With Open Hands: Since the beginning of the summer I’ve frequently ...

With Open Hands: Since the beginning of the summer I’ve frequently ...: "Since the beginning of the summer I’ve frequently had these “I can’t believe I’m really in Africa” pinch me moments. While I’ve been here in..."

Jamaican me think. A lot.

So I just got off the phone with Penie in Jamaica. 15 years ago, she and her husband Jim left their lives as foster parents in the states to start a home in Whitehouse, Jamaica called "My Father's House."

Dozens of kids later they find themselves wondering how to keep the lights on. How to keep the water running. How to minister to families that call them and say "Papa Jim, we need food. We need clothes. Can you help?"

I've been to Jamaica. I've seen the poverty right outside of the Sandals resorts. I've seen the loneliness and the broken families and the need. And I had the chance (twice now, and soon to be three times) to walk alongside Mama Penie and Papa Jim and see their impact on the community there. They are not the big bad Americans that come in for an experience and give out material things and leave. They are the Jamaican citizens that work alongside families to build houses, to give out food, to hug kids, to carry water. And I got to do that too. For a week.

Soon, when God says so, we are going to start a campaign to help keep My Father's House open and keep those communities cared for. Soon, I hope you will take five minutes out of your day and contribute financially. It's awful that, when I say that, most of us think...I can't afford it. But think again. $5 in Jamaica goes so much farther than it does where we live. We can afford to give. Let's skip Starbucks. Skip the movies. Skip the fast food run. And give.

I'll be hollering at you soon. And I hope you holler back.


-Liz

Becca's back! Now where are YOU going?

Today we greeted Becca and welcomed her back to America. She flew into RDU from Uganda. Not a quick journey. Planes and busses and all things in between. Becca has been gone for 2 1/2 months with Embrace Uganda. She lived with the fatherless and was loved by them all. I am SURE her blog will blow up with what she learned, how she was changed, what she is going to do next.

So check that out. And think about, today, what are your next steps? How will you go, change, or move? We can all take the first steps today. For some of us, it might mean working out. Maybe it means finally forgiving the person that has hurt you so many years ago. Does it mean you sponsor a child with World Vision? $35 a month will save a child's life. I spent $35 on dinner last night. What in the world?

I'm just saying...we all need to make a change that is LONG overdue. So what is it for you? What is it for me? Let's all make a pact to focus on the daily. Don't think about next year, or even tomorrow. Let's take a first step today. And that step will lead us somewhere crazy. Maybe even Uganda.

-Liz

"Mo Money Mo Problems"

I have always had a struggle with money. What to spend it on, how to save it, and how to get more of it. If I’m being honest with myself, it has taken control of my life at times.

My friend once said that if you want to know what you care about the most, look at where you spend your money. As Americans, we have ALL given in to spending our time and money on luxuries, big or small. The majority of us have jobs that we don’t even enjoy, and our FB statuses dread the morn of Mondays. I don’t know about you, but the idea of spending 5 out of 7 days dragging my feet bums me out hardcore. It doesn’t have to be that way. The truth is, we have allowed money to run our lives and on top of that, ruin our lives.

We live in a messed up world where your value comes from your job and your salary. “The Myth of Measure: a person’s opinion of you + your performance = your self-worth.” While the wealthy businessman is respected and admired because of his company that only feeds money back into itself, another man is trying to change the world, making barely any money at all, and is looked down upon. Does anyone else see how screwed up that is?! Your identity will never be found by the logo on your shirt or by the size of your house.

Want the truth? It’s not my money, and it’s not your money. It’s all God’s money.

I know that might seem ridiculous, but is it really that outrageous? When you recognize your money as belonging to God, it changes EVERYTHING. Not only does it change the way you spend your money, but it changes the way you WANT to spend it. I have never felt freer in my life than to be supporting the things I believe in with the little money I make. Trust me, I am a person that checks my bank account like its nobody’s business. I look at the puny little number and start to freak out. But when I worry about my finances, I am not trusting God, and that is a HUGE problem. He says that he will provide everything I need. The reality is, we lose sight of what we need and focus on what we WANT. We have let go of simplicity and have overcomplicated our lives with stuff. And that stuff we invest all our money in won’t last. When we put all our faith in our belongings, we are only setting ourselves up for disappointment. Chances are that that jacket will go missing, that phone will get stolen, and that car won’t last forever.

I had to recognize certain luxuries in my life that I needed to cut down and even cut out. It’s comforting to invest your money into a life of security, but those comforts will never satisfy. Let’s be real; we could go crazy everyday until we achieve the American Dream or obtain a certain status, but then what? Once we get it, are we really going to be content with what we have and how we portray ourselves? I think you know the answer.

It may seem radical, but while we are repeatedly throwing away our money on thrills, we are in reality throwing away our lives. I know it’s hard to see outside of the American bubble, but millions of people around the world can’t comprehend why we have “houses” for our cars, “rooms” just for our clothes, and these things called refrigerators that can store all the food we want for weeks on end. By no means is this a guilt-trip, but I think it’s safe to say that when you put things into perspective, we are crazy blessed to have the everyday things we have.

