Weakness, the Badge of Honor

I'm in my 4th week at my new job. A job I didn't exactly see in my future. I applied in the midst of my obedient streak in November - I literally applied and then shed a few tears. Didn't give it a second thought. Until they called for an interview. I agreed and sat in the parking lot the morning of the interview fighting every urge in me to drive away without going inside. See I didn't want to go back into nursing. I loved baking. But it wasn't making a very good living for me. And I either had to give it 120% and pursue my own baking business with no turning back...or head back into nursing. And ironically enough, God gave me both options. In the same week. The very same week I was let go from the bakery (which closed two weeks later). I was let go from one job and offered two. One I wanted very much. The other...well, I didn't. One was full of exciting uncertainty. The other a road I went down for three years after college - I knew pretty well what to expect. One was full of financial questions. The other financial stability. One was not God's plan. The other was. It was a challenging few days until I figured out which one was which.

Accepting the nursing position was interestingly the choice filled with peace. I was grateful for an answer. But I didn't see why. Maybe I still don't. What did become evident in that week though, as I prayed for clarity in how to best glorify God, how to best see the Supernatural at work, was that allowing Him to return a passion and love for nursing would glorify Him more right now than starting a baking business in Charlotte. And talk about needing the Supernatural to work! There was (and is) work to do on my heart. I wasn't ready to go back into nursing. But would I ever be without just actually doing it? Maybe it's like parenthood. Can you be fully ready for it before it happens? I don't think I was ever going to get to that "ready" stage without just doing it. So I'm doing it.

But you know what? Some of the same frustrations that drove me away the first time are here again. Oh, don't think I didn't see this coming. I was well aware that these challenges would find their way into this job too. So now I'm faced with how to combat them. I am confident this job is where God wants me for now. And I'm confident He wants it to be a less frustrating experience than the first go-round (an experience that resulted in my flying the coop and the very beginning of this blog). My Charlotte coworkers were awesome. Those I'm with now are incredible too. The job itself is joyful. The routine and charting and million little things you have to do that take away from care-giving absolutely drive me up a wall. And that's the part of my job I'm not good at. All the little crap that doesn't matter. I do the job, and do it darn well I think, I just stink at the tedious little stuff that covers your butt and makes JCAHO happy. So it's a place for God to enter in....for me to submit. Just over a year ago I got a tattoo symbolizing to me God's strength perfected in my weakness. It represents this verse:

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me...[f]or when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)


I have looked at that tattoo a million times this week. I am facing that weakness now and realizing how significant this weakness, this badge of honor is. It's a way for me to become less, for God to become more. It's really the only way to succeed. But I have to allow Him to work in me. I need to beg of Him to be strength for me. Because I am weak. And it is hard. But I am learning. I will learn how to wear this weakness well. 


What is your badge of honor? Are you wearing it well?

Obedience, Part II - Willing Spirit, Weak Flesh

So a few months ago I wrote about obedience. It was part one of two, implying there was more on the subject I wanted to say but part two never quite formulated in my head. Until now. And it's not with joyful heart that I convey this post. Heck, maybe I asked for this by writing about obedience in the first place. Either way, here's my latest thoughts on obedience.

I've been doing a study this semester with my small group ladies called, Jesus, the One and Only by Beth Moore. It's fantastic. Throughout this study I've really become aware of Jesus' authority in our lives. He has power. He IS power. He exhibited that repeatedly throughout Scripture, throughout the course of His ministry. And He exhibits that in our lives, and I think longs to exhibit more authority if only we'd ask for it. I've also become increasingly aware of His compassion. This was my prayer. I wanted to feel what He felt, in a sense. To have my eyes opened to what He saw. Holy cow. I will never understand the weight of what Jesus carried as He walked step after painful step on this earth, but the window into His heart that I have seen has marked me. It's heavy. His burden was unbearable. No wonder He went off to pray alone, to plead on our behalf to His Father to intercede in our lives. For healing. Restoration. They were a lost people, just like we are. How His heart broke as He saw firsthand the result of sin, shame, disobedience. The pain must have been unbearable. And He wasn't even hanging on the Cross yet. As I've had my eyes opened, even just a little bit, it has increased the sense of burden for others in my life. For family, for friends, for youth group girls, for small group ladies, the list goes on and on. Sickness, complacency, broken relationships, death, unsettled hearts. I struggle with the weight of all that. I've yet to figure out how to manage it, but I'm getting there.

