by Barb Roose | Aug 30, 2013 | Uncategorized
Last weekend, I heard the story of a young Moldovan orphan who was rescued from a life of hardship and most likely the sex trade:
“I was one of three girls rescued and taken to Stella’s House…I recently talked to one of the girls who wasn’t rescued. She ended up working as a prostitute. At Christmas, I spent the day with my new family at Stella’s House. The girl told me that she was used by men 95 times that day…”
In a moment, the large auditorium went absolutely silent. But, my mind kept screaming two horrible words: 95 times…95 times…95 times…95 times… 95 times…95 times…
I felt sick. Immediately, physically sick.
I knew that she was telling the truth – but I didn’t want to hear it. When we hear truths that wreck our world as it exists, our inclination is to turn our eyes away and cover our ears. It’s like a desperate attempt to maintain a faux and fleeting ignorance. Perhaps we cannot relate, but most often the reality is that we do not want to relate. Sure, our lives might be a mess, but we still like looking through the rest of the world in Pinterest-colored classes where things are lovely, coordinated and clean.
Yet, I needed to hear that young woman tell the story of the realities that I did not know – God sent her to share that realities that I could not bear to see or hear – because I needed to see and hear them. God used those stories to open my heart to an even greater degree than what I thought possible.
As one of 10,000 people at CedarCreek.tv last weekend viewing the images of orphanages in Moldova defied our Westernized logic. I know many people were thinking those young ladies MUST be exaggerating. Thoughts such as: Could it really be that bad? Then, others were battling what I like to call the “Heart/Head War”:
“Stay calm,” warns our Mind. “Don’t get too riled up. It can’t be as bad as what they say it is. It can’t be…”
“But, what if it is?!” screams our Heart, before it asks the scariest question of all: “How can I help?”
What if we all valiantly fight the urge to un-see that which makes us uncomfortable? And what if we choose to walk into someone else’s nightmare in order to bring them hope?
CedarCreek.tv Arts Pastor Jason Tucker and the young ladies from Stella’s Voice in a group selfie. Those smiles are brought to you courtesy of the love and financial support of many people around the world. You can make a difference!
Here’s what I discovered this weekend…when we don’t try to “un-see” the horror and we open ourselves to being a part of the solution, God will tell us what He wants us to do. Most of us won’t be called to leave our homes and move oversees – but some could be called to do that. Some of us might be able to take a missions trip over to Moldova to work at a summer camp or serve at a transitional home – but most of us won’t.
Yet, there is one thing we can all do. And it’s the one thing we don’t want to do: GIVE.
Could it be that God put us here in the United States of America specifically so that we could leverage living in the land of prosperity and break off a small bit of that so that others in the world could have a chance? And based on what we saw this weekend, anything you are willing to give will make a difference. Anything.
Action steps:
1. If you didn’t see our weekend service, you can watch it here: cedarcreek.aspireonemedia.com/647/0/12010
2. Pray! If your heart is stirred to help the people in Moldova or people hurting in other areas, like our community, God will open the doors so that you can help.
3. Give. There’s no way around this. Think about it this way: If you give $50 this month will you remember that money a month from now? Probably not. But, will it make a difference far beyond what you would have used it for? Yep. Guaranteed.
by Barb Roose | Aug 9, 2013 | Uncategorized
Earlier this week, my youngest daughter, Abbie, turned 13. We are not quick to spoil our kids, but she hit the motherlode this week. First, her oldest sister flew home for the week as a surprise. Then, my mom got her a new phone (Tracfone smartphone with triple minutes, y’all). Instead of a party, Abbie asked Matt and I for an iPod. And we gladly bought one – slightly used, but new to her. Truth be told, I would have bought her a car if that meant we didn’t have to have a sleepover party. #fo’sho. Being 13 is turning out okay for Abbie. I don’t have such fond memories of that time period of my life.
At 13, I was a hot mess.
Maybe you were doing okay at that age. Not me. I was a waaaay too tall (actually BIG – I was 5’8″). I was AWKWARD in the most ALL CAPS of ways. I wore thick glasses and had acne. In the many years since that not-so-fabulous time of life, I’ve wondered if maybe, just maybe, I’ve exaggerated my memories of those desperate years.
