caroline holzberger

Full Christian Bellies

Ahem.

As usual, I am about a day late and a dollar short.

Apparently there’s been a not-so-great debate going around the country the last month or two, about chicken and marriage. And, while it sounds gross, illegal and to be honest, a little weird…I still felt I should write about it.

First of all, let me be clear that I don’t ever, I repeat ever, watch the news.

I don’t watch much TV, really.

I don’t read the newspaper.

I don’t listen to talk radio.

I don’t debate openly about anything…especially politics. In fact, I don’t know much about politics. I do know this.

These realities in my life are why I hadn’t heard about the whole Chick-Fil-A-hates-gays-so-let’s-hate-them-back campaign. I honestly didn’t know. Ah, what ignorant bliss that was.

That was then. This is now. Now, I do know about this mess.

I know about the hateful comments.

I know about the quick judgments.

I know about the broad labels and the vast assumptions.

I know about all of it now.

But, honestly, friend, IT DON’T MATTER NONE!

Really.

Because most importantly…I know Jesus. No, seriously…I like personally know the Guy. In fact, He and I hung out a lot the past few years while I was flat on my couch.

So, I thought about Him and I asked myself…

Self, would Jesus would be at Chick-Fil-A on Wednesday August 1^st, 2012?

Hmmm…that’s easy.

Dang right He would.

Briefly.

I don’t think He would scream condemnation and hold up picket signs with some cleverly thought up, yet equally mean spirited phrase painted on it. Not because He wouldn’t be mad about this junk. He’d be very mad. Correction. He is very mad.  Shocked? No. But I’m fairly certain He is pissed off. And if you don’t think Jesus could get that way – you are wrong. He simply didn’t sin in his anger like we seem to repeatedly do hour after hour.

Jesus wasn’t some long-haired hippy who was a few thousand years too early for the peace and love movement of Woodstock. Yes, He is peace and love. He embodies them. But, He is also perfection of judgment. Righteous, perfect, and holy. God doesn’t take sin lightly, friend. People used to get smote, you know. I mean, whoa – that’s for real mad! I’ve been mad, but not gonna-smote-people-kind-of-mad.

As for this mess…

I won’t judge Truett Cathy or his comments, because I’ve never met the man and haven’t heard every single thing he’s had to say on this issue.

I won’t bash the mayors of Chicago or Boston. I’ve never been to their cities nor met them, either.

I will most certainly not use the Name of the One who holds my eternity, as a weapon of hate or judgment upon thousands, maybe millions of people – none of which, I’ve ever met.

I will, however, say this…and I will say it slowly so as to not be misunderstood.

Marriage – is – for – one – man – and – one – woman.

Period.

I won’t dance around that. The Bible says it, and that settles it. End of story.

The Bible repeatedly confirms what God had in mind for marriage. And it seems like our culture continually craps all over that. The book of James is pretty clear about obedience. Seriously, go read it. It whipped my lazy heart into shape!

James 4:17 “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.” As Beth Moore so eloquently said, “James won’t let us ‘grace’ ourselves out of obedience.” Amen to that!

My comment on facebook (Team Holzberger will be at Chick-Fil-A Wednesday August 1st…will u? Don’t be a chicken! Just go eat some 🙂 in Jesus’ Name.) was meant as an encouragement to my friends to support something they believe in, NOT a statement of hate toward anyone else, anywhere…especially those I haven’t met.

Friend, did you know God knit every gay and lesbian person together in their mother’s womb? Every single one. He has their hairs numbered. He knows their hearts. And, He sent His Son, Jesus, to die for them, too. Yes, even if they don’t have a favorite pew to sit on or a fish on their car, He died for them too.

Does that make you uncomfortable? Are you upset at the thought that God may have done that kind of knitting right before He knitted your scrawny neck?

Is that where hate comes from?

But, hatred is not the same as judgment.

Jesus didn’t tell us never to judge. He just said to be prepared to be judged as well if you do, and with the same measure. He instructed us hypocrites not to judge the particle of dust in someone else’s eye when we have a flippin’ beam of timber sticking out of our own. (Matthew 7 and Luke 6)

But, we have to judge. We judge every single day if things are appropriate for our lives or not. Big things. Little things. And absolutely huge things.

We judge little things, like what clothing is appropriate for us, and God help us, our children to wear.

We judge big things, like what we will spend our time, money and energy on. And more importantly, what we won’t.

And then, like today, we judge absolutely huge things. Like how we will handle situations like this big ol’ mess. Well, my friend, I have made my judgment.

I’ve judged that this whole thing is completely and utterly ridiculous!

Goodness gracious, people, we all have the right to have an opinion, whether it differs greatly or aligns perfectly with Truett Cathy’s.

But, hear me…if all we ever do is rant and rave about it, then go fill our Christian bellies with Chick-Fil-A on Wednesday – then I judge that the enemy wins.

