"It's Just Church"

We recently celebrated Mother's Day.  It's taken me a few (ok, several) years not to have expectations for this day.  Not that my husband has ever overlooked this day since I first became a mother, but because no matter what he did, I thought he could've done something a little bit better, a little bit sweeter, or a little more sentimental.  The poor guy never stood a chance against the made-for-film Mother's Day I imagined in my mind.

So, the last few years, I've learned to recognize my husband's sweet efforts rather than pick them apart.  This year, I was so impressed with his gift giving skills.  He bought a cork board for my closet.  Before you scratch your head in confusion, let me tell you that this cork board meant more to me than a fancy handbag or expensive shoes.  The reason it meant so much to me is because several months ago I mentioned that I wanted a cork board for my prayer space because the sticky notes I purchased don't stick to the wall very well.  It was a simple sentence that I didn't expect to last in his mind, especially because it slipped mine repeatedly.

That was my only gift.  And it was the only one I wanted.  It was the only one I forgot that I had even mentioned.  My heart was bursting at the seams over my new cork board (complete with decorative pushpins).

And then, my bubble popped.  My husband said something to me that he hasn't said in years.  And he said it in front of my children.  We were all sitting on my bed when my husband said, "don't go to church.  Let's stay home and just relax.  We can stay in our pj's, watch movies all day and just relax..."  The background noise was that of my two children: "ooh yeah, Mommy!  Let's stay home! I want to go back to sleep! C'mon, Mom!  I don't want to go to church!"  My husband's smile was as big as the sun on a summer day.  He was acting as though he just solved the problem of world hunger.  And the kids were cheering him on.

That sounded like such an ideal morning.  I hesitated.  Then I said, "no, I'm going to church.  You don't have to come with me, but I'm gonna go."  Everyone's cheers suddenly became groans.  My daughter's teenage attitude erupted because she was annoyed.  My son thew his head back and whined as though I just took away his favorite video game.  My husband put a hand on my leg and said, "come on...it's just church..."

"It's just church."

Years ago, my husband and I had a long talk about my need for God and His church.  We had to have this talk because many, many years before that my husband loved to talk me out of going to church.  He promised to make me breakfast, take me on shopping sprees, day trips, anything that could bribe me into staying away from church.  I let those bribes work.  And do you know what happens when you don't regularly spend time with God and the fellowship of His church?  You slowly start pulling away.  It becomes easier and easier to stay away.  And suddenly, you haven't been to church in so long that it feels weird to go back.

And, if you're anything like me, once the accountability is gone the old habits come rushing back.  I eventually stopped going to church.  My marriage was falling apart.  I was drinking, smoking, cussing, and partying as if I were a young, single girl.  But I wasn't.  I was a wife.  I was a mother.

I missed God so much, but I didn't know how to go back.  I was ashamed and embarrassed because I walked away.  I tried everything to fill that void, but I was never satisfied.  

Finally the day came when I couldn't stand another minute without God.  I called a friend from church and asked her to pick me up and take me to church.  I didn't trust myself to actually walk in the door once I was there.

When I walked into the church building, I was covered with an overwhelming sense of relief.  I was home.  And I never wanted to leave again.

As I was falling in love with God and giving my heart back to Him, I knew I had another man who wanted the entirety of my heart, as well.

It was time to tell my husband that God is, and was going to be, my first priority.

I think I just blurted it out one night: "I have to go to church.  I need God."  My husband was very supportive, after all we had just reconciled our marriage after being separated for a long time.

"No, I don't think you understand.  God has to be first, then you."  He didn't like the direction of our conversation.  "Please don't ask me to compromise Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights.  I want to be at church.  I need it."

I needed to lay down the foundation that God is first and I will not compromise my time with Him.  And with that foundation in place, my husband was able to see that I was a better wife.  I was a better mom.  My overall being was just better.

For years since then, my husband has never asked me to skip church.  Until the other day.

