You're a big, fat, dirty, rotten sinner . . . Yes, YOU!

A couple weeks ago, I had an intense, awkward, frustrating confrontation with someone very important to me.  I was in a position where I could and needed to walk away, and I did.  The anger built up inside me, though, and I wanted so badly to spew out what I was thinking and feeling.  Honestly, I think I was right and probably would’ve been in the right for saying something, but not in the frame of mind I had.  I literally felt as though the Holy Spirit was supernaturally holding my mouth closed as I left that place.

As I fumed on the way home, I also felt proud that I walked out without saying anything.  Suddenly, I heard God speak to me:  You’re no better.  Yes, you did the right thing by keeping your mouth shut and walking away, but you’re a sinner, just the same.

This is just one of many things recently that God has used as He has been dealing with me heavily about compassion the past couple of months.  It really started to tug deeply at my heart after the shooting in Aurora, Colorado.  Several of my facebook friends made posts and comments regarding the alleged shooter that bothered me.  While the media spent hours of coverage interviewing, speculating, and discussing what made this man do what he did, many Christians spent those same hours criticizing him and saying what he deserved and where he could go.

It broke my heart because I couldn’t help thinking, “If not for God’s grace, I could’ve easily been a mass murderer.”  Going through some of the trials I have in the past few years has, unfortunately, brought out some of my poorer qualities.  One of these is my temper.  I’ve always been overly sensitive and quick to get offended or angry.  God is working with me on it and through it, but it isn’t easy.  When going through a divorce and custody battle, I had thoughts I couldn’t believe were happening in my own head.  When judges ruled things that didn’t make any sense to me, I understood why, humanly speaking, people go rogue and take matters into their own hands.  I realized how stress, anger, exhaustion, and rejection can make people perform acts that surprise everyone who knows them.

Over the last couple of months, God has been reminding me over and over again that in his eyes, I am the same as the alleged Colorado shooter.  I am a sinner who has broken God’s law and deserves hell.  I am not more deserving of blessings or less deserving of punishment.  And as a recipient of God’s grace and mercy in my life, I believe I am compelled to show compassion to others, especially those who may have never heard or may never hear anywhere else that Jesus loves them.

I do NOT think that compassion means letting people get away with wrongdoing or giving them a free pass.  I believe we all have to face the consequences of our choices, good and bad, big and small.  I DO think compassion can be offering a kind word, holding back a sarcastic comment, choosing to walk away rather than having an anger outburst.  Perhaps compassion is sacrificing your “fun money” to help a friend who’s having a hard time or whose child needs school clothes.  Maybe compassion is taking time out of your way-too-busy schedule to call, write, or email a friend whom you know is down or struggling.

What does compassion look like in your life?  Remember, you’re just as undeserving, but God has shown compassion to you!  Pass it on!

The Lost Girl

She longs for a love she’s never felt, yet misses.  The child inside hopes to be held, comforted.  The woman inside needs to be loved, desired.  Surrounded by darkness, she cries; but it seems her pleas for help are in vain.  Her eyes, burning from hours of unrest, are nearly adjusted to the pitch black.  She blinks and squints, hoping to catch a sliver of light, but finds none.

“Surely there is a way out,” she says aloud.  She speaks as though someone hears, yet she knows she is alone.  Then, a noise:  rescue, perhaps?  A savior, here to deliver her from captivity?  Alas, no.  It is just the sound of yet another facet of her life crumbling around her.

She screams, full of anger and desperation.  Why can’t she see an end?  There is no one to give her answers or solace.  She fears she is becoming increasingly comfortable in this abyss, though she doesn’t want to be.  She feels no relief, and it is becoming easier to stay.

She senses a faint whisper, seemingly coming from within:  “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  Is she talking to herself again?  No.  She is far from having the strength for these words.  A stirring deep in her soul reminds her of a pure, white light; a beacon so bright it brings healing and dispels shadows.  Grace pours over her being, and a smile crosses her face.  But then, a wind, cold and harsh, sweeps over her, bringing her back into the moment.  She grunts with frustration as tears pour involuntarily down her face.  She is soaked with the pain.

The voice again, louder than before, “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  “Lord,” she yells, “Is that You?!  If it is, please lift me from this pit!  End it, and get me out of here, now!”  Silence, stillness like death.  She scoffs, “I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than last time.”  Wait, “last time” . . . yes, she has been in darkness before, often.  And she has come out of it:  some way, at some time.  And it seems nothing has changed, including the voice.  She heard it in the previous darkness, and in the one before that.  Yet her chest is heavy with a sigh. She finds little consolation in the voice, for she is overwhelmed. 

Without warning, another wind sweeps over her, boisterous and almost blinding in its power. A drop of light appears to pierce the darkness, though from afar.  In echoing, thunderous tones, the voice speaks again: “YOU ARE NOT LOST!  YOU ARE NOT ALONE!”

Someone to come home to

It has been well over a year since I’ve posted anything here, but I’m hoping for that to change.  It is my current goal to write once a week and see how well I can keep up with it.  Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Someone to Come Home to

Before I even knew what the term “hopeless romantic” meant, I was one.  I loved love stories, beautiful dresses, and bridal magazines.  I wanted to get married and be a stay-at-home mom.  For the most part, that dream never changed.  I never wanted to be a “career woman” or always working and missing my family’s life.

Fast forward to August 2012, where I am a single (divorced) mom working 2 jobs while my daughter stays with my parents.  What the heck happened?  This was NOT the plan!  Life happened.  Someone made a choice that changed my whole life and caused me to make a series of difficult but necessary choices.

I come home every day to my daughter, sister, 2 dogs, and my mom, who acts as my mentor, babysitter, and spouse until further notice.  We laugh, eat, talk, and cry; it’s wonderful, and I love it.  But at some point, the evening must end.  MK and I must go to our house.  Some days, I am so tired and hot and wanting to get home that I don’t think about it anymore.  Other days, I put off going home because I so hate being alone, especially after MK goes to bed.  The other day, though, I had a thought I’d never had before.  As we turned at the light (yes, the only one!) to go down Main Street to our house, my heart ached with the knowledge that no one was there.  I knew that I’d open the door, unload the car, get MK to bed, and settle in for the evening.  I knew that I’d watch some TV, read, get ready for bed, and get in bed.  Alone.  By myself.  Without a spouse.  “God!” I cried silently, “I want someone to come home to!”  He whispered, quietly in my spirit, “Are you a person that someone else wants to come home to?”

I suddenly realized that, in waiting to see if I will ever again have someone to share my life with in the spousal role, I’ve never thought whether someone wanted to come home to me.  Although I am unmarried, I share my life with several people on a daily basis:  my parents, sister, daughter, boss, coworkers.  Am I reflecting Jesus’ love to those around me?  Am I testifying of His unfailing favor to those who don’t know Him?  Am I trying to say, do, and be the best I can?

I don’t know whether God will allow me the privilege of being married again.  But I do know that I have a beautiful daughter looking to me for protection, provision, and example.  She is watching me to see how I react and whether I have answers for the questions of life.  My hope is that while I wait to see what God has for my future, I can, with His help, be someone that anyone would want to come home to.