Satan is not only a master of destruction, but he is most certainly a master of distraction.

He is thrilled if we stay all puffed up or all up in arms about this whole thing. Because whether self-righteous or mad, either way we focus less on Jesus, who He is, and what He wants us to do today.

Yes, maybe we’ve ordered some waffle fries on a certain date…but for goodness sake, wouldn’t we have eaten supper that day anyway? Am I right? Friend, I assume if you are reading this now, then you have access to a computer, a roof over your head, and leftovers rotting in the back of your fridge just like I do.

Whether you are a Christian, an atheist, or haven’t got a clue either way …the fact is this – God made you and He knows your heart. Your lack of faith in Him doesn’t make Him any less God. My true faith in Him doesn’t make you any less important to Him.

But, if you do claim to love Jesus, then Wednesday, August 1^st is a great day to go to Chick-Fil-A if your reason in your heart brings Him glory. But, if your reason in your heart is just to make you feel better about all this, or to show ‘those liberals’ who’s boss, for the LOVE of God, don’t go.

But, if you do go, please, friend, don’t let it end there.

Yes, your willingness to fight that crazily crowded parking lot may have helped raise the number of people who went out to “support biblical values” that day…but have we really loved anyone?

Have we fed the poor? Helped the needy? The orphaned? The widowed?

Have we really acted like Jesus?

Or have we acted more like the Pharisees and sat back in judgment while we turn our backs and full bellies on those who are in very real need?

My dear, sweet  friend and fellow sojourner on this road of writing led me to a link of someone I have grown to respect.

Her name is Jen Hatmaker and I totally think she and I would be friends.

She loves Jesus, but not only with her words on facebook, her blog, and her books…but with her life. With her sacrifices. With her actions.

She, too, is appalled at this whole ordeal. In fact, I invite you to read her opinion on this whole thing. She has invited you and me into her basement to ride this whole thing out. She invites us to not take part in such ridiculous arguing.

And although I respect her greatly and feel certain that the two books of hers I’m about to read (Interrupted and 7) are going to rock.my.world…I have never been much of a basement girl.

I’m more of a ditch-the-dark-basement-and-sprint-to-the-hilltops-with-your-big-ol’-maglight kind of girl. Pretty often, in my world, anything worth doin’ is worth overdoin’.

A hundred years ago when I was an athlete, my favorite part of basketball was repeatedly and purposely taking a charge. Bruises. Broken ankles. Concussions. It didn’t matter. I still planted my feet firmly and held my ground while my opponent barreled into me with all their might.

The whistle blew. The ref made the call and that was that. Sometimes the call was in my favor. Often it wasn’t. Either way, we both always ended up with our backs flat on the court.

This is no different.

‘Us’ and ‘them’ will both come out of this bumped and bruised and perhaps concussed.

Little do we know, we aren’t each other’s enemies. We all actually have the same enemy. And he is fierce.

He’s come at me full speed and flat-out leveled me, at times.

I’m sure Satan has done that to you as well.

Like I said, my friend…this is no different.

He is coming at anyone who leans toward the left, and trying to get to them to lean even more. He is highlighting the sinful responses, ugly comments and out-right mistakes of those of us who call Jesus, our God.

He is coming at us Christians with one goal. He’s trying to get us to take our eyes of Jesus and put them on chicken. He wants us distracted, frustrated, upset, and busy.

After all, he has serious work to do in this world. And he won’t let some five-foot-four-blonde-‘has-been’-athlete-chick get in his way without a fight. But, does that mean I don’t take the charge? Um…Dear Hell, NO!

Once my visceral reaction about this madness died down…the more of me was released and the more of Jesus was revealed. The process wasn’t pretty. But, I realized I just couldn’t stop thinking that I wanted to do what Jesus would do.

And Jen Hatmaker, with all due respect, I just don’t think He would go down into the basement and ride this out.

In fact, I kinda think He would go grab a nugget tray and turn that puppy into something that would feed ten thousand. He’d find a way to get a handspun milkshake to someone who desperately needed something cold to drink.

He. Would. Serve.

He’d give a fresh chicken sandwich to a lesbian and then sit down and have lunch with her. Look her in the eye. Listen to her. Love her. Show her the Truth.

So, yes, in my humble opinion…I think Jesus would go to Chick-Fil-A on August 1, 2012 to openly support the Truth of what God’s Word says.

But, only briefly.

In fact, maybe He’d save the drama and just drive-thru.

Because He would know the real work to be done was not just ‘saying’ He stood against something, or stood up for something and being proud of the pics He posted on facebook with the cows cut outs behind Him.

He knew it was more important to live it.

Taking that blessed secret chicken recipe and giving it to someone who hasn’t eaten meat in weeks.