I’ll be honest: I am barely getting by this summer. My paychecks have literally been cut in half from a year ago. But the thing is, I am absolutely crazy about my job. Up until now, I have never felt such purpose in the work place. My bank account may not be getting bigger, but I thank God everyday that my heart is. God gave you specific talents and gifts to change lives, so don’t waste them! When you make your work your passionate about your life work, you’ve made it big.

So what’s my point? I have met people who have worked their whole lives for a plaque on the wall. I have met people who have slaved away at jobs they hate to buy a loved one a nice gift to please them for the time being. The fact is that none of those things will ever be enough. Whatever you do or wherever you go, let love be your lead. Here is the start to the rest of your life to bless people like crazy, whether in the workplace or out. Love is the only thing that makes this life worthwhile, and no money in the world could ever put a price on that.

I guess Notorious B.I.G. knew what he was talking about.

-Dee

Chapter 3: You're lost...and I'm saved!

I recently attended this huge Christian concert at our local arena. There were a few worship bands and a speaker that delivered the gospel message at the end of the concert. For months, this event was billed as something that local churches could bring their unbelieving friends to so they could hear the Gospel and come to know Jesus. There were thousands of people there, it was overwhelming. The place that I go to see NC State Basketball games was now packed with people singing “Holy, Holy, Holy.” It was overwhelming.

I have known Jesus over ten years now, and I know that part of me is jaded when it comes to these kinds of events. What would the speaker say to really bring people to know that Jesus died for them? How would he convey the great hope in the resurrection? In thirty minutes, how can he point people to forgiveness and salvation?

I knew we were in trouble when the opening prayer from a charismatic local preacher included something like this “God, save us from our sin. Save the homosexuals, deliver the lesbians from their sin…” and people around me hummed in agreement. In my mind I was trying to get the facts straight. This free concert they are putting on, it’s designed to bring our friends to Christ. So in theory, over half of the people in this arena, hearing this prayer, should not know who Jesus is or what Christians are about. They should be here with a friend of theirs that loves them and wants them to hear about Christ. Instead, they are hearing a prayer about saving not just sinners in general, but specifically, homosexuals. As a body, we should pray that we do not fall into temptation. It seems to me that sometimes our prayer life is to bind sinners in our lives, instead of binding the evil one himself.

The Sunday after the concert, I was talking with a woman at our church that went with me to chaperone our youth group. I asked her what she thought about it. She said one thing that really bothered her is the constant reference to “the lost”. The speaker mentioned “our lost friends” a lot. Our lost friends that were there with us. My friend said “I remember, before I came to Christ, I would hear churches use that term and it really offended me. Why am I lost, and they get to be saved? I felt like they looked down upon me.”

Have you ever been lost? I used to fly all over the country for my graphic design job, and I would have to navigate airports and shuttles and rental cars and highways. Every time I flew into Texas it frustrated me. Texas is filled with these things called frontage roads. Frontage roads run parallel to highways. Frontage roads only go one way on each side. Frontage roads expedite the road rage process. On one occasion, I had to stop at a gas station to get directions because mapquest failed to recognize these frontage roads. Flustered and late for an appointment, I ran in to get clarification. What if, in my desperation, the lady behind the counter answered my request for directions by saying “You’re lost!” I think things would get pretty serious pretty fast. I didn’t need her to tell me I was lost. That was pretty clear. I needed her to give me directions. Simple directions. I had a question, she had an answer. That’s how it works. Right?

My mom gives hilarious directions. “Take a right out of the driveway, you’ll see a stop sign at the corner, turn left there, because if you turn right you’ll end up going the wrong way, so turn left. Then you’ll see three cows on the right side of the road and you’ll want to pass them. Oh, then on your left is route 82 but you don’t want to turn on that road because that will take you into Kennett and you don’t want to go into town. So stay straight, and you’ll pass this cute little corner store next to Landhope, they sell scarves and jewelry and you can get cute beads there…”

This goes on and on. And you forget where you were going in the first place. Our lost friends don’t need us to tell them they are lost. And they don’t need us to give them complicated directions. Think about when you first heard about Jesus. Think about where you were, what was going on in your life at the time, what you knew about God. I absolutely knew that I was lost. I never needed someone to say that to me. That would be like turning the knife that was already stuck into me. I knew I needed something. I needed love. That’s it. The love of Jesus is the only thing that can save us.

When we tell our friends that they are lost, we are causing division. When they hear us refer to them as lost, and us as saved, we are damaging a very fragile relationship. The Christian world is seen as a bully, especially in America. Watch any documentary where a Christian politician is interviewed and you’ll see that to be true. The only time a Christian gets media attention is when they fall. The world loves to see Christians fall down. I think that is partly because we claim to have all the answers. We claim to be saved, and we condemn the unbelieving world to be lost.

 My life with Christ has been an amazing process. One thing I know for sure is that there are no checkpoints. That is a hard realization for me, because I am such a task-oriented person. I love getting things done. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I complete something, but then I am immediately onto something else.

