by Barb Roose | May 16, 2014 | Reflections
Is there ONE thing that your kids need more than anything else? Okay, other than Jesus. Yes, I believe that all kids need Jesus. You do, too. But, outside of a relationship with Christ, what else does your child need in order to succeed in life?
In a word: RESOURCEFULNESS
When my oldest daughter got her driver’s license, that was my cue to stop taking my kids school shopping. (It wasn’t like that task was on my top 10 exciting tasks of the year.) At that point I realized that I had three smart kids that could do basic math and one of those kids could drive the other two. So, I tossed my oldest daughter my debit card and wished my little Roosters success on their school shopping mission.
As I stood in the door and watch them drive away, not knowing if they would do it right or if they would screw it up. I just knew that they needed to do this on their own.
Did they shop differently than I would have? Yep. But, that’s okay. They loved the freedom to make their own decisions and they gained confidence in accomplishing something really important.
Years later, my girls are used to school shopping on their own. In fact, my youngest daughter shopped by herself with confidence because she’s been doing it for years. Pretty cool.
Many years ago, I was a helicopter parent. I wanted my girls to be well-prepared and well-protected in this crazy, tricky world. I figured that since I could see danger or difficulty miles down the road, it was my job to steer my kids away from any and all bad decisions, mishaps and mistakes. That’s what good mamas do, right?
Then, one day I envisioned myself as a 70-year old woman with three 40-50 year old daughters asking me if they should pack peanut butter or turkey sandwiches for lunch. At that point, I realized it was time for a change. I had to land that helicopter on the ground and get out! It took a few years (and some professional therapy) to let go of my helicopter-mama ways. It was a struggle – but my girls’ lives depended on it!
My daughters needed to develop resourcefulness and it could only be developed if their well-meaning mama wasn’t getting in the way. Simply put, resourcefulness is the ability to “figure it out.”
How young is too young to start learning…
At today’s Leadership Summit, Bill Hybels shared how his father dropped him off 30+ miles away from a certain destination instructions to finish the journey. Bill was given two pieces of advice: “Figure it out” and “Don’t call me.”
He was 11 years old at the time.
(Okay, that might be shade too young.)
Here are a few ideas to help your school-aged kids develop resourcefulness:
1. Let them “practice” their way to proficiency…If we ever want our kids to get good at something, then we need to let them be bad at it and give them the blessed opportunity to get better.
For a long time, I didn’t want to put up with the hassle of not-so-great-dinners cooked by the kids. Yet, cooking is an important life skill. Therefore, I need to give the girls a chance to do it and practice their way from crispy nightmare to culinary delight. It takes time and patience on our end at the beginning, but the payoff for our kids lasts a lifetime!
By the way, cooking is a great exercise to build start your kids toward resourcefulness. Recipes and measurements can be tricky, so kids can get practice learning how to balance time management and problem-solve.
2. Let kids experience the “natural” consequences of their behavior…Failure is a great teaching tool for resourcefulness. If they forget, oversleep, procrastinate, break, lose or generally mess up, let your kids dig themselves out of the hole. Let them figure out how to raise the funds, repair the damage, make the apology – don’t be too quick to step in and smooth things over.
Avoid fixing your kid’s mistakes to maintain your image. That’s just asking for your kids to be dependent on you in the future. Coach your kids, don’t allow them coast.
Here’s a question that you might ponder: “Am I shaping my kid’s heart and mind or just trying to make my life easier?”
3. Refuse to be your kids’ Google…If your kids have questions about where things are located, how much things cost or how to spell something, don’t tell them. Can they read? Good! Then they can pull out whatever electronic device is in their pocket and figure out the answer. Will they whine? Yes. Will they fake helplessness? You bet. Ignore them and smile because you’re doing them a favor.
Find out more about the 2015 Leadership Summit at willowcreek.com. If you attend CedarCreek Church, check out CedarCreek.tv/summit for special pricing.
by Barb Roose | May 8, 2014 | Reflections
When I was growing up, I thought my grandmother was magical. Of course, I had a pretty low threshold for what constituted magic, so Grandma surpassed it every single time. If we are lucky, the word “grandma” means big hugs and kisses, softness and smiles, but most of all, just a great big ‘ole dose of love. And Grandma’s love was the most magical of all.