Surprising a group of kids with milkshakes who hadn’t been hugged in months.

He would sit with them. Talk with them. Pray with them. Laugh with them. And then on August 2^nd, friend, He would get up and do it all over again.

So, my friend…what will you do?

Sit back, idle and quiet as your kids purposely eat McDonald’s on Wednesday, just because you don’t agree with every single word that’s come out of Truett Cathy’s mouth?

Make posters with slogans and draw a line in the sand proudly, reassuring every gay and lesbian person out there that you’d actually prefer a line to separate them from you?

Or go feed your belly with chicken and go home to proudly rest your satisfied head on your clean, fluffy pillow?

Or maybe…just maybe…you’ll take a step further.

Maybe you, like me, would ask forgiveness for your great, huge, ridiculous sin. And when you were done, you’d do it again for all the other ones you forgot.

Then, you’d make a PB&J for yourself, grab an apple for the road and then go serve chicken to the people who really need it.

And yes…you should give up the waffle fries, too.

You can do it.

Amen.

C.S. Lewis wrote in the book “Mere Christianity” I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.’ That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

Sooo BIG!

I love toddlers.

I know that sounds crazy, but really…they are so stinkin’ funny!

My precious babies aren’t little babies anymore. I type with a very full, yet sometimes sad heart, because my house is done with the cute toddler phase. My baby girl is three years old, going on thirteen. Lord, help me!

The best age, if you ask me, is somewhere between 13-18 months. This, my friend, is the golden age.

They are still fat and happy. Rolls on their legs, dimples in their elbows, and joyfully walking all bowlegged and crooked. I. Love. It.

They generally don’t throw fits yet.

They generally don’t talk back.

They still want to cuggle with you.

And best of all, they do tricks.

Much like having a performing monkey, you can, with practice, get them to do just about anything funny.

My kids were always a big hit at Cotton Patch Café. The servers knew us and loved us. Nana and Grandpa would take us to eat there about once a week while my kids were in the ‘golden age’. Upon entering the restaurant, the servers would scramble around telling each other, “Hey, look! There’s that kid who does_________! It’s funny! Come watch!”

With Jacob, his famous trick was to “do his muscles”. It was hilarious.

See?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I mean, c’mon, you have to admit, that is pretty funny.

Upon command, my sweet red-headed 13-month-old would become completely fierce and serious about flexing every single muscle in his body. It was cute. It was intense. It was focused. Much like our sweet Jacob.

With Benjamin, he was famous for “the look”. Our smiley, chunky baby would immediately respond when we’d say, “Benjamin….give ’em the look!” Way. Too. Cute.

See?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ironic that this little one would do a trick that made him look fierce and mad…because he is neither. He is our joy boy. He is sensitive and precious, kind-hearted and happy. But, “the look” was pretty dang funny. Oh, how I miss those cheeks!

Then, there was sister friend. In true Abigail fashion, she loved all the tricks. She was more shy in Cotton Patch, but at home, she rocked every trick in the book…especially the “muscles”.

 

 

 

 

 

Although, the most popular one with all three kids at this adorable age was probably the same trick that toddlers are doing everywhere.

Each of my completely different and yet completely the same little babies looooved telling me how big they were. When asked this infamous question…each of them would throw their arms up in the air immediately, almost as a Pavlov’s response, and show me just how big they were!

“How big is Jacob?”

Sooo BIG!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How big is Benjamin?”

Sooo BIG!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How big is Abigail?”

Sooo BIG!

 

 

 

 

 

 

This one is a crowd pleaser and even more so, a toddler pleaser. They just love braggin’ about how big they are.

Adults are pretty much the same way, aren’t we?

Perhaps we don’t throw our hands up in the air anymore, although some of us may. But, we think that way.

Problems come.

Disappointment arrives.

Fear creeps up.

And what do we do?

We convince ourselves we are Sooo BIG!

My friend, I have had some pretty low moments these last few years.

I have walked through medical drama and great physical pain. Fear and anxiety have gripped me so tightly I could. not. take. one. breath. I have faced darkness. Depression. Even the very real fear of death. And I type to you now, in full disclosure…to confess that I tried to throw up my hands and convince myself I was Soo BIG!

But. I. Was. Not.

My wonderful pastor has said a comment numerous times in the nine years of our time at my church …yet each time it strikes me to the core – every – single – time.

“The good news is…that you can have all of God that you want! The bad news is…that right now, you have about all of God that you want.”

Ouch.

So, my friend…I ask you the same question I’ve asked myself countless times…

How BIG is your God?

Is He Sooo BIG!?!

Or, are you?

Is your God bigger than debt?

Depression?

Unhappiness?

Infidelity?

Friend, is He bigger than a superficial Christian life?!?

If you love the God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…if you have accepted Him as your personal Savior…then the answer is 110%, absolutely, positively, emphatically – YES!