I bought my first house a few years ago and my biggest project was the backyard. The yard was a disaster when I first moved in. There was this gnarly dog pen made out of chain link fence, there was a disheveled shed made of plywood, and the backyard was a forest of tall, gangly pine trees and overgrown brush. Over the next year, every weekend was spent in that backyard. I had a revolving door of friends come over with various skills and tools. We rebuilt the shed, we cut down dead trees, we dug up brush and raked all the old leaves into yard bags that lined my street every single Sunday. I planted grass seed and watered that lawn religiously. When I started to see grass come up it was such an amazing day.

Last summer we had the youth group end of year party in my backyard. There was about forty people back there eating hot dogs, sitting on my new deck with bench seating that some friends helped me build, throwing a football in the new emerald green grass, and swinging in the hammock that I tied between the two big pine trees I kept in tact. When the party was over and everyone left, that night I sat on that new deck and just looked over at what we had accomplished in that backyard and I was just so pleased. Now, one year later, I hardly ever take the time to go out back and think about what I accomplished.

I don’t think it’s terribly healthy to always look back. But I do think it is valuable to take stock of your spiritual accomplishments. The other day I went for a walk and I just stopped myself and sat with God. I never do that. If I’m not careful, my prayer life becomes a checklist. I sat on a bench and just let myself be with God and it was wonderful. God reminded me of where I have come from, what He has showed me, what He has saved me from. I was flooded with my relationship with Jesus. I was encouraged by where I had been with Him and how we have grown together. In my bible, on the very first page, I wrote something down that I guess I heard from a speaker in high school:

Never forget what you’ve been saved from.

If I have the mindset that I am saved and my friend is lost, that will affect the way I look at her. That will make me feel like I have all the answers and she doesn’t. I win, and she loses. It rarely makes me feel like I have to pray for her. It rarely shows me that Jesus died for her. It separates us as people. The reality is that there are lost people all around us, that we are called to love. But a greater reality that we ignore when we separate ourselves from them, is that we ourselves can be lost if we are not careful. We are saved when we are in a relationship with Jesus, when we are walking with Him and living in His will. Paul says it best in 1^st Corinthians 15:18 – “Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost.”

Have we fallen asleep in Christ? Have we taken our salvation for granted? Look at what Paul says in his letter to the Ephesians in chapter 5, verse 13-15 – “But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: “Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you. Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise, but as wise.”

Never forget what you’ve been saved from. Remembering what Jesus has done for us is the key to understanding our friends that need Him. They know they are lost. Pointing them simply to Christ and praying for them is the best thing we can do. Your life is your witness. That simple sentence is probably one of the most complex directives of the Christian life. It requires a daily walk with God, doesn’t it?

“Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

Hoarders

So there's this show on A&E called Hoarders. And it's about...well...hoarders. People that value their stuff over their family. So they build nests and walls and towers of clothes and gifts and boxes to keep people away. Of course I watch this and I say "These people need help."

What are the things that I count on, that I use, that I surround myself with, to separate me from the people that love me and that I want to love? Hoarders use material things. Maybe I hoard emotions. Maybe I hoard distance. Maybe I hoard time. Or...shoot...maybe all three.

There is a fear in all of us that if we give up the fight, if we remove the walls, if we allow ourselves to be open, we will not be received. Will people really love me if they really knew me? If they REALLY knew me?

I guess we have two options in life:

1. Surround ourselves with things that replace people and never be open. This option leads to a life of predictable loneliness and distance. You won't experience as much pain. But you most certainly won't experience joy and community.
2. Surround ourselves with people and be open. This option leads to a life of unpredictable adventure and community. Pain, joy, roller coaster, life. Life together.

I am guessing that all of us have chosen both of those options in different seasons of life. When we get to the point where we can be open without fearing the pain of rejection...that's the sweet spot.

Time to go throw away some knick knacks. And call a friend.

-Liz

Chapter 2: The Gallon Challenge

A few years ago, while I was a Young Life leader at a local high school, I caught wind of something spectacular. Apparently, it is physically impossible to drink a gallon of whole milk in one hour. “Impossible? I bet we could do it!” so thought a group of high school boys I knew. So, against our better judgment, a group of guy leaders decided to participate in the gallon challenge with the boys and document their scientific findings with video. Hey, it was all for the advancement of science, so what could go wrong?

(OK – let me give a little disclaimer here. I realize that this is a horrible idea. I do not support anyone actually doing this. I am a little embarrassed that I am even bringing this up, but it’s a classic hilarious moment from my life and time in ministry and, well, I am proud that I almost completed the challenge.)

We all filled up in the basement that Wednesday night and started Young Life. We sang a few songs, and then it was time to watch the tape of their highly scientific experiment. Ten guys, each armed with their own gallon of whole milk (we had learned that skim milk won’t do the trick) had one hour to drink their milk. The challenge is that you have to drink all of it. If they quit, they failed. But as we were about to see, there was another, more violent way, to fail this challenge.

