The High Dive

I loved going to the pool growing up. I'd slather the coconutty goodness of Coppertone all over my white, freckled legs and lay out with my girlfriends, munching on Bugles and sipping that new drink, Diet Coke. Everyone spent their summers there, and we had the aching lungs and green hair to prove it. Most days we laid out and walked around, or we'd sit at the picnic tables to share a popsicle. We'd dip in and play a little Marco Polo with the boys and giggle as they grabbed our ankles. Life was good at the pool . . . until (the inevitable) my friends wanted to jump off the diving boards.

TRULY. HUMBLING. MEMORIES. I was so puny and nearly translucent and stick-skinny. (Picture Olive Oyle mounting the ladder--but with green hair.)  Not an athletic bone in my body, I was all twirls and no cartwheels.  But my cute, tan, non-freckly, gymnastics friends--who were sporty and shorter than I--could fly up the high dive and back-flip their way down for hours.

I could pencil on the short board.
{Splash.}

I've been asking God to humble me because He keeps telling me how proud I am. And I don't want to be proud (or ignore God).  So, He and I have been at work. And it feels a lot like I'm climbing up the high dive.  I am filled with dread and insecurity and fear and I can't stop looking around to see who's watching. It feels hard and humbling; and, truth is, I don't want to do it. Can't we just lay out and sip Diet Coke?

Overcoming pride is no small feat, and we simply can't do it in our own strength.  But a life surrendered to Jesus is freeing. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty! With all that resurrection power He exerts in my life, I'm pretty sure He can free me from my pride. And, yep, maybe it will be a little humbling (But that's OK, right?) because losing pride can be a funny, freeing, messy, self-deprecating, eye-ball-rolling, really good look at oneself (ahem)--like last Thursday was for me . . .

When I went to lunch with my friends--and with my very obvious period. I scampered out of the restaurant like a little weasel with my bag covering my shamed bottom in those light jeans. (And is it just me, or are our periods really weird in our forties?)  I hopped in my rental van--picture early 90s dilapidated goodness with BO freshener, an obvious devotion to Marlboro Lights, and bright, bright yellow, New York license plates--and I rushed home to change my clothes. Because I needed to go to Walmart even though I am a Target girl. (And where is the A/C in this van? It's 90 degrees outside.) And I was wearing cut-offs. (Because Walmart.) And I got dirty from the pumpkin bin.  And my hair was all smoky.  And I got a pumpkin patch of zits on my chin. (Thank you, adult acne.) And I was frump. And hot. And I felt like a New Yorker with a chain-smoking addiction and a van I'm going to live in down by the river.  And I see everyone I know. (Every. One. I. Know.) And there is traffic and meanie drivers; and maybe, God, I will shoot them the bird because I'm in an anonymous van.  From New York. So, technically, is it even a sin--like when a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make a sound?  Just, please Lord, no more humbling.

Yes, my humbling is on a small scale. It's silly, really.  Like getting a "run" in my yoga pants and Starbucks giving me a half-caf, non-fat when I wanted a decaf, half-fat or whatever. I am aware of horrific struggles worldwide and know there are children in countries who don't have access to clean drinking water.  I know about ISIS and sex-trafficking and betrayal, bankruptcy, addiction, pain and suffering.  Ebola is in Dallas. I get there are bigger things, and I care about them. Deeply, I do.

But see, how pride turns the lens to me?

As my dear friend, Stephanie, said at bible study last week, "Pride is insidious."  She's right; it's pervasive and it spreads like a terrible disease, infecting every area. It blinds me to my own faults and amplifies others'. It whispers, "You're fine. Keep doing it in your own strength" and it lies, "Your way is the right/best/only way." It's self-inflating and crippling all at once--and just a dash of it will ruin utter trust in and dependency on God.

"Your flip and callous arrogance in these things bothers me. You pass it off as a small thing, but it’s anything but that. Yeast, too, is a 'small thing,' but it works its way through a whole batch of bread dough pretty fast. So get rid of this 'yeast' . . . Let’s live out our part in the Feast, not as raised bread swollen with the yeast of evil, but as flat bread—simple, genuine, unpretentious" (1 Corinthians 5:6-8 MSG).

Simple. Genuine. Unpretentious.

Want to join me on the high dive? Let's jump into the freedom we have in Jesus. (You can back flip if you want to.)  Let's big splash together and enjoy the abundant life God gives His children. (And also, want to get a Diet Coke?)

Jesus, show us our pride. Forgive us of our pride. Deliver us from our pride. Lord God, let us live simple, genuine, unpretentious lives that reflect your glory. Give us strength to mount the high dive as many times as it takes, Lord. We want to be free; Jesus, set us free. Amen.

Everlasting Arms

"The eternal God is your refuge, 

and his everlasting arms are under you."

