The Tyranny of Choice

I was frozen in the Barbie aisle with no relief in sight.

Did she say she wanted the one with the red dress or the blue dress?

A perky woman passed by and without a care in the world she reached for the winter-dress Barbie, double-checked her list, and threw the doll in her cart.

Darn it. Why didn’t I write it down when she said it?

I agonized for another few minutes, holding the blue in one hand and the red in the other.

Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

Nothing.

Granted, it had been a long day, but I have never been reduced to crying in the doll section before. There’s a first time for everything.

Merry Christmas.

The day after Todd and I came back from our honeymoon, we made our inaugural trip to the grocery store as a married couple. I would love to say we reached for the same loaf of bread and giggled at the way we were made for each other.

There was a sweet moment as I was walking through the hair section, trying to choose a shampoo and conditioner. I popped open a bottle and sniffed it. Todd smiled.

“I’m going to run and get some yogurt. I’ll be right back.” He said.

I closed the cap and reached for the next bottle.

“Okay.” I kissed him on the cheek and smiled back. I don’t know why I smiled. Nothing was cute about the situation, but looking back it may have been the fact that I weighed as much as your average fourth grader. That’s a reason to smile all in itself.

He walked out of sight and I continued my quest. A few minutes later I saw him at the end of the aisle, grinning from ear to ear at his precious bride.

“You ready?” He called down.

“Almost. Let me just look for a few more minutes.” I waved and he disappeared again. Adorable.

This continued for about six more passes.

“Ang?”

This time he looked afraid.

And I’m not saying there is anything wrong with that.

“Hmm? What? Hey-does this have a good vanilla smell or a bad vanilla smell?” I replied, oblivious to the look of man-panic that had overtaken him.

He hovered over the bottle and avoided eye contact, considering the fact that not only did he need to come up with the correct answer about $4 shampoo undertones, but also that he was looking at another 50 plus years of wandering around the store while crazy-pants sniffed for three hours.

It was, to say the least, a rude awakening.

Because quite frankly, you are ill-prepared for life when your biggest concerns involve 12A at all. I can’t imagine he was thinking about what a great mom I was going to be or all the ways I was going to live up to his expectations in everyday life. I mean, we were T minus 8 days into this sucker and I was already having a mental breakdown at Kroger. Fantastic.

As children filled our house, I got less particular about hair products. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle through decisions. I have had this issue for as long as I can remember, and I see it every single day.

I can’t choose.

Because that means that something is right and something is wrong. And all of a sudden I’m a third grader standing there with my lunchtray in my hands and the lady with the net in her hair is asking if I want grilled cheese or a burger. The line is piling up behind me and my hands are holding a sweaty pile of coins.

Choose, Angela. Choose.

I stutter my answer and then sat at the table, eyeing my lunch and realizing I wanted the grilled cheese instead.

It’s not just lunches and dolls, is it?

Simply stated, we are inundated with the tyranny of choice. 

How can a trip to the store turn out okay when you are faced with 57 grape jelly options? In what world is that necessary?

What if you get the reduced-sugar and it tastes horrible?

What if you married the wrong man?

It sounds like a drastic jump, but I don’t think it is. I’ve been convicted and overwhelmed by this holiday season and the Lord has been speaking to me clearly about the nature of my humanity and the fickleness that is bred by entitlement. I’m not going to speak for you, because I don’t know you. But I am going to tell you a little about my heart and if any of it resonates with you, I am praying the Lord will use this post to speak to you.

It started a long, long time ago, in a garden where what God planned wasn’t good enough for what they wanted. Even the first man and woman felt entitled to a choice. And as soon as they saw one presented, they jumped.

What they needed in that moment, they already had access to.

God. Only God.

I admit that standing in the middle of Target clutching two Barbie dolls and screaming, “I only need Jesus!!!!!!” might not have the desired impact. But, still. The sentiment exists.

The ugly truth is that the color of that stupid dress matters to Kate. At least I thought it did. She probably doesn’t remember. But it made me ask myself if I was fostering a sense of entitlement in my children, not necessarily by giving them too much, but instead, too many.

Choices, that is.

I have a degree in developmental psychology. I won’t bore you with my GPA or my thesis topic, but I will say that I did pretty well and I think I’m a fairly smart cookie. I’ve read almost every parenting book that exists on planet Earth, and I do know that choices are important to help our children form opinions and feel autonomy.

Kate is not an easy child. She is strong-willed to the degree that water is damp.

I’m the first to admit it. And the last one to fall asleep crying because I am simply worn out. She is a walking litmus test for patience. And I fail regularly.

But I see something in her that breaks me because she can’t help herself any more than I can get that Tuesday burger special back.

I want her to know that she hasn’t failed me because she made a wrong choice.

She has inherited more than my dark brown eyes.

She is paralyzed by the choices of the world, and one stop at the dollar spot will put her in a tailspin for hours.

