Everything Changes

Everything changes when you meet someone who has been sexually trafficked. When the stories of family members selling their middle schooler to the local John for a little extra cash become a real live, walking, breathing, and talking young girl, things start to change. The world becomes hazy, and the reality of what you have been advocating for (me personally from a laptop) smacks you in the face and you are left reeling, hoping someone will catch you in the midst of your fall. You cannot help but stare, not in a gawking, cynical kind of way, but in a way of reflection. How can this be possible? How can she be sitting there like her past is normal? How can I possibly help her live a normal life in this world, when all I can do is hope that she doesn’t see the tears streaming down my cheek? And then you realize, she is real. She is the story I’ve been reading about, retweeting, posting, and advocating for. And now she is sitting next to me, on a hard, plastic chair as she waves off the heat as we watch Chipper saunter up to bat.

I find myself looking bleary eyed at the computer screen from crying all the way home. I went to a Braves game tonight with some of the women from Wellspring Living, and had the distinct honor of talking with them, laughing with them, and just standing in sheer awe at the beauty that radiates from them. And it was real. For the first time, this day-to-day routine of a job became real because I saw directly whom it affected. And that changes everything for me.

I saw their smiles.

I heard their laughter.

I heard their struggles.

And I became very proud of the organization I work for.

This is what it’s about folks. Seeing the broken hearted and walking behind them trying to pick up the fallen pieces. In an instant everything I’ve done over the past month became a million times more worth it, because of a few short hours I spent with the results. And it’s worth it. It’s worth the fight, worth the battle, and worth the pain. Because in the end, the restoration experienced for these women far exceeds anything I could ever have hoped for. 

The Case of the Grumpies

Yesterday I woke up in a bad mood. Let’s rephrase that; I woke up choosing to let the fact that I was upset about something completely unrelated affect the rest of the day. It started with the dramatic comforter throw and exit out from my warm bed. Then the realization hit that I was cold and I had to change into gym shorts to work out. And then I realized that it’s 7:15 and I had to work out. Then the fact that I had to put gas in my car again.  And the list drones on and on, and could really be made of anything I saw as annoying on that particular morning. And then I started saying sentences like these:

Of course you would make this ONE mocha incorrectly. I can’t even enjoy the one thing I was looking forward to today.

Sure, perfect! I love how jammed 85S is. And the ‘Bert Show’ is on a commercial break! Figures.

Frick. I’m late. Everyone’s going to say, ‘Well done Jessica, you are late… AGAIN.’

Car, if you even so much as THINK about coming over to my lane, I will punch you. Don’t tempt me.

‘Yeah, mom, what? Oh, you’re leaving? Ok…bye. Oh, you wanted a hug? (hurump) Fine. I’m just kind of in a hurry, but whatever.’

Oh this is just amazing. Perfect really. I wanted to take the wrong exit so I could waste more gas and go even more out of my way. This is my favorite.

Man, writing these out really make me sound like a diva. And a child! The worst part is, while I’m saying all of these things, there generally is some deep, root issue that I am pissed about, but in my childish ways, I’m not willing to admit. So I pout. And like a child, I secretly wish someone would sit me down and make me say why I’m upset. It could very well be a simple case of the grumpies, but more times than not there is something that I am upset about and desperately need someone patient to pull it out of me. I am very good at getting other people to talk about what they are going through, and am a strong advocate for putting out your dirty laundry to dry, and be done with. But for myself, I prefer to hold onto everything, for the sake of my image. That’s brutal honesty. I’m too proud to admit that I need help and someone to process things with. So I pout.

This blog is for two people. It’s for the “outsiders;” the people noticing a change in mood of their friends and that those curt comments are not normal. Help the grumpy Jessicas. Pull and pry and poke until the root is revealed. It will be painful for the moment, but healing in the long run.

It is also for the “insiders;” the people cleverly masking their hurt through the excuse of ‘being grumpy’ or heavy traffic or a messed up latte and so on. I want to say that it’s ok to be broken. It’s healthy actually, and it gives you an opportunity to see how many people love you.

Those are my thoughts on the matter. Love to know if anyone ever feels this way. 

