Worth Fighting For...

"All that a woman really wants is someone
who will stand up and fight for her..."
-Pastor Alan Youngblood.

Those words ring true in the heart of every woman. My pastor gave a message a couple of weeks ago, where in the midst of his wild and compelling statements regarding surrender and living out your fullest potential, he encouraged us with that sentence, which spoke to the very core of every woman's longing. I could hear the sighs of affirmation, relief almost, that at least one man in that room hadn't forgotten..


We want someone to fight for us.


These past few weeks, I have not been myself. There are several reasons why, most of which are unimportant, but it all came down to the same thing: I have simply wanted to know that I was valued. I simply need to know that I am worth fighting for.

I don't think this was offset by any particular situation or circumstance, it is just a time in my life where I have not felt at rest and have had several opportunities to learn and understand why. It is easy to get comfortable and complacent, more than it is to be on guard. Looking back at where I have been to where I am now, I can see the growth and the change in my character and spiritual life. But the process never ends. And I am learning that accepting this fact is a good thing.

But forever and always, I have this constant hunger to know that I am loved. And God has been so good to me to remind me that I am. I just feel like I want to encourage anyone who might be reading this (and there are always many of you)... that God's love is so worth it all. Every sacrifice, every dying of our flesh, it is just so worth it. I sometimes forget how special it is to be able to have such close communion with the MAKER OF THE UNIVERSE. I mean, really guys....that just blows my mind. The strength behind everything that was created in my world, the power and the intellect that created my very fingers that are typing these very words wants to know ME? Wants to be close......to ME?

Amazing.

But you see what happens is....we have such beautiful moments where the truth of the Lord and the clarity of who we are in Him is revealed to us, but then situations, circumstances (just life in general) comes in, throws us flat on our face and then attempts to rob us of that fresh revelation of who we are, and what we mean to Him.

I see it all to often in everyone around me...and I see it happen in my own life.

Being the person that I am, with a mind like I have...it is so easy to get lost in a pile of confusion when that thing called "life" comes in and does its best to destroy every fiber of that little girl that I am deep down inside. That girl who looks at trees with eyes full of wonder and walks through grocery stores thanking Papa God for loving her enough to create legs for her to be able to walk on---in her opinion, one of His most brilliant inventions---so that she wouldn't have to go through life with noisy hooves or an awkward tail to help move her along to the orange juice section of the store.

Side note: I don't know why, but I often tear up as I walk through grocery stores. For some reason, I think about what it would be like to not have hands anymore and not be able to push the cart or be missing a limb or something. I think about people who go through life without being able to see the colors of the vegetables, or smell the aroma of the seafood section--as bad as it can smell. It makes me feel so grateful to still have all ten fingers and all ten toes. I mean, what would I do if I didn't have my big toe anymore? What would my life become if I somehow developed an allergy to the sun and couldn't even leave my house and GO to the grocery store? This is where my mind goes. And I tear up because I see how good I have it and how undeserving I am when there are so many people who don't even have their big toes...

Anyways, I guess I am just a tenderhearted person. Or just crazy. I used to think I had lost this part of me. Not the crazy part, the tender part...

....but Jesus has a way of washing the mud off my eyes and showing me that who I am is just perfect for Him and I won't be happy or at rest until I accept who I am and rediscover that I am valued.

I am learning that everything in this life is just a big process!

A dear friend of mine has always had a much simpler approach to things than me, even when it comes to God. I am grateful for this friendship because it teaches me that its ok to not have it all together because "its a process". People who think like this are a blessing to me because I am extremely hard on myself and want to have it all together right now. One of my greatest prayers is to one day have the ability to think like he does. I realize that this is very possible for me one day, but at this point in my life, I have to learn how to pull in the reigns from time to time. Perhaps, I have people like him in my life to help pull in the reigns from time to time. Perhaps, I will always need people like him in my life to help pull in the reigns from time to time.

Regardless, I am finding that the reason why I haven't been feeling at rest is really just because I need to refresh myself with the safety and security of my Lord, Jesus. From time to time, we all can lose our footing and will sadly have to relearn old lessons.

I just want someone to fight for me. As a woman, it is how I was made. But it never fails that the biggest trials that I face always push me back to the One who can truly rescue and save. When my mind is pulled into a million places, when I am just done...the Lord sweeps in and reminds me that His love sees past my failures. His love is enough to cover my shortcomings. He reminds me of who I am.

He reminds me that I am beautiful.

I am loved.