I immediately heard myself entertain the idea: "what's the harm in skipping church here and there?  We rarely get these mornings together.  And it's Mother's Day.  Totally understandable."

But then I looked at my children and their faces begging me to stay home:  "If I decide to stay home, what does that say to my kids?  It's ok to skip church because I'm feeling lazy?  Would it look like I put God first, or me?"

I scooted myself out of bed, much to the disapproval of my family, and started to get myself ready for church.  This was the first time I didn't tell my children to get themselves ready for church.  I silently got ready and tried not to imagine the pathetic picture of me sadly moping into church, having to tell everyone that on Mother's Day my family allowed me to attend church alone.

As I was putting together the final touches, I noticed that my husband was getting himself ready.  My daughter poked her head into my bathroom to ask if she could borrow my perfume.  I could hear my son downstairs looking for his shoes.

Before I knew it, the four of us were in the car and on our way to church.  Nobody complained.  Nobody whined.  Nobody had an attitude.

And when it came time to pray with the congregation, I grabbed my husband's hand and thanked God for the best Mother's Day gift ever.

The gift of my husband.  The gift of my children.

The gift of my salvation.

The gift of His love.

The gift of His grace.

Because it's not "just church."  It's my foundation.

xoxo

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I'm a Christian, but I'm not...

There are some common beliefs that come along with the label "Christian."
Here is my letter to you.

___________________________________
Dear Beloved Unbeliever,

I am a Christian.  But I am not...

Perfect

This is probably the most common stereotypical label placed on anyone who claims to be of Christian faith.

"Oh, you're a Christian.  So you think you're perfect."

Are you kidding me?  I'm the furthest thing from perfect.  I'm a downright sinner.  My flaws are huge.  But it's because of the awareness of my imperfections that I realize I need God more than anything else in the world.  I know that I fall short of His glory every day - that's why I need His grace.  I need God for the reason that I am not perfect.

If I thought I was perfect, I would think that I don't need God.....so, really, who here thinks they are perfect?

Scripture tells us that all of us fall short of God's glory (Romans 3:23); there is not a single human being who can boast about being perfect.  I will make mistakes.  Every day I will fail.  And that's ok.  God doesn't ask perfection of me.  He asks for my best effort.

Yes, I am Christian.  But I am not perfect.  And that is exactly why I need God.

I am a Christian.  But I am not...

A Doormat

Many believe that because I am a Christian, I have to "suck it up and take it."  Whether it's verbal persecution, or wrongful behaviors towards me, it is believed by the world that I should just "take it."  Some non-believers will even quote scripture:

"But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also." Matthew 5:39

"But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Matthew 5:44

"Wives, in the same way, submit yourselves to your own husbands..." 1 Peter 3:1

"Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying, 'I repent,' you must forgive them." Luke 17:4

One of my least favorite things to hear is a non-believer take scripture and pull it out of context.  Each of these scriptures, if read or quoted without its entirety, can definitely be made to read as though God expects His faithful believers to be doormats.  But, as believers, we know this not to be true of our God.  We are God's most treasured possession, the last thing He wants is for us to "stand there and take it."

There is one characteristic I see in each of these scriptures: dignity.  I see a quality that is worthy of honor and respect.  The easiest thing to do when someone verbally attacks us is to fight back with our own words.  When we are wronged, it is effortless to retaliate or seek revenge.

There is no strength behind retaliation.  It takes nothing to fight back.  The anger within is eager to retaliate.  The true strength is found in dignity.  The fight against the fight takes true strength.

The strength is in the dignity of our character because we are made in the image of God.

We are not doormats.  We are stronger than that.  We don't retaliate because we have strength in God's power.

Submission, forgiveness, and love are characteristics of the strong.

I am a Christian, but I am not...

Free From Temptation 

I'm human.  I have a sinful nature.  I am tempted every day.  Yes, I made Jesus the Lord of my life, but that did not erase temptation.  Even Jesus was tempted (Matthew 4:1-11), and he was perfect!