Growing Out of the Pudgy Pudge

                

I used to be pudgy. I mean really pudgy. (I enjoy using the word ‘pudgy’ to describe my former physical state of being, because I feel like it makes people feel uncomfortable. And that makes me laugh.) Pretty much from the time I was nine years old until I was 15, I was just a pudgy, unattractive and awkward girl. I think that is the plight of every preteen, and I thank God everyday that we grow out of it. Not to say that now I am in tip-top shape, of model-esk beauty and brilliantly sociable in any and all situations, but I am not the same pudgy teenager who used to think that cut-off shorts and Scooby-Doo© T-shirts were fashionable.

I used to be an opera fan. Today, I was walking around in the most magical place in the world, Barnes and Noble, when the idea to write this blog came into my head. I was toiling around in the classic movie section, when I heard an old favorite play over the loud speakers. It was Josh Groban, and he was singing an Italian song from his first album. I used to love that album. As a senior in high school, I would listen to it in the car every morning on the way to class. But today, as I walked through Barnes and Noble, I hated it. Well, I didn’t hate it, but I was thinking, “This is so boring. I can’t even really pronounce the words to sing along.” Hmm, interests have changed; this used to be one of my favorites and now I wouldn’t dream of picking it out of my ITunes library.

I used to be competitive. During youth camps in the summer, I would pretend I was all big and tough during sporting events, taking shots every chance I got, and trying to look fierce. I don’t know who I was trying to fool, I was not athletic. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m a performer. I sing and dance and show off; I don’t run around in a giant field chasing a ball. Don’t get me wrong, I hold anyone in high esteem who actually can do that, and do it well for that matter. For me, I’d rather do my workout in the morning, maybe do a little hike in the afternoon, and then sit back and enjoy a Braves game with some popcorn on the side. If either prospective team looses, I might a little bummed, but I'll get over it. It’s just a game.

None of these things that I ‘used to be’ have any sentimental value to me, except that I am telling you, and that I am simply not that way anymore. I’ve grown up. I’ve left the Marietta suburb and journeyed into the real world, where I’ve learned and experienced new things, big and little. I used to hate eggs, now I love them. I used to be a little on the heavy side, now I care about health and physical fitness. I used to like opera, now I like jazz and the Civil Wars. I used to be a people pleaser, now I stand up for what I believe in and welcome confrontation. Some things will never change; for instance, I will always have a special place in my heart for Justin Timberlake and his knack for blending hip-hop and unique harmonies. And I will fight anyone who argues against that statement.

              

I never thought I would say this, but I feel like I am cycling back to the pudgy, preteen years, minus the excess pudge and insecurity. I’m in my mid-twenties, and I am growing and changing; learning what’s important and what I want in life. On the other hand, isn’t that what our entire life is about? A continuous cycle of growth and change while dipping in and out of seasons? But that is the exciting part! You will never be the exact same person tomorrow that you are today. Besides foundational beliefs and values, your opinions and views will be continually changing as your surroundings, friends and occupations do. And that’s fine. Healthy actually. Nothing too deep, just a few thoughts from the day.

           
We all change. Hopefully for the better. Yes, yes, the girl on the bottom IS single. 

 

Saints of the Round Table

I know some really cool people. Seriously, some really. Cool. People. I don’t know how it’s possible, but everywhere I turn I feel like I’m looking at a jack in the box. The only thing is that there are 1,000 jacks in one box, all uniquely designed and manufactured, jumping out and surprising me with their tricks. They all have vibrant colored clothes, beautifully carved faces, brilliantly written theme songs and extravagant hats. They are dream chasers standing on mountains built upon faith, playing their own little tune on their handcrafted instruments. But they are truly just normal people, believing in an UN normal God.

I am telling you this because of dinner last night. Sunday night I found myself sitting on my flower-covered ottoman eating my mom’s homemade burgers with some of my favorite people. It was a reunion of sorts, mostly World Racers, some old friends, family members and missionaries from across the globe. Between bites of fudge brownies and sips of peach tea, each person managed to get out where they have been, and where God is currently taking them. I’d like to share a couple of their stories. Just a few stories about a few friends who don’t have a lot of money, or big connections, or tangible means to do what they do, but it just works. And it works because these people have decided to dream. They’ve decided that God-sized dreams still exist, and that they are worth pursuing. Their dreams have turned into actions, which have turned into realities. So here are a few stories. Only a FEW stories, because I know way too many people who have put their hope in the Lord and his promises to list every story. So I’ll showcase some of my favorites.