In the midst of this increasing burden, I find myself struggling to be obedient once again. To be obedient in spending time with my Father. I feel a pull for more. Like what He wants to show me, what He wants to say to me will require more time than I'm currently giving our relationship. And I fail to give it. This morning I overslept again. Not enough to be late to my job, but enough to be late for my date with God. It's a scene that is all too familiar in my life. And I'm wrecked. Why in those moments of clarity, when I'm not sleepy or groggy or huddled under the covers, why in those moments is it so clear? My mind says, Just get up! It's not that hard, is it? But something clouds my mind in those early waking moments as my alarm clock is blaring. I read in Proverbs 31 about the woman of noble character. She gets up while it is still dark and accomplishes more than I could hope to. I want to be her. But I'm not doing a very good job. What's so frustrating is this isn't a new struggle. It's been present in my life for years. I've been acutely aware of it in recent months, as I sense God drawing me in, I sense myself wanting more.

As I (once again) fought with feelings of guilt, disappointment, and frustration, I thought Man, this whole getting up on time thing is really a thorn in my side. I want it gone! Paul wanted his thorn gone too. But it remained - to remind him that God's grace is sufficient for him. That God's power is made perfect in weakness. Which is hard to swallow. This grace thing. I continually stand in amazement that God continually gives it. I would have given up on me long ago. No more grace for Erin! Yet in those moment of clarity, those moments of surrender and heartbreaking humility, I am repentant. But by mere definition of the word, doesn't that mean I turn from my ways? Yet I still fail. WHY? My spirit is sincere. But my flesh is so weak. I don't want to do the things I do, yet I continue to do them. I wonder if it breaks God's heart more to see the sin and disobedience in His children than those that don't yet know Him? I know better. And yet I still disobey. And yet He still gives me grace. But grace doesn't erase consequences. That. is. heavy.

And so I move on in my day, unable to go back and fix this morning. Or the other hundreds of mornings where I chose broken sleep over moments with Peace. But there is hope. I am redeemed. I am loved. I am forgiven. That will never change. And in addition to that, I have a God who supernaturally protects me. His Spirit is IN me, interceding for me when I no longer have words to say. I must pray and trust that God can pull me out of this. And that He'll use this lesson, this pain, for good.

Acorn Dreams, Revisited

So a few months back I wrote about acorn dreams. How God gives us dreams, a desire to see something come to fruition, but He requires us to give it back to Him to plant and grow. This past weekend as I was driving into the mountains of North Carolina visiting this amazing lady, I listened to a podcast sermon from September that I'd missed. Kevin Queen was shedding light on the fire of faith that Paul talks about in 1 Timothy. As believers we have this fire burning in each of us and we're called to pass it along. It's a great message, you can watch/listen to it here. Somewhere in the midst of his words I felt hugely convicted. I don't know exactly what KQ said that sparked it, but I was instantly reminded of my acorn dreams. I sensed God asking me, If they're so important, why aren't you praying more for them? Hit me like a ton of bricks. Tears welled in my eyes and I realized how after awhile, after giving the dreams back to Him, praying about them, I sort of lost sight of them. I wasn't praying for them with the fervent passion I once had. Praying with expectation. With a purpose and a vision.

I contemplated why this had occurred. In my case, I think it happened due to a few hiccups in life. And time. Time always has a way of weaseling in and distracting us. I was reminded to not let my heart drift. Keep my gaze steadily on Him. Pray for those dreams. And believe. Because He who promised is faithful.

No wonder the Bible talks about praying without ceasing. There's so much to talk with God about...the only way to cover it all is to converse with him nonstop!

Obedience, Part I

There is a large part of me that hasn't wanted to write this blog...for a long time. It's been brewing for months, believe me. I've wanted more clarity, more organization to my thoughts. But God won't let me let it go. The word "obedience" is coming up everywhere - my thoughts, Scripture, facebook posts, sermons, songs. The time has come to get my thoughts out there, so bear with me. Caution: this may take more than one posting; I will do my best to make it worth your time.

In all actuality, my pondering of obedience and God really began in 2008. My coworkers at the time and close friends will tell you I fought a hard war all over my hands with warts. Holy cow, they are stubborn little devils. What started as one quickly turned into more than 30 in little clusters all over the fingers on both of my hands. Thinking back, I can remember trying to hide them. They were a huge source of embarrassment and self-consciousness. Sitting in church, I'd fold my hands in certain ways so people couldn't see them. I'd keep my hands in my pockets or fold my arms when in conversation. I tried several things to get rid of them. I should have bought stock in Dr. Scholl's wart remover. I used duct tape like it was going out of style. I had them frozen by a dermatologist. I had them surgically removed and burned until my hands looked like a bloody war zone. And they grew back. Every time. I began to research medical reasons - vitamin deficiencies, chronic dry hands, soap chemicals, etc. Nothing seemed to make a difference. I eventually began to think that maybe God was trying to tell me something and until I listened, the warts would remain entrenched in my skin. Like there was an area of disobedience that was causing them to remain. Finally I read that my body needed to recognize the wart cells as foreign and that attempting to kill them all at once would be overwhelming and unsuccessful. The key was to target one, blast it, get it to go away completely, then hit another one, until the body gets the idea that it's foreign and bad, and then it will take on the fight itself. It worked! It was amazing. After years of treatments and money, it took two weeks to conquer the first one, then they all disappeared. Every single one of them.

