Last week, my writer friend J.C. Wert wrote a blog post about Steve Fee.  When he wrote it, I thought it reminded me of the Third Day song “Wire.”  When I went to blog about that, I found out that–surprise, surprise–I’d already written the blog.  So to continue the discussion Jason started, a repost from last year…

Well, yesterday I made the seven-and-a-half-hour drive from North Carolina back to Georgia. This makes three trips in three months. The first was vacation to visit my family, the second was when my grandmother died, and this one was to see my brother graduate from the fire academy. (Everybody say, “Way to go, Matt!” So proud of him!) I have to say it… I love my family absolutely to pieces and enjoy the time I get to spend with them, but I’m really getting tired of the drive. Usually I love it. Three times in three months? Not so much.

Anyway, for the drive, I’ve decided that the iPod is the greatest thing ever. For Christmas, my husband bought me a car stereo that hooks up to my iPod and lets me control the music through the radio. Nice. Now I’m all iPod, all the time when it comes to those trips. Yesterday, I put the thing on random and let it go where it would.

And it played lots and lots of Third Day, of course, since I think (next to maybe Paul McCartney) I have more Third Day songs than anything else on there. I said all of that to say that I got to hear their song “Wire” for the first time in a long time. (I’ve been listening to “Revelation” and “Live Revelations” lately.)

If you’ve never heard “Wire,” it’s a great song. (It sort of reminds me of DC Talk’s “What If I Stumble.”) It’s a fine line we walk every day. You can be a singer, an artist, a teacher, a parent, a friend, or a writer. We have to talk a wire. We live in the world, but we are not of the world, and it can get confusing. Where’s the line? What do we do? How do we speak of God in a way that reaches others without driving them away? How do we handle it when we make a mistake?

What if we stumble?

A lot is said when Christians slip and fall. Everybody trips, and the more publicly it happens, the more it is talked about. Sadly, the world (and even some Christians) prefer to “watch [someone] fall” instead of catching them. It’s almost like it makes us feel better,  makes us feel a little proud that we weren’t the ones who landed in the mud. We judge our muck by someone else’s. “Hey, look! They fell in that red Georgia clay that will never wash off of them. They’re stained forever. At least mine’s only pond scum. It’ll come right off. If I ever decide to take a bath, that is…”

It’s time for us to make the choice to reach out. Our friends, our family members, our spiritual leaders–and yes, even we–will fall to varying degrees.  The thing to do is not to stand back and watch the spectacular crash, then talk about how horrible they are and how much better we are. The thing to do is to reach out and catch the falling one, not let them smack the ground without a hand to lift them up.

I sure hope someone will do the same for me and you…

JB

Time for Week 4 of the Word Wednesday Challenge! We’re choosing our favorite verses from each book of the Bible and talking about them.  Come join us.  This week… Numbers.  (And no, Numbers is not all about arithmetic…)

Numbers: 6: 24-26 (NIV)–The LORD bless you, and keep you; the LORD make His face shine on you, and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace.

I’m going to be honest with you.  There is no deep, theological thought behind my favorite verse this week.  This one is very, very personal.  If you need deep, I apologize and ask you to come back on Friday.  Or browse the archives.

When I was pregnant with our daughter, a good friend sent me some songs that she said God had impressed upon her while she prayed for our family.  I used to listen to those songs on a walkman (pre-iPod days!) with dual speaker jacks.  I had one set of headphones on, and I put the other set of headphones on my stomach for her to hear.  It was cool mommy-daughter time before I could hold her..

One of the songs was Numbers 6: 24-26 set to music.  I can’t tell you but one or two other songs my friend sent, but that one stuck with me.  And every night, when we tuck our daughter into bed, either my husband or I sing that song to her.  I can still remember the first time she sang it along with us.  She was so tiny it took me a few notes to figure out that she was singing along in toddler words.  So awesome.  I really wish I had that on tape.

So, that’s why this is my favorite verse in Numbers.  I love the fact that God’s eyes are always on my daughter and that He surrounds her with His peace, love, and grace.  What could be more awesome than that?