Debra Black

     If you had aches, pains, or the sniffles, you would go see her. She isn’t the doctor, but she is the one who tells the doctors who is coming, when they have to work, and when their checks will be in. She is an Internal Medicine Office Manager by day, Worship Leader by night. She started her own non-profit by the age of 21, called Worship on the Square, and it exists solely to bring churches together to be The Church and worship together in public squares. She sings, combines independent Christian artists into choirs, proclaims the name of Jesus in public places where His name normally isn’t spoken, and runs it all completely by faith and prayer. She works in an office doing payroll by day, and sings the name of Jesus over Centennial Park by night. She is now recording a CD, of which God has anointed.  

Alisha Fung

My World Race team and I met Alisha in China. She was a full time missionary from Vancouver, working in Hengyang, China, in a room with special needs children, holding and loving them as she watched most of them slowly starve to death. (Read my blog “Where It’s Not Safe” to learn why they are dying) I worked in that room for 3 weeks and it was all I could do to get up everyday and work without sobbing. And she worked there EVERYDAY. For three and a half months; during the coldest time of the year in China. She fell in love with those children, as well as the middle-aged special needs men she worked with. She is now going back to school for four more years to learn occupational therapy to hopefully one day go back. To China. She actually wants to go back to finish what God started when she was  there.

Blake C. Smith

Ok, I know he is my brother, but I am just too proud of him to not include him in this post. Blake is 16, but a mere 5-minute conversation will make you think you are talking to a 25-year-old mature adult. Blake gets it. His life was turned over when he went on a mission trip to Nicaragua, and he saw people truly in need of a Savior and realized how desperate we are for the Lord’s favor. Blake refers to everything he has or receives as a blessing from God, and turns everything right back to Him. What 16-year-old that you know does that? He doesn’t want to go to college right after high school, but wants to serve somewhere in Central America fighting human trafficking. Big Dreams. Big God.

Joshua Maisner

Joshua was my squad leader on the World Race. He loved his position squad leading, but he couldn’t wait to get home and be a ‘normal person’ again, being friends first with his peers instead of their authority. But God had different plans, and called him to lead the September squad, only a few short months after he got home from leading his squad. He will be traveling all over Asia, Africa, Central America and Europe leading a squad of 50 into the nations to be Jesus to the hurting. He will be teaching boys how to be Men of God and girls how to be Jesus’ Beloved. I’ve seen him do it once, and I know he will do it again; living solely off of support and out of a backpack (support him at joshuamaisner.theworldrace.org). He is a man of integrity, honor, and truth.

These are just a very few people who are making a difference in this world. They are everywhere, and they’re normal people like you and me, but they have said yes to God. They are saints, sitting at the Lord’s Table feasting on His goodness and constantly asking for more. What are the dreams in your life that you are afraid to chase? What is holding you back?

How "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" Killed My Generation

How I Kissed Dating Goodbye Killed My Generation

I woke up this morning and my throat felt like toast. It actually makes me cringe thinking back to it; I mean you could have put one of those cardboard tubes from a paper towel roll in my throat and I wouldn’t have known the difference. It is for that very reason I find myself lying on the couch, at 2 pm on a Saturday, still in my bathrobe. I have a summer cold, and it’s either watch Millionaire Matchmaker or finally catalog my thoughts on this issue in a blog. (Ok, ok, Millionaire Matchmaker is still on in the background. It’s a guilty pleasure; I admit it.)

I grew up with my authority figures’ hands over my eyes. The church, my teachers, and my parents fought endlessly to protect us from the ‘horrors’ of this world by censoring everything. I wasn’t allowed to watch PG-13 movies, even talk about alcohol, date until I was 16, and Heaven forbid curse, because that would be ‘un-Christian’ like. We ran to the safe confines of the suburbs, and closed the blinds to the nature of this world, which tended to be a little less than appropriate. In saying all this, as always, I feel like I have to make a disclaimer. Today it’s not for my readers, it’s for my mom. Mom, this is not a reflection on you or how you raised me. You have done an incredible job introducing me to this world, letting me go, and watching me discover things on my own terms. But I do have a few bones to pick with the church and the Christian authority of my generation that dealt with teaching us about dating and sex (Youth pastors, Christian authors, guest speakers, and so forth).