How does that relate to obedience? I think we can get overwhelmed with so many areas in our lives that we want to see change happen that nothing we do works. If we are able to focus on a spot or two, really dig in and seek change, the momentum will move on to those other areas. It's starting with the small things. Little steps. Just like a parent does with a child. A child isn't taught all areas of discipline at one time. That would be too overwhelming. A set up for failure even. It's really a process. Growth. Obeying once leads to obeying again. The level of trust increases as the child demonstrates their ability and willingness to obey.

And as I was telling a friend last week, obedience sure does feel good. It just feels right. And you can't be neutral. You're either obedient or you're not. There's no halfway. If you're asked to take out the trash and you take it halfway down the driveway, you weren't obedient. In the same way, if God tells you to stop and say hello to someone you've never met before, and you pretend you don't hear the prompt, you weren't obedient. Being in a place where you can't hear or see doesn't make you more obedient - you're just blind to what He's asking. And I've experienced firsthand how disobedience hurts. We all have.

Sometimes I find myself asking, how do I know it was God that spoke that to me instead of just me thinking it? Does it matter? If it's a good thing, if it's beneficial, isn't it better to have done it and it be of me than to not have done something God was asking? It goes back to trusting Him. I am currently reading through the book of Daniel. Man, that guy trusted. Can you imagine finding yourself being thrown into a den full of ravenous lions and completely trusting that God will care for you? But life feels like that sometimes, doesn't it? A den full of ravenous lions. And we're expected to trust and obey. Easier said than done, eh? But it's steps. One leads to another. God is a lamp unto our feet (Psalm 119:105). He didn't say He was a lamp a mile ahead on the road. He's the lamp at our feet. Guiding the next step. And then the next one. No wonder obedience feels good. It's us walking down the right path. The guided path. The steps may be so small at times we wonder if we're getting anywhere, but if we're listening to our Father, really listening, He's got us right where He wants us.

What a Relief!

Goodness gravy, I about tackled an 83-year-old man today. Just out of the sheer joy of seeing him again. Peter, my favorite regular at the bakery (I'm not ashamed, everyone knows it), and a man who I call my friend (read more about him here and here) has not come in to the bakery for several weeks now. I have been worried sick. I've asked every one of the other mall walkers if they've seen him, I've asked all of my coworkers if they have. I've even had some of my blog readers ask about him. No one has seen him or heard from him. I knew the Brit had a trip to his homeland planned for this fall, but I knew it wasn't this early. Something had happened. I could just sense it. I have prayed for him often, wondering what was keeping him from his daily morning walk through the halls of the mall and his cup of Columbian coffee with a splash of cream. Of course my mind went to a million different reasons, but I kept telling myself that his good friend who looks after him surely would have let me know if something serious had happened, or (ack!) if he had died. She just would.

So today I was helping a customer and out of the corner of my eye I see an elderly man walk in in a suit coat and dress pants. He slowly walks up to the coffee bar, his back to me, and starts getting out his wallet - an action he's done a million times before. It's Peter!! The familiarity of this scene hits me and I mumble something to the customer as I race across the bar to embrace Peter. I exclaim his name as I hug the heck out of the frail trembling man. He proceeds to tell me about his three week stay in the hospital with pneumonia, being released, then readmitted because he lost 30 pounds in a week. Boy could I see it. He was so frail. So much the same Peter he always has been, yet different. He couldn't hide his exhaustion. His hand shook when he brought the cup of coffee up to his mouth. He had walked from Nordstrom to our store and needed to sit. Usually this man walks two miles with hardly breaking a sweat. He said he had come to the mall the day before to run an errand, but waited until today to come to the bakery because he knew I would be there today. Ugh, it melted my heart. After fixing his coffee the way that he always does, he made his way to the couch to regain his strength before making the trek back home. It brought me such joy to sit with him, hear all about the past several weeks, share with him how much of a scare he gave me, and let him know that he must call me if he has a need for anything. I hugged him again just before he left, receiving a kiss on the cheek.

I'm so glad to have Peter back home. My how I've missed him.

Acorn Dreams

This past weekend I had the opportunity to relax and refresh with my fellow youth group leaders at the Simpsonwood Lodge. The beautiful retreat center just outside Atlanta is nestled in miles of wooded land. Turning into the driveway, I could sense my sprit coming alive as I drove past tree after tree. Friday night we ventured into the woods for a bonfire complete with worship, prayer time, and ending with S'mores (of course!). It was truly an amazing time. God must have thought so too as He showed up with rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening nearby as we sang and prayed. The Holy Spirit was definitely moving in our midst.