I am worth fighting for.

I lift my hands to believe again,

You are my refuge, You are my strength,
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember,
You are faithful God, forever.
-Chris Tomlin

Make Up Your Mind...

Today has been quite nice. The temperature in the room has been cool and empty, just the way I like it. These types of days are becoming more and more rare as time goes by, and after spending several years kind of wasting time and not being productive with quiet moments, I am eager to catch every moment that I can to be still and wait on God. So being alone today in the office, I was able to get on the floor and pray, and basically spend time with Jesus. Lots of stuff going on lately and time at His feet is just what I needed.

Sometimes a girl just needs her best friend.

I was reading in Luke 21 about the end times. Jesus was asked when the end would come and what clues we should all get that its about to take place. He went on to explain that lalala, no one will know the day or time and to ignore doomsday deceivers and leaders who claim to be the Messiah or know of a specific day. I've always heard that part my entire life.

But what I failed to really pay attention to for the past, I don't know, say 12 years?? Is the bulk of that scripture. It goes something like this:

"Nation will fight nation and ruler fighter ruler, over and over. Huge earthquakes will occur in various places. There will be famines. You'll think at the time that the very sky is falling....

But before any of this happens, they'll arrest you, hunt you down, and drag you to court and jail. It will go from bad to worse, dog-eat-dog, everyone at your throat because you carry my name. You'll end up on the witness stand, called to testify.

Make up your mind right now not to worry about it.

I'll give you the words and wisdom that will reduce all your accusers to stammers and stutters.You'll even be turned in by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends.

Some of you will be killed.

There's no telling who will hate you because of me. Even so, every detail of your body and soul-even the hairs of you head!-is in my care; nothing of you will be lost. Staying with it-thats what is required. Stay with it to the end. You won't be sorry; You'll be saved."

Luke 21:10-19 (msg)

....wow.......

You see, I don't want to talk about the end times. But what I do want to talk about is how even in the midst of worldly chaos, Jesus tells us to MAKE UP OUR MINDS to not worry about a thing. Jesus flat out said all of the ugly, horrible things we can expect---even after living out our normal lives that are imperfect and full of different troubles--but even then he tells us not to worry and to CHOOSE to not worry.

I have a hard time with this. Because I like to think. I analyze. I rehash. I relive...

...And after wrestling within myself for a good, long time (sometimes hours rehashing and reliving situations, words, actions) ...I sit down to relax and then BOOM!

There I am again thinking. And analyzing. And torturing myself...

God is teaching me to lay down those crazy thoughts. They glorify themselves way too much for way too long. He is teaching me to be at peace in my spirit and stop worrying about all of the little stuff that pulls all of my attention---and my heart strings---way too much.

Whether it be negative thoughts, selfishness, pride, a project, a relationship, an unpleasant situation.....heck! I'll even say it, even positive situations can cause me to think way too much! Ugh. All of these things need to be submitted! I have to consciously CHOOSE and make up my mind not to worry. And not just worry, but not FIXATE on things that are not of Him.

It is when I do this, and simply this, am I capable of hearing His voice louder than my own.

I just need to be a little lamb. A little lamb that is comfortable not knowing my left foot from my right. A little lamb who is comfortable not having to lead so much, but is altogether content in following the direction of a shepherd. To be a little lamb who is okay with my weaknesses and doesn't have to be in control.

To be vulnerable and to be okay with it...

THAT is what I want.

So today, let us both agree (myself and YOU, the reader) to lay down the burdens and quiet ourselves into hearing His voice better.

"We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" 2 Corinthians 10:5

30 Days of Intentional Good

I arrived at my office just like any other morning. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and Kari Jobe sang to me all the way down I-4. I am wearing pink today, which always makes the giggling 2nd grader come out in me, causing me to almost grape-vine my way to the big glass doors outside of the executive suites building.

I think calling the offices "executive" suites makes all of the tenants feel really special or something because they all dress really fancy, walk with the purpose of a soldier, and never say hello to each other. Perhaps its because they are all mostly lawyers, psychologists, and wealthy business owners that I always feel like the socially awkward kid on the playground, desperately wanting to play with the big kids, but too little and too shy to get in with the group. I dress like the college student that I am and do not scream "big money", yet work for one of the wealthiest men in the building, which gives me the strong sense that some of these grown ups don't really know what to make of me.