Turns out, things were more awkward that I remembered. A couple of weeks ago, I found my junior high journal in the attic. I flipped through the pages careening down an overly dramatic memory lane. That journal recorded what I loved, hated, dreamed about and feared. And, if I am honest, there’s still a thump of that 13-year old heart that beats in 41-year old me.
Thanks to social media, I’ve reconnected with a lot of the people I wrote about all of these years ago in my little jounral. Some friends, I’m thrilled to chat with via Facebook. Other individuals I NEVER expected to think about again once we said ‘good-bye’ to Medina High. Just in case they never wanted to be associated with me ever again, I substituted “dude” instead of their actual name. I could have thought of another way of doing things, but as a one of my blogging mentors says*: Just whatever, man.
Here’s an peek into my 13-year old hot mess-ness:
Saturday, November 1, 1985
Sorry I haven’t written, but I’ve been really busy [even back then, really?]. Well, volleyball went just fine. Dude came to all of our home games. I don’t like him, but I do. Every time I see him, I want to punch him and kiss him, too.
Once upon a time, I was passive-aggressive…[maybe I still am. A little. Not much.]
In review of my journal entries, it seems this young man was in a long line of young men that I wanted to simultaneously punch and kiss. I should tell you that none of those young men ever got kissed…or punched.
Okay, so audience participation in the next journal entry. Feel free to analyze what I could have possibly thinking in this next statement:
This weekend was one of the worst in my life. Dude #1 asked me to go with him. I told him we could be friends. I talked to Dude #2 today and asked him to tell Dude #1 that I’m not good for him and all that stuff. I told him that’s what he does best.
Yesterday, Dude #1 told me to get off the jive that I said I wasn’t pretty. I hope this turns out better because I can’t stand it.
This is the stuff that probably explains why I never was asked to prom in high school.
Of course, four days later, my two dude crisis was averted and there was an ALL CAPS entry about making Honor Roll. My attentions were also diverted to another young man that I haven’t seen since junior high. Hmmm….I should look him up on Facebook…
Think back to when you were 13 years old. What did you love? What did you hate? What did you do that you were proud of? Do you still see any of 13-year-old-you in grown-up-you? If so, is that a good thing? If not, what have you lost – and should you try to get it back?
As I flipped through the pages of that journal, I think about how much that 13-year girl didn’t know about her life. She didn’t know that college would be MUCH better than junior high and high school. She didn’t know that her date-less streak would not be broken until her junior year (he was a nice young man from the Cleveland area…but wore a little too much Drakkar). She didn’t know that her love of words would open up a world of adventure – both good and not-so-awesome.
My junior high journal has been sitting out this week while I’ve been working on this post. Abbie keeps asking to read it. I keep saying no. I want her to be free to live and learn through making her own mistakes rather than reading through my journal and laughing at mine – ha!
*Jen Hatmaker is one of my favorite bloggers. She writes a lot about family and motherhood. Her posts are gritty, hysterical and you should check her out at www.jenhatmaker.com.
by Barb Roose | Jul 1, 2013 | Uncategorized
For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4)
It’s summer time. As I scroll through my Facebook posts, dozens of photos of people are on vacation or enjoying backyard cookouts with friends and family – and the endless rain won’t stop us! Since I’m from Ohio, summertime is a big deal because there are things we can do in the summer that we can’t do in the winter. Sure, we can grill in the winter, but it’s not much fun flipping burgers in our winter coats. And, let’s be honest, only the crazy people go swimming in January. Yet, in the warm summer sun, we’re free to swim until we wrinkle like raisins. This reminds me of an important observation: How we live absolutely depends on the season in which we are living.
Smart folks out there have created analogies to relate our weather seasons to our seasons of life:
- Winter = difficulty, sadness or struggle (hardship, illness, or loss)
- Spring = renewed hope, regeneration (forgiveness, new job or new love, positive change in life direction)
- Summer = happiness, joy, stability, progress (extended period of contentment)
- Fall = unsettled, transition (considering job change or ending a relationship)
What season of life are you living in? Are you embracing your “for now” life?
