time and energy as if it’s all about my life, my home, my family, my goals, my comfort, my will, my interpretation of Your words written in red. Make my life all about You. Make my life all about Your love.

Amen, Lord, amen.

Posted in Book Club, DoneFlippedUpsideDown

23 Sep 2012

3 Comments

Anything Worth Doin’…

I don’t know about you, my friend, but I have found it quite maddening humbling to parent a kid who is just. like. me.

No, seriously. It’s been an eye-opener, for sure. Understatement of the century.

Do you know what I mean, dear friend? Did our Sovereign God curse bless you with a kiddo so much like you that your very own parents, the ones that raised you, clothed you, and cared for you, can now only laugh at you? They sit back in their happy-retired-pants and don’t even try to force back a smile, at the reality of their prayers sent up during your childhood, have finally been answered. Gee, thanks Mom and Dad! Although part of me suddenly feels the need to buy you a new car.

May I introduce to you Abigail Caroline Holzberger.

She comes by the middle name honestly, I can tell you that for sure.

She is strong-willed.

She is charming. And she knows it.

She loves people and is always making them laugh.

She never stops talking. Yes, often to herself, and even in her sleep.

She is a methodical mess; surrounded by clutter she doesn’t even see, yet particular and organized about crap that doesn’t matter.

It is her world, and we are just lucky to be living in it.

Her strong-willed spirit was the first clue that this was going to be a bumpy ride. Poor Ryan.

But, coming in as a close second was the philosophy I inadvertently but apparently live by – Anything worth doin’ is worth overdoin’.

Oh, how my close friends could vouch for this time and time again.

She first showed us this trait as an infant with her pacifier issues.

Jacob, my oldest, wouldn’t take a pacifier. No bottle. Nothing. I was a new Mom and was a huge proponent of nursing so I took the La Leche chick’s advice as gospel truth. Then, I didn’t get to go on an evening date with my man for over a year. Live and learn.

With Benjamin, it was different. I was a nursing pro, still very much on board with it, so I knew – I could do this. The doctor said “It’s a boy!” to which I replied, “Praise God! Give that boy a paci.” orsomethinglikethat. So, precious BenBen was fairly dependent on his ‘night-night’ anytime he went to sleep. As the year or two went on, I mayormaynot have put an extra one in there in hopes of him not being able to knock both out of the crib within the same twelve-minute time period.

Then there was sister friend. Lord, help us. There was something about the fact that she was a baby girl, and I had a very traumatic labor No drugs! @#!*! leading to emergency surgery for me, coupled with the fact that her jaundice was so scary bad there for a while, I remember the words “possible brain damage” accidentally being said within my ear shot. Needless to say, she got whatever she wanted for the first few months. And what she wanted was her ‘night-night’. It wasn’t long before it became, not one, but four. That’s right. Somehow, that rascal girl managed to get one into her mouth, while clutching the other three firmly in her chubby little hands just in case one fell through the crib slats.

Look at this sweet girl one day before she left her crib and went to her big girl bed where “big girls don’t get ‘night-nights’.” Poor thing.

But, check her chubby little hands…like I said…Anything worth doin’…

Add some highlights, a few stretch marks, and thirty years to her and you have me.

Same song, different verse.

Some of you may have noticed I’ve been reading a book lately. No, Caroline…you don’t say? I had no idea. Would you mind telling me about it?

Ha.

Well, friend this book is case in point.

I have posted six or seven times in the last month or so and they have all been pretty much about this book. I tried to warn you people.

Because this book is magic? No.

Because this book is the best thing ever written? No.

Maybe it’s because this book is the answer to everything. No again.

But I do know The Book that is the answer to everything, by the way, in case you are interested.

Here’s the deal. When I loved NKOTB, I loved them big. Like, I had posters on the ceilings, doodled their names on my Trapper Keeper and wore the eight-inch Joey and Jordan buttons on my acid-washed denim jacket. I was sold out.

When I went to college, I had the double-T silver decal on my car, wore the t-shirts all the time, bought the University spirals even though they cost more, (Ok, my folks bought them!) and cheered for their sports teams, despite unending ridicule from, well, pretty much everyone I knew.

Anything worth doin’ is worth overdoin’.

Some people may say I have been overdoin’ the Jen Hatmaker thing. And those some people may be right. I don’t know.