One of the biggest misconceptions is that because I am a Christian, I am no longer faced with temptation.  If anything, I am faced with more temptation than ever because the enemy specifically seeks to take my heart away from God.  Just like the enemy went after Jesus, or the way he went after Job (Job 1:1-12), the enemy is prowling around my heart, trying to find that one thing that will pull me down and tear me away from God.

Just like those of the world, my nature seeks that which is not good for me.  We all know the cartoons that pictured a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other...well, when we become Christians, that angel and that devil are no joke.

I wish my life was free from temptation.  I wish I could say to you, "I have no idea what that struggle is like," but the truth is, I can stare you in the eyes and say, "I struggle with that, too."

I am a Christian, but I am not...

Judging You

Spend a couple hours with me and you'll hear about everything I've done before, and after, I became a Christian.  I can guarantee that your eyes will jump out of your head and you will think to yourself, "at least I wasn't as bad as her!"

The truth is, I'm a Christian, but I'm not judging you.  I've done some pretty awful things.  I've said some incredibly hurtful words.  Who am I to judge anyone?

"Do not judge, or you too will be judged.  For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."  Matthew 7:1-2

Society likes to throw this scripture at believers, "don't judge me!"  I can promise that a true believer of Christ is not judging you.  We've walked that path.  We've been that road.  We've made bad choices.  We have a list of regrets.  We don't think we're better, and we don't think you're worse.

When I approach you about getting to know God, it's because I've been there.  I know that life.  And I have the solution to your broken heart.

I am a Christian, but I am not...

Boring

I've heard so many times, "I don't want to be a Christian because I have to give up the fun stuff."
What fun stuff are you talking about?  The drinking?  The partying?  The drugs?  The sex?  The pornography?  The cussing?

Think about each of those things: each has the potential to lead to dangerous grounds.  I used to drink.  I used to smoke.  I used to party.  I sought attention from other men - even though I was married.  I watched pornography.  I used profanity in place of common words.

I've lived life with God, then without God, and then with God again.  The worst time of my life?  The time when I left God.  Out of boredom is when I found trouble.  My marriage almost ended.  I was seeing another man.  I spent so much money I almost lost our home.  I did everything I could to fill the void in my heart.  Maybe if I drink...maybe if I party...maybe if I flirt...maybe if I smoke...maybe if I spend money...maybe if...maybe if...

My life was filled with boredom, so I tried to fill it with the things the world promises will cure the emptiness.  "Party more!  Drink more!  Go out more!"

The list of things most non-believers are afraid to give up is a list of empty promises.  When the words, "I don't want to give up the fun stuff" come out of the mouth of a non-believer, what is really being said is, "I don't know what else will make me feel good."

Give God a chance to fill your heart and your life with things that will make you feel good.  He will pour so much into your life that you will wonder how you ever lived without Him before.

Life with God is never boring.  He will fill your heart and your life with more than you could ever imagine.  "Boring" isn't in God's vocabulary.

I am a Christian, therefore, I AM...

Saved.
Redeemed.
Forgiven.
Loved.
Treasured.
Admired.
Cherished.
Protected.
Wanted.
Needed.
STRONG.

I am not perfect, but I am not weak. I am not free from temptation, and I am not judging you.

I am a person who seeks love, admiration, fulfillment, happiness, and strength.

I am just like you.

xoxo

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I Moved A Storm

I moved a storm.  Yep.  You read that correctly.  I moved a storm.

Ok, so I didn't personally move the storm, but God certainly did.

With my daughter's permission, I'm going to fill you in on a snippet of what's been clouding our home for the past few months.  To make an extremely long story short:  a few months ago my daughter was suddenly hit with severe anxiety.  It paralyzed her personality, crippling her in so many ways, and left our household feeling trapped in the eye of a storm.  There were days that my husband and I would have to physically remove her from the car just to get her to school.  My husband was in tears the day he had to carry her into the school grounds because she was physically fighting my efforts.