We lived in one apartment complex on the outer edge of town and Grandma lived in the apartment complex next to us for many years. In my mind’s eye, I can still see Grandma standing in the open doorway with a big smile on her face and open arms. I see her short, round frame with knees bent slightly to absorb the full-force of my lanky child body. Her middle was soft and she smelled like perfume and Crisco. Future grandmas take note: You should always smell like something good in the kitchen. Your grandkids will like that.
On long summer days, we’d try to stay cool and Grandma always had cold watermelon slices – I could eat as many as I wanted. One summer day, Grandma let me eat the entire watermelon. I stopped eating watermelon after that. Grandma felt bad and started buying Icies instead.
Over the next 30 years, I grew up, moved away, went to college, got married, had two babies – and then one more. Grandma would come visit every two or three months. In the last six or seven years of her life, we would talk on the phone a few days a week and always on Fridays. During our Friday talks, I cleaned the house as we chatted about politics, Medicare, cars, kids, etc. At the end of every phone conversation, Grandma would say, “I love you, Barb.” I would reply, “I love you, too.” And then she would say, “Barbara, I love you.”
I was 37 years old when my grandmother passed away in January 2009. In the 18 months before she got sick and declined quickly, Grandma went on what I’d like to call her “Going Away Tour.” She visited friends and family in different states and we even went on a few “girls only” trips together. Our last trip was to an amusement park called “Kennywood” in Pennyslvania. We spent two days hopelessly lost in some forsaken little town and laughing non-stop over all of our wrong turns. If I had $1 for every time we heard “recalculating,” Grandma and I would have been able to buy matching Louboutins. (She loved high heels, too!)
Six weeks later, Grandma got sick and life began to blur. The doctors diagnosed her with pancreatic cancer and I promised myself not to cry until she died. Instead, I cried most every day.
A few quick months later, it was the end of our time with Grandma on this side of heaven. But, not the end for her. Magnolia Wells entered into the grandest beginning of everlasting life in heaven. As much as she loved us, we know Grandma wouldn’t trade out heaven for all the kisses and hugs in the world. And I know she was able to leave this earth with the peace in knowing we’ll see her again one day.
A few days after Grandma’s funeral, my mom and I were on the phone. At the end of the conversation Mom said, “I love you, Barb.” I replied, “I love you, too.” Then, Mom took a breath and began to carry on Grandma’s good-bye tradition and whispered one more “I love you.” A tradition she carries on today, five years later.
After Grandma died, I was lucky enough to keep two things that remind me of her life: her Red Door perfume and her handwritten German Chocolate Cake recipe. Two bottles of Red Door sit on my dresser. Once or twice a year, I take off the cap and take a sniff. One whiff of that fragrance and Grandma memories flood my heart and mind. I am magically transported back to the moments in her presence that blessed my life in so many ways.
The copy of her German chocolate cake recipe is tucked away in my kitchen. Looking at her loopy handwriting warms my heart with some great memories. Like the time when I was a ten-year old girl learning how to make Grandma’s famed cake. That day, I learned how to separate eggs and Grandma let me stir the pecan frosting. It was so hard waiting for the frosting to cool. But, the moment finally arrived! Grandma frosted the cake and then looked at me with a smile. She slid the near empty frosting bowl in front of me with grin and a warning: “Don’t eat too much. You’ll get the runs.”
(One day, I’ll have to tell you about the time Grandma plucked off her eyebrows and drew them back on navy blue…)
Do you have a Mother’s Day tribute that you’d like to share? We’d love to read it!
by Barb Roose | Apr 18, 2014 | Reflections
Recently, I met my friend, Lisa, for lunch. It was a snowy day (so it could have been this past Tuesday, right?)
Anywhoo, Lisa and I arranged to meet at a little café about 30 minutes away from my office. It’s the kind of cute cafe that’s too quaint to show up on a GPS, so I drove past it a few times before I realized I had actually arrived.