IF. You. Will. Let. Him. Be.

Ifs don’t get bigger than that, my friend.

I do not speak out of the knowledge of my brain. I speak out of the wisdom of my life. Not a wisdom that puts me above you. Don’t hear me wrong, friend. Wisdom is simply knowledge put into practical and prayerful use.

I “knew” God was big. He commands the lightning. He parted waters. He raised the dead. And so on and so forth. That is big. I “knew” that in my head.

But, now, I know, that I know, that I know HE IS BIG…and even better, that I am so very, very small.

He has proven Himself bigger than my fears.

My bills.

My unhappiness.

My anxiety.

My great and repetitive sin.

HE. IS. BIG.

Even on those days and weeks and months when I don’t live like I know that, He was still BIG. My acceptance (or not!) of it, does not determine it.

I have friends right now who are seeing His faithful BIG-ness. They have stepped out in faith to give God their debt, their home life, their future. They heard His command for their family and, at first, they didn’t follow it. They doubted. The struggles they faced seemed BIGger than their God. But, now. Oh, now things are different. Right now, as I type this, they are basking in His BIG-ness. They decided to obey. They followed His very clear, yet very scary plan for their family…and God has done nothing but show off His BIGness to them. On this very night, they rest in the security of their BIG God and their small selves.

And yet, still, right now, I have family members, people I love dearly, who cannot get joy from this life any easier than they can get eggs from a cow. They try and they try with all of their might. All of their reasoning. All of their rationalizing. But, the BIGger their problem, the smaller God seems, because they won’t simply give Him their depression. Their past. Their expectations. They’ve been burned again and again and they have now dug their heels in and decided not to let the fire come near them again. The problem with that is, that sure, they’ve helped ensure they won’t get singed, but they also won’t get warm.

So, what is your ‘thing’? That area, or if you’re like me, areas, that seem too BIG for God? Hear me…

MY God is BIGger than ALL of it.

Name it.

He can handle it.

I do not claim that you will be healthy, wealthy and wise if you trust Him. But, you will have Him. If you give your seemingly BIG thing to Him…He will line it up against Himself and show you what BIG really looks like.

Trust Him, friend, not only when you are healthy, wealthy and wise…but when you are sick, poor, and dumb.

Mostly – GIVE IT ALL TO HIM.

I beg you.

Will you trust Him with _______________? Whatever seems BIG to you…will you trust Him?

Throw your hands up in the air, drop to your knees and answer me now…

“How BIG is my God?”

SOOOOO BIG!!!

Amen and amen.

Big Pile o’ Yuck

I do not enjoy chores.

I mean, I guess most people don’t genuinely enjoy chores…but I really, totally, 110%, do-not-like-them at all. But, I have some friends weirdos who actually do enjoy cleaning and organizing.

In fact, I am married to one. For better or worse, for clean or for dirty, I am his and he is mine. Poor guy.

I will say, that since riding on the medical roller coaster for so long, I often now find myself joyfully doing chores. I darn near cried while vacuuming last night. Perspective is such a beautiful gift.

But, to keep it real, I admit I still am not necessarily geared toward the clean/organized lifestyle. It takes effort. Lots. and lots and lots and lots Of. Effort.

A few areas I fail at regularly, are as follows:

1. Dusting. Hate it. Am Annoyed by it. Can’t remember the last time I did it. Period. Moving on.
2. Toilets. Ugh. That was one of my major chores growing up. Every single Saturday morning. Clean the bathroom. I think I may suffer from PTSD. (Post Toilet Stress Disorder) I may need therapy about this thing, people.
3. Lastly, but certainly not least-ly… kitchen floors. Oh my stars, (I love you, MSDW!) this one takes the cake. And apparently crumbles that cake all over my stinkin’ kitchen floor.

Honestly though…shouldn’t there be a law against feeding children rice or peas before the age of seventeen? What’s the stinkin’ point? The amount that actually makes the looong journey from their plate to their mouth can’t possibly give them much nutrition. If you disagree, then you clearly have never stepped on a pea barefoot. Or God forbid a mandarin orange. Can I get a witness, here?

So, in order to fulfill the role I feel God called me to I needed to take action. Super neighbor and I came up with a chore schedule to get us through the week. Do a little something every weekday so that your weekends are chore-free. Wahoooo! And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaa. Monty Python and the Holy Grail is lovely.

So Super Neighbor and I came up with a realistic and attainable goal.

We. Were. Brilliant!

In theory.

Life happens. Soccer practice happens again and again and again. And cub scouts. And church. And choir. And yada, yada, yada. No, FYI we aren’t one of those families that has each of our children in twelve activities at a time. Don’t get me started on that.

But, still. I am a recovering couch dweller here people and I am simply trying to keep my head above water.

So, what happens to my kitchen floor?

