Happy Birthday to Me: A Challenge to Be a Good Kind of Tired

     I’m writing this at the age of 28 years old.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started doing this thing when it gets close to my birthday.  I’ll randomly say aloud, “I’m 28.”  (Or whatever age I am at the time).  I think a part of me is nervous about getting older and another wants to try to remember exactly how it feels to be that age. In a strange way, verbalizing my age helps me feel focused. It makes me feel focused on the present, challenged by the future, and motivated by my past.

     Stubbornness and diligence are two of my strongest characteristics.  Stubbornness is a family trait and diligence is something I’ve always hoped to exhibit, as it is the very definition of my name. But being driven has become a huge part of my makeup in the last ten years of my life as well.  There are so many things that I hope to be able to accomplish and so many places I long to traverse. Sometimes, if I look too far ahead of where I am, I feel overwhelmed. So, I try to focus my mind on being present in the present. My Granddaddy always used to say, “Life is short, even at it’s longest.”  The fact that my Daddy only lived to be age 50 is the greatest driver in my life.  I don’t want to waste the time that God has given me upon this earth no matter how long or short it may be.   I want it to be jam-packed with adventure, love, friends I’ve collected along the way, stories, and impact for the Kingdom of Christ. 

     I want to be that good kind of tired at the end of my days. You know, like when you’ve had a long day’s work, but know that things you were investing your time and energy in were worthy of the exhaustion you feel.  I want to be like my 90 year old Mimi, who has had all of the things I mentioned that I want and is finally admitting that she is tired, but doesn’t mind much because she knows her time has been well spent. Like Mimi has done with us, I want to sit in my rocking chair and tell stories of God’s faithfulness to my grandchildren, of all the places He’s taken me and of the people He’s brought into my life while writing my piece of His Story. 

     I turn 29 on Thursday.  I have no idea what sort of a mile marker this is in my life. For all I know, it could mark a third of my life, the halfway post, or even then end of my days.  Only God knows that. “All the days for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:16) But you know what I can do about the days that I have remaining in my life bank? I can make each one count.  “Teach us to number our days aright; that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12)  I’m bound to mess up along the way…in all probability quite a bit.  There’s nothing that can change the fact that I am a flawed human by my own nature. But through the power of Christ, I can gain a heart of wisdom that shows me what is worthy of capturing my time each day I’m given as I am transformed into who He intended me to be from the start.

     What’s the best way to gain a heart of wisdom? By taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5).  Every action I take is preceded by a thought from my brain.  My aim is to lasso those notions and check them against what God’s Word says before I decide to invest my time in them.  By doing this, my heart will grow wiser and wiser as it becomes more in tune with God’s direction for my story.  He’s the author. I’m just one of His characters.

This last year of my 20’s is just as good as any to keep living out what The Author and Perfector of my faith…my story… has in mind for me.  So with that, I’ll wish myself a, “Happy Birthday,” because it’s happy indeed. It’s happy because my Creator has filled it with hope, promise and the challenge to be a good kind of tired by the time I reach the final page He pens for my life.

I Had a Dream

    

     When I think of Valentine’s Day, I think of Red Roses.  Last Thursday, as I gazed at the beautiful red roses my husband had surprised me with a couple days before the big celebration of love day; I remembered a very vivid dream that I had a few years ago.  It was during my last year of college…the night of the two-year anniversary of my Daddy’s home going to Heaven. My friends/roommates, Annie and Phoebe, had gotten me a dozen beautiful red roses.  If you know much about me, you know that I was an English major.  Pretty much all my time was spent reading, writing, or researching during those days.  At the time, I was enrolled in a class called, “The English Novel.”  In it, we had been talking about “The Feast of Love.”

     And that night I had a dream….

     I was at my mom’s house in North Carolina.  My English Novel professor was having a potluck there.  She asked me to go set the table as fancily as I could. So, I set it with a pure white tablecloth, the vase of red roses that Phoebe and Annie had given me, fine china, and beautiful silverware.  Then my professor asked me to see what was missing.  “Oh, of course- the invitation,” I replied. Then she asked me to take a second look to see what else was missing. I said, “Oh, the guest book.” So I brought the guest book with one regular pen and one permanent pen.  She then asked me the question, “What is this dinner a picture of?”

