Today, I went on a walk with God. This week has been particularly stressful and busy and I was happy for a few hours of alone time. I found a quiet spot where I could be alone and surrounded with some of God beautiful creation. I started taking pictures and with each picture I began to see God and Christianity portrayed in a whole new way.
Sometimes we focus too much on the dying people around us and not the other Christians in the background. We have to go into all the world, but we have to do so together and we will never be together unless we take the focus off and see everything.
I saw this and decided it was a miniature and stone form of me.
This flower is beautiful and God created it even though it has blemishes. Everyone has blemishes. All Christian—everyone. It is so typical for us to look at someone and see the blemishes and push them away, like a flower with a torn petal.
Sometimes the forces of nature seem to hold us down and we need a hand to lift us op.
Sometimes Christians are dying right in front od us, but we cannot even see them because of the living Christians they are surrounded by. Sometimes they’ll try to do things to blend in, but in the end, you can always tell the dead from the living.
Some of the most disgusting things can create some of the most beautiful things.
God gave us the beauty around us and we should enjoy it!
We are called to be different, no matter how much of the same is around us.
It is not always easy to see who is standing in God’s light.
“What are those two rings you wear on that necklace?” a friend asked me recently. “Are they like purity rings saying you won’t have sex until you are married?” I smiled realizing that my friend had tried to be put in an awkward situation when in reality I was about to turn the tables on him.
“Actually they were my granny’s rings,” I said quietly. “She passed away this summer.” The awkward embarrassment was obvious on my friend’s face, but he recovered quickly and replied, “Awe, how sweet!” It was sweet. The rings were nothing special. They looked like an engagement ring and wedding band, but in reality, they were simple silver costume jewelry that my granny was known for loving. I remember when my granny got sick. It was the first time she looked “old” to me. I remember asking my mom what would happen when Granny died. Where would my uncle live and what would happen to all her stuff. My granny told me that she wanted my sister and me to have her jewelry. That day I picked out my rings. My granny encouraged me to take some real pieces that would last forever and be worth something, but I really wanted my two rings to wear on my necklace. I did not take the rings that day. I left them in the jewelry box until my granny was gone. I loved my granny for twenty years before she died of cancer, but every day when I wake up, I put on my necklace with two silver rings hanging from it, and I remember everything. I remember every hug, every kiss, every hand-written card, every Sunday morning breakfast, every summer at her pool, every coloring book and crayons, every Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthday, Valentine’s Day, and just because they were on sale bag of M&Ms, every loaf of “Granny Bread,” and every card game. My granny was my grandmother, but she was also my biggest fan and my friend. She never missed a birthday party, holiday, or a Grandparent’s Day at school. She missed me when I was away, but I always called on Sunday afternoons to hear my mom, aunt, and her playing cards even though I was not there to play partners.
It is hard to say good-bye to someone you love. Thankfully, I never had to say good-bye to my granny. I know my granny is in heaven, watching over me and playing cards with her sisters and my pawpaw. The last time I talked to my granny, I knew I would never have to say good-bye, because I will see my granny again. I simply told her, “I love you,” because that will last until I am in heaven with her.
“What words do you use to describe a very sexually active female?” When I read this question in my Sociology textbook in my Sociology class at FREED-HARDEMAN UNIVERSITY I was a bit concerned. The words that came to mind were not any that I would say aloud, especially not is a class of 40 students.
“Do you want us to say them aloud?” a girl in the back asked. Everyone chuckled tensely and a boy in the front raised his hand.
“A wife,” he said. “A wife is a very sexually active female.” The class sat in stunned silence. I do not know about the thought process of the other students, but I was ashamed. Out of all the words that came to mind, wife was not one of them. This is a prime example of the influence the world has on our minds. When I read the question, the words that came to mind were words I had never said, never even considered using, but they were in my head just from hearing them on the television and on movies and in songs on the radio. Sometimes I think we get a skewed conception of the world. I know that I, growing up not only in the church, but also in a Christian school, lived a very sheltered life. That does not bother me. I do not care to know what the terms in the rap songs mean or what certain hand signs indicate. However, living in this sheltered life, I was told constantly to stay away from the “world.” I pictured the” world” as a separate place all together. In my mind, the “world” did not exist at Mars Hill Bible School or at Freed-Hardeman University. The “world” was the public schools where teenagers are pregnant and selling drugs. The “world” was New York City where crazy things happened every day. The “world” was not at Mars Hill. Now at college I realize that the “world” is everywhere. No matter where we go, we are still IN the world, however we are not OF the world (1st John 2:15-16). Being in the world, we may hear the swear words and see the disgustingness on television and movies, but since we are not of the world, we cannot allow this to penetrate our hearts and minds. We cannot allow ourselves to settle and accept the worldly views as permissible. We must stand strong against the world, even though we are surrounded by it. If we stand strong, God will win the battle for us.
During the summer and Christmas breaks of my freshmen and sophomore years of college, I worked at a preschool. On my favorite days, I got to work in the nursery with the babies. The babies are the easiest to entertain of any of the age groups, but if they get upset, they are the hardest to pacify. One trick I learned early on to calm a crying baby is to blow bubbles. Babies love bubbles. They are enthralled by them. When I blew bubbles at the preschool, every child put down his or her toys and came over to me to chase, step on, catch, and pop the bubbles. It made me think of a movie I used to love when I was younger. The princess was washing clothes and the bubbles from the soap floated up into the air. Inside the bubbles, she could see images, pictures of her parents, her friends, and her enemies. As she watched, each bubble popped erasing the picture with a small shower of soapy water. Sometimes, I am so surrounded by my bubbles; I forget that there is more to life outside of my bubbles. Many people refer to Freed-Hardeman as a bubble and it is in so many ways. When I am here, it is hard for me to keep up with the outside world. I keep up with my family and my friends, but it is easy for me to forget that not everyone lives as I do. Not everyone gets to go to a Christian college in a small town in Tennessee. Not everyone is surrounded by Christian friends. Not everyone has several churches to choose from on Sundays.
The past couple of days I got the chance to pop some bubbles. I went to a children’s home this morning to do “manual labor.” The people at the home were expecting about 15 workers and we brought about 50 so while some people worked, others got a chance to hang out with the kids at the home. Some friends and I talked to three of the girls for a long time and it was amazing to see how odd they thought we were. They could not believe that we did not drink, smoke, or do drugs. One girl was embarrassed when another was cussing in front of us, because they knew we do not say that stuff. Another girl talked to us about how she got high and ran away from home. Another about how she will steal the house phone to talk to her boyfriend. They live less than 10 minutes away from Freed-Hardeman, but their world is nothing like mine. Another night this week, I was talking to a good friend of mine who is 13. She told me about her friend who was going to “get screwed” by her boyfriend, but that is just “how things roll at my school.” We began talking and I realized that she did not think anything about having sex before you are married. She told me I was “so old school” for even suggesting that it was wrong. This is a girl who grew up in the same town as me, went to the same youth events I did, and the same church camp I go to every summer, but she is in a completely different bubble than I am.
Jesus had His bubbles too. He had His chosen twelve apostles. He had Peter, James, and John that He took with Him to the Garden of Gethsemane. He had parents on earth, and brothers and sisters. He had friends like Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. But Jesus was not afraid to pop His bubbles. He was not afraid to leave His bubbles and go talk to sinners, Gentiles, Samaritans, the sick, the hurt, anyone who needed Him. We have to be willing to pop our bubbles, go to the others, and see what is happening in their bubbles.