From my observation of the business people I see everyday, I've concluded that when you reach a certain level of success and money in the business realm, there are secret codes and handshakes, which change how you behave and act towards other people. Kind of like you suddenly are not a human any longer, you are a BUSINESS PROFESSIONAL. Smiling and, dare I say, laughing are completely out of the question. If interaction with other people is unavoidable (i.e. sharing an elevator, going to the restroom, sharing the coffee pot, walking down the hall) then eye contact is absolutely off limits and you must stare at your feet and pretend the other person isn't there until you can make a clean get away. When speaking to one another is absolutely necessary, it is usually very surface and insincere. Unless, of course, there is an opportunity to complain about the length of the day or workload, in which a joking "hang it there" or "its almost over" comment will fly out into the atmosphere, breaking the thick ice of awkwardness and silence. Everyone looks stressed, drinks coffee like its their life-blood, and see the same people everyday, but don't even know each others' names. I bet this, too, is where the sophisticated kind of species evolved that began pronouncing "adult" as "aaah-dolt"...oy

But there is one little ball of sunshine, who always leaves an impression on me every time I see her. Her name is Elsa and she is the building janitor. Even through her broken English, she never forgets to say hello to any and everyone that passes by. She could be in trash up to her elbows, or be covered in cleaning liquid, yet will still rush to hold a door opened for you or make sure the elevator stays opened in order for you to make the next lift. Sure, you could say that this is probably part of her job, to be kind to others, but there is something else about her that shatters the cold, lifeless atmosphere of unfriendliness and supremacy. Its like a light inside of a big, dark room. Her example is just so...good.

So I got a little inspired on my way up the elevator today. I sat down in my office chair, stared at my laptop, and decided that I want to do good like Elsa does. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I'm doing okay in the official "good deeds" department, but I want to do more.

I want to be even more intentional.

Ooooooh. I get goosebumps when I think of all the good I could do if I just set my mind to it. If I woke up with the purpose and intent of doing good for someone else, big or small, I think I might just shake the ground a little and hopefully make somebody smile, who may not have found a reason for joy that day.

So I have devised a plan. For the next 30 days, I have decided to intentionally do good to others in whatever form I can. I will blog about my experiences occasionally and share with you what kind of adventures come from it. This challenge is not to pat myself on the shoulder or feel "good" about being a do-gooder, or even worse, to brag about all the good things I do that no one else is doing. Being an ordinary person, just like all of you, I want to see what its like to get out of my comfort zone and offer a little more of myself to the people around me. I think it could shape up to be a really special time to get outside of myself and go out of my way to bring joy to others.

With all of this said, I am offering this challenge to YOU, the reader. Dear friend, I challenge you to join in on the fun. You may already be a really awesome person who does nice things for people all the time. You may already, unintentionally, just be good at doing good but could maybe do a little more? But maybe you haven't been too concerned with those around you and this challenge would help you step outside of your daily routine and broaden your outlook on things. For 30 days, find a way, big or small, to do good to your family members, spouse, friends, coworkers, church members, and (my favorite) perfect strangers. I have a feeling this could change the way we see things and could even open our eyes to the needs of those around us.

Day one, here I come!

Diseased...

At the age of 23, I am fully drenched in a season that is entirely different than I think a lot of people experience, or even care to throw themselves into.

According to the world's standard, this age should be marked with wild experimentation of the countless sorts. Fun, adventure, freshness, failure, learning....

These years leave memories of that heroic kind of courage it takes to decide what the rest of your life will live, breathe, and exist for--your career, who you give your heart to, what passions you will focus on, what dreams and ideas you will bring to reality. When walking through this season, every direction seems to lead to a crossroads. <<< Last sentence, cliche? Touche!


To major in this field or that? To work for this job, or that? To commit to this ministry, or that? To live in this state, or that? To commit to this person, or that? Make a decision now or wait, wait, wait for another day? Questions, questions, questions, questions......ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Sometimes, when I'm standing in the middle of these questions, it takes everything in me to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs, throwing my hands up in the air, and collapsing in front of the "To be or Not to be" sign separating the happy road and Cruella highway.

Sometimes, very rarely, but still sometimes....I want to quit. That is, quit.....EVERYTHING. And yes. Sure, "God directs our paths", absolutely! But I'm finding He didn't make us to be robots. He gave us this life to enjoy and to make whatever we choose of it--He only asks to have the first invite to the party. Kind of like that best friend that shows up early to help you host and set up? I was never good at analogies, but if you get what I mean, thank you!