What I do know is this – I can’t un-know what I know. I can’t un-learn what I’ve learned. And any work done in my spirit regarding any of this stuff has been done by the Holy Spirit of My Living God and no one else. Period.

Could I temper my zeal? Maybe. Although I kinda don’t know that for certain. Not sure I’ve ever tried. At least, not about anything that truly mattered.

Should I leave people the heck alone when they ask a simple question like “How’ve you been?” Maybe. Once again, debatable.

I just haven’t ever really had the capacity to like something a ‘little bit’.

Camp. Don’t get me started about camp. I was sold out for a decade and tried to convince everyone I knew they had to come work there for the summer. I still have so many people who know with certainty I won’t answer to anything but Pele.

And that was just three months out of the year.

First time at Joe’s Pizza and Pasta – I was in love. I told anyone who would listen, “Oh my goodness, you have to go there and get the fettucine alfredo and lasagna plate and let the sauces ooze together into a blissful Italian masterpiece! It will seriously change your world. Like, go there today!” Oh how I miss that gluten-filled lunch time blessing.

And y’all, that was pasta. C’mon now.

Do you truly expect ME to read a book that turns out to be a complete game-changer and not be super pumped to include everyone I meet and especially those I love most dear?

Could I be less of a bull in a china shop? Yes. But that’s been true of me since 1979. I like to think I’m better than I was as a toddler.

Could I try my best to have greater finesse than a Mack truck? Absolutely. But, you should have seen me during the couple-skate song at Jamie’s Skating rink in the late ‘80s. Finesse ain’t never been my thang.

But there’s one thing I can be, and that’s authentic. What you see is ab-so-lute-ly what you get with me. Like it or not. And I guess, for now, I would just like to humbly and truly apologize to those people whose feelings I’ve hurt during this journey. I mean it – I never meant to hurt anyone.

I was raised with the truth that “if an apology is followed by a ‘but’, it is not a genuine apology.” So, I just want to be clear here; I am absolutely apologizing for hurting/alienating/offending anyone. I assure you it was not my intent. I am not apologizing for the change of mind-set I’ve had. For the passion He has placed within me. For the enthusiasm with which I want you to jump on board.

Please know…

It’s not like you aren’t going to heaven if you don’t read this book. Duh.

It’s not like if you read it and don’t like it, I can no longer be your friend. Duh.

I was still friends when my Lindsay went to be a missionary in Mexico and not ever come work at camp. I was still friends with my husband who never really loved Joe’s Pasta and Pizza. “It’s alright, babe. I’ve had better.” Communist. Sorry he said that, Joe, but he’s my husband! And I’m still friends with my brother even though he bleeds burnt orange. 2008 season. 39-33. Ahem.

But, the fact that I feel like I was asleep and am now wide awake; had blurred vision and then done got Lasik for free…forgive me for the added dose of zeal.

I believe God will have far easier work ahead of Him to curb my refreshed zeal for Him, than He ever did trying to spark my complacent heart for Him. I know He will do a far greater work through my outspokenness than He has ever done with me biting my lip to ensure I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings, ever.

I hope when I err on the side of overzealousness, He will grant me extra grace, knowing my heart is zealous for Him, not for me, and it’s just about as pure as physically possible for my ol’ heart. If you know me at all, you should know I haven’t all of a sudden gone off the deep end. Shoot, I fell off years and years ago…just been flat for a while and forgot how to do this Christian life big.

May I be able to adequately hear what He wants me to hear.

May I be prayerfully careful and unashamedly brave as I speak what He wants me to speak.

May I be discerning as to who He wants me to love on, not who others suggest are safer or more worthy to love on.

And most of all, may He receive every ounce of glory, fame, honor and credit if even one good thing comes out of any of this. I want none. Not a drop.

Amen and amen.

Ps. I kid you not, this is the picture of my daughter in her bed right now as I type this post. Anyone counting? Yep. That’s right, there are thirteen ‘babies’ in bed with her tonight. Thirteen. Sometimes it’s one. Other times it’s none, but she has on three pair of panties. You just never know with this one. Ah well. You go, girl! And at least it isn’t still ‘night-nights’ – this stuff isn’t messing up her overbite! J

Posted in Confessions, DoneFlippedUpsideDown

19 Sep 2012

So. Very. Interrupted – Week Four

Let me begin with an apology. I so very much did not have my act together this weekend, in order to have my blog post prepared for Monday. Thanks for your grace!