Whenever womenfolk have lunch, we follow one of two strategies:
Lunch Strategy#1: The “Let’s celebrate and therefore eat whatever we want” strategy. This means that we’ll enjoy pasta, bread, butter and EVERYONE GETS dessert. #favorite
Lunch Strategy #2: The “Oh, I’m watching my weight” strategy. This means salad or a fruit bowl and sadly, no dessert.
Lisa and I rolled with option #2, but we had a great time anyways. When I checked my watch, I realized that it was time to scoot off for my next meeting. We hastily exchanged goodbyes and I fast-girly walked out of the café over an icy path to my car in 3″ heels.
Two hours later, I finished the next meeting and stopped for gas. When I opened my wallet, there was a $10 bill inside. It shouldn’t have been there because I had gone to lunch. Then, it hit me:
I SKIPPED OUT OF THE RESTAURANT WITHOUT PAYING FOR MY LUNCH!
I dined and dashed. Oh, no! Me? Yes! Of course, it was an accident, but I was a dine-and-dasher, just the same. Oh, shame, shame, shame on me!
In my mind’s eye, I could see the shocked look on that restaurant server’s face when a tall black woman in cute, heeled boots hightailed it up out of her small town café without paying for her lunch salad sans the dessert.
Shame on me…
Not to mention that the same tall black woman in the cute, heeled boots IS ALSO A PASTOR. And, for the record, pastors really should not dine-and-dash. It shouldn’t be a thing for anyone, but especially not pastors. It’s like #14 on the list of things pastors shouldn’t do, like right before “wear men’s skinny jeans.”
I tried calling the café from my car, but couldn’t get through. I thought it was because the café owner was on the phone with the police giving them a description of yours truly. At each stop light on the way back to the office, I practiced my mug shot face in the rearview mirror in case somehow I ended up on the news.
“Tonight on 13abc, local area pastor dine-and-dashes in 3″ heels. Full story at 6.”
On my third call, someone at the café picked up the phone. I blurted out my name and bumbled my way through a rambling, overly profuse apology. The woman on the other line was kind and gracious. When I finished making the messiest apology EVER, she laughed and replied, “Don’t worry it happens all of the time. Most people are honest and just drop off the money later.”
I couldn’t believe that instead of reading me the riot act and calling the police, the café lady excepted my apology and wished me a good day. (My friend, Tina, lives near the café so the next morning, she dropped off my payment, tip and another apology note.)
When I receive “good” but I deserve “bad”…
As a fugitive dine-and-dasher, I could have been tracked down and possibly arrested. And I would have deserved it.
Instead, the café owner forgave my offense. And in that moment, I was reminded of the principle of grace:
Grace is when we receive “good” even though we deserve “bad.”
God is in the “grace” business. He wants to give us what we don’t deserve. God wants to give us Himself, complete with access to His divine forgiveness, love, purpose, hope and power.
But, some are afraid to come close to Him: “Oh, I know that God says that He loves me, but look at my life. Look at the mistakes I’ve made.”
So, we try to fix ourselves. Must try to be a better person! We think God is a cosmic bean counter, so we can’t believe that God wants to give us “good” because we know that we deserve bad. How often have we tried to earn God’s goodness?
Here’s the truth: We can’t fix ourselves. We’re messed up at a level so deep that only God do anything about it.
So, what you and I need is GRACE. Grace is the very best of all good things.
Today is Good Friday. For many, it’s a religious day of observation or obligation. We’ll sit in church or see the photos of Jesus being beaten and crucified on this holy day. Whips, fists, blood, nails, cross. So many violent images – and while we may flinch in the moment, does the realization of this event impact our heart and lives? Did we forget that it is by his wounds that we are healed?
Jesus is our access to God’s grace…
Jesus came to give us “good” even though we deserve “bad” (photo credit: swordsoftruth.files.wordpress.com)
The simple truth is that God sent Christ to pay the cost for our sinfulness and instead of punishment, we received the free gift grace.
Doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done.
My friends, avoid being like the “good people” who deny their desperate need for God. Remember, the good (religious) people were the ones screaming “Crucify him” on a Friday long ago. God’s lavish grace is for those of us who realize that we can never be good enough. This divine grace extends especially to those who don’t think that forgiveness is possible. Hear this: No matter who you are or what you’ve done, God’s grace through Christ is a free gift for you.