Yes, I’m talking about “stuff” here, but really, deep down underneath it all, it’s not just “stuff.”

It’s the voice inside us that longs for the other tree. 

Not just in marriage, but in our jobs, our schedules, our finances, our homes, our cars, our parenting style.

We are so tempted to believe that we are one step away from the thing that makes everything else go away. And if we can smell every single bottle of cheap shampoo we can get our hands on, we might find the one that makes him love us more.

I’m humbling myself here, friends. Not because I like the way it feels, but because I don’t.

I don’t want to spend my entire life worrying about the nit-picky stuff, because the more I do, the more I am convinced that I have a right to have a say in everything.

We live in a drive-thru, speed-dial, three different Walgreens in a half-mile radius kind of world. It doesn’t have to be bad. But it could be terrible.

Last week, after an afternoon of coat-shopping that could make Mother Theresa lose her mind, I realized that it should make her lose her mind. It’s stupid to let nine-year-olds chose their coats. I’m paying for it, and they are, you know, NINE.

Don’t think I’m saying you can’t give them choices, but rather, when they expect a choice in every situation, you need to reassess. I don’t know about you, but I’m hot and bothered when I don’t have options.

And today, God told me something that I want you to hear.

If you need to, go shout it from the ends of every aisle in town, and don’t stop until everyone is staring at you like your head is on fire.

He is enough. You have the ear of the One who created the heavens and spun stars into their places.

And when I came home with three coats that I chose for my daughters, I smiled when they tried them on and danced around the living room, thanking me and saying they loved them.

I don’t remember which Barbie she wants.

I also don’t remember the reason I thought it mattered all that much.

I don’t need a thousand choices in this life. I need Him.

I’m desperate for Him, actually.

And this season, when you are tempted to feel overwhelmed by what I am assuming are first-world problems, whisper that word under your breath until you feel your bones ache with truth. Him. Him. Him.

And you know what?

No matter how hard it is to imagine with all of the bazillions of people to walk this globe, He chose you.

You.

He just walked in the door and handed you the gift you didn’t know you needed and now you can’t imagine life without it. There’s no time to wonder about what else He could have given you. It’s irrelevant. And because it’s irrelevant, it is also spectacular.

He gave Himself.

Live a life that loves Him back.

Merry Christmas to every single one of you….

Choose well.

All my love~

Angie

If any of this post resonated with you, I hasten to say you need to order this new book (7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess) by my friend Jen Hatmaker. No, she doesn’t know I’m writing this and it isn’t a sales pitch :) I believe in her message and I think you will be blessed by it…in fact, you don’t have a choice. Just click over and buy it :)

 

The Story (Atlanta!)

I cannot wait until Thursday, when I will be driving with my in-laws, Kelsey and the girls to Atlanta to finally see The Story Tour. I have been hearing so much about it (as I’m sure you have as well), and really think it’s going to be one of the highlights of this Christmas season. After hearing Todd talk about it I have a feeling I’m going to be in a grateful puddle by the end of the night.

I asked them if I could post a special on my blog for this particular show and they approved it…SO…

If you live anywhere near Atlanta, please come join us at Philips Arena. By clicking on this link, you will be able to get tickets for HALF price. This is a phenomenal deal….you have no excuse to miss it!!!!

Prices are as follows:

$74 VIP floor seats discounted to $37
$44 100 level seats discounted to $22
$25 200 level seats discounted to $12.50

Make sure and say hey if you make it!!! I’ll be the one crying.

:)

xoxo,

a

 

Sketched

One of my favorite games growing up was playing mommy with my dollies. I remember one car my dad had in particular, and the way my favorite doll, Abby, could fit right beside me in the tiny seat. It was perfect. I would buckle her in, smile, and dream about the day that she would be a real daughter.

Later I would pull out all the dishes I could get my hands on, set up place settings for my 5 or 6 favorites, and invite them all to kindly come to dinner. I would change their outfits because I felt like dinner should be more fancy than their playtime outfits. I would giggle and move them in and out of their seats, help them pick up empty milk cartons, and excuse them when they had finished their supper.

I spent a lot of time dreaming then.

Sketching what it would be like when those little babydolls came to life, and came to my real house, with my real husband. And we would giggle then, and set them in their beds and dance beside them, all the while wondering what they would be like when they were 5, 10, or 18. What her first date would be, and how they would break our hearts, because little girls always do, you know.

I shouldn’t say I was a dreamer, for truly I never have been. I don’t say that as a criticism of myself, but simply as an alternative reality. Dreaming sounds far away and impossible, so I think I prefer sketching. I have the gist of it-the outline and form. I don’t know the faces because I haven’t seen them yet, but there is room for hope in all the lines. There isn’t color because I’m not in charge of how things will be-just a girl who has lived her life with a nicely sharpened pencil, and while she goes through today, she is always (always) sketching tomorrow. Dreamers dream big, and I love that. But I don’t, really. And it’s okay. I just want to have an outline and an eraser and a few things to feel like inspire me enough to pull the covers off of me on a cold winter morning.

