It’s County Fair time here in my hometown.  My favorite part of fair is sitting around in the food tent dining on Fair cuisine and catching up with friends from the community.  Last night as I was doing just that a lady walked by with this shirt on….

 All of us at the table got a good chuckle out of it.  Since I’m a church secretary and one of the ladies at the table attends my church we got an even bigger chuckle out of my suggestion that I buy one for me and the Pastor and put our church name on the back.  I thought it would make a good “staff uniform” so to speak. 

We were coming up with all kinds of funny situations with the shirt and laughing about it. 

It was humorous and some could argue that maybe the shirt suggests that “cussing” is okay as long as you love Jesus.  Others might say that the shirt speaks to all of us as Christians – we are imperfect.  That’s how I choose to see it.

The shirt really impressed me.  I thought about it a lot.  What if we all, as Christians, had to wear a shirt that testified to our love for Jesus but also announced our flaws to the world as well? I thought about what my shirt would say.  What would your shirt say?

I love Jesus…. but I gossip

I love Jesus…but I pass judgment

I love Jesus… but I drink

I love Jesus…but I have road rage

Can any of you relate to any of the above.  I’m guessing most can relate to some if not all.  But would you dare openly confess to those things on a daily basis.  To a stranger? To your church family? To your pastor?  To your kids?  Most likely, if you’re like me, those ungodly characteristics I carry are not something I boast and brag about. In fact, as I work hard at being as Christ-like as possible, it’s very hard to confess that I screw up many times over.   But chances are (and I love Jesus…but I like to take a gamble now and then J) that people already know those things about me even if I am trying to keep them to myself. 

How many times have we sat through a church service where we’ve had opportunity to secretly write down a sin we need to give over to Jesus, or to sit quietly in our seats and confess those to God, or lay it down in an altar call.  Let’s face it, who would be the first out of their seat if the pastor asked us to write those things on our shirt and come face the audience?  I know I wouldn’t be the first in line…. or tenth for that matter.  It would be humiliating to admit all my imperfections to all of you in public.   

The message God is preaching to me from this shirt,  is that, in being a Christian, it is so important to be real.  Perhaps if I were to re-create the shirt I would have a slogan on the back that would say – “Work in progress” or something to that effect.  I’m not perfect but God and I are always working on that. Or maybe I’d put 1 John 1:9 on the back that says,” If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  Gee I wish the creator of the shirt would have gotten my input here!

The biggest gripe by those that are unchurched are that Christians are hypocrites.  They say we follow Jesus but we don’t act like Him.  But what if I just lived my life in a way that let them know, “Hey, I’m a Christian – but I’m not perfect.” Perhaps I’d just be “real” to them and  not someone they feel is too difficult for them to be. Maybe by being real I’d show them that God uses all kinds of cracked pots for his glory.  I like the Message version of 2 Timothy 2:20-21 that says, “In a well-furnished kitchen there are not only crystal goblets and silver platters, but waste cans and compost buckets – some containers used to serve fine meals, others to take out the garbage.  Become the kind of container God can use to present any and every kind of gift to his guests for their blessing.

One of those containers could be the container of confession to someone who only sees the “prim and proper me.” One of those containers could simply just being real. To someone who feels hopeless, unloved or incapable of having Jesus love them; the confession of my imperfections, as a Jesus lover, might be the best sermon I could preach to them.  Perhaps the confession of my imperfection would be the long cool drink for someone’s dry parched soul.  Maybe if they know Christians aren’t perfect and they are willing to admit it, being a Christian themselves wouldn’t feel like such a tall order to fill.

After all God has used those with imperfections for his glory all through his word.  And they all admit to it somewhere along the line.  

Moses – I love God – but I stutter.