So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and close with the simple prayer for those of you who want to experience God’s grace for yourself. If this is the true intention of your heart, then pray this prayer:
Dear God, forgive me for living my life apart from You. Today, I want to live out the rest of my life connected to You. I accept your free gift of grace made possible through Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection. I invite you to come into my heart and life. Help me to learn what it means to trust you and follow you all of the days of my life. Amen.
If you prayed that prayer…
Great! While you might not have seen fireworks, heard angels or felt all tingly inside, your life – and eternity – have been forever changed! I’d love you to send me an email or you can CLICK HERE and you can receive a free New Testament (click on “Request Packet”) and some other materials to help you understand what it means to have a relationship with God.
Happy Good Friday everyone!
If you don’t have a place to attend church on Easter, you’re welcome to watch LIVE online at www.cedarcreek.tv/live
Times: Friday – 5:15pm/7pm; Saturday – 3:30pm/5:15pm/7pm; Sunday 9am, 10:45am and 12:30pm
by Barb Roose | Sep 23, 2013 | Reflections
Hello friends, There are a few words that describe the second half of my trip to Honduras: shock, awe, guns and beauty. It was an extraordinary Honduran Barbie adventure. I’ll explain…
Shock…
Last Sunday, I truly almost peed my pants when my friend, Karen and I were seated in the grandstand section of San Pedro Sula soccer stadium for the city’s televised Independence Day celebration. There we were -Americans and sitting in the Honduran VIP section. And might I add, we were dressed less-than-fabulously for the occasion…
Our hostess, Flor, picked us up at the airport earlier that morning. One of her friends was the Independence Day event organizer, hence our fancy seats. The celebration extravaganza featured dozens of public and private high school students playing musical performances, dancing and costume displays.
Here is the view from the a grandstand section of the parade. Karen was brave enough to take photos…I was not.
While Karen and I were shocked at our seating accommodations, we were more stunned by those sharing our space. To our immediate left were two high-ranking Honduran Military brass with lots of stars and stripes down their sleeves. Flanking the men and us were uniform soldiers hefting M4 rifles – I’m sure they were present for the higher-ups and not us gringos. Politeness – okay, fear – kept me from counting how many armed soldiers were in the grandstand section with us, but there were enough gun-toting soldiers to set my suburban heart a-flutter.
Karen and I were loved seeing all of the traditional costumes that depicted the story of Honduras’ 192-year history.
We watched the parade in near 100 degree heat for about four hours. Flor let me borrow her fan because I was glistening in the most unlady-like of ways. As I was fanning myself and Flor’s darling five-year old, I noticed that one of the guards kept moving closer to us, until he was standing close enough to feel the effects of the fan. So, I discreetly fanned the dude with the big gun. Never know when one might need a friend with a gun, right?
At one point, there was a huge rifle blast that went off while we were standing. Karen yelled and I fell back into my seat. #embarassing
During the parade, we saw remarkable performances from dozens of schools. The costumes were beautiful and the students were tremendously talented. Like the States, important events are always punctuated by a few intense moments – like a fight that broke out on the opposite side of the stadium. As we watched people running from the center of the action, Karen and I clasped hands in case we needed to make a run for it. But, police apprehended the guilty parties and the crowd cheered. We also were fascinated by a guy who might have been angling for YouTube stardom – he was dancing by himself in the middle of the bleachers and gathered quite a crowd around him. He managed to captivate the stadium’s attention for about 15 minutes while he danced his heart out for us and the television audience.
We were at the parade to see the students from Flor’s church be in the last group to take the field. It was cool to see those students a boldly stand up for their faith in a venue where they would have been threatened, harassed or even beaten – yet, they stood proud and delivered a creative, impactful presentation to the audience.
Awe…
Karen and I were exhausted after leaving the parade. We had been up since 4:30am and so our long morning, plus no food and thick heat made for tired gringos. Flor dropped us off at the home we were staying with a hug and some Wendy’s.