This was a pretty meaty chapter for me. Not sure if you agree, but this was a call to my heart to get my hiney up and moving. Serve those in need. Pour out myself so others may be filled with the love of Jesus.

God began to orchestrate His beautiful will through my new friend, Tony. I met him while he was delivering Pepsi to the Seven-Eleven I was buying coffee from. It was a life changing day for me. And, for Tony. My partner in crime, Thing One, wrote about the experience beautifully. Please take a minute and read this story. You will be so glad you did. What. A. Blessing.

Ok, hopefully you are back now, after reading the miracles God orchestrated in the course of a short twenty-four hours.

Now, on to the book God has been using as a catalyst in my life and my heart. And, basically, as Fresh Prince would say, how my life got flipped-turned upside down.

It requires conscious decisions to abandon formerly vital things like reputation, perception, position, control. This was probably our most important lesson, more valuable than the specifics we would later engage, because it’s easy to visit the bottom with works while our hearts remain higher up. That’s just charity. It’s a moment, not a permanent relocation. It is something entirely different to adopt the mind of Christ. That’s when we don’t just act lowly. We are lowly. Our minds are not secured up higher, awaiting our return after we’re done patronizing those at the bottom. (pg. 112)

Whoa. I desperately need some of you to comment on this one, because I’m fairly certain I lost a tooth from this much-needed kick in the teeth. I’m sitting here, gap-toothed and speechless. But, it’s more than conviction. That, I’ve felt. This is different. I feel pretty pissed at myself. I feel like I’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid for thirty-three years and all of a sudden the blinders have been removed. There are a lot of poor people in my world, my country, my state, and my very own town. In fact, there’s lots of them. And they need help. Lots of it.

I remember feeling so happy and proud of myself after handing out food at Thanksgiving. Man, I made Jesus proud today. I served those who have little. I judged a few of them as to why. Then, I went home to my ginormous Thanksgiving meal, watched football on my big screen TV, and then after a few days reminiscing, thought little about these people again. That is not living at the bottom. That is not living like Christ. That is charity. Which, please hear me, is not a bad thing. Unless, of course, that’s all you do. Whish through the bottom once or twice a year with a heart to help, and then, as quickly as you came, you leave; heart unchanged and life unaltered.

That was me.

Was.

Not anymore. Thank you, Jesus.

What we need more than denominational or invented boundaries is a commitment to do the work of Christ together. (pg. 117)

This is so very true! This isn’t about whether you kneel at church or I wear jeans to church. This is about whether or not people around us in our everyday lives are affected by the Jesus we claim to love. Do you see the Pepsi guy at the gas station, or the janitor at your kid’s school? Do you know their name? Do you smile and share the love of Jesus?

Ya, neither did I.

Neither did my partner in crime.

Or my new friend I met through an accidental email.

We comprise Baptists, Presbyterians, and even the formerly non-churched. None of that mattered. What mattered is that our brother in need cried out for help. And I praise God we were able to get out of our own way, to help him.

One thing I love about Jen Hatmaker is that she is not suggesting that everyone leave their current church and start churches for the homeless. However, that is a noble task and a much needed one. What she is suggesting is that we blessed American Christians truly stop living just for ourselves. She is imploring, as I am, for those of us who love Jesus to truly start serving like Him every day in every way possible. We should be led by His sacrificial love for every one of His kids. Every one. Not just us. Them, too.

God is unimpressed by a spiritual veneer or our business saavy, either as a faith community or individually as Christ followers. None of us gets to treat people like expendable articles and expect God to look the other way because it somehow advanced His kingdom or had nothing to do with it. We can’t ignore God’s ways and expect to maintain His favor. We don’t get to neglect the major values of the gospel and claim preference or context. (pg. 121)

As is evident in how Jesus spoke to the Pharisees (see Luke 11:37) about their great concern for the outside of their cups, God cares so very much about the condition of our hearts. The Pharisees religiously cleaned the outside. Oh how they seemed righteous and appeared holy. But, the inside of their cups were full of greed, malice, self-righteousness, and pride…just to name a few. Worthless were their works because their hearts were so deceitful and dirty inside. And the worst part of all, is that wouldn’t even admit it. They wouldn’t look deeply enough to see it. It absolutely breaks my heart then, and it breaks my heart now.