So, take a stroll through Numbers this week.  What verse does God impress on you?  Share it in the comments or blog about it yourself.  (Leave us a link below and link back here.)  Can’t wait to see what y’all have to say!

-JB

Once again, in church, God hit me.  (I am so in the right church, by the way.  Thank you, Lord, for that!)  And it wasn’t because we sang this song.  After today though, I’m wondering if God would allow me to sing, “I am free to be stupid on occasion,” even though that doesn’t quite fit the beat.  It fits me.

The preacher spoke on healing today, specifically on the healing of the unnamed woman in Luke 13: 10-17.  At first, I sort of half paid attention.  I’m good.  Nothing to be healed of here.  Perfectly fine, thanks.  And then  Pastor Steve focused on the words in verses 11 and 16 that indicate her infirmity was not just physical, it was also spiritual.  And I realized what an ungrateful child I am.  Ungrateful, unwilling to tell the story, unable to live in victory because I’m still looking backwards.

God healed me folks.  On my birthday, in 2001, he healed what had been pure suffering.  Just like that, it was over.  I had begged, prayed, pleaded, cried, shouted, raged, and screamed at God for nine long years.  And in His absolute perfect timing, He reached out His hand and delivered me.  It’s a feeling that goes beyond description.  What did he take from me?  Abject terror.  Fear so crippling that for several months in 1992 I refused to walk out my front door.  And when I did, it was medication that got me there, even though the fear always lurked inside me.  Unless you’ve suffered panic attacks, you can’t imagine.  I know, because in high school, we watched an interview with a woman who suffered that way.  I rolled my eyes and thought, “Geez, lady.  Just buck up and open the stupid front door.”  I never knew I’d be the one battling  in just a few short months.  If you’ve never had a panic attack, imagine hiding in a dark closet while person with a knife twists the door knob.  It’s that kind of fear response but for no reason whatsoever.

Today, God reminded me that I have been healed.  I am free.  That fear has no power over me anymore.  The problem is, when I was living in fear, I had this need to control everything.  To plan ahead and know all the answers and  make sure I knew all of my “outs.”  And even though God healed me, I’ve still allowed my brain to spin that way.  There’s no fear behind it, but there is a definite lack of surrender.    Today, I gave that up.  God’s got the power, and I am free to go out and be the person who he called me to be, standing upright and walking in faith.  Thank you, Jesus!

-JB

Reposting this as I near the end of a third book and look back at the first.  This time, these thoughts came in the middle, but I have a friend who made me think of this recently…

C’mon, y’all. You knew Third Day had to show up some time. It’s been awhile since the post on “Creed.” Since God’s been whopping me over the head with “This Is Who I Am” pretty much since the first time I heard it (and more than ever today), I figured it was time.

And, yes, it’s the ringtone on my cell phone. Glad you asked. I go back and forth between this one and Brandon Heath’s “I’m Not Who I Was.” Sensing a theme yet?

So, anyway, not only is “This Is Who I Am” a pretty rockin’ song, it’s got the great line, “This is who I am. So take me and make me something so much more.”

Every time I hear the song, I think, YES! I am all of these things but, Jesus, make me something so much more! Build me into the image YOU have for me.

Here’s why this is today’s post, though. I sat here last night until nearly one in the morning, doing the very last thing on my manuscript before I do the very last read-through. There are “weasel words” in our writing. Words like just, suddenly, that… Let’s just say (see that “just”?) there were over 1,200 “that” weasel words in my manuscript when I started. It took two hours to whittle it down to 471. And in the middle of the searching and replacing, something happened.

I grew to hate my book. By midnight, I hated it with a furious passion. I mean it. I could have deleted that puppy right off of my computer and sung songs of joy because I’d never have to look at it again. I started having fantasies. Ooh, I can scrap the book and go back to teaching and make real money again. Or, or… maybe one of the Christian bookstores in town is hiring and I can work for them. Or… I can wait tables again; tips aren’t bad sometimes. Or… I wonder if they’d pay me to scrape the scum off of the pond near our house? (Okay, so it didn’t go quite that far.) At midnight last night, I’d have done just about anything other than put another word in that book–or any book ever. I absolutely hated it, hated the act of writing, hated my desk chair, hated my computer, hated it ALL. (It’s been coming on for a while now. Last week, a friend of mine from high school found me on Facebook and said she couldn’t wait to read my book. I told her I couldn’t wait to STOP reading my book.)