Teachers, counselors, staff, even the principal of the school, rallied around our daughter to make her days easier.  She wasn't being bullied, nothing even remotely damaging had happened to her.  She couldn't explain it.  She was crying because she was crying, and she had no idea why.  She was worried about the "what if's" - what if something happened to her? What if something happened to me?  What if something happened to her dad? Her brother?

We read book after book about anxiety, we met with a psychologist, her pediatrician, a behaviorist...and we were all at a loss.  My church family covered her in prayer, as well as myself and my husband.  Every day I was begging for prayers: "please pray for me, I'm so lost. I don't know how to help her. I can't get through to her."  My daughter's prayer journals were filled with words like "why is this happening to me? Why won't it stop? Why can't I be normal?"  I tried to tell her that her anxiety and worry meant that she was lacking trust in God - but she couldn't even grasp the idea of turning to God because she felt her world was spinning.  Her outrages in the mornings would exhaust her, and once home from school, she would nap and then wake up with barely a memory of the morning.

I had to beg others for prayer because I couldn't form a single sentence when it came to my time with God.  My tears were my prayers for months.

Finally, we started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  We weren't quite out of the danger zone, but there was some light trying to break through the clouds.  And then she had a four day break from school, just a couple of weeks ago.  The night before she was to go back to school, she was inconsolable.  Crying because she was scared. "What if I get sick at school? What if something happens while you're at work? What if...what if...what if..." I locked myself in the bathroom and started to cry out of anger and frustration.

In between my tears I sent a group text to the women in my life I lovingly refer to as my prayer warriors.  I needed prayer.

Each morning I wake up before the sun rises to make a cup of coffee to sip during my time with God.  The house is dark, I don't turn on a single light, and I quietly make my way through the house, careful not to wake anyone.  The morning my daughter was going back to school, my back was turned towards the window in my kitchen, but there was no mistaking the flash of light that filled the house.  Shortly after that came the thunder.  I paused, afraid to breathe.  I waited.  More lightning.  More thunder.

This is my daughter's biggest fear, aside from the unknown "what-it's." Thunder and lightning. I grabbed my cup of coffee, turned around to look out the window and whispered, "are you kidding me, right now, God??"

I was mad.  I was frustrated. I couldn't believe God would do this to me. To my daughter. To us.

I walked upstairs to find my husband awake, staring out the window. "Babe! Did you see this lightning? It's crazy!" My husband loves thunder storms.  Our bedroom was being lit up like a summer day at noon.  I just looked at him, ready to cry, and headed straight to my closet - my war room.

As soon as I closed the door to my closet, I broke down in tears.

"Why are you letting this happen, God?  Can't you give her a break?  She doesn't need this!  She's already nervous!  She's already scared!  Why are you doing this??"

I kept talking, directly from my heart.  Anger, frustration, hurt, and fear was pouring out of my eyes in the form of tears.

"You can move this storm, God.  I know you can place your mighty hands down here and push this storm away.  Do it!  I know you can and I want you to do it!  Move it!!  Please God, I'm begging you!  Even if it's just long enough to get her to school, move it!  I know you can!"

I continued my quiet time with God (although I don't know how quiet my angry whispers were...), and went on about my morning, kissed my husband good-bye as he left for work, got myself ready and prepared to wake my daughter to help her get ready for the day.

Just before I went into her room, my husband called.  "You know what's weird?  I haven't seen any lightning since what we saw this morning..."

My heart stopped.  I wasn't even paying attention.  I never looked outside.  I didn't notice that the lightning and thunder stopped.

"You know why it stopped, don't you?" The words nearly jumped off my tongue. "I prayed about it!"