Despite my normal and expected "WHO AM I?" tantrums or the frequent "WHO AM I GOING TO BE?" mental wars, one solid decision remains the same:

I am NOT, nor will I EVER be a diseased Christian.

When I say a diseased Christian, I do not describe the human being that is imperfect, struggles with sin, fails everyday, but is clinging to the cross. I am not even describing the human being that is imperfect, struggles with sin, fails everyday, but is NOT clinging to the cross.

A diseased Christian is a human being who is fruitless, ineffective, and worthless according to the bible in Revelations.

This type of Christian is self sufficient, self involved, and self centered.

This type of Christian is the type that sees a homeless person on the side of the road and says a prayer for them, never even WISHING they could stop and help them.

This type of Christian is the type that sees a woman walk down the street, carrying heavy bags of groceries and keeps on driving, never even TRYING to turn around and offer a ride.

This type of Christian is the type that never goes beyond writing a check.

This type of Christian likes to volunteer with shelters and nursing homes, but only rarely and when it is conveniently set up by the local church in a "group" setting.

The type of Christian, who rarely volunteers, also likes to post pictures of their once-a-year volunteering on the internet for the whole world to recognize and compliment for their great, Christ-like efforts.

This type of Christian lets their elderly neighbor live without friendly visits or much needed time out of the house.

This type of Christian has lots of ideas for fixing problems in the community, but never actually puts effort into bringing those ideas to life.

This type of Christian likes to spend their free time having fun, spending time with family, going shopping---they never consider people outside of their own little world.

This type of Christian doesn't know their next door neighbor's family will be going to bed without dinner.

This type of Christian is afraid to get involved, thinking the world's problems are too big and will never get solved anyway, so why waste their time and emotions?

This type of Christian likes to talk a big game about being like Jesus, but never actually LIVES like Jesus.

This type of Christian does not like giving extra time or even money outside of the "norm", but feels really good about themselves for the rest of the year if they do.

This type of Christian commends those who love the needy, take care of the poor, visit the overlooked and always wish they could one day be more like them. They just can't shake the guilt they feel because they aren't and probably never will be.

This type of Christian knows authentic Christianity will take more effort and energy than they care to give, so they are content with their disease.

This type of Christian will be the poorest in heaven and will have the most regrets.



You see, at the age of 23, I am starting to see things a whole lot different nowadays. I see things a lot more clearer and a lot more intentional. The above mentioned descriptions are EASILY an honest picture of who I used to be. But I recently decided that I do not want to spend my time dancing through life, enjoying the fruits of my labor and the happiness that I think I deserve, while blatantly ignoring the chaos going on down the street. Funny, I always saw happiness as my right to have. After all, I'm an American?

No, I am learning that true happiness is not always found in the laughter of my friends, or the latest social gathering. It is not even found in the volunteering and supposed "loving" of the community.

Happiness is found when you lay down your time, your comfort zone, your heart for someone who has it worse off than you do. If this sounds familiar or like a line from a hallmark movie, don't whip out the crying violins just yet. This is truth, not foolishly sentimental mush.

I have to tell you. Happiness, for me, is found in the eyes of a little old man named Bruce. I found him a year ago, walking down the side of the road, barely walking should I say, carrying loads of groceries in the Florida summer heat. Cars passed by like it was nothing, dismissing him like he was nothing. I have to say, it took everything in me to listen my heart and turn my car around and offer him a ride.

I'm so glad I listened because I quickly learned that he has no relatives or friends to look after him, and lives in a one bedroom apartment only one mile from my house. The last week of every month he would starve because his social security would run out. He spends most of his days sitting alone in his roach infested, low income housing apartment either listening to the radio or
smoking cigarettes. He told me he doesn't even enjoy smoking, its just simply "company" to him.

Bruce expected to one day die and not be found for days.

Throughout the time I've had to get to know him, the little old man with the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen, has quickly become my happiness. Loving him with love from Jesus is my happiness. And finding more Bruces, whether in my neighbor, local prison, family shelter, or foreign country will be my life's purpose.

Of all the crazy decisions I will be making these next few years, this decision is final. No long week at work, exasperating semester at school, lack of funds, or lack of "time" will deter me from this road.

So I decided, after all, to really set my eyes on heavenly things. Want to know what this whole "Christianity" thing is about? Read your bible and see countless, love-crazed Jesus followers who gave their EVERYTHING to reach out and love those around them---even when it was ugly, even when it was inconvenient, and even when it broke their hearts.