But it isn’t always easy to be a sketcher. Because it’s art and it’s beautiful, and it’s all heart and love and wishing. And sometimes you get to the frame you’ve imagined one way or another and it isn’t right at all. No matter how you try to erase and redraw, you can’t get it to where it feels like joy.

Do you? Do you sketch, friends?

Before we had children we found this lovely farm very near to our house and we fell in love with it. I imagined taking all of my kids there for giant pumpkins and running around all the while laughing and breathing in Fall. There were games to play, a sun to soak in, and the joy of another long awaited Autumn breeze. And it was just as I had always seen it sketched.

The girls in bright orange, pigtails on either side. Nobody knew who was who and we got mixed up ourselves in some of the photos. They were holding pumpkins, loving the smell of cider, and we were mommy and daddy.

Just mommy and daddy.

Another year passed, and then another. A new baby came along, which changed the sketch. But there had always been room for her. We just didn’t know how to draw her eyes and her lips and her sweet, deep, full laugh. And then, there she was. We went back to the farm the following year, and yes, one more pumpkin please. We smiled, set them on a wagon and waited for three sweet smiles. We got them, despite Ellie being sick. I still love this photo because she is trying so hard to look happy and she isn’t. But then again, she’s like her momma that way.

Years drift in and out, and the farm stays the same. We are pregnant, sketching life, and then the Lord tells us this particular drawing will be altered. And it’s because He loves us. I do know that, but it’s sad. It’s sad because I wanted to bring my new baby to this farm that we always go to, every Fall, because that’s what we do. But He says no and eventually we see that she won’t be ours.I grieve her deeply (so deeply).

But Todd hasn’t sketched his grief. He hasn’t, even from the beginning.

It comes in waves and it comes unexpectedly. He holds it until its time to let go, and like a bird it flies to a place he can’t see, and comes on its own will. There is no plan, no pencil. It is a different grieving for this father who wanted to love, wanted to draw a life with a girl named Audrey who loved his voice and moved when she heard him.

Time slipped away after that and we got lost. But we knew there was the farm and all of the right, normal things that make for photo albums and all that and so we went back. Every year we went back. Because they love Jesus at this little (not-so-little) farm and they love the company that floods it in the Fall. It’s such a happy place.

This Fall was sketched for me before I had the chance to realize. As the days passed I became sad. I realized that for the first time I wasn’t going to get to take them to Gentry’s farm. It wasn’t what I planned. I was so sad because it was something that always was, and you know how beautiful those “always-things” are, don’t you?

I cried one night in my bed. My hotel room bed. Because I knew I was supposed to be there but it wasn’t the way I planned it. I always meant to be at the pumpkin patch and here I was. Alone. Longing for the stability of a pencil so I could just draw it and show my girls how much I love them. How much I would choose them over everything else, and how much I needed them to know they are the light that shows me the beauty of who God is. I love them. I love them. Oh, do they know how I love them?

I didn’t get to go this year, and my heart broke. Not for the farm, but for the mommy who had always had a sketch of family being together and that’s what makes it so special, but I was working, and did I fail them? Did I, girls? I asked them and they shook their heads no and I remember it because I made a new sketch called grace, where I knew they knew. And I let that one be, just as it was. Which is always the way grace should be.

And their daddy, they have to know…when he saw the tour schedule, and their Birthday there on the calendar…they have to know that it wasn’t going to be in that city at the beginning and we were going to all be together. That’s how we sketched it and we trusted it would work but it didn’t and so now mommy is with you and daddy is not. There are as many tears from parents as there are from children, and I can’t see straight because everywhere I look there are more mistakes on all these drawings and I’m feeling like I have failed. That we have failed. Do they know the way we love them? Do they? Oh, Lord…I must know.

And then today, as we celebrated 9 years of life and good friends and of all things, painting. And we talked about what they would paint and why they chose those colors and shapes and I saw in them the same thing I see in myself. This is what I want it to look like…

But I know that it might not turn out that way. I want them to know that the beauty is in the work and the love, and not the perfect lines. The lines, well, they will never be perfect.

I talk to Todd on the phone and he is whispering about the night before. Telling me that he sings “Broken Praise” as Job on the Story tour, and I knew that but I didn’t know he would cry. I didn’t know that when God put him on this tour, He wasn’t stealing our sketch, but he was adding the grief process that Todd needed.

He needed to sing his sadness to God.

And he is. For really, the first time since she left us.

And I am painting with the girls and we are telling stories and all I want them to know is that they are loved and we would always choose them, but do they see the beauty of what God is doing with the brushes we have given over.

They say yes, and they mean it. I’m happy because I see that they really do. But I’m sad because I was a little girl with little dolls and I thought things looked a certain way but now I’m big, and I can see the way we hurt each other. I didn’t see that before, when I was little and she sat beside me. Perfectly, in the seat.