I know my husband wanted to give a belly laugh, but instead he offered a polite giggle.  My joy didn't allow room to translate his laugh as persecution.  My prayer was not only heard, but answered immediately!  I nearly ran up the stairs to wake my daughter; I was so excited to tell her about the way God answered my prayer.

"Isn't that amazing? That lets us know that He is near to us all the time! He hears our prayers!"

I sent my daughter off to school, and began my hour long commute to work.  I was still on a fluffy cloud (because the storm clouds were gone) and had to tell more people about the way God answered my prayer.  I shared with my mom; I sent a group text to my prayer warriors, and I shared with my coworkers.

One of my coworkers responded with, "so I have you to thank for that?"  Confused, I asked what she meant.  She proceeded to tell me that in all the years she lived in the valley (approximately a 20-30 minute drive from my home) she had never experienced thunder like she did that morning.  "It shook the whole house! I've never been through anything like that!"  My smile must've been from ear to ear...I remembered that I asked God to move the storm, not necessarily stop it.

I spent the rest of the day with a smile on my face, praising God to anyone who would listen.

God will do that sometimes. He likes to show off every now and then.  Especially during the storm.

When we are in the middle of a stormy part of life, that's when God will grab the opportunity to calm the storm.  He knows that when He calms our storms, we will sing his praises to all who will listen.

Does that mean that should be the only time we praise Him?  Of course not.  We need to praise Him in all things....the good, the bad, and the ugly.  But the moments like this, when it's so clearly obvious that He is near and listening to our words and our hearts, are the moments that will sit deep in our hearts and serve as a reminder when we face another storm.  When I feel like God isn't hearing my prayers, when I feel like my words are being scattered in the wind...I'll always come back to the time God moved the storm.

"Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”

He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.

The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” Matthew 8:23-27

For all the days of my life, I will never forget the way God answered my prayer that morning.
I poured my heart out to Him with genuine conviction and belief that He could do anything.
My faith was not little that morning.  My faith was big.  It was loud.  And it was real.

When we feel like we are drowning in the storm, let's approach God with conviction that He can do anything in our lives.  After all, He shaped the mountains, he placed the stars, and he controls the oceans.

He can move the storms for you, too.

xoxo

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Do I Give Enough?

At the beginning of each year, our church hands out boxes of 52 envelopes.  These envelopes are a soft blue color and the date of each Sunday of the year is stamped on the front.  And if that's not easy enough, our church has the ability to set up our weekly contributions online!  I love it!  I used to have my weekly contribution set up online....that is, until I had to start using the envelopes.

Let me start here:

Jesus tells us that it's impossible to worship God and money (Luke 16:13).  Jesus says that we will love one and hate the other, or devote ourselves to one and detest the other.

I love God.  Obviously.  And I like to think of myself as a simple girl; don't get me wrong, I love a fancy pair of shoes and a well-made handbag, but you won't find me out there buying either one.  Several years ago you would've seen me in Nordstrom's with my credit card hot to the touch because I was using it so much, but that lead me to a path of destruction.

My husband is a firefighter and works crazy hard to provide an incredible life for me and our children.  He picks up extra shifts so that I can work part-time, we can take the kids to Disneyland (although not anymore because it's so dang expensive), my son can play year-round baseball, and my daughter can take dance classes, or painting classes, or whatever she's in the mood to try.  His job is not easy, despite what some may think.  He comes home after a 24 hour shift physically and mentally tired.  He may occasionally get a full four days off, but he's not himself until day four, and then he has to go back and do it again.

So, he likes to see where his hard earned money is going and what it is being used for - rightfully so.  He knows God, he acknowledges God, but he doesn't love God...yet.  And he definitely doesn't think we should be giving to God, because he views it as giving to the church, not to God.

This has been a crazy topic in our home and has been the source of many, many arguments.  So......I had a brilliant idea < *cough, cough* > that I would give to God....without telling my husband.  How could I be wrong with that?  I mean, I'm doing my biblical duty, I'm honoring God and all that He has given to me, so how could I be wrong?