So like the stinkin' poem I read in 6th grade, which is popularly mentioned at American high school and college graduations nationwide, I've decided to walk down the road less traveled. This is not a road for fame, glory, and greatness. This road is for the humble, quiet, secret servants of which I will gladly toss my crown to follow.

I guess even if I'm walking alone for most of it, God is going to send me a spouse to finish the race eventually. It will be fun having at least one friend along for the ride. But one thing I know for sure:

This is so worth it.

Wonder Blankie?

I sat in the early afternoon breeze, deeply engulfed in memories of my favorite pillow and the greatness of my bed, when I wondered how on earth I could wake up so unsettled and dissatisfied that I would walk out of my house, yet again, looking like a cross between Oprah and Kurt Cobain...only this time its worse. The sleep deprived theme of the day involves an African inspired tunic dress that looks like it fell right off the pages of a National Geographics magazine and get this--UGG BOOTS??? and jeggings?? Oh, Jordan...

The maintenance boy kept giving me you-poor-thing-you-look-wretched-go-take-a-nap glances as I sat outside eating my lunch, honestly contemplating whether or not using my plate of food as a pillow would look pathetic. I decided it would.

The strapping, young maintenance boy walked around my table half a dozen times. He analyzed the leaf-filled gutters and the pavement with such attention to detail that I almost asked him to come to my house with a duster and give it a go with my ceiling fan--which cried large, chunky tears of dust yesterday when I accidentally hit it while making my bed.

Sometimes a girl just has these kinds of days. I think they are familiar to anyone with a pulse. Ya know, the days where going to work is absolutely necessary but sounds absolutely unlikeable to your sleep-filled eyes. Where getting dressed appropriately for public interaction is fairly impossible and you mow through your morning in a zombie-like trance, with no tolerance for highway traffic or people that don't use turn signals.

While picking at the grilled chicken on my plate, entranced in deep thoughts of my blankie and desperately needing to be 5 again, I honestly considered putting my thumb in my mouth, laying down on the restaurant table and making it my bed for a good half hour. It was in that moment of wild, crazy imaginings that I began to play in my mind with the idea of pouring all of my savings into the invention and distribution of a pillow strap for adults. I reckon it would look kind of like a travel pillow that would rest on your shoulders all day, only with a strap to keep it attached to your neck and a metal bar over the top part where your head would be, kind of like a halo, or orthodontic head gear. This would make quick naps a possible reality for the working girl. It would have a detachable baby bottle full of coffee that would hang down infront of your face for when you wake up, giving you that instant jolt needed to make it through the rest of your day. Attached to the neck of the pillow would be a two-sided blankie which could be worn from either the front or the back. I imagine the blankie would come with two different style options. One would be available in a design suited for the office, home, or play, in which you could wear on your back as a cape for the majority of your day. But when that familiar time came around where some extra zzzz's were needed, you could pull it around to the front, flip it over and enjoy its cozy, plush side as a blanket.

This could be the start of a fashion revolution.

Paltrow, be jealous...

For realz, I think we will be seeing this contraption walking down the runways of New York fashion week in no time. I imagine the paparazzi will be snapping shots of celebrities all over the world wearing their Wonder Blankies and doctors everywhere will prescribe them to every patient complaining of stress, exhaustion, and sleeplessness.

This could change the world.

Anyways, it was right at the moment where the maintenance boy turned on his giant gutter vacuum contraption that I decided it was time to go. I also decided that the invention of the wonder blankie would have to wait for another day, for I had work to do and migraine patients to tend to.

So here in my office do I sit, waiting for this day to come to a close and ready for a reunion with my pillow later tonight.

I really need to go to bed earlier....

Don't Want To Be Famous....anymore.

As I sat in my living room, only the sound of air conditioning buzzing through the walls and a comfy pillow to lean on, I sat down with my guitar and began to hum a random noise from the back of my throat.

...I could sense a song ensuing.

Over the past 6 years, a lot of people have asked me where the ability to write music comes from. I can answer with complete honesty that its just a gift from God. Plain and simple. I usually respond to that question with, "Its God--I just happen to be in the room."

I don't say this in an ambiguous, super-religious way as others may. I say this with total awareness that my talents are not my own. They belong to Jesus. They don't belong to me to market, exploit, or receive self-seeking praise from people. They are a gift, of which I am humbled to have been given.

And talent is not a mystery. Its simply evidence of a creative God, who likes to express himself through his very own creation, by continuing the cycle of creativity. Talents are really simple if you let them be.