Each boy started excited, they all drank half of their gallons relatively easily. Spirits were high, but the more milk they drank, the more their movements got slower and their eyelids droopy. Some of them started to sweat. Some of them took off layers of clothing in the hopes that they could “breathe through it” easier. It moved from a party atmosphere to business time pretty quickly.

And then there they were, all lined up on the balcony of one of the leaders’ apartments. Three quarters of a gallon down, one boy started to push air out of his mouth and then looked, well, frightened. He lurched his head over the side of the balcony and threw up. Now, throwing up is something we don’t like to talk about. It’s the ultimate loss of control. It’s our bodies rejecting something so quickly, and you always feel helpless. I remember if I was sick as a child, it was never more serious as when I was throwing up. That’s when doctors get called. That’s when school is out of the question. That’s when things got really serious, really fast. No matter how many times we throw up, we’re always surprised! It’s so unnatural.

But in my lifetime, I had never seen such unnatural throwing up. This boy who had just consumed the better part of a gallon of milk, was throwing that milk up. And I knew it was milk, because it was pure white in color and projecting about ten feet away from his mouth. To this day, it is one of the craziest things I had ever seen. Of course, upon seeing one boy throwing up, the other boys all threw up after him. No one finished the challenge. But watching that video, we were losing our minds. Even though I saw ten big guys fail the challenge, I thought, I bet I could do it and not throw up. I looked at some of the girls that were at Young Life that night, and they just nodded their heads back at me saying, heck yes, we want to try it, too!

Yes, you are reading this right. A group of high school girls, already seeing their more lactose tolerant friends failing at this task and throwing up, decided that they wanted to try it. Not only did I not discourage this idea, I invited them over to my house that weekend so we could all try it together. I was impressed that these girls were being so tough! How could I say no? I celebrated their boldness.

So there we were, on my back porch in North Raleigh, on a Saturday afternoon, drinking gallons of whole milk. You know where this was going, of course. So did I really, but we were all up for the challenge, and secretly, wondered what it was like to projectile vomit milk. It was a lot of milk.

You would have been proud of me. I made it farther than the other girls. Sure, we had some quitters that took a few gulps and bowed out. We had some bring Soft Batch cookies and drink milk through pink bendy straws. Clearly, they weren’t taking this seriously. They were no match for me. I wasn’t even the first one to throw up. Another leader, Taylor, was wearing black sling back heels. How can I remember her shoes after all these years? When someone throws up that much milk, all over their shoes, it’s pretty much burned in your brain.

I made it about three quarters of the way through my gallon of cold whole milk. There was a point there that I thought I would make it. That thought was quickly replaced with another, more painful thought. At that moment, I just wanted it to be over. I couldn’t take another sip. So I took a deep breath and let it all out. I will say this: I haven’t since, nor will I ever, throw up that much again. I believe it to be physically impossible. I was throwing up so long, that I could not catch my breath. I know you are reading this in disgust right now, but when we all were throwing up that milk, it was just that: pure, cold, white milk, flowing out of our mouths like rushing waterfalls. I have never been to Niagara Falls, but when I get there someday, I am confident that upon seeing it, the first thing I will think of is that Saturday on my back porch with those high school girls and our gallons of milk.

I’ve told that story many times. I’ve told it in many different allusions to the Gospel. But the core of that experience, for me, is this: we never listen to God’s warnings or advice until we ourselves can investigate that very thing that God tries to keep us from. God in His infinite wisdom knows better than me! That is a fact. And although I know that to be true in my heart, emotionally I still want to take things to the limit and find out for myself. I saw, with my own eyes, what drinking a gallon of milk does to you. A whole room of us saw that. And a whole room of us wanted to try and be the first people in history to defy those odds and not make ourselves sick. What a joke.

That level of disobedience, again, goes back to the beginning of time. Adam and Eve, in the Garden, were created by God to be with God, and they “were both naked, and they felt no shame.” (Genesis 2:25) They had an open connection with God. They were sinless! They felt no shame. Can you imagine living just a day in this world without feeling shame? Can you imagine a place where we aren’t ashamed of our bodies, of our failures, of our past, of our secrets, of our wild emotional swings? Adam and Eve had it all.

One thing I seem to forget…a lot. Not only am I fighting against my own sin, I am fighting against an enemy. I am fighting against the one that is “more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God has made.” (Genesis 3:1) Take a break and read Genesis 3. Read it a few times and then come back to this spot.

Man oh man! The story of the fall of man explains a lot. Here is the Cliffs Notes version of the story: Satan came as a serpent and tempted the woman to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then the serpent convinces her that God would be ok with this idea, and that her eyes would be opened, and that’s a good thing, and that fruit is tasty, and she should go for it! So she got Adam in on it, and they ate that fruit, and their eyes were opened to their nakedness. Then God comes back and they—hide. They hide from God. They are ashamed. Now remember, Eve was tempted by Satan to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Thinking himself equal to God was the same thing that got Lucifer himself booted from “the mount of God” (read Ezekial 28:14-19).