Go back and read the title of this post. (Go ahead, I’ll wait…)

That’s right…before you know it, you have nine seconds to yourself and you casually make a stupid mistake and look down at your kitchen floor…like, really look at them. And after throwing up a little in your mouth, you know you must get to work.

As you’re sweeping, you can’t help but think, How did this happen? Did I not just clean this floor a couple weeks days ago? How did all this yuckiness build up so fast?

That’s the thing. Sometimes it doesn’t even look that bad at first…until you sweep it all up into piles. Like, multiple piles here, people. Not ah pile. We’re talkin’ my-ten-square-foot-kitchen-has-more-piles-that-it-does-tiles kind of dirty

You that way? Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

Lord knows I am. And remarkably He loves me anyway.

Cause, that’s right friend, I ain’t just talking about my kitchen floor.

I let my sin build up, too. Little by little, sometimes lot by lot until all of a sudden God lovingly brings something to my life to act as a Sovereign Swiffer to show me how these little sins have piled up to form one ginormous pile o’ yuck.

Sheesh. Where did all that sin come from? It didn’t look that bad at first.

And, if you are at all like me Lord help you, you stare at your big ol’ pile and you’re astonished to see so much grimy envy, honey worldly cheerios, and crumbs from every prideful word you’ve spoken and thought you’ve had.

What a mess!

How in the world did it get this bad?

Simple.

Sin and Satan.

Our enemy is real and he is pissed. He doesn’t get to go to heaven. Ever. And IF you have personally accepted Jesus as your Savior then he knows that you do get to go to heaven. For-ever. That would make me mad too, I guess. But, Satan’s one and ONLY goal is to steal, kill, and destroy the abundant life God has planned for us.

I’ve said it a million times…Satan isn’t trying to get you 180 degrees off course. He’ll settle for just 1 degree off from God’s plan. Ask anyone who’s ever sailed a boat. One degree makes all the difference in the world as to whether you get to your destination or not.

Ps. You don’t.

So, if Satan can’t have you for eternity, you can bet he’ll do all he can to make you completely ineffectual for Jesus while you are here on earth. Satan can’t be in God’s kingdom, so he doesn’t want you doing anything good for it while you’re here on earth.

I’ve heard it wisely said that “the enemy doesn’t have to try and get us to do his will, he just has to convince us to insist on our own.” Then he wins.

And, as my beloved pastor  of my awesome church, Bill Ramsey, says “The good news – you can have all of God that you want. The bad news – right now, you have about all of God that you really want.”

Ouch.

That one stings a lot little.

So, I said to myself, “Self, it’s the enemy’s fault. He gets the blame and I can move on.”

Nice try, Me.

Have you ever heard of a Bible guy named Paul? He puts it perfectly in his letter to the church in Rome.

You (and especially I) are partly to blame here.

We make choices.

We set priorities.

We make excuses.

We feel justified.

With each one, we pile up more yuck to be swept up at a later date. A more convenient date. Most of all, a date of our choosing.

Like, maybe when someone is coming over for a playdate. Dangit, now I have to sweep the kitchen!

That’s just exactly what so many Christians do before going to church. Gotta clean it up before we get around those other Christians, right?

Gross.

I had a sweet friend tell me once that she swept her kitchen floor after every single meal.

Not after every day…but every meal.

I laughed out loud.

Then, I realized she wasn’t kidding.

Hmm…maybe I’ll just serve one meal a week. Perfect.

My retarded reply – “Ugh. I hate sweeping! Don’t you? Why make yourself do that after every single meal?!”

Her reply was brilliant. Please get this, friend…

“I have to. If I don’t, things get completely out of hand!”

N-5. Bingo!

Reading a ten minute devotional in the morning ain’t enough for me. Maybe it is for you. If so, great! But, it is NOT enough for me! I guess my kitchen floor gets dirtier than other people’s in a shorter amount of time. No, I’m not bragging in my sin. I’m not rejoicing at the lost cause I may seem to be sometimes. I’m just telling you the truth.

Over these last few months of trying to get well, regain strength, run my home, cook meals (like, real ones!) do laundry, carpool, practice after practice, and still try to bless others who have blessed me – I’ve been desperately trying not to lose my intimate relationship with Jesus. And, friend, I’ve flat out blown it more times than I could tell you.

Pile after pile after pile.

But, you know what?

God’s sovereign Swiffer rocks!

He likes to sweep.

You know what else? He likes me clean.

He likes me when I’m unclean too, but He knows how much better my life is clean.

Not spotless, mind you. I ain’t even trying to project that type of image.

No way Jose.

What I am saying, is that, if you let Him, if you really truly with a humble heart, let Him – He’ll get you so clean inside, that you can’t help but want to sweep after every single meal.