I can attest to many years not fully understanding the beauty of being given the talent of music---of worship. I've always been able to sing. My earliest memories are sitting at the foot of a platform, watching my family sing and play music in God's house. My family is full of musicians, artists, and creators. I remember my Dad putting me on his lap and showing me the different instruments that they played on a worship team. He would humor me by letting me sit in during practice and "play" the instruments along with them. Sometimes I'd sit on the floor next to the drummer with a couple of pencils as my drumsticks and bang on my lap as my drum set. Other times I'd stand near the bassist and copy his rhythmic head-bobbing and "stank face" expression. I remember sitting next to my dad at the piano and watch him lead everyone in worship and stare at his fingers in complete wonder. The way they moved magically across every key, creating the most wonderful sounds....mesmerizing.

You see, my dad never knew how to read music, but he could write songs that were so beautiful. And he could sing to the Lord with such amazing passion--it was unlike anything I had ever seen. My grandmother often reminisces with me about my earliest years. When asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was always " I want to sing in God's house." I remember many times, all under the age of 7 years old, being encouraged by my dad to sing for the church. He would have me pick out a song and I'd sing in service. He always encouraged the gift. Always nurtured, always praised. Its because of my father that I had a passion for music and for worship.

During my teen years, the need for guidance and attention, mixed with the need for approval of every kind by everyone, quickly made way for my passion of worship to slowly become a passion for applause. I joined the school choir and eventually the theater company through a random audition that I had heard about in class one day. That one audition soon opened a door to a whole other world:

The stage.

Oh, that stage knew how to sing just sweetly enough to seduce me into the throws of passionate, life-breathing theatre. And yes. When you are a big-headed, American goon you spell 'theater' with British snobbery and change the 'er' to 're'. THE-A-TRE. (I imagine you pronouncing this to yourself in a Shakespearean accent and a dainty hand gesture.)

Now, don't misunderstand. The recognition, self-gratification, and adoring 9th grader fans weren't the only reason why I loved performing. The fancy makeup, costumes, and the pretending to be anyone but myself was also a huge plus. For two hours, I got to live in a make-believe world, where I could think, talk, and act like someone else. And I got to walk away at the end of the night being doted on by various audience members for my "breathtaking" and "leave em in tears" performances. There was also something strangely fulfilling about auditioning and getting a role that everyone wanted and getting the big stamp of approval that came with it saying, "YES, Jordan! They like you! They really like you!"

Maybe what compelled me was the desperate need to know that I had what it took? Or maybe the need to prove that I had what it took? Maybe a little bit of both. All I know is that the adrenaline rush faded rather quickly once my senior year in high school came around. I practically had my bags packed, ready to move to New York and follow my life-long dream of Broadway and the bright lights, when the afterglow of the stage somehow disappeared and I was left realizing that the audience only liked who I pretended to be--not who I really was.

To the insecure and unwise, fame seemed to be a one-way ticket to happiness for many of the kids I performed with. Sadly, it still is for some of them. But before I graduated high school, I had a first hand glimpse of what seeking fame and the spotlight would bring you by watching other friends "make it" in the entertainment business. I have concluded these are one of three things:

Lots of insecurity. Lots of instability. Lots of alcohol.

I remember one day, I was sitting in the costume room in the theater department, rummaging for an outfit for a pending performance, when I was hit with immense sadness. I didn't want to put on a dress and pretend to be anyone else anymore. I wanted to be me. I didn't want to sing for applause. I didn't want to be a performing monkey. I didn't care that I was the president of the Thespian troupe at school and I definitely didn't care who cared that I didn't care. I just didn't care! It was all meaningless entertainment. It was all so...empty?

So I sat there, staring at the costumes and began to ask myself,

"Is this it? Is this all there is?

If it is, then why do I feel so empty?

Why doesn't this make me happy anymore??

What is my purpose in life?!?!?!

What am I going to do?!!?!?!?!??!!?!?!!"



All of a sudden a huge wave of revelation hit me, and, in an instant, shattered my world of plastic emotions. As the tears fell, I began to think, for the first time, that all these years of striving and trying to prove myself were all for a waste. Every audition, every day long rehearsal, every time I let my grades purposely slip because I "wouldn't need college, anyway" were all for nothing. But before even an ounce of mourning set it and before I could even look up into the sky and scream in misdirected blame, I heard a voice speak clearly and tenderly to my heart:

"You were created to worship."