For a whole year, I gave my weekly contribution to God through the online service our church provides.  For years before that, I was the only one who handled our finances.  For years before that, I vowed to tithe based on my gross income.  I even increased my tithe when I got a raise.  And every Sunday I felt good watching the collection plate pass my hands knowing that the next morning I would see the deduction from my checking account.  For years, I tricked myself into believing I was doing the right thing.

And then one night we sat down with a couple from church who have been our closest friends for many years.  We were discussing finances (the conversation was going decently well; I was being called out on a lot of sin, but my husband was being given pointers as well), and just when I thought the conversation was over because the four of us were laughing and cleaning up dinner, it quickly turned on me when I said, "well, there is one more thing...."  However, I said this statement with such confidence because I believed my church-going, God-loving friends would sign up on Team Jenn right away.

"Tithe.  I give each week to the church.  [My husband] doesn't know about that.  BUT!  I don't base my tithe off the household income, only mine."  I smiled the whole time I said this.  I was so proud of myself for being so sacrificial with my money.  I couldn't wait to hear them applaud me and tell my husband that it's my duty to give back to God.

That's not what happened.

I was sitting next to my best friend and across from her husband.  Nobody laughed.  Nobody smiled.  In fact, it was dead silent.  The next words spoken were from her husband, "what else, Jenn? What else are you hiding?"  Tears instantly sprang to my eyes.  I was confused.  Where was the Team Jenn flag he was supposed to be waving?  I looked to my best friend.  She wouldn't even look at me.  I started to defend myself, defend my actions, justify that I was doing the right thing.

"My husband doesn't want me to give to the church!  But I have to!  What am I supposed to do?"

For the next several, lengthy, torturous minutes (ok, I'm exaggerating, it wasn't exactly torture), it was explained to me why it was wrong.

It's never wrong to give to God.  Ever.  Let's clarify that.

The wrong was in my deceit.  My husband had no idea I was giving to the church.  On the occasional Sundays that he would join me, he never asked me about contribution because he didn't know that we could give our contribution online.  He assumed that I didn't give to the church...and I let him assume that.

Aside from deceit, without realizing it, I was separating our money.  My husband is so generous.  He works so hard and allows that extra money to go towards something we want to do as a family...or, he puts it towards debt I incurred over years and pays off all our debt.  All that money that he earned as he watched a man die in front of him, as he pulled a lifeless child out of a swimming pool, as he cut apart a car to rescue a young girl, as he risked his life on top of a burning building...all that money that was earned through his emotional sacrifice, he allows to be used as our family needs for "extras" in life.

And yet, I was taking my money and doing what I wanted with it.  Without asking him.  Without telling him.  Because I assumed I was doing the right thing.

The day after we spent time with our friends, we sat down and went through all of our bills and set up a brand new, beautiful budget (that's coming up in a future blog).  There was only one thing missing:  he didn't allow for contribution to the church.  Nowhere in our budget were the words "church" or "God."  I didn't say anything, I wanted to let my husband lead this conversation.

A couple hours later I called my best friend: "I don't know what to do, he didn't allow room for a contribution!  I can't do that!  What am I supposed to do??"  She asked me if I was given an "allowance" in the budget (this is the money that I'm given each week to use however I wish - no questions asked).  My husband budgeted for each of us to have a weekly allowance of $40 (sounds like a lot until you realize how many times you eat out, how many coffees you buy or how long it takes to save for a haircut).

My best friend said to me, "perfect!  So tithe off of your allowance each week!"
Me:  "What?  I can't do that!  Only $4 each week?  Are you kidding me?"
Righteous Bestie:  "Absolutely!  That is yours, God knows you can do anything you want with it - so why not tithe off that?"