As amazing as that was, it wasn't my favorite part of the weekend (it was a close second, with a Spoons marathon coming in at 3rd). First place slot goes to Saturday afternoon. Setting: the Prayer Labyrinth. Characters: me and God. Plot: acorn dreams. Let me elaborate...

We had a few hours of free time, and I knew right away I wanted to check out this place. I set out with my Bible, journal, and trusty ipod. Walking up to the Labyrinth reminded me of my favorite place in the botanic gardens in Christchurch, New Zealand. My heart instantly began to beat faster. There's just something about walking with God in nature - it's like that's how it was supposed to be or something (oh, to be in Eden!). I took off my shoes, let the music begin to flow, and began walking through the maze. Partway into it I looked down and saw an acorn. A perfect acorn. It stood out because it was shiny and colorful, unlike the gray rocks, dirt, and fallen leaves amongst my bare feet. It was like a treasure. I knelt down and picked it up, turning it over in my fingers. It took on the symbolism of a dream. A dream you or I would have in life. The walk of the Labyrinth is life. We follow the twists and turns, sometimes able to see ahead, sometimes longing to look back, but only present in the steps we are taking right at that moment. Along the path are twigs and branches, things that may trip us up, but then there are also acorns. Seeds, implying life and growth, which will one day become oaks. I continued walking, thinking about what my dream in life would be. Then I happened along another one. I picked it up to join the first one in my hands. I pondered another dream that God has given me. As I continued to slowly walk, I saw how these acorns, these dreams, cannot remain in my own hands. If they do, they will never survive. On my own I don't have the ability to give them life. Only God can water them with living water. Only He can provide the ground in which to grow them. If I kept them, they would die.

But why does God give us these acorn dreams along our path if we can't keep them? I think because He desires for us to pick them up, hold them awhile, create a space in our heart for them, then give them back for Him to plant. They give us glimpses of what to long for, what to turn our eyes and ears toward. But they are His to have. He plants them in due time. He waters them with His eternal water. He grows them. And then He brings them into our lives again at some point. But only if we give them to Him...completely. 

So I walked with these two acorn dreams for awhile, through cool shady spots and hot sunny spots, continuing to slowly make my way to the center as I let my thoughts rest on the acorns. There was a little basket holding written prayers of others nestled amongst some rocks in the middle. I sensed it was time. It was time for me to release the acorns, to let them fall into the basket, out of my hands and into God's, releasing them to the One whom I trust more than any other. To the One who holds my heart. I let them drop with a sense of peace. Trusting that their presence along my path wasn't an accident. Trusting that one day "[t]hey will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor" (Isaiah 61:3, NIV). I am eager to see how he grows these little acorns and brings them back into my life!

What are your acorn dreams? Are you holding onto them?

Dream. B-I-G.

I went to the library today in search of a few books (duh). After a rather unfruitful hunt, I sat down to continue my current read, Radical, by David Platt. It's such a good book, but I just couldn't focus. There were too many things running through my head. And it was too quiet there. I needed some stimulation. Something in pace with my brain so all these thoughts could come out instead of getting lost in the silence of the library.

Naturally, I went across the street to Starbucks. While searching my car for a pen (it never fails that when I change purses, I forget to transfer something of great importance), I happened across a Starbucks gift card. Certain it had no charge on it, yet hopeful I wouldn't have to scrounge together enough change for a cup of tea, I decided to give it a go. Ladies and gentlemen, that little plastic goodness was loaded with 10 bucks! Thank you to whomever gave it go me. May you be blessed with a life full of caffeinated beverages. The tea must still be coursing through my veins...I'm losing track...

So, I opened up my brainstorming notebook, which I had conveniently remembered to grab just before I pulled out of the driveway. I stuck my earbuds firmly in my ears, Brooke Fraser and Needtobreathe (who else?) pounding through the tiny speakers. My pencil - there was no pen to be found in my car - firmly in hand, and I began to dream. Dream BIG. I let it all loose. Formulating ideas, jotting down visions from years past, passions, desires. All of it interweaving in some great stream of chaos. I'm sure those around me could have glanced at my face and wondered at its contortions more than a few times. But I continued to write, attempting to piece together some semblance of order to my thoughts. To gain some knowledge as to the purpose of my history, my experiences, that have all brought me here, to this place, in this moment.

The afternoon was glorious. Intertwining Scripture and lyrics and thoughts. I felt like an author or songwriter or artist on a mission. I'm not sure if any of what I wrote down would make sense to anyone. Well, to be honest, it probably would. But I'm not going to share it. Not yet anyway. I'm praying you'll get to see the fruits of my purging session soon. For now, I've just told you about it, an effort to hold me accountable in a way. The brainstorming did happen. Something will come to fruition. I dreamed big. And I believe in the God who gave me these dreams.