     “The Feast of Love?” I responded.   We had recently been discussing that theme in The English Novel. She said, “Close.  It represents the feast of Christ.” She went on to say that the invitation I had placed on the table represented our personal invitations from Christ to His feast. In order to get to this beautiful banquet, we must accept His invitation. 

     Then she asked, “What do you notice about the pens and the guest book?” I said, “Why, one is a regular pen and the other is permanent.”  She responded by saying, “Right. You see, the pen with permanent ink is the one that God uses to write your name in The Book of Life once you accept the invitation to His feast.”

     As the conversation went on, more symbolism unfolded from the centerpiece of red roses and the white tablecloth.  The roses were in the middle of the spotless tablecloth to remind us that it is by Christ’s blood that we are made pure as white snow. 

     Over six years have passed since I’ve had this dream, yet I still remember it as vividly as ever.  I am a dreamer.  I still remember precise details in dreams from when I was a little girl. I really believe God uses them in my life to help me process things with no distractions around.  Sometimes I think that when we are told in Acts 2:17 that, “In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams,” I’m one of those young people with those visions. I don’t want to sound all mystical here.  I just want to say that I’m thankful God gives me these beautiful dreams which are so realistic and packed full of truth. 

     He HAS invited me to dine at His banquet table with Him. His blood HAS made me white as snow.  He HAS written my name in permanent ink in The Book of Life.  He invites you to dine at His beautifully decorated banquet table accompanied with symbols of His love for you and the celebration that He has welcomed you to participate in. He desires to write your name in permanent ink upon the pages of His distinguished guest book.  Have you accepted His invitation? There’s a feast He’s preparing that you don’t want to miss.  I hope to see you there.  If you’re not sure how to RSVP to His invitation, let me know. I’d love to help show you how to get there.

Revelation 19:9

“Then the angel said to me, “Write: ‘Blessed are those

 who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!” 

And he added, “These are the true words of God.” 

Freshly Fallen Transformation

     It’s mid February and we’ve been without our radiator heat for four weeks come tomorrow.  Thankfully, it’s nearly fixed.  We’ve made do with an electric blanket, round the clock fires, and a few electric space heaters.  It has snowed every week since we’ve lost heat.  So, as a person who is home more often than most, the cold has been on my mind quite a bit.  Sometimes it has even been colder inside our house than outside.  Despite our shivering limbs, we have welcomed the snow every time.  Why? Because it’s beautiful.  It’s almost magical.

     The first batch of snow this year was the heaviest.  As we slipped and slid home, I gazed at the world around us, which had been transformed by shimmering flakes of white.   I began to observe that blankets of snow have a tendency to make things beautiful.  Shanty houses and mansions alike were cloaked with the pure radiance of the snow, making them equally beautiful because of the identical apparel they donned. 

     The objects underneath all had different stories.  Standing alone, some were beautiful works of art and architecture, with few flaws to show. Yet others were broken down places where life was not quite as vibrant as it was once.  Perhaps some of those dilapidated dwellings were even the nicest abodes known to the town in days gone by, but their beauty had long been forgotten.  Nevertheless, all of the places were none quite as beautiful as when they had the beautiful white, sparkling shrouds draped upon them.

     Covered. A world that was covered. Covered with beauty for all who passed by to behold. 

     Covered. That’s what I am.  Covered by the blood of Jesus transformed into a brilliant robe of righteousness.  Me. As I am. Covered. Transformed.  I may remember what it looked like underneath before He came to cover me, but He doesn’t.  He just sees pure, clean beauty that has transformed a life in need of it. 

     When Christ puts His robes of righteousness on us, the unsightly repairs that we are desperately in need of are veiled with comeliness. Maybe we had a touch of beautiful in us before that was unseen because of all the ugliness surrounding it. Maybe there was nothing beautiful about us. Regardless, when we open the package of His righteousness, put it on, and replace any notions of goodness we had about ourselves with His Goodness, He makes us beautiful. He makes us new when we are wearing His garments.  The old fades away, and we are given a fresh appearance and identity…white and pure as freshly fallen snow.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” 2 Corinthians 5:17

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3: 11

Lights.Camera.Superbowl.Lights Out.