I felt so much guilt about the idea of giving only $4 each week to God.  There was no way I could ever live with that.  So, the next night at church I pulled aside the minister's wife.  I explained to her what was going on, how I had been deceiving my husband and my plan to repent, but now I didn't know what to do about tithe.  I told her about my bestie's suggestion and asked for her advice.  She laughed, smiled, hugged me so tightly and said, "I think that's a great idea."  I must have looked at her like she was crazy because she laughed again and followed it up with the most beautiful reminder, "God isn't worried about how much you give from your wallet, He's only concerned about how much you give from your heart."  I felt instant relief pouring over my shoulders.

She reminded me that God loves a cheerful giver (2 Corinthians 9:7), not necessarily a rich giver.  She said, "God is more fired up about the fact that your heart is aching to give him more, but you are giving him what you can. You have an allowance that you can use for anything you want, but you want to make sure you give to God.  That's awesome!  That's what He wants!  You can revisit the topic of contribution with your husband later, but for now, I think giving from your allowance is an awesome idea."

That night I church, I went to the table and asked for a box of envelopes.  There was something about the way that box felt in my hands.  Suddenly I realized that it truly was in my heart to give to God.  I didn't think of it as a duty or a bill I had to pay.

I wanted to give to Him because I love Him.  Because I'm grateful for all that He has given to me.  And that was all that mattered.

"As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury.  He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins.  'Truly I tell you,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others.  All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.' Luke 21:1-4

It's not about the dollar amount.  It's all about the heart.

My husband knows that I give to God each week.

What he doesn't know is that every week, as I write my name on the outside of that envelope, and place four $1 bills inside, I thank him for allowing me the opportunity to give to God with my heart.

My husband, without meaning to, has taught me a lesson about giving to God...he taught me to have the heart of the widow.

xoxo

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More Than a Daughter

We know that we are daughters of God.  But knowing that you are a child of God is one thing, believing that you are more than just His child is another. 

I was fortunate to grow up with a wonderful father.  He worked hard so that my brother and I could grow up in a good neighborhood, and although money was tight, he made sure we never went without.  As my 16^th birthday drew near, I would teasingly tell my dad that I wanted a brand new Mustang, teal in color, with gray interior.  Obviously I knew this was something I would never receive, but that was always my answer when someone asked what I wanted for my birthday.  The day of my birthday, I came home to find a car in my driveway. My dad was standing there with a video camera (one of those huge ones that had to be carried on the shoulder – remember those?), ready for my reaction.  Beneath a huge red bow was a Mustang, teal in color, with gray interior. It was not brand new, in fact, it was pretty old. There were areas of varying teal color in the paint and for being a Mustang, it had a super small, and slow engine.  But I didn’t notice any of that when I came home that day. I cried into the camera as I kept repeating, “we can’t afford this, we can’t afford this.” My dad did the best he could to give me the desires of my heart. He found this old car, asked a friend to paint it for him, and did his best to keep it a surprise until my birthday. In that moment, I knew I was more than just his daughter. I was his treasure.

That’s exactly how our Father in heaven feels about each of us. He wants so desperately to give us the desires of our hearts. It's easy to accept the truth that we are, in fact, daughters of God, but it's another thing to believe that He looks at us as more than just His children.  We are His treasured possessions:

"For you are a [daughter] holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his [daughter], his treasured possession." Deut 7:6

Let's face it: our parents didn't get to choose us. They didn't get to piece together our hearts, select our features or map out our complicated DNA. 

But our God carefully shaped each of us...with each individual, He dreamt about and then created the woman He envisioned us to be. He held your heart in His mighty hands and said, "she will do great things for me and I want to give her everything she desires, for she is my treasure." God knew you before the world did, so if there is anyone who wants to give us all that we desire, it's the One who loved us first.

You are more than just a daughter of God. You are His most precious gem, His most treasured possession, and His dream fulfilled!

xoxo

(Article originally written by Jennifer Osler and featured on GirlfriendsPray.org)

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