In the conservative, Southern Baptist culture I grew up in, we were taught three very specific principles about dating and marriage. These three capstone ideas (I believe) have led my generation to have very skewed sense of what courtship looks. These theories surfaced from the ever-so-popular books such as I Kissed Dating Goodbye and When God Writes Your Love Story and sermons with similarly themed. These principles, in their truest and rawest form, are as follows:

1.     You must be friends with someone FIRST, before you can date them. This is where the famous idea of ‘group dating’ came about. Picture this: little Janie comes home from school one day with a new sparkle in her eye and pep in her step. When her mom asks why she’s so excited, she clasps her hands together and exclaims that the boy she has been crushing on has finally asked her out. Like a proud mama bear, Janie’s mother gets excited with her and asks where he is taking her. ‘Well,’ her daughter replies, ‘it’s a group of us. Ten people actually, and we are going to the movies and then out to get ice cream.’ Looking confused, her mom asks, ‘Well Janie, how are you going to get to know him with all of your friends around?’ And Janie responds, ‘Mom! This is how we do it nowadays. It’s a group date and he invited me along.’ Still a little baffled, her mom shakes her head and succumbs to the idea that Janie’s generation has a different idea of what dating actually is.

a.     Problem No. 1: The reason the very term ‘dating’ exists is for when the pursuer (the boy) asks out the girl to get to know her, on a more intimate level, which generally requires some one-on-one conversation. And from experience, it’s a little difficult to get to know someone in a group setting. 

b.     Problem No. 2: When you meet someone for the first time and find you have common interests, similar views, and some physical attraction, it becomes wrong for you to automatically want to date him or her. Guys think they have to find five other group settings to be around the girl in, and girls find themselves hanging around those same group settings hoping that these guys will notice them. I like to call these groups “Clouds of Passivity,” because both parties are hanging around this awkward group cloud, ignoring the obvious: They would much rather be alone; chatting one-on-one.

c.      Solution: Men, if you find that you are somewhat intrigued by a women, ask her out! It’s perfectly fine and appreciated. Women, don’t dodge around the bush when a man is upfront with you; just give him a chance! You don’t need ten ‘dating sessions’ at church and 15 group dates to figure out if you are interested; one date can answer all of those questions.

2.     Initial physical attraction is sinful. This is my favorite one to pick on. When I was in college, I came up with the phrase, “I appreciate the fact that you are attractive,” because I came to the consensus that I appreciate attractive men! And I think that’s ok. I think it’s healthy to be able to see someone and confidently say, “I think you are handsome.” I know this depends on the guy, but I think some guys need a little confidence booster, and I know for a FACT that girls needs this from the men who are pursuing them.

a.     Problem: Christian men have become scared of beautiful women, or just women in general. They see someone who revs their engine (too explicit? Eh.) and they automatically turn it off. They close their eyes to the fact that they are attracted to their girlfriends, because the church has nailed it into their heads that it is wrong to think so until you’re married. You know I don’t mean going as far as impure thoughts; I’m just saying that it’s ok, men, to say, ‘that’s right! My girlfriend’ hot!” Christian women have become afraid to dress to impress. We have been told our whole lives not to wear that, and pull that skirt down, and tug that shirt up. (I’m not advocating this for high school student, this strictly is for mid-college age and up) These kinds of regulations are fine for teenagers, but if another girls comes over to me and pulls my tank up on my 25-year-old body I will cut her. Ok, not really, that was a little intense, but you get the picture. I feel like I’m being a little feisty in this blog…oh well!

b.     Solution: Men and Women alike, it’s ok to think the person you are dating is attractive, nay I will even say hot. It’s actually healthy and a good thing, when not obsessed over or taken too far. Women, it’s ok to know your body type and to dress, how can I tastefully say this, with a little more confidence than a schoolgirl would dress. There. Figure that one out on your own terms. And please don’t email me outfits and say, ‘Is this appropriate?’ It’s a case-by-case scenario, and we need to be mature enough to make our own decisions when it comes to clothes.