     

     I suppose they tried to teach us a little bit about every sport in grade school P.E. so that when faced with watching or participating in these events we wouldn't be totally clueless. I remember when our P.E. Teacher had us learning about and playing football. I remember fun phrases like "button hook" and "third down." But I have no idea what they mean today. While watching a bunch of burly men playing this game, though, I like to pretend that I know what sort of pass or play they're performing. I mean, it must have something to do with sewing if you ask me...like a button being sewn on by the "hook" motion of the needle and thread? So I try to find situations that look close to that and I think to myself, "Boy, that sure was a nice button hook." (Disclaimer: I am a basketball girl and I DO understand those rules and plays. But everything else in sports...I'd give myself anywhere between a B & an F grade-wise depending on whichathletic event it is.)

     As I watched the Super Bowl this past Sunday night, I got teary eyed during America The Beautiful and The National Anthem. Now, I must say that I usually do get misty during patriotic songs anyway. But throw the Sandy Hook Elementary School Choir in there just months after some of their precious school mates' lives were extinguished and that made for a major sobbing mess for this girl.

     For some reason it struck me this year that this big silly event is something that we take for granted as Americans. Die hard football connoisseurs and novices alike come out to celebrate this tradition, which has been woven into the fabric of our culture. There are people all over the realm of creation who don't get the chance to enjoy the freedom to just sit back and gather together both live and by satellite to enjoy a sporting event like this. Many people around the world would just love to come out of hiding and enjoy a breath of the air of freedom, let alone join in the camaraderie of boisterously cheering for the team of their choice.

     I love the fact that the lights went out mid game this year. It was a beautiful reality check. It was also hilarious. Suddenly, as we saw the players of each team sprawled out stretching all their muscles in whatever unflattering position they wished right there in front of millions of people, it didn't seem so serious. Though what we were all watching prior to these moments was an amazing experience of fun for the fans and giving it your all as a player who strives for victory and accolade, I was reminded that it is just a game. At the end of the day, somebody wins and somebody looses. The lights inevitably go out and everyone heads home for bigger and better things. Things that hold more weight in the scheme of eternity. The every day mundane things that no one may ever cheer for, but make a difference nonetheless.

     What kind of lights out experience have you encountered to bring you back to reality? 

     In the middle of a fight with your spouse, did you feel a check in your spirit that you should shut up and move away from that argument because you realized you've been blessed by this person's lifelong companionship and a love that you both have committed is worthy to fight for, which so many long for?

     In the middle of complaining about your job did you get an email asking for prayer for a friend who just lost their job and has no prospects on the horizon? 

     In the middle of feeling like you're at the end of your wits because your kids are working your nerves, did your heart sink when you heard of a loved one who just lost a baby in a miscarriage?

     In the middle of loosing power temporarily, did you pause before you shouted about it when you remembered your friends in Africa who have no electricity or access to clean water?

     When all you had to eat was PB&J or Ramen Noodles, did a Holy hush come down on you when your mind wandered to the thousands of people who will go t bed hungry tonight?

     These lights out moments are good. They are moments to remind us of how much we have to be grateful for- big and small- and the tasks that are most important for us to advocate for with the bulk of our strength and time. What sort of action do these Holy hush kind of moments spur you on to do?

     Here's a secret. In those lights out moments, find the causes that are most apt to expose The Light of The World to others. Light shines most brightly in the darkness. If you do this, you'll find much more victory than any athlete has ever gained from a title championship. These moments are full of opportunities to shine a candle of truth, grace, mercy, and love during dark times. When the lights of this life are snuffed out and you transition into the city that needs no lamp, you'll see the rewards of the true victory you've come to not only from the salvation you received undeservedly, but also from the fruits that your salvation brought about. As you step into that beautifully illuminated place, you'll see that The Light of The World makes all other flickers unnecessary. And you'll find that as it turns out, the twinkles you've radiated during your days on earth were actually reflections of glory ablaze.