As we gather our things to leave our painting adventure, I am wistful. I’ve been watching their eyes as they paint, and they are so intent. So convinced and purposeful. Just how I am. And I do hope that once those beautiful pieces are put through the fire they will come out how they imagined them. But they probably won’t, and that’s ok too. They always get brighter and shinier anyway I tell them.

The girls have run out of the shop and are speaking to a sweet man when I leave. I hear one of them say, “It’s us,” only I don’t know what is, so I lean over and see the most exquisite sketch. He has been here a few minutes and saw my sweet children and their friends and decided to draw them and give it to me. He has a twinkle in his eye like he’s an angel and all of my kids hug him and I don’t know why but I want to cry. All I manage to get out is to tell him that their father is a musician and he is on the road and it’s the first time he’s missed their birthday and we’re all so sad. I tell him we have been working and we both missed things this year and it was hard and I get quieter. The girls love him so we talk for a bit, and he’s a very, very good artist. He hands me the drawing when it’s done and I see his name, very small, on the bottom of the image. But it’s a last name, so I ask his first.

“Jimmy.” he says with a smile.

I look back down and then I can see the letters come into focus.

Gentry.

He speaks, explaining I might have heard of his farm, and I forget that I can’t really see God with my own eyes because I know in this moment that He Himself has chosen to speak to me.

I am weak with love, knock-kneed and speechless that I am being wooed by the King. Mr. Gentry doesn’t even know that Jesus is speaking with his pencil and his twinkling eyes, but I do. I do.

“Yes sir. I do know your farm. And this is the first year I haven’t been able to come with my children. We love it there.”

He smiles. It’s a very popular place in this area, with thousands of visitors. I couldn’t put all of it into words before I got to my car, but when I did I got choked up and I stilled myself. Stilled the thoughts that had been haunting me about my mothering and all of my sketches, and I just listened. He spoke. I didn’t hear Him, I just felt the words enter my mind and heart and I knew them to be true.

When you are doing what I’ve asked you to do, love, you don’t have to worry about getting them to the farm. I’ll bring you the farmer instead. And when you think you have lost sight of all your sketches, just know that it’s alright. I know where they go, and what is right, and I will never leave you. Not in a hundred tomorrows or a thousand yesterdays.

I stared at the image, with its smeared edges and minimal detail, and in a way I can’t articulate, I felt something in my spirit that shook me so hard I cried.

Let go the grief. The sorrow. Release the anger and the plans set in stone and all the things you whispered, “never” to. Because I hold this in my hand the way he did in his. I watch and I draw, even when you don’t know. And I am concerned with all things that concern you.

My tight grip has loosened, Lord, and I surrender this season to you. You have shown me in such a magnificent way that I don’t want to sketch the way I used to. I saw something much more powerful today, and Lord if it’s your will, would you allow me, every now and then, to see a corner of one of your masterpieces? From your view, looking in?

Because I was so blessed to know I was watched over. And the sketches from an all-knowing, all-consuming, all-loving and mighty God must be rather spectacular.

How much I feel like a little girl again tonight.

Not planning, not drawing. Just sitting and enjoying the drive with my Father.

You make all things beautiful, Lord, and I love you. Thank you for letting me touch your hem this afternoon…

It will never, never, be forgotten.

~Soli Deo Gloria~

Three

You didn’t think I would forget about our protagonist, Peter, did you? Never!

Okay, let’s go back to the scene. Annnnnd, cue.

Peter is fishing, but he isn’t having much luck. He hasn’t caught anything and neither has a single one of his companions. As dawn breaks on a new day, they hear a voice that they don’t seem to recognize right away.

“Children, do you have any fish?” (John 21:5, ESV)

Let’s back up the truck for a second. The first thing that strikes me is that He calls them “children.” Again, I’m not sure that the intention was to make readers smile, but I can’t help myself. I picture them out on the boat after a long night of unsuccessful fishing, and all of a sudden they hear a voice saying, “hey kiddos!” Although the NIV translation of the Bible uses the word “friend,” I think the ESV’s version is more accurate.

They tell the stranger they don’t have any fish and He suggests that they cast their nets on the right side of the boat instead. When they obey, they cannot even pull the nets onto the boat because of how heavy with fish they are. As soon as this happens, John shouts, “It is the Lord!”

When Peter hears this, he puts on an outer garment (evidently he was fishing in a less than appropriate outfit for greeting the Lord), and then?

“…he threw himself into the sea.” (John 21:7)

Wait.

Threw himself? Into the sea that had almost killed him?

Oh be still my heart. I love the imagery.

While the other disciples took the boat, dragging their load of fish, Peter jumped headfirst to get to Jesus. To be honest, I can’t imagine doing it any other way. How spectacular that moment must have been! Think about the way it came together to reveal the heart of God to all of us.