3.     Sex has become a bad, very bad thing. This isn’t necessarily something we have been taught, directly, but it has become a common assumption that we have (as intelligent people) inferred from the many sex lectures. I will never forget sitting on my 4^th grade bus and hearing some too-cool-for-school-kid talk about sex and automatically shutting my ears off because I thought that was something only very bad people did. When my mom first had ‘the talk’ with me, I remember thinking to myself, “Oh crap. I’m going to have to do this one-day. ::sigh:: Well, I guess I’m just going to have to close my eyes and suffer through it.” Heck, I didn’t know sex was actually a good think until I was 13 years old. And then I was sworn not to even think about it until my wedding night. Every feeling or raging hormone I ever felt was immediately squashed and put under the thumb of our family Bible.

a.     Problem: We look at sex, and every kind of intimacy that surrounds it, as a very bad thing. We know that God created sex for marriage. (well, it doesn’t say that exactly in the Bible, but it is referred to in Song of Solomon when speaking about a married couple, so again, as intelligent people, we surmise that it means only in the confines of marriage, is it ok to have sex. Also, Paul talks about it in 1 Corinthians and refers to sex as ‘sexual immorality,’ so he suggests marriage to ‘fix the problem.’ Thus, sex becomes ok, actually good, in the confines of marriage. This inference I whole-heartedly agree with, because of the emotional and physical bonds sex creates between two people, and the fact that it harbors such a divine intimacy that is best expressed with the covenant of marriage) Let me say that again: God created sex. So naturally, we can surmise that it is a good thing, because, well, the author of all good things created it. The only problem is, everything that surrounds sex (kissing, hugging, holding hands, caressing the hair) has been put in the same pot as ‘no-nos’ before marriage. I have to be very careful when I say this, because I know a million people can take this a million different ways and say that I am advocating that anything under the sun outside of physical insertion is ok and accepted by me, Jessica Lauren Smith. No, not every kind of intimacy is meant for people outside of marriage; however, a lot of these intimacies are and can be done inside the dating realm. I can see some readers’ cheeks growing rosier at the slight turn of verbage of this blog. It’s ok; I will give you a light pat on the back and closed-lipped smile and tell you more when you are on the grown-up side of this world.

b.     Solution: Men, it is ok for you to physically show your girlfriend that you adore her. Now, before you go running to your women and tell them ‘anything goes,’ and doing whatever you please because some blogger said it was ok, let me be specific. It is ok to kiss her; it is actually necessary to see if there is certain chemistry to the relationship when you cross the kissing boundary. I know some people want to save that for marriage, or ‘the one,’ but I’m just speaking for personal experience, and myself when I say that that is what I would expect out of a relationship. I have a lot of guy friends, and we hang out a lot. Some would even say we go out dates, (we go for coffee, dinner, movies, etc.) but I do not kiss them, hold their hand, or hope they will put their hand on the small of my back to guide me around (if you haven’t seen Hitch, I highly recommend you watch it). All of this to say, at some point in the dating relationship, girls would like to be kissed. It’s just something we dream about, hope for, and look for when we are being courted. Women, stop putting all of these rules and boundaries up in relationships! You are scaring them away! Again I echo, I don’t recommend the ‘anything goes’ method for this solution either, by ANY means. There needs to be some physical boundaries, yes, and I think that varies from couple to couple. All I’m saying here is that this generation of women has put far too many stipulations on ‘what you can’t do to date me.’ You have to ask my dad’s permission before you ask me out. We can’t be together after 10 pm, no matter what. You can’t touch me in front of my parents. You can’t kiss me until our 12^th date. And the list drones on and on and on! I’m even frustrating myself typing it! No wonder these guys are afraid to do anything; we’re the intimidators!! And we hide it so cleverly under the ‘good Christian principles’ we learned in church. Where did those teachers get these points anyway?

Wow. This is a long blog. High-five and ten points to anyone who made it to this point. Nearing the end of the blog, I’d like to bring it back to Jesus. Amidst all of the pharisaic rules of dating among my generation, I will say that Jesus is about honor, respect, and love. Bottom line is, there are things that we are doing with our boyfriend or girlfriend that is not honoring, respecting, or loving them. Is it really respectful not to ask a girl out, when you are interested, you know she is interested, and the only thing holding you back is some stupid rule? Are you really loving your boyfriend when you shy away from him attempting to put his arm around you on the couch at your parents’ house? Think about these, and maybe we can turn around what the generation before us did, and actually date each other in a mature and honoring way. It could be fun!