When it comes to pride, we fight against the physical world and the spiritual world. The more we trust in God, the closer we get to knowing Him, the more we battle on both plains. The concept of pride, though, is a positive one. Take pride in your work, or, pride yourself on being on time. Be strong, be proud! Loud and proud!

But pride here, is not needing anything. Not needing anyone else, thinking yourself better than everyone else, being the expert, being the best, lacking nothing. I don’t know about you, but my moments of true pride, are pride in the Lord and what He has done. When I am proud of myself, I have to immediately thank God. Pride in ourselves is what moves us to make mistakes. Pride comes before a fall. Pride came before the fall of man. Pride came before the fall of man! Yet I still have to find out, on my own, if that sin will really hurt me like God says it will. So I go outside of God’s will for my life, and I fall into sin.

We have to be so careful not to live life like this. I know so many friends that came to the Lord in high school, but didn’t want to give their everyday lives up to Him. Before they knew it, they had once again chosen to turn their backs on God and live outside of His will. It is in the every day that pride creeps in. There is no scientific equation for your relationship with Jesus. It is exactly that—a relationship. In the Gospels, Jesus answered everyone that came up to him in ways they could understand. He spoke in their terms and on their level. For fisherman, he talked of fishing, for the rich young ruler, he talked of money, for the woman at the well, he talked of living water. What is it for you? In what ways is God on your level, trying to get your attention?

The ins and outs of your everyday life is what God cares about. He wants to be with you. He is crazy about you. We get scared of that. The idea of a lasting relationship is frightening. Our modern world is one of instant gratification. The days of waiting for anything are disappearing. Things are shipped overnight, paid for online, transferred immediately, authorized instantly, cooked in 30 seconds. At work, I complain that it takes thirty seconds for an email to get sent to someone, instead of the instantaneous delivery I want. When was the last time you took a walk, not to get your heart rate up and break a sweat, but just to listen to God? When was the last time you sat down, without your cell phone or your watch or your iPod, and looked at God’s creation as His captive audience?

If we want the full life that God promises, we have to go for it. “I have come so that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10) We are in such a commitment-phobic society that we start to believe the lie that we don’t need to pursue God every single day. In any relationship, if you ignore the person you’re involved with, the relationship suffers and dies. God never turns His back on us, but we can turn our backs on Him. We have to be aware of that tendency and fight it. That is what the enemy wants for you: isolation.

Look at what Jesus says in Revelations 3:

“15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth. 17 You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. 18 I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
19 Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. 20 Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”


Have you ever been in a friendship or a relationship where the object of your affection is so loving and encouraging towards you that you can’t believe what you did to deserve such love? Maybe that person sends you loving emails or letters, or speaks to you in words you’ve been longing to hear. Unfortunately, those words will later break your heart. Something changes and you no longer feel that same love and affection from that person. You drift apart, you break up, you are left to heal on your own. Those words haunt you and are meaningless now, and you wonder if you will ever love or be loved like that again. Now imagine doing that over and over and over again. I wonder sometimes if I am doing that to my Father.


ave HYou didn’t think I would introduce you to the gallon challenge and not relate it to Revelations 3:16, do you? Our apathy is deadly. Our lukewarm disposition towards God can ruin us. Don’t let it. Be earnest, and repent.

#whatashame

I got an email from my friend Sam in the middle of the night last night. I haven't asked his permission yet to post this. But he's so right that I'm doing it.

I’m always reluctant to use the term “friends” when talking about my Facebook network. I’ll be quite honest – I don’t know/remember who a lot of my “friends” are. There are some I’ve never even met in person.

However, I am thankful to have friends I don’t access exclusively through social networking. More than one, actually. Friends I call – not text – to visit. Friends with whom I hang around doing, more often than not, absolutely nothing (which, by the way, is the legitimate, more fulfilling version of being online the same time). These are friends who I wouldn’t even really consider Facebook chatting because showing up at their doorstep just makes more sense in the context of the bond we share.

I’m thankful for them. But I’m less thankful for the other thousand or more people with whom I am allegedly linked (if Facebook says it, it’s gotta be true) but probably won’t ever talk to again. Given the right circumstances, there might have been potential for a genuine friendship with one or more of these people, but you can’t grow close to someone through a computer screen. It’s just not natural.

And yet, because the internet is awesome or something, people still try.

So you wanna talk about the most frustrating trends in the Christian community? Try the most frustrating trend. At least, the most frustrating to someone who has grown up in a culture affected by it more and more every day. The traditional relationship, it seems – whether romantic, platonic, familial, mentoring, whatever - has been relegated to the digital realm. Permanently, maybe, if something isn’t done about it. We interact with one another (in some cases exclusively) via texting and the internet and consequently, spend far less time in personal, face-to-face contact.

It’s fairly obvious at face value. Cold hard fact: we text and we communicate online. A lot. Everyone knows that. What isn’t obvious, unfortunately, is why it’s a problem.