It may not be fun. But, that’s life. Pruning ain’t fun. But, it’s necessary to bear more fruit. It is for His glory.

And, if it brings Him more glory for my floor to be clean, then so be it. I’ll sweep after every meal.

Yes, even me.

With the sin stuff. Not with my real kitchen. Sorry- ain’t happening.

Crappity Crap Crap

I am sure, when you were young, there were more than a few words deemed “bad words” in your home. Being that we were all raised differently, I doubt we’d have the exact same list of words. Yes, for the most part, our Moms probably didn’t drop the ‘f-bomb’ before breakfast, but other than that and a few others of its four-letter-word friends, our lists may be very different.

In my home now, we have my middle son, Benjamin, who acts as our very own ‘word police’. It’s a mystery how the kid can hear a bad word from across the house, yet can’t hear me yelling “Your shoes are right there!” when I’m standing right next to him. Go figure.

In Benjamin’s world of bad words, there are the three major offenders.

Obviously, there’s the s-word. He catches me on this one all the time.

(To my friend on the phone) “Oh I know, I was so stupid to even think I could fit into that dress—“ (from across the house) “MaaaaMaaa…we don’t say that word, remember!?!” “Yes Benjamin, thank you buddy!”

Then, there’s the h-word. Yes, I let this one slip all the time, too.

(To Ryan) “Ugh, I hate it when I can’t remember what I was about to say…” (from the backyard) “MaaaaMaaa…we don’t say that word, remember!?!” “Yes Benjamin, thank you buddy!”

Lastly, there’s the worst of all — the three word phrase. This one makes him gasp.

(To a friend) “If I don’t get at least seven hours of sleep, Oh my gosh, it will not be pretty!” (from down the street) “MaaaaMaaa…we don’t say that, remember!?!” “Yes Benjamin, thank you buddy!”

Sweet baby boy. Now if I could just get him to turn his dirty socks right side out, we’d call him trained.

In my home growing up, there was one word that truly drove my Mom nuts. It was frowned upon, gasped at, and pretty much forbidden for most of my life. (Hence the title of this post)

You guessed it. My major bad word growing up was – crap.

I’m not sure what the basis for her disgust was. I assume it’s due to the fact that during the height of the crap-word-using time in my life (middle school) she was not only raising a crap-sayer, but also teaching crap-sayers as well. I have a feeling it was just too much for her.

Either way, she didn’t like that word one bit.

I wish I could tell you that her distaste of the word ‘crap’ caused me to diligently train myself to use it no longer…but that would be a lie, and Jesus sees what I’m typing, so I’m keeping it real. That’s right, Jesus sees what I’m typing and thinking and the motives behind what I’m typing and thinking.

Crap.

(Sorry, Mom)

But, honestly, without breaking the ‘socially acceptable’ vulgar words that belong on the obscene list, crap isn’t all too bad. I personally didn’t see the point in her distaste, after all, it’s not like I was cussing.

Didn’t matter.

Mom hated, (MaaaaMaaa…) oops, I mean strongly disliked the word, and that was that.

Friend, unfortunately, it is still a word in my vocabulary. I am sort of working to cut off completely.

And, here I am, vnoashgsosh years after being a teenager in angst, yet I still resort to my old craptastic ways faster than you could spell…well, crap.

The only reason I bring all this up is because I have been trying for a week now to sit down and write this to you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed being in His presence when I do this thing. My personal spiritual relationship with Jesus has been, on my part, crappy. No other way to say it.

I have been so very busy.

Life has been so very crazy.

I have been so very lazy.

I didn’t want to write to you about this for lots of reasons. Beginning with pride and ending somewhere along the undisciplined track.

But, then it dawned on me that the enemy wins that way. Satan would love to keep us quiet, alone and afraid. He wants us to huddle up in the dark somewhere and not share anything with anyone about what we are going through.

Well take that, Satan! I am about to take my sin of pride, selfishness, envy, laziness, and worst of all, spending NO real quality time in His Word for the last few weeks and post it on the internet! Where, if desired, thousands of people can read it. So, ha! I hope that one hurt!

Anyway, my precious friend, the vision God has given me for this blog is, as always, to just keep it real with what I’m going through. And unfortunately, what has been real in my life lately is a bunch a worldy crap.

There you have it.

So, now I have confessed this mess to Jesus. And now I’ve admitted it to all of you.

I’m back.

Grace wins.

Satan loses.

Wahooo!

And now, dear friend, I would love for you to share with me how craptastic times have brought you down as well, but how God has redeemed them. The other vision He has given me for this blog is that this become like a little forum for us to do life together, laugh together and lift each other up while we lift up the name of Jesus.

So, please comment and let me know your crap and His good. Give Him glory and let’s build each other up. Right out here in the broad daylight. Let’s kick Satan in the groin with the purifying and forgiving grace of Jesus Christ.