Gideon – I love God – but I’m afraid

Abraham – I love God – but I’m old

Rahab – I love God – but I’m a prostitute

Samson – I love God – but I also love the ladies

Thomas – I love  Jesus – but I’m a skeptic

Peter – I love Jesus – but I don’t want to admit it sometimes

There’s an old proverb we’ve all heard “Confession is good for the soul”.  Maybe if we are confessing our sins to each other, whether we go to the extreme of putting it on our shirt or just taking a friend in confidence, we would be less likely to continue in sin because someone else knows now and is holding us accountable.   Maybe we really need to take this verse from James to heart... I'm just sayin'!  James 5:16 Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

What a witness I would be if I could say to that person that needs to feel Jesus’ grace in their life; “Hey you know what?   I love Jesus but I’m not perfect.  I screw up.  Sometimes I gossip. Sometimes I cuss. Sometimes I____ (you fill in the blank).  But here’s the good news – HE became sin who knew no sin, so that in him, all of us imperfect people, might become HIS righteousness. (2 Cor. 5:21).  Only HE is perfect! His love covers a multitude of sins.  I am always a work in progress – and He always has my back, provides a way out for me, offers his hand.  What relief!

Don’t worry, I’m not going to start putting my sins on my shirt nor do I suggest that you should either.  But I do challenge you to think about what your shirt might say.  Where is the weak area that you need God’s power to eradicate?  His grace is all we need. (2 Cor. 12:9).

I love Jesus but sometimes I forget how much He loves me!

Faithfully Following

Faithfully Following

Last week I had a biopsy done for some issues I’ve been having.  Needless to say I’ve been a little nerved up and freaked out as all the research I did pointed toward cancer.  I’ve been in the “Holding Pattern” the last few days awaiting results from my doctor. 

While I’ve been waiting…and praying…and trusting…and occasionally freaking out– God has taught me much!  He’s just real awesome like that

•    He’s made me aware of all the little things around me that I take for granted        
•   He’s showed me what courage and complete trust in Him really looks like through the eyes of friends who truly are suffering through cancer or illness.      
•    He’s really brought nature alive for me making me aware of every flying bird, blossom or fluffy white cloud! 

Feeling a bit anxious again today in my holding pattern, I chose to go down a very hilly road here in Amish Country on my way to visit my mother in law at the Nursing home.  It’s a pretty drive with lots of farms dotting the landscape.  As I was driving and wondering about things God used another sight along the path to teach me about faithfulness.

 Up ahead was an Amish buggy.  It was what the Amish call a “double buggy” used for bigger families.  I don’t know how long they had been on the road, but I’m guessing they lived nearby because their two loyal pooches where running after them.  The slower one was a shaggy breed and he gave up a little bit easier and headed back after a time.  But, the little terrier mix was in it for the long haul!  He was going to follow his people all the way – he was that loyal.  So follow he did; and he kept up alongside the buggy at a really good pace.  The scary part was that he did not stay in their lane but he ran alongside them on the other side of the road! Remember how I said this is a hilly road?  So this scenario had danger written all over it.

I stayed at a slow pace behind them.  I couldn’t pass anyway because of the double line and the hills, but neither did I want to.  I was mesmerized by the loyalty of this faithful little fellow.  When we started to crest the hill and puppy remained in the oncoming lane my heart started to race a bit and I wanted to pull over and call him to the side for fear he was going to get creamed as I watched.  Fortunately, no vehicle came up the hill.  At this point, he’d gone a couple of miles faithfully following his people with his tongue and tail wagging. 

And then….it happened.  A semi loomed up the next hill and I closed one eye in horror thinking how devastating it was going to be when their beloved companion got creamed by the big truck as they watched.  But, Beloved Companion was pretty smart, and when he saw the truck coming he crossed over to the other side of the buggy. Even then, he kept up, didn’t slow down for even an instant. He continued to chase after his master.  Once the traffic was clear he went back to the other lane, running alongside the buggy, following his people, keeping up with them no matter the risk.

When I felt it was safe to go around I did and left the family with their side kick faithfully following as far as I could see in my rear view mirror!  I wondered how many miles he followed them.

I did not see his carcass on the road on the return trip so I assume he met his destination safely whether it was with them or back at the family farm.

I was very impressed with poochie!  He was loyal and faithfully followed His master no matter the risk!  I sized it up alongside my current situation.  What if I get that call that I have cancer – will I continue to faithfully follow?  Am I loyal enough to clip along at His heels on the “hills” of danger?  Will I continue to trust Him even if it means there are risks to my personal being?  And most importantly will I do it with such uninhibited tail wagging exuberance? Poochie didn’t care what loomed ahead – he didn’t even give it a second thought.  He simply did not want to lose sight of His master…..and neither do I! 