If you take the time to think about it, you’ll realize, like I have, that we’ve been robbed. The various social networking portals initially created to “connect” us have stripped us of a responsibility we should bear naturally – the responsibility of being intentional with one another. They have made us capable of coming and going in and out of one another’s lives as easily as a vapor might escape through an open door. We owe each other little to nothing and conversely, we’re less inclined to demand intimacy from one another. In short, the Virtual Third Wheel has made us completely unaccountable because we don’t have to deal with the personal implications of being actively involved in one another’s lives if we don’t really want to.

However, there’s a kicker. Because we do want to be actively involved in each other’s lives. SO badly. We are just so averse to the road less traveled (in this case, making a telephone call or, God forbid, seeking out someone in person), that we’ve convinced ourselves that “easy” equates to “better”. Despite the fact that we desperately want a real connection to another human being, we connect via methods that are…fake. Impersonal. Artificial. Digital. And why? Well, because it’s easier to just…not text back. Or worse, sign off. Rather than deal with even the slightly uncomfortable gesture of carrying on a pauseless conversation face to face.

If you’re waiting for the “here’s the solution!” section of the blog, it’s not coming. There’s no universally applicable prescription to being so addicted to social networking that your real life community takes a back seat to it. It’s just not realistic. Of course, you can always diagnose at the individual level and just deactivate your own Facebook account or remove texting from your cell phone plan. But even if you have the balls to do that, there are still disadvantages, the most obvious of which is losing access to an extensive network of friends, acquaintances, and…you know, a bunch of clowns you don’t even know.

For some reason, I’m reminded of that one scene in Fight Club where Edward Norton’s alter ego blows up his apartment. For a while, Norton’s character mourns his lost belongings – his IKEA couch, his table cutely shaped like a yin-yang, his dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections, proof they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of…wherever. But eventually, after weeks of getting the crap beat out of him and of existing free of his household “necessities”, he realizes he really didn’t care about, or need for that matter, a single stick of furniture he owned.

It’s a flawed analogy, I know that. But what do you want from me? I don’t have the answer to this problem. And I’m certainly not going to try to bridge the obvious dissonance between my critique of social networking and the fact that not only do I still have a Facebook, but I’m blogging right now.

What I do know is this: relationships weren’t meant to exist virtually. They’re supposed to be real and sometimes, they’re supposed to be hard or awkward. So don’t let technology impersonalize our community. De-digitize. Call her. Break bread with him. And if you’re going to have the audacity to interject yourself in someone’s life, don’t use a keyboard. It might be a little uncomfortable but don’t worry…it’s supposed to feel that way.

I am Jack’s cold sweat.

Confessions of a Christian...still.

About two years ago, I wrote a manuscript. "Confessions of a Christian". I wrote it in the middle of my biggest desert season ever. Ever. It was my only lifeline to hope for many months, and I felt like things just poured out of me. Things about community and loneliness and fronts and authenticity. Things that, I believe, we struggle with but don't talk about.

Am I the only one that feels like most Christian music is subpar to the rest of our musical options? Am I the only one that thinks it should be quite the opposite? What about finding cool Christians? Trusting people? Letting someone into your pain? Forgiving without the worry of it being accepted?

So I wrote that book. And I shopped it around to literary agents and I got a few bites. And I got one really BIG bite, but after a book proposal and a few weeks of discussions, my agent chose not to continue with publishing.

And now two years later, I am out of the desert. But I still go back and visit that place. Probably too much. I look back too much, I revisit it too much, I think about it too much. But I still see relevance in this little book I wrote, and I'm going to release it on our blog. Chapter by chapter. You already got chapter one. If you're anything like me, you struggle with those big questions of living in this world as a Christian and what the heck we are supposed to do.

I'm hoping for hope. And I am hoping that you will respond with those three little words that are the most powerful words I know. "Yeah. Me too."

-Liz

Christian D-Bags

Hipster. Soul patch. TOMS. Skinny jeans cuffed to capris. Cool guys that walk into a room and want to own it. Announcing their arrival. Deep Vs. Big voices and insincere intonations. No eye contact. Scanning the room for something better. Bloggers. Tweeters. Facebook chatters. Macs.

Christian D-Bags.

I preach sincerity. I preach authenticity. I preach that judgment is left for God and God alone. I stand up in front of high schoolers and church goers and co-workers and say that. Over and over again. And then, in my heart, I see those guys and call them douchebags. In my heart or out loud, it doesn't matter.

So which is worse? The too cool for school hipster douchebags or the girl that preaches authenticity and authenticly judges them in her heart? I wonder how honest I am willing to be. I wonder how honest we are ALL willing to be.

What's the point of a rambling blog if I am trying to be something I'm not?  I myself am a Christian douchebag whether or not I want to admit it. What I am is a girl that needs a heart transplant, just like the rest of us. So here's to hoping we all check into the hospital. Before it's too late.

-Liz

...and you call yourself a Christian?

“Ever since you started going to Young Life, you’ve become so judgmental.”

Ouch. Coming from my mom, that hurt me so badly. Over ten years later, it still hurts. But now it hurts for a much different reason.