About the house…this was the nicest home I had ever stayed in. Once we were behind an exquisitely-designed gate, the front door opened and our jaws dropped. Just gorgeous. The homeowners are brilliant business owners and members of the SPS church? We were so grateful that they graciously opened their home for our stay in SPS.
Here is the first floor entry of the home we stayed in while visiting San Pedro Sula. The only thing more impressive than the home, was the hospitality shown to us while we were there.
Not only did our surroundings infuse us with awe, but so did the hospitality of our hostess and everyone we met from the church. At home, we pride ourselves on how well we serve others, but waves of humility washed over Karen and I as our hosts treated us like honored guests – it was truly a blessing.
Guns…
Yeah, there lots of guns. I should be used to guns. Shoot, I live in an urban area so I hear gun shots from time to time. But, on this trip, I really struggled to get used to seeing the over-abundance and omnipresence of guns. Hear me on this: I didn’t disagree with their presence. I knew that the good guys I was with had to be armed because the bad guys, with selfish purposes would also have guns. And if I was going to be unarmed, I wanted to be with the good guys with guns.
The kidnapping of husbands and sons is a real threat in Honduras, so affluent families must have protection. Imagine working hard, doing well in life and then, knowing that unless you have protection that someone will kidnap you or your son for ransom? How would your life change? How would you protect your family? This is the reality for many Hondurans.
In the States – at least in my corner of the world – we don’t have to think about life in the context of what our friends in Honduras must deal with. We might have angry debates about gun safety and law enforcement funding, but we have an infrastructure where our police officers and federal authorities are keeping the streets safe enough to keep the majority of regular citizens from taking up arms. Do I always think this will change one day? Yes. Unfortunately, our individual selfishness is quickly outpacing the now-unpopular moral fibers that our country was built upon.
While I managed my fear of constantly being around guns (our SPS home had numerous armed guards), I thought about our SPS friends and how they lived in spite of the ever present threat of violence. They boldly lived and thrived in spite of the threat.
In the States, we always act surprised when outbursts of violence penetrate our safety bubble, as if a quiet town or a suburban address insulates us against another’s selfish outburst of hate or destruction. Yet, SPS residents are proud of their city. They acknowledge their country’s economic and political weaknesses, but they never lose sight of the heart of the people and the physical landscape.
Beauty…
There were so much beauty observed during my trip to SPS. The hearts of the people and the love shown to us, but the beauty of the mountains surrounding the large city – just breathtaking.
Karen and I were inspired by the beauty of the home of our new friends. They allowed us to take pictures – I now know what my new kitchen will look like – ha! While I worked on my tasks for the conference, I enjoyed the glorious artwork and the new and vintage decor that surrounded me and fed my creativity. Yum!
We experienced the beauty that comes from establishing relationships with new friends in SPS – those experiences were rich and fulfilling. I am always amazed at how God blesses me when I say ‘yes’ to life off the beaten path.
On of my favorite places in Honduras at the Palma Real Hotel in La Ceiba.
So, this was a long post, but if you are still with me, thanks for coming along for the ride. I wish you could have come along and experienced the hundreds of other ways I was blessed during this trip for yourself.
Now, it’s Monday morning. I’ve got to wrap this up and head into the office after two weeks away. Hard to believe that life will go back to ‘normal’…at least until the next adventure!
by Barb Roose | Sep 13, 2013 | Reflections
Today, I got to see two lives changed right before my eyes. Steve is the gringo (aka young white guy) in the photo.
Young Manuel shaking hands and thanking Tim (left) and Steve (right). Our missions team host, Vilma, is also in the photo.
He’s a young buck who decided in February to go on a missions trip. All he knew was that he wanted to come to Honduras and help people. but, once he met the people he came to help, Steve’s view of the world was radically changed.
For three days, Steve and his construction partner, Tim (a missions veteran) sawed, sanded and built bunkbeds in a workshop in the heat and stifling humidity. This afternoon, some of our team went along as Steve and Tim delivered the beds.
Meet Manuel. He is in the seventh grade and lives with his mother. His dad took off for the United States years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. Manuel’s home is adjoined to his aunt’s home. Both women was single mothers trying to raise their children in conditions that we cannot imagine – and probably could not endure.