Amen and amen.

(And Mom, I really am sorry about all the ‘c-words’…but it’s better than that UHaul story I could have told, right? That sure was a mighty big truck, huh Mom? 🙂 )

I Like Big Buts

It was eighth grade.

Do you remember eighth grade, my friend? I sure do.

The year was 1992.

I was boy crazy.

I was counting the days until my braces came off.

I was just beginning the slow fade toward moral questionability.

I was overly self-conscious and even more insecure.

I was popular and desperately wanted to stay that way.

And I liked big butts.

Not really.

But I did like the song.

Some silly grown man named himself Sir Mix-a-Lot and came out with an up-beat song my friends and I all loved, entitled “I Like Big Butts.” I am embarrassed to admit that even now, as a thirty-slnvnish year old woman, I can sing every word of that entire song. Thankfully, at the age of thirteen, I had no idea what ‘anaconda’ he was talking about, or what ‘hitting and quitting’ meant at all. I was so naïve then. I just loved the song.

I don’t recommend that you allow your children to listen to this song, FYI. In fact, as an adult, this is the song I remind myself of when I start to think; The songs kids listen to nowadays have gotten completely out of hand.

I agree they have. But, then I remember this song and I’m reminded that songs have been out of control since at least 1992. I’m guessing those of you who happen to be older than me would attest to it being true for longer than that.

So, anyway…back to eighth grade.

It was my friend Meredith’s birthday party and she had a sleepover. Totally rad.

A bunch of us stayed at her house and acted exactly as you’d expect a group of thirteen year old girls to act.

Silly. Dramatic. Loud. Giggly. Boy-crazy. And when bored – completely ridiculous.

At one point during our loud singing and dancing to our various mixed tapes, some wise soul suggested we grab Meredith’s parents’ camcorder and make our very own music video.

Brilliant.

We all knew we’d be back up dancers on MTV someday anyway, so why not start perfecting our ‘running man’ move now? The next song that came on the mixed tape was none other than “I Like Big Butts.”

Perfect choice.

Have you ever had a time in your adulthood where you look back at the stupidity of your youth and think, Oh dear Lord, I hope that doesn’t end up on Youtube someday!

This was my moment.

After hours of practicing and choreographing, it was time for wardrobe.

This was crucial.

There is no hidden meaning in this song. The guy liked big butts – period. Mainly, the song was about black girls having desirably large rear-ends and white girls not being able to compare. And while I distain when judgments of a person are distributed upon an entire group, Sir Mix-a-lot was correct when describing my friends and I.

We were five white girls, each with ‘an L.A. face but no Oakland booty.’

So what should we do, then?

Like, duh. Pillows.

We proceeded to pick out ridiculous clothing, mostly neon colored (obviously) and after appropriate amounts of Aqua Net and purple eyeliner, we stuffed Meredith’s parents’ couch pillows into the back of our pants. We needed junk in our trunk if this music video was ever going to get to the desk of Downtown Julie Brown.

The next hour was not my finest hour.

We danced. We gyrated. We had the ‘whip’ sounds perfected.

We were, in fact, the very coolest people we’d ever seen. Sike.

Our music video was a success.

We, however, were complete and utter fools.

Meredith went to a different high school than I did and we eventually lost touch. But, every single time I hear that song I’m reminded that I would literally pay her money to burn that video of me shaking my pillow-stuffed butt ‘like red beans and rice didn’t miss ya’.

Lovely.

So, this morning, during my quiet time, I was reminded of two separate times in the Bible where God showed His greatness with a few big BUTS.

I read them, saw how God transformed something, and said to myself, Wow! Those are some big BUTS.

Honestly, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way in my brain. But as soon as it did, I giggled like a thirteen-year-old and I was immediately flashed back to eighth grade. So, of course I had to confess it to you. Anyone else find it remarkable that God can speak to me through this stuff? I’m so like totally lame!

Anyway – that thought of God’s BIG BUTS sent me on an amazing search in His Word. And now I’m even more excited to share with you how our powerful God uses BIG BUTS to transform lives.

Take Joseph for example. Poor guy. He was the baby of the family with eleven big brothers who hated him. They got tired of his special dreams from God and they took the kid out to the middle of nowhere and sold him into slavery. Talk about some sibling rivalry. Sheesh.

Can you even imagine? Being a foreigner in a land, with no family or friends, feeling completely lost and alone. BUT, God was with Joseph. God protected him, blessed him, and raised him up as a leader of the entire land — as only God can do. I love it when God shows off like that, don’t you!?

Years later, Joseph was faced with his brothers, the very family who’d chosen to try and ruin and/or end his life. And what does Joseph say?

“You intended to harm me, BUT God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:20

Now, that’s a big BUT.