At the time of that confrontation, I was so confused. In my teenage mind, I thought, she doesn’t get it. I haven’t become more judgmental, I have seen God, and I now know what is right. And so started a bad pattern in my walk with Christ. When I first heard the Gospel in 1993, I was at a weekend Young Life camp called Lake Champion. Looking back on it, there was nothing spectacular about the speaker. I don’t even remember his name. I never saw him again. But God was calling me that night, and I finally heard Him. I was changed dramatically. But amid all of the great things God was calling me towards, I ran away from my family. My family, who had done nothing but love me and support me my whole life, were suddenly not good enough to be around. They lost the privilege of knowing the new Christian version of me because they didn’t know what I knew. So why didn’t I tell them? Why didn’t I share the Gospel with them the very night I came home from Lake Champion?

In the eyes of my mom and dad, my newfound “religion” was nothing more than a newfound wall. It became a secret for me, and a source of rebellion. My relationship with God was private, and I didn’t want to invite them. And I didn’t – for years. Prior to coming to know Jesus, I rebelled with drugs and alcohol. That rebellion was a much easier thing to understand than this new separation I created. Shouldn’t inviting Christ into my heart make me easier to live with? To my family and friends, it was quite the opposite.

At home, I became withdrawn. I never wanted to be around my parents. I was embarrassed and upset that they didn’t know what I knew. But I never prayed for them. I never had those hard conversations. I would buy my mom Christian books for Christmas. I remember one year I bought her The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning in hopes that she would read it and come to know the Lord in the way that I did. Last year, I was home for Christmas and I saw that book on the shelf in a room that we hardly ever go in. The spine was crisp and brand new. It had never been opened.

Did I really expect the words of a Christian author, no matter how great, to do the work that God could do in her life through her only daughter? In essence, I wanted God to do things in her life that I never thought to ask Him for, nor was I willing to be a messenger.

I used this new relationship with God as an excuse to rebel against my family, and to write them off. In fact, I considered myself persecuted because of it. I moved away to college and never looked back. That self-righteous rebellion was so deep, that it was only until a few years ago, when I was 30 years old, that I realized what I had done. What God did next—was nothing short of amazing.

A few years ago I started having terrible chest pains. I imagined that if I had a heart attack, it would feel just like this. Now, this came at a time in my life where I was working out more than ever, and losing weight. So I was the healthiest that I had ever been. So I went to my doctor, and she gave me some anti-reflux medicine. This went on intermittently for almost a year.

One weekend I was in the Blue Ridge mountains on a YMCA trip and my chest was on fire. I couldn’t even raise my arms above my head. I thought for sure I was having a heart attack. By the time we drove the mini-bus to Urgent Care about twenty minutes away, the pain was gone.

A few months later, the pain got so bad that I couldn’t sleep at night. In fact, I couldn’t eat anything anymore either. I had an endoscopy that was relatively inconclusive. The doctor told me to stay away from fatty foods, acidic foods (tomato based products, citrus fruits), chewing gum, drinking too much water, the list went on and on. So I ate oatmeal and bananas and peanut butter. I ate like this for a long time.

When I turned thirty, I took three friends to Pennsylvania to visit my family for the weekend. My dad arranged for a limo to pick us up from the airport. It was so exciting! We felt like rock stars getting picked up by a limo driver. He even had one of those little white signs with my name on it. It was supposed to be the greatest birthday weekend ever. But by this time, I was sleeping maybe every other night. The stabbing pain in my chest would last all night long until about 4 in the morning, and would subside enough for me to go to sleep for a few hours before work. I was throwing up, I was exhausted, I was hungry, I was miserable. I would go on long walks in the middle of the night because moving was one of the only things that helped. I took a lot of 2 a.m. walks through my neighborhood. I was the unofficial neighborhood watch for months.

We arrived in Philadelphia and my parents had all these amazing meals lined up for us. I remember going to this unbelievable restaurant called The Backburner and there were filets and lobster all around me. In front of me was a bowl of brown rice. My mom had called ahead to the restaurant because it was the only thing I could eat. But that night, I couldn’t even eat that. I sat there, all dressed up, trying to celebrate my birthday, with my head in my hands. I was exhausted and starving and I now associated almost all food with terrible pain. I reached the end of my rope and decided to go back to the specialist and tell him I couldn’t take it anymore. Something is really wrong with me, and it’s not acid reflux.

I went back to the doctor and sat on the examination table. I told him that I couldn’t handle my daily life anymore and that I begged him to give me something for the pain. I just wanted something to help me sleep. If you’ve ever experienced any kind of insomnia, you can relate. The lack of sleep and feeling of isolation was just too much to bear. But my doctor would not give me any sort of painkillers. Instead, we ordered more tests to try to determine what was really going on inside of me.