Wow. I remember my reaction not being surprised or taken back by this. I calmly closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled in childlike remembrance saying to myself,

"Yes. Yes I was."

From that day forward, my entire life changed. I graduated feeling a little directionless, but nonetheless content with my decision to pursue God again and not my own created version of success. I just kept trusting that wherever I was supposed to go in this big world and whatever I was supposed to do with my life, it would all be directed by God's leading. I just needed to trust.

So flash forward a year or so and I was doing music again, just this time in a local church. It was almost like re-learning a language, I have to admit. I had become so accustom to performing that to be handed a microphone, put on a platform, and told to sing for people was a real learning experience. Everything around me looked familiar but was the exact opposite of all that I had grown accustom to. However, through trial and error, I immediately re-learned that music God's way is entirely different than the world's, and there is no way of intermixing them both. You either sing for His glory, or you sing for your own.

One thing is for sure: there is no room for performance, especially when it comes to worship. In fact, playing music and worshiping God can't even be put in the same category. They are completely separate and have nothing in common. Playing music can evoke emotion and passion, but the heat of the Holy Spirit lighting your heart on fire is something completely different. Sure, playing music can evoke happiness and joy, but the joy that comes from the Lord brings wholeness and is lasting. Playing music can give goosebumps and bring someone to tears, but worship is what will cleanse their soul of contaminating thoughts, emotions, and torment. Worshiping God is what lifts you up from your dark place.

Worship isn't a pretty melody that leaves you with shackles still on your feet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that through the last 5 years, God has been drawing me deeper and deeper into what I was created for, which is worship. I believe we were all created to worship. But those who were marked and detailed with the talent of music were meant to lead others, and not just with their songs, but with their lives.

So I guess, from starting out as that elementary kid who would stare at the contorted faces of worship leaders and think they were constipated because of their intense and focused expressions, to now being a semi-adult and having elementary kids looking at me that way, it is wild to look back and see how far I've come.

And it is all because of His wonderful, undeserved, and immaculate grace.

I Like This Story...

Here we are again, folks. I have nothing interesting to write to you, but I do want to post this amazing story about this guy who went through a six year wait for the one that God told him that he would marry. Its amazing, inspiring, and just so so so special. ;)

Enjoy!

_________________________________

"A Nice Story For You"

by Steven Foster

When I was about 10 yrs old, I went to NY city for a weekend (from Cleveland, OH) and we visited a small church. We joined their church group for the day to visit the Statue of Liberty, and some other sites. When we got into a group for a photo, I noticed a little girl on the opposite side, who was bundled up just as I was, because it must have been late fall. After I saw her, I thought to myself-this is going to be my wife. (I was saved and had a very strong relationship with the Lord)

We left NY and went back home to Cleveland. I prayed that God would let me have her for a wife when the time came. I also felt that it was His will. From the first time I saw her and the first time I prayed; I didn't even have a doubt in my mind. I still didn't know her name or even if I would even recognize her out of a lineup, since I only saw part of her face and never even heard her voice, but God gave me assurance about the matter.

Soon after this; our church became affiliated with this church in NY, and the two churches would plan summer activities for the youth, and the churches. (Don't know the details of how this worked.)

About two years later, our church along with some others, planned a gathering and I was very interested in seeing if I was going to have my future bride show up. I was looking around the cafeteria really confused; when I noticed a little girl across the table from staring into my eyes. Sure enough it was her; but, she was way too pretty for me. I was one of the oddest looking kids, and I never thought I would be able to get anyone to like me. (Was small, skinny, way too mature for my age, hung out with old people, large broken glasses with only one side hanging to my ears, and dressed like it was still 1959. Even my cousins and my brother made fun of me. And for my serious love for the Lord-they would call me little Jesus. Which I didn't mind.)

Very shortly I found out she wasn't looking into my eyes but rather looking at my odd looking glasses. She spoke to me very nicely (she was very talkative) and asked me some questions. I found out a little later that she liked a boy and was very serious about him. (We were 12) Well, the boy wasn't me; it was someone from her school, which was no surprise to me. But I thought to myself-she must not yet be saved, because if she was; God would have told her who her husband is going to be-ME.

That was the extent of our conversation. All the boys circled her, but I thought to myself-"they just don't know." I was never worried or jealous, but just trusted in the Lord. After this trip, I did wonder if I will ever hit a growth spurt and if my looks will improve a bit; I wanted her to one day be very happy and comfortable with my looks, and be happy, and like the person God gives her- all around.