No matter what looms ahead, what risk is involved – I want to keep my eyes on my Master!  For the remainder of my drive this was my focus and it felt good.  Total surrender to Him and knowing that no matter what the future holds – He holds me in the future!  Just like that buggy full of people was Poochies reward – HE is my reward!

I had a wonderful time with my mother in law.  We held hands and I read her poetry and looked at pretty pictures.  We went for a walk and shared some laughs.  I decided to go the same route on the return trip home.  And guess what?  It was on that route home that I got the phone call from my doctor’s office.  There is no cancer….I am thankful…humbled, overwhelmed…grateful…and determined to live each day faithfully following with tail wagging exuberance no matter what lies ahead!

TBT - Throw Back Thursday

Recently several people have mentioned that I haven't blogged much anymore!  Believe me, I've had plenty moments that are blog worthy lately - I just haven't had the time.  So, today I'm going to blog something that I wrote many years ago - like....maybe 9-10 years ago!  I know - ancient right?  

I'm working the Shop today and a gentleman was in telling me a "hunting" story.  He didn't buy anything but he kept me entertained with his stories!  Once he was gone and the visions of dead deer in the woods was stuck in my head I started to reminisce about the days when Nic, my son, first started hunting.  And then I thought about this piece that I wrote many moon ago after one such hunting trip. 

Don't know why I wrote it - it was in the Pre-Facebook, Pre-blog, Neanderthal error - but I was inspired and I did and so here it is for your TBT pleasure! It's called NO BIG DEAL!  Enjoy!

No Big Deal

My son is a hunter.  We don’t know why he likes to hunt or how he even caught this fever.  My husband wasn’t a hunter and did not grow up in a hunting family.  In fact, his family was much opposed to the idea since his uncle was killed in a hunting accident.  Then, enter, Nic who likes to hunt.  So, my husband decides that there is no way that he is sending his son (who inherited the clutz gene from me) into the woods alone with a weapon. So, now, my husband also is a hunter!

They bragged last night as they were getting ready for the hunt about how they were the men folk going out to get the meat for the family.  I asked them if they’d shoot a cow this time instead of a deer as I don’t much have a taste for Venison.  They laughed - I was serious.

The hours passed and it soon became dark.  The phone rings.  It is Nic.  He speaks with half excitement, half disappointment.  “Mom, I got a deer, but she ran away and we can’t find her – we’re looking and have called friends to come help so we won’t be home for a while.”  A few moments later Nic’s uncle Jerold called to talk to him.  When I told him of the situation he and his wife decided to join the forest search party and headed out for the woods with flashlights in tow. 

They had just gotten home when I arrived from church.  Half frozen and nearly starved to death, my Hunter Husband says to me – you’ll have to take him out in the morning to look for the deer!  What!!!???  You’ve got to be kidding me!.  How did I suddenly become involved in this?  There was no asking, no pleading just the command of what needed to be done.  I kept asking questions of who, how, what and why and the biggest question of all was – “How do you expect me to get our 4 year old daughter up at 6:45, drive him out there, possibly bring back a dead deer (which by the way, I have a real thing about dead animals) and be at work by 9:00 and Nic to school at a decent time?  No one really took much time answering my questions because they could see the darts flying form my eyes and the steady stream of steam fuming from my ears. They just looked at me and said, “It’s really not a big deal”.  

Once in bed, I again began to spout off about my dissatisfaction with being involved in this endeavor.  Then, I was informed, once again, that it really wasn’t a big deal and I was making more out of it than it was.  “So, how in the world do you expect me and Nic and Hannah, to hang up a dead deer if we do in fact find it?”, I asked my confident husband.  “You’ll figure it out, he said”!  Yeah, right and why don’t I just bring it home and butcher it too all before 9 a.m.!!  My husband didn’t bother saying good bye to me that morning before he left for work, but he did yell downstairs to inform me that the dog had puked in the floor!  Now, wait a minute, if it really isn’t such a big deal to go out into the woods and handle a dead animal then it really shouldn’t be such a big deal to clean up a small puddle of doggie phlegm should it?  I’m really kicking myself for not shouting back upstairs, “Clean it up – it’s not a big deal”!