                                                     (Deuteronomy 33:27)

I was looking at my phone when I fell over my dog this morning. My whole body fell forward; except for my left hip--she stayed put. I literally left my *butt* behind me. (Yes, I know, technically, it's always behind me.)  But I left it waaaaay behind the rest of me. This is kind of tough to do. (It would be especially difficult for Kim Kardashian, who in no way has buttock implants.)

I'm so glad I fell.

It's exactly the picture of what God is asking me to do in my faith: to fall into Him and leave my *but* behind me.

We serve a God who loves us.  He desires intimacy in our relationship. We need only trust Him. And this means, we've got to leave our *buts* behind.  No doubting.  All in. Really trust Him.

And I do.
Only sometimes I don't.
{If I'm being really honest.}

When trust is hard, praise God, His mercies are new every morning! Every day is an opportunity to yield to the Holy Spirit.  We are met, each morning, with an invitation to trust the Living King with every-thing! To give Him our fears, our failures, our hearts, our hopes.  To give Him our marriages and our children and our work and our friends.  To give Him our stress, our sickness, our struggles.  To give Him our strongholds, our pride, our sin. To give him all of it. To hold our emptiness up to Him.  To give Him our willingness. To trust--that no matter what--we're better off leaving our *buts* behind us.

Let's leave "what if" and "but not" and "if only" waaaaay behind. No caveats! No trying to limit the Lord God Almighty! Let's trust that His best for us is all we ever need.  He has wonderful things in mind for us; He tells us so, "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him (1 Corinthians 2:9)."

We serve a God whose open arms invite us, Fall into Me. Trust Me.  What a beautiful way to experience the unfailing love of the Father--resting in His everlasting arms.

Want to see a cute picture?
Meet my cousin Jeremy and his son, Max:

When we are in our Father's everlasting arms, we are safe and free to experience the fullness of all God has for us. We're Max! (And also isn't Jeremy such a cute Daddy?)

I know.  You can't stop looking at that cute picture, can you?

My mom and I did a big, "Eeeeeee!" when we saw it and our tummies and flipped and she said, "This is the picture of the Father's everlasting arms!" And I said, "Yes, you're so right!" (And all my bible study girls giggled because there are tattoos on those arms, and you know about my Adam Levine crush, and it's all too wonderful for words). 

Dear friend, let's start our day falling into Him.  Let's leave our *buts* far behind us--nothing is off-limits.  We are wholly His!  Let us fall into the everlasting arms of our Father and experience the vast ocean of His love!

Busy Busy Busy

I found it on Pinterest.  Because you can find anything on there.  Like these cute shoes.  That are from TARGET.

And these salted caramel and chocolate chunk cookies:

Here's the recipe. You're welcome.

I could go on and on because...

But I digress.

That Socratees quote.  It just sort of leapt off the screen and stared at me daringly, Go ahead and be busy--enjoy your barrenness.

We are wrapping up our first week back to school; and girls, aren't we already busy?  Rushing for what we forgot/need/want.  The black socks with the grey swoosh--not the white one.  More bottled waters.  The teacher's wish list items.  Another binder.  A light, thin-weight cardigan to wear over her shirt because the straps are only two-finger-widths wide when they need to be three-finger-widths wide and also it's 104 degrees outside so not too thick a sweater please and ps., it needs to come down mid-thigh or you'll be dress-coded. 

We are up at the crack of dawn for [fill-in-the-blank] practice, and we stay hours after school carpooling to and from [fill-in-more-blanks]. When asked for your address do you identify your street or the make and model of your car? 

I have already busted out the crock pot, crashed my iCalendar, and signed 34 jillion forms/slips/checks/orders/syllabi/folders. I've bought and sold discount cards, cookie dough, and spirit wear. I have 16 SignUp Genius emails in my inbox right now. 

Busy. Busy. Busy.

Because there's work-doing, laundry-folding, house-cleaning, food-shopping, meal-planning, lunch-packing, dinner-cooking, bill-paying, form-signing, errand-running, snack-baking, carpool-driving, coffee-buying, child-raising, husband-praising, picture-taking, memory-making, bible reading, church-going, list-making, game-cheering, sign-upping stuff to do.

And it's important stuff.  But are we called to do all things at all times? To always say YES? Be on all committees? Sign up for everything? When I hit "submit," SignUp Genius feels more like SignUp Sucker.

"All our busy rushing ends in nothing."

                                          Psalm 39:6

So here's a question: If Jesus himself didn't please all people at all times, what makes us think we can?

With all that running around, are we missing moments that matter? Like... time alone in the car to hear how his day was? Chatting on her bed as she picks out tomorrow's outfit? Snuggling on the couch together. Eating dinner around the table. Having lunch with your oldest friend. A long walk when it's not 104 degrees outside. 

Let's slow down and be intentional. When we deliberately fill our lives, they become pregnant with meaning--never barren. 

When we slow our pace, we open space for the Holy Spirit to lead us. 

As we start our new school year, let's ask Him to guide our steps--to show us where and when to empty or fill. Let's be obedient. And not apologize to others for it.

The name of our bible study blog is Utterly Filled.

Are you?