The Heartbreak of Harmony

WARNING: This blog is highly flowery and somewhat poetic. I can’t help it; sometimes I just write this way!

I live for harmonies. I’m like a school girl when I hear a smooth, dissonant chord in ensemble, duet, or trio; I get goose bumps, my eyes well up, and my heart skips a beat. It’s one of those things that almost breaks your heart a little because it’s just THAT pretty. When driving down the road listening to my pick of the day, I will often rewind one track over and over again just to hear one particular chord and how it’s layered around the melody. When I’m playing the piano, I will play a chord and make people harmonize with it just to get that resonant sound that only comes with voice meets piano notes. I’m a sucker for it, a music enthusiast, and a talent snob, always listening to the blend of melodies and harmonies around me.

I think I truly found this love for harmony when I sang for an Acapella group at Young Harris and then the Jazz Ensemble at UGA. We did mostly Acapella (music without instruments) music, so we relied solely on our voices and how the blend orchestrated the sounds produced. Sometimes the men would soften, so the ladies could showcase their melodies, and sometimes the women would sing sweetly to highlight the male tones. If we weren’t blending correctly or one part stuck out sorely over the rest, my director would make us stand in a circle and sing with our eyes closed. We couldn’t look at her for direction, and had to rely completely on our ears to match pitch with one another. That was always my favorite part of rehearsal. The moment we closed off our senses to the rest of the world and focused on one, singular part, the melody.

After all my years of studying music, it wasn’t until I was in Phang Nga Thailand that I truly realized why I had such a connection with harmony. We were teaching some missionary kids about choral and jazz music and the importance of blend. My friend Alicia was telling them about something her old choral director always taught during rehearsal. He would always tell her choir that the harmony exist to make the melody sound better. The melody is the carrying point of the song, and the harmonies sit on top or under the central root of the song, the melodic line. When she said this, I pushed my bottom lip up, raised my eyebrows, and nodded. That totally makes sense.

As the lesson went on I chewed on that point and came to a consensus. Harmony is what I was created to be. I was created to be harmony to our ultimate melody, Our Creator, in essence ‘make him sound better,’ or in our terms, ‘glorify Him.’ Wow. Truth punched in the diaphragm. In essence we exist to make the Ultimate Melody sound better, which is our Lord. Ok, I can do that. I crave to do that. Just like when I hear that one crunchy chord that sends shivers up my spine, there is a vibration in the spiritual realm when we harmonize with the Ultimate Melody, and I get a little buzz off of that as well.

I get that. Living in the musical fairyland that is my head, I can imagine that I am singing along to be God’s harmony and live to amplify Him. But the hard part, the heartbreak if you will, is that I want to live out that harmonic relationship with someone here on earth. Enter sucking ‘S’ sound through your clenched teeth and ‘Ouuu’ sounds from the masses at that statement. All of the I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T woman phrases are flooding through my mind as I think about that last sentence. You don’t want to sound needy. You don’t want men to know that you can’t do it on your own, because believe me you can. I mean, you’re available, but you don’t want to sound too available. And yes, believe me, I do not want to sound needy, or lame, whatever you want to call it, but I might sound that way to you, and frankly I don’t care. The truth is, I’m ready to be the harmony in a man’s life. I’m ready to be in the sole relationship put on earth that mirrors our relationship with the Lord, the Ultimate Pursuer, the Ultimate Melody. I’m in a waiting place for that special someone, wanting to be needed by the mystery man, desiring to follow after a strong leader and visionary, and hoping for someone to harmonize with. Hoping for someone who I can make sound better…not in the snobby, I enhance your very existence kind of way, but in the, ‘let me bring out the best in you’ way.

And that’s kind of hard. I’m still sitting, singing my harmonies by myself, and I sound like the awkward person that always sings off pitch but thinks she’s legit. I am not pitying myself, or asking for the ever-so-popular ‘in God’s perfect timing’ phrase (although I do believe His timing is everything), I’m just being mature and real with what I want and what I think I’m ready for. That’s it. Nothing too earth shattering, just my heart. In it’s truest, most naked form—honest. 