I was only expected to take Nic out and then go back and get him after the deer was found, dragged to the jeep and gutted.  But, Hannah, our 4 year old, was so excited and I felt bad about not being a more supportive mom that I bundled her and I up and at the first crack of daylight we headed out with Nic to the woods behind a friends home (or the crime scene as I like to refer to it).  I was hoping we’d easily come upon the chalked outline of the animal in question, load her into the jeep and head back home for a quick cup of hot cocoa before it was time to go to work.  But no such luck.  Nic gets Hannah on the look out for the “blood trail”.  Just the words – “blood trail” is enough to make my stomach churn but my 4 year old daughter suddenly became part hound.  If she had a tail it would have been wagging with excitement.  She was on that like a fly to garbage.  And good at it she was.  After about ½ hour searching and searching she and Nic find a “blood trail” in the cornfield.  I’m thinking, how in the heck are we supposed to drag a dead deer out of a very dense cornfield?  My son assures me that he’ll just drag her out!  Yeah, right, oh yeah, of course, No big deal!   I didn’t go into the cornfield because I was determined to find this poor dead deer lying in plain sight in front of the jeep!  Pretty soon I cannot hear or see my oldest and youngest offspring (the middle child had morning practice or he would have been there too).  I call Nic on the cell phone.  Hannah was sniffing her way through an unbelievable blood trail they had found deep in the corn field and they just knew they’d find this dead deer (the victim) soon.  Finally at 8:26 I inform my son via cell phone that I have to be to work in ½ hour and will need to leave soon.  He is nice and asks for about 5 more minutes.  I am feeling bad that I didn’t go into the cornfield now so that I can rescue my most likely frozen and starved preschooler and not have to take Nic away from his “blood trail”.  Pretty soon they come out, he with a very discouraged look, she with snot streaming all the way down her face but still a look of exuberance I will never forget.  As I watched them emerge from the corn field I couldn’t help but say out loud – here they come – The children of the corn!  Wasn’t that a movie once? 

He drove us back to our van and he headed back to the cornfield for another look.  This is when the adorable little snot nosed girl who was her brothers right hand search assistant turned into the child from h – e double hockey sticks.  She whined and cried the whole way home complaining how cold she was and how she wanted to stay with Nicky!  I let her know we had only 5 minutes to change our clothes and get to day care/work and that I would need her full cooperation. I might as well have been speaking directly to the dead deer. I’m going full speed ahead at home pulling her icy cold toes from her wet socks and shoes.  She is screaming that she hates the jeans I picked out, she doesn’t want to wear those shoes and I hurt her foot when I put her shoe on.  I think her head even spun around – I’m not sure because I was screaming myself and dealing with a “blood trail” of my own in the bathroom!

We throw on coats that Hannah of course, does not want to wear and race to the church – you know the place of peace, the home of the Lord, where I work and Hannah goes to school.  My mother in law is waiting on me to help count the church offering.  I tell her my tale of woe.  None of which she finds humorous - just a look of concern that she might see her sons name in headlines soon. 

I get a call from a very disappointed Nic around 9:45.  He still can’t find the deer and realizes he needs to get to school.  My mother in law, bless her heart, offers to drive him to school.  I drive out to the friend’s farm and follow my son back because he is not suppose to be legally driving yet.  Grandma is there to meet us at home.  Nic seems to think he has time for coffee and some t.v. – No big deal!.  I started screaming again for him to get in the shower.  I throw some food items in a bag for my lunch and headed back to the church – the place of peace,  after I called the school to say that Nic is running late and praying they don’t ask me why.  They didn’t.  My husband will rush home from work to comb the corn field for the “victim” after work since Nic has basketball practice.  I hope he finds her this time - if not maybe he’ll take my advice and shoot a cow next time – they don’t run fast or far.  In any event, it’s really no big deal!