In Word

A speech and debate tournament is like a magnifying glass.  When you put hundreds of people together for three stressful days, everything tends to show up clearer than it would otherwise—that means the bad things right along with the good things.  For now, though, I want to focus on the good things.

There are so many good things!

For me, tournaments are tiring on the outside, but incredibly rejuvenating on the inside.  Through this magnifying glass, all of God’s blessings, big and small, show up in all sorts of different ways.  Maybe that’s through awards, or maybe it’s through a conversation in the hall, or meeting new people, or learning to trust him all the more.  Whatever it is, it’s truly amazing.  And being with other people who see and are thankful for those blessings is even more amazing.

My first thought about the National Open last week is that it was a tournament filled with ups and downs.  Really, though, it was a tournament filled with ups, and smaller ups.  In competition, it’s easy to look at what God has blessed you with, and then compare it with someone else’s blessing—but why do we have to look at it as something relative?

If you had told me before the tournament that I would compete in speech finals for Persuasive, I would have been overjoyed.  That was just too far beyond my expectations.  But when it happens, and I go into the round to give my speech for those five judges, my standards suddenly get a little higher.  Instead of realizing how amazingly blessed I am just to be there, it gets a whole lot easier to worry about the outcome.

Human reasoning tells me to be just a little disappointed at getting third place—one rank below what would have qualified me directly to Nationals.

Reality says that I have been given more than I could ever possibly deserve.  And that is amazing.

On a less personal note, ARC has done it again and completely blown me away with its awesomeness.  So much talent, and so many blessings!  Thank you, God!

(Pictures courtesy of Toni)

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Sometimes, I wonder why hard things have to be so ridiculously hard.  I mean, why is it that “doing the right thing” inevitably means doing something that just doesn’t come naturally?  Why is it so difficult?

It’s easy to forget the obvious.  Check out Philippians 4:13—and read it for real:

“I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

Chances are you’ve had that verse memorized for as long as you can remember.  So take a moment and think about it.

Fact: We are human, and we’re pretty puny.  In the grand scheme of things, there really isn’t that much we can do on our own.  Make that nothing we can do on our own.

Fact: Christ is perfect—he defines perfect!  What’s more, he has complete perfection and complete power.  You could try to refute it, but you’d be existing solely on the breath given to you by the Almighty God…which really wouldn’t help prove your point.

Fact: When we accept Christ, we accept him into us. Think about how radical that is: Christ lives in you so that when God looks at us, he doesn’t see who we used to be.  He sees his Son—he sees perfection.

Conclusion?

Most of us don’t realize who we really are.

You know what?  You can do everything, anything, through Christ who gives you strength.  Don’t try to put a limit on it—because remember, that would be putting a limit on Christ.  Telling the Creator of the universe that he has limits is likely a losing battle on your part.

On the downside, the truth doesn’t leave much room for excuses.  Human nature says to shirk blame—our problems really aren’t our responsibility; it’s because we’re human, or because it’s too hard to change, or because it’s just become habit.

You may be human, but God isn’t.

So I ask you: If we would throw ourselves completely into the hands of our omnipotent God, how hard would “hard things” really be?

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Tonight, our family grew a little bit bigger, a little bit louder, and a whole lot cuter.  It might be a brief change, or it might stick around for awhile—but however long it lasts, I’m going to enjoy it.

We started working on our foster care license last fall, but didn’t get everything done till this past week.  And just today, we got a call that two little kids needed a home: Hayden, a toddler, and Ruth, a baby (no, those aren’t their actual names, but they’ll work for the purposes of this blog).

Hayden and Ruth came home with us this evening.  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t this.  Little Hayden had a hard time at first—I can only imagine how confusing all this would be for a child.  He didn’t say much at the beginning, but by the time we got to the house, he had opened up a little.  As of this writing, he is thoroughly enjoying all the attention (and is completely enamored with our dog).

Ruth is the [almost] perfect baby.  She’s all smiles and giggles, and, of course, doesn’t really care what’s going on as long as it involves interesting toys and room to crawl around.  She found a best buddy tonight: a stuffed teddy bear almost as big as she is.  They hit it off right away.

I am beyond thrilled to have these kids be part of our family, for however long they get to stay.  What an incredible chance to show love to two children who have never experienced it!

…of course, I’m enjoying it, too.

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I have always believed in purity—physical purity, emotional purity, everything.  I wear a purity ring.  I don’t date.  I dress modestly.  In short, I’ve got it down.  Right?

If you’re anything like me, a book called “When God Writes Your Love Story” might strike you as a) freakishly old-sounding, or b) completely unnecessary, since we all know about purity anyway.  But if you have no intention of reading this review thoroughly, understand one thing: you should read this book.

Eric and Leslie Ludy have done a brilliant job.  Looks-wise (because I’m picky when it comes to things like graphics and fonts), the book is really cool.  Writing-wise (because I have fun criticizing that), the husband and wife team have a fun style that never lets the reader get bogged down.  Content-wise (because that’s what this review is about anyway), they couldn’t have done any better.

I picked up this book wanting affirmation—just a little reminder to keep all my priorities in line.  What I got was a challenge and an inspiration (and a really good read, along the way).

Eric and Leslie don’t presume to tell you how you should manage the relationships in your life.  Because really, the point of this book is that you shouldn’t. As Christians, we seem very willing to give God credit for lots of things…but usually, trusting him with our love story isn’t one of them.  Why is that?  Is romance too much for God?  To answer “yes” would be just plain silly.  But to answer “no” implies a radical approach to relationships that just isn’t very common in today’s world.

What does it mean to let God write your love story?  It means realizing that only after you give your heart to God can you ever really give it to someone else.  It means learning to wait.  It means living in the now for your future spouse, and honoring them in your interaction with the opposite sex.  And in the end, it means being set free from the shallow “love” so prevalent in our culture.  We live for something higher.

Besides…who better to write your love story than the Author of love?

“If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God.  And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love.”

~1 John 4:15-16

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Weakness and strength—strange that two opposites should be so unavoidably wrapped up in a person’s life.  Over the past year, I’ve realized more and more just how weak I really am.  But at the same time, it’s only when I realize my weakness…that I see His strength.

This was written last year.  I’m not a poet, or a song writer, or anything close, but I guess this is more in the style of song lyrics than anything else:

Broken
An empty body, useless hands
Weakened
No one sees me; I’m alone
My sightless eyes are open
But I can’t see where to go
I am frail
I am nothing without you.

If you’re my rock and you’re my fortress,
All the world sits at your feet
If you can free the lonely captive
Set the raging waves at peace
Then help me to be nothing
Make me small so you may grow
Give me the weakness to be strong.

I feel you
Your power shines in my defeat
I wonder
Have you shown yourself to the weak?
When I lose myself in arrogance
Your face becomes obscured
So I wait
And I see you through the pain.

Forgotten
They pass you by, don’t see you there
Troubled
They’ll try harder, pretend they don’t care
Still they don’t understand the beauty
The paradox of God
At their weakest
There is one who will make them strong.

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Chances are you’ve noticed that things around here are a little different lately–rest assured that all will be in order shortly.  Er, eventually.  In the meantime, sit back and laugh as Beth has fun playing with WordPress.

~The Management

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