1. He was fishing, just as he had been when he met Jesus.

2. Jesus called to him, and he came immediately.

3. He threw himself into the water because he had firsthand experience with a God Who knew exactly how to pull him out, should he need help.

Isn’t it the same for us? Once we have seen the power of Jesus, we are much more likely to jump. Forget the fish and the nets. Who needs a boat? He’s here, and I’m going to get to Him now. The Greek word used here for “threw” means, “to give over to one’s care uncertain about the result.”

Immediately, he gives himself over to the One who saves him. Not only from the sea, but in order to preserve his soul for eternity. Wow.

And you know what? It makes me want to throw myself into the sea over an over again. Whatever it takes to get to the shore. Not because it’s safe.

But because He is there.

Although somewhere in the back of my mind, even though I know He’s there, I wonder about something else. What if He doesn’t receive me when I get to Him?

Do you ever feel like you crossed an invisible line in the sand? That you have finally pushed so hard that He’s just flat given up on you?

Remember at this point that Peter hasn’t seen (to our knowledge) Christ since the time of his denial. I wonder if he ever felt worried about what Christ would say to him?

Scripture says that when they got on land, there was a fire burning. I have a feeling this is just the way my mind works, but I want to know who made it. I mean, they were in the boat all night, so it wasn’t them. Are we to presume it was the Lord? I think He did, and I’m going to tell you why I think it might have happened that way.

The Lord asks Peter to go get the fish from the boat so they can cook them. He obeys. They eat their breakfast and when they are finished, Jesus turns His attention to Peter.

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

One. 

“Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.”

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Two.

“Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.”

“Do you love me?”

Three.

“Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.”

Why does Jesus ask Peter three times whether he loves Him? In one commentary I read, the author said it was the Lord’s way of forgiving Peter-once for each time Peter had denied Him. If that is the case, then I want to point out something that I find really interesting.

Here is the section of Scripture where Peter denies Christ:

“Then they seized him and led him away, bringing him into the high priest’s house, and Peter was following at a distance. And when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and sat down together, Peter sat down among them.” (Luke 22:54-55)

Waiiittttt a minute. A fire?!?!?!

Now that sounds familiar, huh? I think it’s entirely plausible that the Lord’s usage of fire in the latter example was to remind Peter of the night he had sinned against Him. Not because He wanted him to suffer and cower to his shame, but because He wanted to restore him in an unmistakable way.  Fire is used in the Bible to represent God and purification…how beautifully appropriate.

I think Jesus likes to set a familiar table (Okay, you fish and I’ll call out to you. Then, there will be some fish and a fire. I’m going to remind you that I’m the God of healing and restoration, and then you’re going to go and get some real fish. Men. And you’re going to tell them exactly what I did for you, because you know what it feels like to dive in, chase after me, and be forgiven.) and then invite us to dine on His spectacular grace time and time again.

Do you think you have sinned one time too many?

He says it isn’t so, love.

Do you remember the way the water felt when you couldn’t breathe and you were all arms reaching and breath gasping? And do you remember when I pulled you out?

He didn’t come to save us from the water. He came to baptize us with His mercy. 

And our job is to throw ourselves into the water in obedience.

He asks me over and over if I love Him, and as my lips say “yes,” He calls me to be a fisher of men. To feed His sheep. To remember the night He restored me and called me His own, despite my sin and my regrets. It’s almost too much to bear. Who, Lord? Who am I to deserve another fire?

Here is what I would love for you to consider alongside me today. Has any part of your sin kept you from the cross? Has there been an opportunity for Satan to whisper to you and tell you that you’ve gone one step too far and that you can’t possibly be restored?

This isn’t the way the Lord sees you, friend.

His desire is for you to dive deep into the water. Leave your nets as many times as He asks you to and run where He calls you. In that place, you will be healed. And when you have been, I daresay you will have a story that is begging to be told.

Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus…” (Acts 4:13)

Be bold, sisters.

Jump.

Immediately.

One.

Two.

Three.

A Favor and A Little Gift From Me!

Hey friends! I was wondering if I could ask you a favor…

Have you read “What Women Fear?” If you liked it, and if you would be so kind, could you leave a review here on Amazon? It turns out it’s a good thing to have reviews and I told my publisher I would ask you.

If you do leave a review, please send your name/address and a link to the review to whatwomenfear@gmail.com and I will send you a signed bookplate for your book! It’s a small gesture but I really appreciate your time and support…

Thank you SO much.

Ang:)

Immediately

He had just cast his net into the sea when he heard a voice.

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

He didn’t know the voice, but something about it must have compelled him, because he dropped his net immediately and followed the stranger.

Of all people in Scripture, I think I relate the most to Peter. He loves deeply, intensely, and with tremendous devotion.

But sometimes he says the wrong thing.

Okay, more than sometimes.

In any case, I think the word “immediately” used to describe his reaction to Christ could categorize a good bit of his thinking. He’s sort of clumsily “all-in” with his love.