There’s a God-ordained rhythm to the ebb and flow of our lives. Our problem comes in when we want to decide that we don’t like the season of life we are in and we start pushing to change things that God isn’t ready to or isn’t planning to change. It took me a long time to become content with the season I was living instead of trying to force my way into a new situation. There’s a phrase that I remember and share often with others: “This is your ‘for now’ life.” It won’t last forever, but it is your reality “for now.”
When my kids were small, my “for now” life was nothing like it is now. Then, life was centered around my kids, naptime and dinner time. There were no long girlfriend lunch dates, but there were play dates. There were no long, quiet afternoons alone, but there were precious afternoons reading and cuddling with my girls. As much as I wanted to do other me-centered things, I knew that time would pass quickly (and it did!), so I concentrated on making the best of those moments. That phase of my life ended many years ago, but I have some incredible memories of the loooonnnngggg days I spent with my kids.
Years later, there was another “for now” season of life that was bleak and dark. Things were tight financially because I left my well-paying job to work part-time in ministry. We still had three kids in private school. So, there were no Caribbean cruises or spending sprees, but we had some great (free!) weekends with our family and friends. And while we weren’t able to afford to eat out as before, I discovered a talent for making great pizza dough and we enjoyed some great Friday family nights with homemade pizza and free movie rentals from the library. After a few years, that season of life passed into a different one, including both good and bad.
I’ll ask again: what season of life are you in? Here are some questions to think about:
- What are the balconies (the good aspects) and the basements (bad aspects) of where you are at?
- How can you make the best of this season and position yourself to move as spiritually, emotionally and physically healthy into the next season?
by Barb Roose | Jun 28, 2013 | Uncategorized
Planners comfort me. Always have. I love that there is something out there that is supposedly organizing my chaotic life. Even if that is not actually true, I like to believe that it is…
Before there was iCal or Outlook, I used a Blackberry to schedule my appointments and remind me to take my medicine. Before that, my Palm Pilot ruled my world! Remember how we loved the sleek, sexy design – but we didn’t love the little stylus that kept getting lost! Before Palm Pilots, we planned by paper. Of course, the Rolex of paper organizers was the good ole’ Franklin Planner. Owning a Franklin Planner was the ultimate confirmation that whatever I was doing must have been important. Yes, I was doing something important enough to write down in a $300 PAPER planning system. Anyone else feel silly knowing that we can get an iPad Mini for the amount we used to spend on a Franklin Planner? Sheesh!
I may not always follow the schedule I’ve written down, but I like knowing that it is there – that at some point I was smart enough to think ahead of the game. Yes, I love to plan.
Except for when it comes to food. No plans. I just want to eat what I want, when I want and how much I want.
I’m leading a group of women through Lysa TerKeurst’s best-selling book, Made to Crave. There’s a phrase that has been ringing in my ears every time I think about eating a second helping or a third cookie: unrestrained pleasure.
That phrase usually triggers the words of 1 Corinthians 10:23 – “Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial.” And, then I get a little annoyed (and even a little panicked!)
Why? When it comes to food, I want what I want when I want it. I love how Lysa’s personal journey in this area of her life has had such a tremendous impact on the lives of so many others, including myself. I love how she challenges women to discipline themselves to find comfort and pleasure in Christ, not food. Let’s face it, whenever we have an extreme emotion – happiness or sadness, we automatically reach for something to put into our mouths. Yet, when we finish our consumption, we end up with an entirely different set of feelings…and most of those feelings are of shame or regret.
So, this past week, the ladies in my group and I agreed if we plan for the things that are important, then we would commit ourselves to planning our meals for the next two weeks. Our agreement isn’t because we’re all trying to look like some size 2 supermodel. Rather, we’re making a plan to put food in its nourishing, rightful place and for us to focus on finding comfort and pleasure in God alone.
Truth is, I was sweating as I was posing the challenge. This means that I have to lead by example and frankly, I’m not sure I want to. But, I will. I hope.
Wish me luck. And don’t send me any chocolate.