Well, some time passed again-about a year that I saw her again (13). She had changed so much, and I was about the same. I remember that she was already hanging out with some older kids, some even had cars. I didn't get to speak with her much during this time; but she was already my wife, except she didn't know it. I didn't have to spend time with her, or even talk to her to reassure me-because God was already doing that. Ever since I saw her for the first time, I had probably prayed for her almost everyday. I always prayed for her salvation and her physical well being.

I saw her once more about a year later, (we were about 14) and I got to talk to her for about two minutes; and she told me that she has a serious boyfriend, and he is 16. She seemed like she was real popular with everyone, and she was much like a young woman. I can't say I was really happy that she was dating a cool 16 year old-but I knew that the God who measured out the Universe with the span of His hand, had everything under control.

After this last time that I saw her; and the next time I would see her again, about 2 years passed. I was nearly 16, and we were actually going to move to the deep south, which would mean that these visits would stop. There were also other changes in my life that I would like to mention. Back when I was about 6 years old, an eye doctor told my mom that I would most likely loose my eyesight by the age of 14. I have to say that through the years, my parents would take me to change the lens in my glasses about two times a year for my eyes were getting gradually worse. It was two weeks before my 14th birthday, the last week of school, and I was sitting in class looking at the board when I noticed that I was having a hard time seeing again. Just like many times before. (It was probably time to change my glasses again.) By the end of the day I was getting light headed, and as I got home I couldn’t wait to take off my glasses and just close my eyes. When I took my glasses off I noticed that I could see everything just perfectly. GOD HAD HEALED MY EYES.

During the two years that I did not see her; my eyes had been healed. Not only that but I grew about 9 inches in the 2 yrs and put on about 50 pounds. I kid you not; I became a super athlete, with amazing strength and speed, my voice changed and I would have been unrecognizable to most people who didn't see me every six months, let alone two years. And yes, most girls would have wanted to date me if I weren't so serious. (I became what some called, eye candy.) It was an interesting two years, but I was still as serious as before. I was fascinated by my changes, but not overcome by them.

So, right before my sixteenth birthday our youth group and the youth group of the church she attended, went to a youth conference held in another city. I had not seen her the first day that we were there, but the second night we went to eat pizza and there she sat facing me with her two friends about 3 or 4 tables down. I sat with one of my cousins, and with as many girls that could fit at the table. (Most of these girls who sat down didn't even recognize me from years past, and thought I was someone who they never met before-so they were all eager to talk with me.)

I noticed that my future bride was feeling sad, and I would occasionally see her lay her head on her friend. I had no idea what was going on, but I was praying for her. I wanted to go over to say something but I just wasn't sure what to tell her. There were too many people around her, and even though between God and I, she was my wife- I just didn’t know what I was going to say.

A few minutes of this and someone came to our table and started chatting with me. After a couple of minutes he asked me if I would go outside for a minute. I said sure, and as we walked towards the door, I noticed that my bride was no longer at her table either. I was a bit nervous because even though I prayed about her; I just wasn't sure if would say the right things.

Sure enough as I stepped out the door, there she was with her friend. I stopped about two steps away from her and looked straight into her eyes- and couldn't say a single word. We just stared at each other, and I was just fine with that. Than her friend said-"well, aren't you going to say anything to her!" The first thing I said, was for her and the guy who asked me to come outside to leave. After they went inside, she just broke down and started crying- as I was still just staring at her. The first thing she told me was that she gave her heart to Christ about six months ago. Then she told me that she couldn't stop thinking about me for the last six months, and that she believes that God wants her to become my bride one day! The girl who could talk to anyone, had a really hard time talking to me. (We were both just before our 16th B-days.)

My response to that was, "I am not surprised!" As conceited as that sounded, I told her that I have been praying for her for about six years, and I knew she was my gift from God. As you could imagine, she was very happy, and shocked at the same time.

After that night we shared addresses, and we decided that we would write, and wait for further instruction from God. I moved to the South that summer, so I didn't see her much for the next four years, until when we got married at the age of 20.

Those four years were not as hard to bear as many would think. God's peace was with us, and He was with us. He was and is the centerpiece of our lives. When my friends would ask me; what does she looked like; I couldn't even describe her. I wasn't sure how tall she was, or any of her physical features, because I only remembered her eyes. Not even the color of her eyes; but what I saw in them.

God has blessed our marriage, and our lives. We have four children; and are serving the Lord to this day!!

God Bless!!!

-Steven Fanto