After the bed was placed, Manuel, his aunt and our team stood around the front steps for the dedication. The CDI director, Heather, and our missions team host, Vilma, explained to Manuel that our team raised the money for the beds. They also explained that Steve and Tim were responsible for building the beds. Our eyes welled as Manuel made his way over to Steve to give him a big hug. Then, young Manuel made his way around our group hugging us and thanking us for raising the money for his bed. It was an epic humbling moment. In fact, we didn’t feel we deserved to be thanked. Afterall, it was just a bunk bed, right? Why should this young man thank us for something we gringos take for granted?
Except this young man didn’t have a bed of his own before today. And his gratitude gently reminded us that the smallest gestures of kindness can have tremendous, life-changing impact.
Here are the bunkbeds that Steve and Tim built.
The expression on Steve’s face touched my heart as he looked into the face of the young man who would no longer need to share a sleeping space with two, three or more family members. Steve was working hard to be a dude about the emotional situation, but some moments are just too big not to let a man-tear drop. Manuel now had a bed because Steve showed up and built it. Two lives were changed and if our prayers are answered, both of these young men’s lives will never be the same.
Our next stop was to Claudia and Evelyn’s home. I’ve met Claudia on my first trip to Honduras. She’s a bright, kind, young girl, now in the seventh grade. By the time kids finish elementary school, continuing to high school is an expensive pursuit – especially for families that make less than $300 a month. High school isn’t free. And over 80% of the kids at the center are from families that make waaayyyy less than $300 a month.
Yet, Claudia has a monthly sponsor to help cover the cost of her high school tuition and supplies. Other girls in her neighborhood don’t get such a chance. Semi-educated girls have woefully few opportunities and most end up pregnant before 18 years old.
Vilma is telling us about Claudia and Evelyn during our visit to deliver their bunkbeds. Claudia was stunned when she realized how high in the air her top bunk was.
I have hope for Claudia. I pray that she keeps coming to the center so she can keep her sponsor. I hope that one day, she will come back to her neighborhood and tell a different storyline to the young girls – that they can have hope – and that God (not the government) will send someone to help them along the way.
After driving around a large neighborhood called “Buffalo,” we drove up a big hill. Heather pointed out that a political party paved one lane of just about 100ft of rocky hill road and bragged to the community about capital improvements. IMO, I think they should have paved the other lane before tooting their own horn…
Anywho…our final home visit was to Adrianna and Dunia’s home. Their mother, Carmen, had just moved into this home on the hill after leaving a physically abusive marriage. An uneducated, Honduran woman has literally no options in such a situation, but Carmen did have a twin sister. Carmen snuck away for her home with nothing, but her life and her children.
At one point, her husband showed up at her sister while drunk and swinging a machete, but thankfully, he did not get into the home. Vilma shared Carmen’s story. we could see the evidence of Carmen’s battered wife’s syndrome – withdrawn, fearful, depressed, anxious… Yet, the folks at the church invited her to volunteer with the kids at the center. Over the past three months, Carmen has started to speak a little more and Vilma reports that Carmen has even smiled once or twice.
In the US, we have lots of debates about what poverty really looks like. Folks, this is poverty. We might have high unemployment and declining tax revenues, but let’s not confuse that for poverty.
This was the entrance to the neighborhood where our team worked on a new cement block home with a concrete floor for a deserving family.
Yet, while those we visited in pressboard homes with dirt floors may have not had much in the way of material wealth, they possessed an enduring spirit in the face of great challenge. When asked how they are doing, their universal response is a smile and the word ‘bien,’ which means ‘good.’
Could we say the same? Could we wake up in homes with dirt floors made muddy after winter rainstorms and still say we are going good? Could we toil for hours each day in oppressive sun and humidity for a few dollars each day and say we are doing good? Probably not.
Every time I come to Honduras, God teaches me life lessons that I could NEVER learn at home. The language of love is spoken here and through our Honduran friends, we experience tremendous generosity, kindness, hospitality and we witness their unshakeable faith that transcends language barriers and cultural differences. Even though I come to serve, I always leave much richer in heart and spirit than I ever deserve.
by Barb Roose | Aug 16, 2013 | Reflections
In a previous post, I shared about how much I hate running. It’s not that I hate the idea of running, I just HATE that I’m not any good at it. Once, I was running a 5k and every single 60 or 70 year-old in the 
race passed right by.