The Sticky Blog

I don’t really like the word sticky. Whenever I type it or say it, I make an ‘S’ noise as I suck in air through my teeth and wait for the reactions of my ‘viewers’ (does ‘viewers’ sound pompous? I couldn’t think of another word. You can laugh; it’s a little funny). It makes me think of trudging through gooey mud while wearing really nice clothes and having my hair done and make-up on. However, I felt it was appropriate for this post, because this is a topic that can get a little sticky (‘S’ noise to follow) when brought up in the wrong company. But it is necessary that we take a look and really examine our lives and if we are truly using our lives to help others and serve God or just living our lives to serve…well, ourselves.

Sometimes we as Christians forget some things about God. We forget that He created us. We forget that he created the ocean. We forget that ‘as many grains of sand as there are in this world, are as many thoughts our Father has about us.’ That’s intense. A little too intense for us sometimes. I think the biggest thing we forget about God is that He is Glory. I don’t mean full of glory, or glorified, or looks like glory, (even though He is all of those things) I mean He is Glory. Webster defines glory as “great beauty and splendor: magnificence.” He is not only great beauty and magnificence, He is THE great beauty and magnificence.

And sometimes we forget that.

We forget that we exist to bring glory to Him and amplify the fact that He is Glory. The Glory.

When we are walking about our daily lives, we tend to minimize every blessing, warm sunset, plate of food, ounce of love, job offer, sport’s achievement or whatever strikes your fancy, as something that we’ve ‘earned;’ deserved, or gained. We put them on our little bookshelf of achievements and categorize them as items that deserve a ‘well done me’ pat on the back (If you’ve never heard that phrase, please watch the latest episode of the Joshua and Jessica Show). And then we start to rank our achievements. My 7^th grade 2^nd runner-up baseball trophy is shinier than yours. My 5-tiered fondant wedding cake made by Buddy Valastro from the Cake Boss is moister than yours. My full-time job that I actually hate pays more than yours. And we resort back to the children version of ourselves by comparing our newest Barbie dolls and latest Power Ranger playing cards. Side note: I literally just saw a guy wearing a Power Ranger’s t-shirt walk past me. Fate?  At the end of the race, we get to the finish line as realize that we’ve done this all for our own glory, when we weren’t designed to BE glory in the first place. Every single blessing, gift, and achievement is a result of God’s favor and his desire to love His children. How can we, no, how can I, take these things and not turn around and place them back at the alter to be used and stewarded by His hands?

I can’t take credit for this revelation, (I mean, can any of us?) but for the moment, I am writing off of a sermon I heard today by the Campus Pastor at Buckhead Church, Billy Phenix. He was preaching about having a posture of servant hood and how that is hard for us today because we are centered on a “Me” culture. We play sports to win games and achieve trophies. We go to college to get a high-paying job and spend $100,000 on redoing our kitchen. We mound up accomplishments for ourselves, and sometimes our immediate families, and somehow that’s become OK. We’ve succumbed to the fact that this life is about us and that we should learn to fend for ourselves and be our ultimate provision. And it’s fine. Heck, it’s even applauded! We live lavish and entertaining lives at the expense of others suffering and we get a certificate that we end up putting in a drawer and trophies that end up getting dusty and ignored.  Side note No. 2: I just noticed Power Ranger boy has nasty, scraggly hair and has painted his nails black. Fate ignored.

Now, please hear my heart in this. I am not standing on a soapbox chucking Bibles at people while I live out of a cardboard box and boycott Starbucks. I’m actually sitting in a Starbucks right now, sippin’ on a tall white-chocolate mocha. I’m writing this just as much for myself as I am for the World Wide Web. (I say that because I actually don’t know who all is reading this J) I also want to say that high-paying jobs, achievements, and trophies are not bad, by any means. They are a blessing from God that should be stewarded well and offered right back to Him. My mom always said to do everything as if you were doing it for Jesus. Well, I think she said that because we were doing chores at the time, and she didn’t want us to do a crappy job. Nonetheless, she had a good point. We should do everything as if were for doing it for Jesus and God’s glory because that’s why we’re put on this earth, right? To do everything with excellence in hopes that it will help others and bring more glory to Him? That’s my challenge for us. No, that’s my challenge for me, and I’m writing this all out to ask you to help me be accountable to it, even thought it’s sticky.

Side Note No. 3: Power Ranger boy is a creeper.