He is the first of the disciples to pipe up when Jesus asks the disciples if they know who He is, and I imagine him responding a little like me as an eager middle-schooler, hand raised and ready to be praised for my answer. He’s impetuous, but he means well. Gold star, Peter.

One day I want to write a book on his life, because I feel so emotionally charged when I read about him. There are so many details that stir me to tears, because I feel like I’m there with him in it all.

In the water, net in hand.

I heard Him and I dropped what I had been clinging to, even though it was all I knew at the time. I really didn’t spend a lot of time worrying what I was going to do next, or where He was taking me. I’m either “all-in” or “not at all” myself.

Have you ever read the Bible and chuckled to yourself? I assure you, there is humor there if you allow yourself to imagine it. God is the Author of humor, and I genuinely believe He snuck in a few good one-liners for all of us who appreciate wit and timing (hand raised. Gold star, Angie).

At the Last Supper, Jesus tells the disciples He is going to wash their feet. It’s clearly a sacred and holy moment, and as He approaches Peter, Peter resists Him. He tells Jesus that He will never wash his feet (notice the use of the word “never.” We extremists like to jump there. You know, like, immediately.) I presume this statement was accompanied by head-shaking or some other physical motion to emphasize that it wasn’t going to happen. This was Jesus! The Son of God certainly didn’t need to be washing anyone’s feet. Peter saw that, and spoke up. Never. Never. NEVER. As in, not ever. Not now, not in a million years. It isn’t happening.

Well, Jesus responds to Him in approximately ten words and the next thing we hear Peter say is:

“Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” (John 13:9)

Umm, okay. So maybe never was a little bit strong. And now that I’ve had a few seconds to reconsider, let’s go ahead and do the whole shebang, huh? Why stop with the feet? If you want this to happen I’ll grab some shampoo and body wash and we’ll call it a day.

Sweet Peter. He goes from “never” to “head-to-toe” faster than most people can tie their shoelaces.

I get it. I mean, I totally, completely get it (totally, completely. Not that I’m extreme.)

If you heard my Women of Faith talk this year, you will already know one of my favorite stories in the entire Bible, and it involves Peter. If you want to read it, it happens in Matthew 14. The short version is that Jesus tells Peter to walk on water and he steps out of the boat in faith. Wouldn’t you just figure he was the one who called out to Jesus and then climbed into the impossible?

He does okay for a little bit. Step by step he gets closer to the Lord.

But then he realizes the waves are huge, and he doubts. He starts to drown.

Yep. Been there.

I’m going to skip some of my favorite details for the sake of brevity (and because I really do want to write a book and I think there is a lot more here than a blog post), but the next thing we know, Peter is reaching out to Jesus, asking Him to save him from the sea.

And I love this.

I LOVE THIS (I’m fairly certain Peter would have loved italics and bold, capital letters)

Scripture says this:

“Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him.” (Matthew 14:31)

Immediately. 

{Eutheōs}

We see this word approximately 30 times in the New Testament, and one of the other occasions is when we read about the way Peter responded when he first heard the voice of the Lord.

Remember? He immediately dropped his net to follow. No dilly-dallying. You called out to me and I responded right away. Jesus is doing the same here, and I can imagine that as His arm dove into the deep, Peter might have remembered what it was like to be a fishermen in desperate need of a Savior.

I know I do.

Peter wasn’t born with the name “Peter,” but rather, “Simon.” Jesus Himself named him Peter, meaning, “the rock.”

Does it surprise you at all that Jesus chose a man like Peter to be a “rock” of the faith? After all, let’s not forget what Peter had yet to do at this point. At the same dinner that Jesus washes his feet, He tells Peter that he will deny Him three times. Peter argues that passionately, saying he would rather die than deny Christ (Not just, “I won’t do that, Lord,” but “I WOULD RATHER DIE!” Well, at least he’s consistent).

I can’t help but wince when I read those words, because as we know, all the passion in that moment didn’t translate when Peter was on the spot a few hours later. He did, in fact, deny His Christ three times, and when he heard the rooster crow, he remembered the Lord’s words. He wept bitterly as he considered his betrayal.

Three times, he says he doesn’t know Him. And I’m sure he said it with all the intensity that characterized his life.  What must it have been like, on that dark night, as Peter considered that he had been too weak to defend his King? As the Lord was beaten, bloody, hung to die while mocked relentlessly-was Peter weeping over his actions somewhere else in the night?

We have no reason to believe he was at the crucifixion of Christ. Maybe he was still too terrified of what the crowds might do to someone who had been associated with Jesus. Or maybe he was swallowed by his shame, his regret too profound to even move towards the cross.

Have you ever felt a shame that told you that you weren’t worthy to be near the cross? I hasten to guess that you have. The enemy of our souls wouldn’t have it any other way, I’m afraid.