I see people jogging through my neighborhood early in the morning or evening, just cruising along at their stupid seven minute mile pace. I just watch them float by…and sigh. Most of them make it look so easy, don’t they? I longingly gaze that the runners who streak by wearing their coordinated top and bottoms, swanky iPod arm band and Bose earbuds. I figure if they can run that well, they deserve to look that fancy.
Then there’s me…
Now, I’ve got great shoes. I learned quickly that bad shoes make for bad running. My clothes. No-so- fabulous. My friends, 54% of the time I am running in my pajamas. Now you know. I use the Nike Running app (but I live in fear that I might accidently post my run results to social media. I’d almost rather tell you how much I weigh over my average mile time. Wait. That was probably an exaggeration. Well…uhmmm…yes, it was.)
Starting the run, my first 1/4 mile is always AWESOME! I feel great – almost like those super-striders I hate admire so much. But, by the two-mile mark, I am pitiful. And my self-talk is pitiful, too. Just try not to die on Monroe Street during the 7:45am rush-hour traffic. Stumble over to that side street and then keel over. In those doubtful moments, I focus on the basics: proper breathing, using my arms and proper stride. I just keep doing those basics over and over again. And eventually, I always make my way back home.
Living out my faith sometimes feels like my morning run.
There are days when I am flying high – it’s me and God taking on the world! I love that feeling. I read my Bible and every promise soaks right into my heart and mind. I radiate love, joy, peace and all of the rest. In those moments, I glide through the hours of the day with the hope that every day could feel like that.
But, the other days…
Days when I feel like I am on Monroe Street running in rush-hour traffic. So much is coming at me and I don’t feel like I am strong enough to keep going. Sometimes, I don’t want to keep going…
This is a picture of me and my shadow on Monroe Street at the point when my run is at its toughest. Yet, I love how shadows always make me look skinny…
When we get weary and we get tired, our brains go into survival mode. Higher-level thinking and reasoning takes a backseat to basic functions, like breathing. That’s why we get paralyzed and confused when we struggle under tremendous stress.
During those times in my faith life, my prayers are short and desperate: “God, help me”…”God, I hate the way I feel, help me”…”Help me.”
God is okay with us sending out that prayer. He definitely wants us to send out that prayer instead of trying to fix the unfixable on our own. But, there’s something more…
Just like I have to focus on the basics – good breathing, using my arms, proper stride – when I am at a tough place in my run, I also have to focus on the basics when I am at a tough place in my faith.
Living out (or walking) by faith is as much over a “how” as it is a “what.” So, here are the basics that I try to remember – maybe these will help you:
1. Love God, love others – This basic command is contained in many verses in the New Testament (Mark 12:29-31 and others). What does it mean to love God? Obedience. Easy to know…hard to do. God knows what we need, we just have to do it so that we can receive what we truly need to live and thrive. Loving others is about being generous with our heart – which leads to generosity with our time, our energy and even our money.
2. Focus on today…Matthew 6:34 reminds us that tomorrow’s problems cannot be our concern. God’s already got tomorrow – but we’ll be in a much better position to handle tomorrow if we focus on what God is calling us to do today.
3. Don’t worry and give thanks…Philippians 4:6 is a rock-star verse. How much of our lives do we spend freaking out? But, when we force ourselves to list out (even write out) what we are grateful for, then we experience the promise at the end of this verse: God’s peace which far exceeds the pitiful, fragile peace we try to secure on our own.
4. Don’t isolate!…Galatians 6:2 reminds us that we have to reach out to each other. Tell someone you are struggling. Our brains need oxygen, glucose and relationships to survive!* So, speak up and live!
I thought maybe I would mention that this blog came from my own personal journal this week. Since I was struggling in this area, I figured a few other folks might be as well. So, if you’d like to share verses or thoughts that help you walk by faith, feel free to post them here for others to read or on my Facebook page.
*reference: Dr. Henry Cloud’s Boundaries for Leaders – great book!