Then there’s Joshua. Talk about a brave dude. He and Caleb were one in a million. Literally. Of the estimated two million Israelites God saved from Pharaoh, Joshua and Caleb were the only two who stepped foot on the Promised Land. That’s right, Moses did not. Just these two guys and the next generation that grew up in the desert.

And when they got there, they continued to stand up for God. At this point, despite God’s faithfulness, so many of the Israelites had turned to worshipping idols. They’d adapted to the land and adopted the ways of the people there. So, Joshua assembled all of them together. He purposely recounted all the miracles of God and His faithfulness to His people.

They had a choice. Just like we have a choice. Joseph called these people to the carpet.

“BUT if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” Joshua 24:15

That final phrase hangs on the walls of Christian homes everywhere, including mine. But do we live it? Joshua feels like I feel – pick a stinkin’ team, people. If you’re not going to serve the Lord, then make your choice. BUT don’t fake it – don’t be wishy washy – pick a side now. BUT you can’t serve both.

That’s an eternity-changing BUT.

Then there’s Gideon. Oh friend, this is a good one – I could write a whole book about Gideon! He was raised up from the weakest clan and he himself admitted to be the weakest of that weak clan. He was asked by God to face an army too big to be numbered. In fact, the army he faced “settled in the valley thick as locusts. Their camels could no more be counted than the sand on the seashore” (Judges 7:12)

No big deal, eh? After all, Gideon had at least 32,000 men available to him, right? Well, yes, at first. Then God spoke up.

“BUT the LORD said to Gideon, “There are still too many men. Take them down to the water, and I will sift them for you there. If I say, ‘This one shall go with you,’ he shall go; but if I say, ‘This one shall not go with you,’ he shall not go.” (Judges 7:4)

God didn’t want anyone to try and take credit for His mighty work. So, God whittled down Gideon’s army until the odds were completely NOT in their favor. Do you know how many guys Gideon finally ended up with?

Three hundred.

That’s right, three hundred guys armed only with torches and trumpets.

That’s a big BUT.

Then there’s one of my favorites – Hannaniah, Mishael and Azariah. Have you heard of them? These poor teens were plucked away from their homes and all they knew to serve in the king’s court. They were thrown into a world full of customs, traditions and religions they didn’t know or agree with. They even lost their identities when their names were changed to Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Maybe now their names ring a bell?

Along with their best buddy, Daniel, these kids were asked to bow down and worship a golden idol. Although they knew the penalty for disobedience was death – they refused to obey. They looked right at the king at told him what’s what.

“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. BUT even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” Daniel 3:17-18

That, my friend, is life or death. BUTS don’t get bigger than that.

Oh wait, maybe they do…

Jesus came. Jesus healed. Jesus died.

And every one of his followers were devastated. You can’t blame them. We now have the gift of hindsight through Scripture to assure us of the end of the story. But, these people looked directly into the eyes of Jesus. They saw His smile. They literally heard what His voice sounded like. They witnessed the blind see. They saw the dead raised. And then they saw their Savior killed.

Grief is overwhelming. We all face it differently. Some of us weep. Some of us question. Some of us get angry or bitter or depressed. Some of us do all of the above.

Mary Magdalene gained much through Jesus’ saving grace. So, as you can imagine, she lost much at His death. In her grief and mourning, she and her friends went to the tomb of her Savior. At the tomb, they found the biggest BUT mankind would ever know.

“They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, BUT when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.” Luke 24:2-3

Amen and amen to that! That big BUT flat out saves my life, friend. And yours too, if you allow it.

Satan thought he’d won, BUT God showed him otherwise.

Death had a sting, BUT it only lasted three days.

Jesus died. BUT my friend, He didn’t stay dead.

That tomb was full, BUT it didn’t stay that way.

And that’s not even where the story ends.

Jesus ascended into heaven, BUT that’s not the last we’ll see of Him.

Acts 1:11 (BUT) They also said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come again in just the same way as you have watched Him go into heaven.”

That truth of His return gives us hope when things seem hopeless.

When we don’t feel strong enough to forgive, like Joseph did. BUT, God gives us strength.

When others stand against us for what we know is right, like they did to Joshua. BUT God gives us courage.

When we face hot situations that seem impossible to survive, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. BUT God gives us faith.

When we face battles we feel completely incapable of fighting, like Gideon. BUT God gives us victory.

When loss is great, and hope seems like a distant memory, as it did for Mary Magdalene. BUT God gives us His peace.

When life on this earth seems too evil and the enemy seems to win. BUT God gives us a promise.

Our God is the God of BIG BUTS. He alone has the power. He alone deserves the glory. He alone is God.

May His Truth soak so deeply into your soul, there is nothing left for you to do BUT give Him praise!

 

Romans 5:8 “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Romans 6:23 “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Phil 3:12 “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”

Phil 3:20 “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ,”

1 John 1:7 ” But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”