Regardless of where he was in that particular moment, it isn’t the last we will hear from Peter. Not by a long-shot, in fact. He will rise to become a great evangelist, proclaiming the name of Christ to people everywhere, no doubt in boldness. But what about in-between? Did this man ever wonder if he could truly be forgiven for his sin?

The risen Christ reveals Himself to Mary the Magdalene, who runs to tell the apostles. For the most part, they don’t believe her. But there is one who does.

“But Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home marveling at what had happened.” (Luke 24: 12

I would imagine it was immediately, wouldn’t you?

Maybe he had the same thought I have, many times over.

He is real.

And that means there is still a chance for me to dedicate the rest of my life to Him, no matter how many times I have failed Him in the past.

Just today, as I read the words I am about to share with you, I cried in the corner of a coffee shop over the power of what the Lord chose for Simon Peter. Suffice it to be said, God is a phenomenal writer-never missing the imagery and symbolism that brings you to your knees in worship. It’s not lost on me, and I pray it isn’t lost on you either.

Peter knows in theory that Jesus has risen from the dead. He has heard the stories and while he believes on some intellectual level, he hasn’t experienced Him in person. If this was a movie playing, wouldn’t you long to know what happened next? Wouldn’t you be curled up in your chair, wondering if he would ever have the chance to speak to Jesus again?

Maybe it’s just me. Say it’s not just me.

In the 21st chapter of John, we have the scene that, for me, sketches out the beauty of the Gospel in a way that no chapters of my own life can disagree with…

 

(To be continued very soon… I’m pretty sure 1500 words is well over the daily blog reading limit:) Oh how I love the word of God…)

What I’m Reading

I’m going to start doing these posts monthy-ish, because as  you might have noticed, I am a major bookworm. There is always a stack next to my bed that makes it look like I’m cramming for some kind of final exam and now that I have been traveling so much I have had a lot more time to read. I’m going to list what I’m reading and then invite you all to share the same with everyone else.

I’m always jumping from book to book so even though I will mention a bunch that doesn’t mean I have finished all of them, but these are some that are on my reading list right now:

 

What the Bible is All About by Henrietta Mears: I have read this one before but a new updated version just came out so I had to buy it. It is (in my opinion) the best of the best if you want to learn more about the Bible. Such incredible insights…LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.

 

And I picked this one up at the bookstore today and am already halfway through it. I have read some of her other books and have loved them as well. This one is already full of underlining and notes…really recommend it.

Just finished this-

And one of my all time favorites for quiet time…

And this last one I just ordered from Amazon tonight and I can’t wait to get it. I thumbed through it at the bookstore but it was a lot cheaper online so I have to wait t a few days to dig in.

It looks SOOOOO good. I read a few pages and was hooked!

 

What about you? Anything good on your nightstand these days? Any books you want to share with the class?

xoxo

angie

p.s. if you click over and order through amazon, I get a small percentage of your order price as a referral fee. Just so you know!

Equador!

Well, I was supposed to be in Ecuador right now with Compassion International. Can I even relate to you the level of disappointment I have about missing a trip with the following people? Kelly Stamps, Ann Voskamp, Boomama, Bigmama, and Amanda Jones.

Seriously.

And Compassion did the most amazing job of working out flights so that I could fly seamlessly between my speaking dates, but in the end I just hated to be gone that much given the fact that I’m already gone so much this season. But it sure makes me wish I could be in two places at once. Actually, three. Because Charlotte just woke up and I need to get her and finish this post.

I have shared lots in the past about my love for Compassion and what they do for children around the world, and by following along with these bloggers, you’ll get to see it all firsthand. It’s one thing to send off a letter or a check, but it’s entirely different to experience it in person.

A few weeks ago Abby was at a concert with Todd and wandered over to the Compassion table. She fell in love with the sweet face of a toddler and asked Todd if she could sponsor her. Todd explained that she would have to give her allowance and any other money she had, and that we would help her but it would be her responsibility. Moreover, it would be her sacrifice.

It wasn’t just a sweet face, it was a life that was about to be changed.

She consulted Ellie and they decided they would do it together. They have since roped in two friends, and they take it really seriously. Any time they find change, the first thing they say is, “My Compassion girl!”

I talk a big talk with them. Love God, love His people. Give it away for the kingdom. Don’t live without acknowledging how fortunate you are. And don’t think for one second that your contribution doesn’t matter….because the Lord makes miracles out of our offerings and multiplies our efforts in ways we can’t imagine.

But do they see me walk the walk? I would like to think they do. But I also know that I’m as prone to selfishness and apathy as the next person.

I’ll be totally honest with you.

Until my trip to India with Compassion a few years ago, I had all but learned to tune out the sound of anyone asking for money. Not that I didn’t think there were people who needed it, but I had suspicions about organizations. We might not all get to travel and see it firsthand, but for those of us who have, there is a feeling of compulsion to share.

It really is exactly what you would hope it is.