This applies to us as individuals and churches as well. If a church guilts people into tithing, or uses money and stocks to secretly further Christmas bonuses for staff and/or church re-decorating – it is dirty inside and clean outside. If we, as Christians, claim to desire the heart of Jesus, but segregate those worthy of receiving that love from us, based on their past mistakes, present circumstances, or current disappointing realities – we might as well change our last name to Pharisee.

The most important sentence in the previous quote is the last one. We don’t get to neglect the major values of the gospel and claim preference or context. We prefer to work with the hurting middle class. We prefer to believe the teachings of Jesus were all figurative analogies, therefore refusing to see them as literal commands. (like, oh I don’t know, “Feed my Sheep.”) Then we are allowing our own desires to get in the way of Jesus’. I think some of us hide behind the idea that “our personal calling” is just not in this or that particular mission. Here’s a clue – if your “personal calling” never makes you feel uncomfortable, never pushes your boundaries, never stretches your faith, or brings you to you knees…it probably isn’t from Jesus.

Please, friend, let’s go serve the hurting middle class. That was me for five straight years. God used His people to love on me, encourage me, and walk beside me during my darkest hour after hour. But let’s not do that at the expense of then checking off our Good-Christian-volunteer-hours and neglecting the poor, the widowed, the orphaned and abandoned.

Let’s just do what Jesus did, shall we?

Serve the poor.

Commune with the rejected.

Pray with the desperate.

Feed the hungry. Like, with food.

It’s actually not rocket science. Good thing. I stunk at science.

(Quote from Mary DeMuth) “But it’s not either/or; it’s both/and.” (pg. 128)

I think this is exactly the point I’ve been trying to make. Can we all just agree to disagree on some things but agree on the most important thing – living like Jesus lived and loving like Jesus loved.

Serve at church! Then also volunteer at a soup kitchen regularly.

Donate to a women’s shelter. Then also stop and give money and respect to the homeless man on the street.

Send money to Compassion International. But, then give up a few hours of your weekend and go show compassion to the kids in the poorest area of town.

Be the change that our culture needs. Let it begin with you!

What if we really loved our neighbors and offered a safe place for community in our home, showing them church rather than just inviting them to one…This is not about doing church; it’s about being the church…There is a movement bubbling up that goes beyond cynicism and celebrates a new way of living, a generation that stops complaining about the church it sees and becomes the church it dreams of. (pg. 131)

Oh that we could get out of the mindset that church is there to please us. Fill us. Serve us. Teach us.

We are the church. You. Me. And the person who left your church for the cooler one.

We are all family, whether we act like it or not. And, this new way of thinking, for me, is rooted in the truth that we are all on the same team. Some of our teammates have been slacking off and not carrying their weight on game day. Some teammates have been more concerned with how they look in the uniform. Some are way too concerned about the snacks after the game.

The fact is this – the whistle blew. The clock is ticking. And when it’s all said and done, nothing in this game will matter more than if we tried our best to obey the Coach, hustle in playing our position, be willing to get our uniform dirty, and honor our years of training, by doing the hard work on game day.

Ps. Just so you know, every day is game day. Just sayin’.

I’ve discovered this journey is not about finding validation as a leader; it’s not about our church. It’s bigger than that. It’s about putting hands and feet to the gospel – our hands and feet. It’s about building bridges with those who won’t come to us on Sunday, not as a project, but because Jesus loves them and told us to.

If the gospel is good news to all, then it’s not just an idea to consider, a time slot on Sunday, or a task assigned to a select few – it’s a life to live. And it’s bigger than all of us.

Friends – I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is not about Jen Hatmaker. This is not about Jen Hatmaker’s book.

This is about Jesus.

Living like Him.

Loving like Him.

Serving like Him.

Every day and in every way…until we go home to see Him.

Period.

So…what do you think? Did I scare you all off from commenting after Week One? Are you still out there? Tell me…what has God told YOU about your life being Interrupted??

Love, love.

Posted in Book Club, DoneFlippedUpsideDown | Leave a Comment

caroline holzberger

Keepin' it real about motherhood, Jesus, life, and everything in between.

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