I went to bed with my happy little non-writer fantasies. When I woke up this morning and looked at myself in the mirror, I heard Cec Murphy’s voice in my head. (If you were at Ridgecrest, you know where this is going, don’t you?) If you can quit… quit. Here’s the thing: I can’t quit. Even if God said it was okay to go back to “regular” work, I’d still be a writer at heart. I’d still have stories stirring in me. I’d still ache to put words on paper.

This is who I am. I am a writer. God put me together this way. He built me to take letters, make them into words, mold them into sentences, and craft them into stories. Since I was able to write my own name, I’ve been a writer. I’ve never been anything else, even when I was doing other things. There is no quitting. It’d be like stuffing my ears with cotton and trying to listen the birds sing. It just wouldn’t work. To quit would be to deny who I am, would be essentially to kill a part of me.

What happened? Why did I hate my book so much? Because I lost focus. Somewhere in the editing process, it became MY book. Ah, but it’s not mine. It’s never been mine. It’s God’s. I tried to take it away from Him. I stopped listening to Him when He told me what to put in and what to leave out. My eyes were off of my God and on my self. Not good. Never good.

I am a writer. God, this is who I am. Take me and make me something so much more.

JB

Wow.  I can’t believe it’s Wednesday again!  If you’re visiting for the first time, we’re choosing our favorite verses from each book of the Bible. It’s week three… Leviticus!  I’ve been looking forward to this, because Leviticus is not the easiest book.

Leviticus 26:7-8 (NIV)–You will pursue your enemies, and they will fall by the sword before you. Five of you will chase a hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will fall by the sword before you.

Now, I realize this was spoken to the Israelites in a literal sense, but I also believe God had a dual meaning for us today.  We are in a spiritual battle.  Sadly, I don’t think enough Christians truly believe that.  I feel we’ve forgotten that God has given us His power and granted us victory over the forces of darkness, which we battle ever day (Ephesians 6:12).  Can you imagine what would happen if we as Christians truly banded together and truly fought our enemy?  What would happen in the church?  In the nation?  In the world?

This verse means a lot to me, because it reminds me that God has given us victory.   We have power through the Holy Spirit.  And we have even more power when we are unified.  Notice the exponential increase in these verses as we war together.

Here’s another thing (and it could be a stretch, but I believe it with all of my heart), God doesn’t “accidentally” use words.  I don’t think he looks back and says, “Huh.  Isn’t that a neat coincidence how I said those two similar things.” Notice that our enemies fall by “the sword.”  Check out Ephesians 6:17 (NIV):  Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. When we learn to pray the Word of God, oh, how God moves!  Can’t we, as a church, take that to heart and take back some spiritual ground in this country?

Now it’s your turn.  Share your favorite verse in Leviticus in the comments.  And if you’re blogging, add a link here and link back to us on your blog.  Let’s discuss.  Draw your sword!

-JB

Seriously.  I’ve already been laughed at for the better part of Sunday.  Even my family, who should have at least shown a little concern, has gotten some good guffaws out of me today.  But I think the last laugh went to God, because He showed me something about answered prayer that I never expected to see in my little Sunday morning adventure.

My daughter (who turned seven on Friday), wanted to see the Perseids shower.  I set the alarm for 3:15 and we climbed out of bed and headed for the deck.  As I pulled the door shut behind us, I realized something sort of important.  Bet you can guess right now what it was.  Yep.  The door was locked.  So there we are, at 3:15 AM, in our pajamas, stuck outside of the house with the dog.  Hm.  Now, our neighbor has a key for such emergencies, but it didn’t seem quite fair to go ringing her doorbell at 3:15 on a Sunday morning and dragging her, her kids, and her dogs out of bed.  Well, we were going to be outside watching meteors anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt to lay on our deck chairs for a couple of hours longer, right?  She gets up at 6:30, so it wasn’t like we’d be trapped outside forever.

