Too big for the stroller?

Illustrations really get me through life’s confusing moments. Anyone with me? I am a visual learner and I think that God caught onto this some time ago. (I’m being sarcastic! Have you noticed yet that God seems to teach you in the way that you learn best? Crazy. Almost like He knows you or something…) My “visual” this week has been a stroller and some very treacherous hills. Let’s take a hop back and I’ll explain my week.

Last week started with me being sick all Sunday night. Monday was spent flat on my back as the meds messed with my coordination and lucidity. No lie, medicine seems like an enemy rather than an aid! Generously coated over the next few days were problems at work, loneliness, spiritual struggles, an especially big trial, and other assortments of calamities. It wasn’t a horrible week, just a mildly frustrating/discouraging week. Spiritually, I felt like I was trying to go up the slide with socks on. (did I mention the big kids that kept coming DOWN the slide?! Don’t they know that it isn’t nice to squish girls?!)

Anyway… have you been there? It’s not a disaster week, but you come to the end and feel disheartened that you weren’t able to be everything you planned to be that week. 

This is where God’s visual for me was so helpful. He reminded me of a walk I took last week with two incredibly sweet little girls. As the evening cooled, we decided to tackle the road right outside of their house. We pulled out the double stroller and everyone got buckled up. Sadie, 2, was up front and Summer, 5, lounged in the back seat. The first little bit of our journey was ok, then Miss Sarah started to get tired! I mean, those hills were nicely built! Finally on, say, the third hill I started to pant just a little. Summer was keeping up a conversation and noticed when my replies got a little shorter and breathy. 

She asked, “Miss Sarah, are you getting tired?”

Me: “Yes, just a little. You guys are heavy!”

Summer: “Yeah. Here’s another hill. We’re gunna get really tired.”

Me: “What?” huff puff “We’re gunna get tired? I’m gunna get tired! I’m the one pushing! You guys are just sitting there!”

Summer: “Oh, yeah. I think we should go faster.”

We’re now in the middle of a hill.

Me: “What?! I can barely get up this one walking! I’m sure you think we could go faster, but I’m the one pushing!” 

Hahahaha I love those girls! We joked and laughed all day long. 

For some reason, God brought this conversation back to mind when He reminded me that He wanted me to rest in Him. At no point in life is He asking me to be perfect. He isn’t disappointed when I’m sick physically. At no point in life is He asking me to be emotionally neutral. So He isn’t upset when I’m emotionally tired after problems at work or when I cry because I miss my family. He doesn’t expect me to never be tempted. 

In short, as my Daddy He isn’t more proud of me when I tackle the hills by myself, He wants me to rest inside the stroller. As my Daddy, He doesn’t want me to be fearful of the hills and worry about them, He wants me to rest in the stroller. As my Daddy, He doesn’t want me to squeeze my eyes shut in fear. He wants me to enjoy the view as I rest in the stroller. 

Don’t make this your life motto, but I needed to be reminded to “rest in the stroller”.

Miss Chosen

Most people have seen a Miss Whatever-State crowning before, no? Lights, make-up, drama, excitement, tears, more drama, judges, qualifications, more drama… all to see who is the fairest of them all. Picture with me the moment when the name of the winner is announced. Keep in mind that this is something most of these girls have dreamed about for a lifetime. They worked hard at the gym, denied themselves a “normal” life, obsessed over their image, and possibly even alienated themselves from friends and family. This was the life goal, their identity, their life. Though the path was hard, they stand here now as the drum roll beats loudly in the speakers, the music crescendos, and the announcer slowly draws  out the announcement until, “bam!” her name is shouted! Picture the exploding glitter, the flashing lights, and the reaction of the other contestants. Now, look at the one whose name was called. Can you see the stunned look, the tears that well up automatically? I can almost feel her racing heart. Her shaking hands come to cover her mouth as they escort her away from the throng of contestants to stand, alone, in front of the audience. The cheering, the clapping, the music are all the sound of approval. As the crown is placed on her head, the weight is the mark of perfection, of finally being enough. All the other girls were special, but that crown sets her apart. She was chosen. Life could never possibly be the same. 

Now, imagine with me hours prior to the crowning ceremony a man walks a dark alley and sees a young girl crouched in the dark, chained by fears and a horrid past. Imagine He climbs the steps of a high school and calls to the girl who has always been labeled “fat” and “gross”. Imagine He interrupts a clarinet recital and calls the one playing to come with Him, knowing full well the perfection that has been expected of her. Imagine Him standing on the corners reaching out to everyone passing by. Imagine Him taking that girl backstage and wrapping her in a white robe and suddenly setting her right in the middle of the contestants complete with their glitz and attitudes. Here she stands among those that worked to be there. They jumped through every hoop, they did whatever it took. She did nothing. She just accepted the man’s offer to participate. Play through the scenario above one more time… but let’s imagine that the audience is One. The Judge is One. The crown is only His to give. 

You are chosen. 

Eph. 1:4, John 3:16

(btw, just a thought I had today... while working out! lol hey, inspiration hits at odd times! I don't mean to over spiritualize anything.)  :)

My Daddy

Each season of life is marked by lessons, joys, and regrets. I am young to a “real” adult and ancient to my little sister. Wherever you choose to place me on life’s timeline, I have been through several seasons of life myself. Seasons of joy, heartache, victory, captivity, giving or being needy have evidenced themselves in me.

When grasping for hope in dire circumstances, I, many Christians would chant Rom. 8:28 over and over until it would serve as a lullaby and quite my fussy fears. Yet, I found that the glossy hope promising “Everything would be ok” wasn’t enough when I found myself in a deep pit of my own digging. How does one truly believe that “everything would be ok” when (in my case) I single handedly tore apart my life with wretched sin?! What then?? Yet the verse DOES say, “ALL things”. If you allow your finger to glide down to the next verse you might see what turned the light on for me. The “all” mentioned in verse 28 has a direction correlation to “being conformed to the image of His Son” seen in verse 29. What higher good can we aim for in the here-and-now other than to be like Christ?! 

Currently, I am in a season of restoration, liberation, and mind-blowing peace. I cannot believe the grace that has been extended to me and the drenching of His love. I am clean, pure and in good standing with my God. Not a trace of my sins can be found because He tossed them into the sea of His forgetfulness! I am awed; I am so thankful. 

The “all things” that God has used are best left between me and Him. (this is a moment where I fully appreciate God’s rejection of the dark art of gossip!) The “being conformed” part I cannot know completely because… I’m not dead yet. But, I do have an idea of things He is guiding me to learn. One of them is a deep and real understanding of Him as my Father, even more intimate, as my Daddy. Gal. 4:6 says that His Spirit in us cries, “Abba, Father!” Times when I’m overwhelmed by fear, my flesh, and temptations all around me, His Spirit reminds me, “God is your Daddy! Your Papi! Call to Him, child!” I cannot publicly glorify God enough for the blessed Hope He’s given me in the person of His Spirit. Praise God for His Holy Spirit! I find it interesting that Jesus also called on God as Abba, Father in His darkest days on earth. No other title sufficed the need for comfort, protection, and love like “Daddy”.

I do not know you and no matter how oddly I twist my head or peer at my computer screen, I can’t see who is reading this. I mean, I’m sure there are ways of knowing with spies and everything or those little cameras that hide in pens!… but… never mind. I’m easily distracted. (my mom would here insert, “squirrel!”) I just want to show forth His praise, glorify Him, and be a testimony that God indeed is all He promised.  May God use me however He will.