After what seemed like endless tests, I had an ultrasound of my gall bladder done. It turns out that I had gallstones. Most people that suffer from gallstones have stones the size of dimes. Mine were the size of nickels. Every time I had those chest pains it was these stones moving around inside of me. They immediately scheduled me for surgery to remove my gall bladder. It was all very dramatic for me because I was someone that prided herself on being so independent. I was always the one there for my friends. I was also always the one that protected herself. It was much easier for me to be the caretaker than the one that needed to be cared for. In some twisted way. I looked at it as showing my weakness to other people, and I was always afraid of what they would do with that knowledge of my weakness, and would people think I am still cool if they know that I was weak?

So I called my mom and told her my surgery date. And without skipping a beat, she said she would drive down and stay with me during the surgery and the week of recovery. I was reluctant. Part of me thought, I don’t need my mom! I am 30 years old. And I live alone! I’ll be so annoyed. But I will tell you, God changed me in an enormous way. She came and stayed with me and was so kind to me, took care of me, loved me in the ways I seemed to have forgotten about. I felt my walls melt down around me. I was bedridden and weak, too weak to fight off my need to depend on other people. That was the greatest thing that could have happened to me and to my relationship with my mom. I remember when she left, I was so distraught, I had this love welling up in my heart that I had never felt before. When she pulled out of my driveway to go back to Pennsylvania, I could not stop crying. I have never experienced that before.

You see - I couldn’t wait to go to college. I had such an intense desire to move far away from my family. I felt like there was so much life out there that I couldn’t experience living in the same place that I grew up. I pretty much went to college and never looked back. I spent summers away from home, and didn’t think twice about it. So to be 30 years old and realize that I really did need people, and not only that, but that I really needed my family again, that was an unbelievable realization.

God does not want us to live solitary lives. God knows we need community, desperately. In our world, independence is applauded. If you are a self-made person and you are financially independent, you are highly regarded. But we take that too far. We think that we should rely on no one. Christians are especially guilty of this thought: God is enough for me, I don’t need anyone else. But is “enough” the right word? God is everything, He is enough, but we don’t know what’s best for us. We don’t get to decide that God is enough. And since when did God stop at enough? God lavishes gifts on His people. He always has. The sun rises and sets in unimaginable colors. When it rains and the sun shines through the clouds, we get this rainbow of colors that falls from the sky. When it gets colder in the fall, the trees don’t just drop their leaves, they turn from green to beautiful reds and oranges. God wakes us up with color every morning, and doesn’t stop until we go to sleep at night. He goes out of his way to show his creativity and love to us. When was the last time you looked at the people in your life in that same way? They are gifts from God. Their beauty is on display for you to enjoy just as much as the beach sunsets or the turning fall foliage.

This world is full of the evidence of a God who doesn’t stop with enough. His very character is that of abounding grace and mercy and faithfulness and patience and full life. Full life is never enough! So when we say we don’t need anyone else, we are rejecting the gifts that God is trying to give us. In Genesis chapter 2, after God created Adam, He said “It is not good for man to be alone.” It’s been that way since the beginning of time. You and I are no different! The people in your life are a gift. Do you realize that? The people closest to you are gifts from God. The people that want you to let them in the most, are the ones that love you the most. It took a painful illness for me to see that. God carefully walked me through one of the darkest times in my life to show me one of the brightest moments in my life. When I was reconciled to my family again it was a celebration. It was a party on earth, but it was a celebration in the heavenly places.

We do a disservice to our close friends and family when we shut them out of our lives with Christ. Our very identity changes when we come to know God more. That is scary when the people around you might not change. But don’t let yourself become so isolated from the ones that love you. Because they will love you no matter what, and God loves them just as much as He loves you and me. As Christians, we have to learn what it means to embrace the community around us that doesn’t know God—yet.

-Liz

I am a Christian snob.

I am a Christian snob.

I could tell you a lot of things about me, but that might be the most important thing. It is also the riskiest thing I could say on a blog (a goofy and far-removed way of me knowing you or you knowing me).

As a self-proclaimed Christian snob, I also care too much about what people think about me. As I sit in the judgment seat of other people and decide if I want to know them, I am constantly wondering if there is another Christian snob amongst them checking me out as well. Are they thinking the same thing?

Lately I have been reading dangerous books. Radical, Crazy Love, In the Name of Jesus, Living on the Edge. These are all books that are bursting my internal monologue bubble that constantly reminds me: “Liz, you are only worth as much as your last performance.”

What if what I do has NO bearing on how much people love me? What if I don’t have anything to prove to anyone? What if I don’t have to worry about people liking me back? And then, what if…God loves me the same forever? What if God’s love for me has NOTHING to do with my performance?

A friend once told me about a little formula called “The Myth of Measure”. Here it is:

Your opinion of me + My performance = My self-worth .

Do you know how many years of my life I have lived believing that to be true? There is a core belief in me that says I am only worth as much as you like me and how great my performance is. Every single performance. Every day. Every person.

The most radical thing I am doing this summer? Breaking the myth of measure. Believing that God is the one that hold my self-worth. Loving people, ALL people, without expecting love in return. Trying to not be a Christian snob. Welcome to the most challenging summer of my life.