Not a bad idea.  Until…  it started to lightning.  Okay.  Fine.  At this point, we trekked around to the truck (which, I truly thank God for this, has a keypad on the door) and looked for something to spring the back door lock with.  Tried a CD, since that was all we had.  Yeah.  No go.  Too brittle.  Lightning’s getting closer.  Guess we’ll sleep in the truck.  (Are we having fun yet?) Dozed until just after sunrise when my daughter sat up and said, “Hey, look!  At the end of the road!  There’s a dog that looks just like ours!”  Nope.  That was our dog.  He managed to escape the backyard, collarless, and was taking a tour of the neighborhood.  At 6:00 in the morning.  Guess who had to traipse up the road in their pj’s to collar said animal?  Oh, the joy.

But, all’s well that end’s well.  Our neighbor came out early to get her paper, we faced her poorly-concealed laughter, and decided that, since we were up anyway, we might as well go to early church.  End of story.

Or, is it?  Because, you see, I can have a bit of a temper when I’m not in control.  I get frustrated.  The levels go off the charts until I snap and either accuse, yell, or cry.  And I’ve been doing some praying about that–in fact, I’ve been begging Him to make some changes in me–but frankly, the results haven’t been so great.  Until last night.  God sort of stopped me when I was getting ready for church and said, “Did you notice that?  You never got mad.  You never blamed anybody.  You never stomped your feet or cried or got scared or any of that stuff.  In fact, if you admit it, you kind of sort of found the whole thing very amusing.”  Hm.  True.  All true.  And it wasn’t because I fought to stay in control, it was because there was nothing I could do but accept the situation.  I got really excited.  Not because I did something, but because God did.  God answered my prayer.  Can I say that again?  God answered my prayer. I love, love, love when there is a tangible answer, one I can put my finger on and say, “That’s IT!”

Want to hear the ultimate irony?  After all of that, guess how many meteors we saw.  Uhm, zero.  And do you know what our daughter said?  “Camping out in the truck was so much fun!”  I think my friend Christina had it right.  She’ll remember that forever.  Thank you God, for a pretty cool (and yes, funny) memory.

-JB

I started to title this “Proud Recipient of a Holy Spirit Smackdown.”  Then I thought about it.  Probably, getting chastised by God isn’t something to be proud of.

This morning, around 6:20, I was running my mouth on the phone.  (Yes.  I get phone calls at dawn on occasion.  Those of you who know me aren’t surprised.  And please, none of you try calling me before, oh 10:00.  Love you, will talk to you later in the day.)  Anyway, I was blabbering away when, suddenly… I heard myself.  The words coming out of my mouth reached my ears.

Know what I wanted to do when I heard what I was saying?  Cry.  I wanted to put the phone down, throw myself at the feet of Jesus, and cry.

It’s no coincidence that a good friend, in a totally unrelated discussion, brought up Ephesians 4:29 earlier this week, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”  God was all over that.

When I was on the phone, I was talking about a legitimate problem, but the way my words formed did not foster a solution.  My words could only make the problem worse.  Anger and frustration birthed criticism, hypcorisy, self-righteousness, and arrogance in me.  Instead of going to God and saying, “I’ve got an issue,” I went to myself and figured out that “perfect” me could fix everything if the nincompoops around me would just listen.  Oh, how wrong. How very, very wrong.

For the first time in a long time, I felt the weight of God’s conviction.  It hurt.  It hurt to get on my knees and admit my wrong.  It hurt to know my spirit had sunk so low.  It hurt to realize the same things I criticized in others live and breathe in me. It hurt to know I’d let everything but edification spew out of my mouth.  It still stings, like when you bang your toe and it takes a few seconds for the pain to dial all the way up to 11.  I had to ask God for help, to change the way I think, because the way I think is wrong.

If you catch me criticizing somebody, stop me.  Hold me accountable.  And if that’s your issue, ask God for help.  Believe me, He’s more than willing to walk that road with us and lift our heads again.  I thank God He is so merciful, even when we least deserve it!

-JB

It’s Wednesday again!  In case you’re new here, we’re taking out our Bibles and choosing our favorite verses from each book, one week at a time.  This week is Exodus and, for me, one of my favorite verses in the Bible, because it absolutely blows me right out of reality every time I read it.