It’s a group of people who believe they can change the face of poverty and are doing the work of the Gospel in some of the hardest places imaginable.

You have the opportunity today to change the life of a little girl or boy, and I promise you this.

It matters.

Not just to that child, but maybe for your own children. Maybe to a watching world who wants to know if Christians really put their money where their mouths are. Would you prayerfully consider whether or not God is asking you to be a part of Compassion’s ministry by sponsoring a child? Click on the little button below to follow along with the bloggers in Ecuador right now. If the first day is any indication, they are in for a life-changing experience.

And for those of us who can’t be there in the flesh, lets be praying for them and for the work the Lord is doing through them. Here is a picture from Melanie’s (Bigmama) blog from today….

I just love her little wave and that giant backpack. Click over to her blog to read the whole story.

I’ll just say that on the latter part of the trip there is a lot of jungle activity coming up. I’m pretty sure none of us want to miss that experience :) So stay tuned online and prayerfully consider the role you could have in a child’s life today.

I clicked on Kelly’s link to these kiddos and melted when I saw how many had been waiting for 6 months or longer for a sponsor. Just click over and see if God stirs your heart for one of them. Or 15 of them. Whatever.

So in the event that you haven’t picked up on it (because subtlety has always been a gift of mine), I would love for you to consider sponsoring one of these little munchkins.

Right now.

This second.

It matters.

 

Compassion Bloggers: Ecuador 2011

 

James!

I am so excited that Beth Moore’s newest study has FINALLY hit the stands. I had the pleasure of sitting in on one of her teaching sessions while she was filming for the study and I can tell you this…she is ON FIRE. We are all in for a HUGE blessing with her newest study. It’s called James, Mercy Triumphs. I love the book of James, and as soon as I heard she was going to be doing it as a study I was over the moon. Her daughter (and as some of you recall, my Compassion Intl. trip to India buddy) Melissa played a pivotal role in the writing of it, and as I looked through her notes in the workbook I was sure that this was going to impact me in a new, powerful way. There is so much depth, and yet it is accessible in the way that only Beth can manage. Can you tell I am PUMPED?!?!?! OK. I’ll stop before I get creepy. Too late? Oh well. You’ll understand once you see it :)

And in order to celebrate the launch in a fun and creative way, Lifeway is having a little shindig that we would love for you to come to. You don’t need to travel anywhere, just log on here to the live Facebook launch party on 11/1/11 at 11:00 a.m C.S.T.. and join the fun!

There are going to be amazing prizes (see button below!) as well as several appearances and interviews (I’ll be there!) including…drumroll…BETH!!! You know you don’t want to miss that :)

I haven’t said anything publicly, but a few of you know why this study in particular is really special to me…I’ll be sharing all about it during the live chat and I have a feeling that if you have followed my blog for any length of time, you’ll understand why it’s such an incredible blessing.

So go ahead and get yourself all registered for prizes and meet us here on Monday. Can’t wait!!!!


Love to all,
A

The Story!!!

Words cannot begin to describe how excited I am to be on this side of a project I believe in SO deeply.

I have been hearing bits and pieces of it for months, and have been blown away as I have seen it come together. There was a vision for what it would be, and when the CD finally came in the mail I got all emotional because I sincerely believe that this project will change our experience of the Bible in a dramatic and beautiful way.

If you’re going to start with a book, you might call Max Lucado to write it (done) or maybe Randy Frazee (check).

Then, you’re going to want to get the best producer on the planet (Bernie Herms…check). And how about some killer music…let’s see if we can think up a couple artists…see if any of these ring a bell.

Mac Powell (Third Day), Leigh Nash, Natalie Grant, Mark Hall (Casting Crowns), Todd Smith, Amy Grant, Francesca Battistelli, Michael Tait, Lecrae, Steven Curtis Chapman, Chris Tomlin, Michael W. Smith, Darlene Zschech, Jeremy Camp, Brandon Heath, Matthew West, Mandisa…to name a few :) .

And if you could pick the best Christian songwriter you know…(come on, say NICHOLE NORDEMAN!!! that was the correct answer :) ) to write the lyrics to the stories that make up the Bible, wouldn’t that be amazing? well, CHECK that one too.

The Story Project is finally out in stores and is absolutely AMAZING. The London symphony plays as well, in case you wanted some great strings and stuff.

Seriously, y’all. I’m speechless over it. The idea behind the CD is that different people sing different character’s stories (Todd is Job) and the CD tells the story of Scripture from beginning to end.

This will also be a tour, where people who come can experience video (amazing video) telling the story as each artist sings.

There is so much more, and I would love for you to click here to be re-directed to their website. There are interviews with artists, tour dates and cities, and all kinds of cool things…I think you’re going to fall in love the way I have.

You can purchase the CD from iTunes by clicking here. You will NOT be disappointed!!!!

Tell everyone!!! The Story is here!!!!

Ang