Exodus 24:11 (NAS)–Yet He did not stretch out His hand against the nobles of the sons of Israel; and they saw God, and they ate and drank.

Before we go further, note that the New Living Translation says, “they ate a covenant meal, eating and drinking in his presence!”  Oh my gracious, y’all.  The leaders of Israel went up the mountain, sat down, looked upon the One and Only Almighty God and had a meal with Him.  Seriously.  Think about this, they ate a meal with God.

I had a hard enough time grasping reality when I got to hear President Bush speak in person. And he was just the leader of this nation.  I cannot imagine eating and drinking with God.  My God.  My Father.  That makes my heart beat so hard my fingertips start to tingle.  And the best part is, we get to do that one day too.  This verse just turns me into a big ol’ kid.  To look upon God.  And not just to look upon Him, but to share a meal with Him.  How personal!  How incredible.  The thought is almost too big for me to think.

So before I gush any more, how about you?  Take a peek at Exodus and leave a comment here on the blog with your favorite Exodus verse.  If you’re blogging along with us, leave a link to your blog in the comments section and a link back here on your page.  Can’t wait to see what everyone has to say this week.  And thanks for sharing!

-JB

This has happened to me more times than I care to count at this point.  I’ll be bouncing along, listening to a song I’ve heard, oh, ten million times before, when God changes the words on me.

Okay, so he doesn’t actually change the words, but He makes me hear them in a whole new way.  Usually, it’s the exact way I needed to hear them in that instant.  He did that to me a couple of days ago with the Michael W. Smith song “Never Been Unloved.” Go take a listen right quick.

I really do love that song, and have for many years.  The first time I heard it years and years ago, I was simply impressed that there are so many un- words out there.  And then I just grew to love the song, because the message really is awesome.

But it finally spoke to my heart and not just to my head.  I’ve heard several times over the past week or so, “We know God loves us, but sometimes we’re not so sure He likes us.”  That had been pricking at me, and then the random function on my (apparently anointed) iPod brought around the MWS song.  I actually hit my knees before the first verse was halfway through just to let God speak to me.  Of all the “un” things I have been and still am in my life (unreachable, unmerciful, unfair, unsure, etc.), God has never not loved me.  I can do any number of horrible things.  I can sin “big” or I can sin “small,” but God will never, ever, ever stop loving me.  Ever.  There’s not a thing I can do to make Him stop.  If I got up from this computer right now and begged Him to stop loving me, He wouldn’t.  Whether I am worthy or not… Whether I am faithful or not… Whether I am loving Him back or not…  Whether I am serving Him or not…  Whether I am walking in His will or not… Whether I am climbing the mountain or sliding down at breakneck speed, He is going to keep right on loving me.  No more, no less, always the same.

All of those un- words.  All of those sins.  All of those failures…  Yet we have never been unloved.

-JB

(I originally posted this in February, but yesterday, I realized how I’ve put God in a box.  I’ve made Him less than Who He is because I have stopped realizing how powerful, awesome, incredible, unbelievable He is.  And I needed the reminder…)

I can’t stop thinking about Chris Tomlin’s “How Great Is Our God.”

I just don’t get it. The other night, I was reading Exodus and it smacked me right between the eyes.

I really don’t get it.

God is great. Oh, that’s easy to say. Even the smallest child can start a dinner blessing that way. But what does it mean? We’ve grown jaded by those three words. We fail to understand what they really mean. We don’t get just how great He is.

He is so great there aren’t even words for Him. He is so powerful we can’t even fathom His power.

And yet… we treat Him like a nursery rhyme. “God is great.”

For a second the other night, I got it. For a flash, as I read about the required sacrifices of the Old Testament and thought about all of the things God demanded of His chosen people, I understood it. He demanded all of that–and could have demanded so much more–because He is that great. With our New Testament relationship with Him, I think we sometimes take Him for granted. He has made it so easy for us to come to Him that we start to think that He Himself is easy and commonplace.

Oh, but He is not. I’m overwhelmed by Him right now, to the point I can barely type this. He is great. Amazing. He is so much more than I can imagine, so much more than I can even adequately praise. He is so much more…