Day 22: A poem or song you've written.

If you want to hear songs I've written, check out my YouTube channel.

Otherwise, here is a poem I wrote about a year ago.  It's kind of... touchy, and I wrote it during a time in my life when I was pretty frustrated with the church as a whole and with the name Christians have been making for ourselves.  I actually wrote this on a day when I felt like church was becoming less of a fellowship experience and more of a routine (which I see now depends a lot on how I've prepared my own heart beforehand). 

After I've had time to reflect, I don't know if I agree with everything I said in this poem, but I do agree with several parts of it.  I am pretty sure I've never posted it on this blog and I figured it could go with my last post.  Here goes.

Handshakes

When I walk into the church,

The lifeless people, empty ears,

All these sheep, bleating, bleating,

I wonder, "Are You here?"

We greet each other: plastic smiles,

Sometimes a brief embrace.

Why can't church be something more

Than meaningless handshakes?

Everyone is pressed and clean

And white and so content.

No one stops to truly see

The heavy price You spent.

Your assembly, God, it often fails,

Where are the seeds we've sown?

We need more than weak handshakes

To see Your children grow.

10-24-1

Day 21: A quote or Bible verse you try to live by.

Now that I'm finally back to blogging (it seems like it has been an eternity), I'd like to share one of my favorite verses in the Bible, James 1:27, which says:

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

Let me share a story with you I don't think I've ever shared on this blog before. 

About a year ago, I attended a Christian concert at a fairly large church in my city.  This church had recently made some huge renovations, apparently spending millions of dollars on building upgrades, including a huge circle-shaped auditorium created solely for concerts and performances.  While looking around, I was informed that the two huge screens on each side of the room cost half a million dollars... each.  The church had an indoor arcade, skateboarding arena, multiple basketball courts... I couldn't believe my eyes.

About halfway through the concert, they began to play a video.  It was for Compassion International and it contained typical tear-jerking scenes: African kids standing in the streets of their slums, ankle-deep in sludge and dressed in nothing but rags and flies.  Heartbreaking video footage, a couple of Christian celebrities asking the audience to sponsor a child... if you've ever been to a big Christian concert, you've probably seen something like this before.

Anything Africa tends to fill my heart with fire, but I rarely cry when I see those videos.  (Okay, I might tear up a little now and then.)  However, as I sat there and watched the Compassion video, I immediately began to cry.  Pretty obviously crying too (tears rolling down my cheeks, sniffling, lip quivering kind of crying).  My mom turned around and gave me a look like, "What on earth are you crying for?"

The reason I cried was because I was disgusted.  My heart felt like it had been snapped in half.  In that moment, I felt horribly embarrassed and was glad no one from the slums of Africa was there to see what was happening.

On two half-a-million dollar screens played a video sharing statistics about poverty and starvation.  The video was asking the audience to donate $35 dollars a month, but imagine how many children could be helped if they'd sacrificed one of their luxurious screens... or their arcade... or their Wiis... or their skate plex.

And you can say, "It's their business.  It's their church."  But we're the church.  Every one of us.  We are the body of Christ and as a member of this body, I'm calling a problem out into the open.  We're so focused on prosperity and the American dream... and serving the poor comes second.  How is that anywhere near what the Lord has called us to be?

I've been told that the reason all of these huge attractions have been put into churches is to attract more unbelievers, and I do believe we should keep our churches looking nice out of respect for the Lord.  But what I keep hearing, in a nutshell, is... as long as we focus on the things of the world--material possessions, the American Dream--we'll get more members?  Sure, if we act like the world, the world will eagerly embrace us. 

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress.

We've kind of forgotten that part.  I wish I could plaster James 1:27 on the walls of every church to remind everyone (including myself) about what God intends for us and calls for us to do.  He has called us to help the needy.  His heart is with the hurting and the suffering. 

After visiting that church, a song came to mind.  It's by Todd Agnew and it's called "My Jesus."  Let me share a few lines with you:

I want to be like my Jesus.  Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus. You see, I'm tired of living for success and popularity. I want to be like my Jesus.

It's Christmas time.  It's easy to become absorbed in gift-giving and possessions.  I'm not saying that getting and receiving gifts are wrong.  They make special memories and they are a nice part of Christmas, as long as they aren't put first.  Let's make sure to give some of our time volunteering this Christmas season without expecting anything in return.  Let's give a portion of our--or actually, the Lord's-- money to the poor. 

Let's follow James 1:27.  No more forgetting.

Day 3: Something you feel strongly about.

I'd like to share a story today.  On Friday, a beautiful ten-year-old fifth grade girl named Ashlynn Conner committed suicide in her home.  Yesterday was her funeral.  Her picture is to your right.

This breaks my heart. 

When I first read the article about young Ashlynn, about how her teenage sister found her hanging from a scarf in her closet, about two weeks before she had come home from school and begged to be home-schooled because of the bullying she faced each day, I burst into tears.  Ten years old.  Ashlynn was still the age to play with dolls and make up games on the playground, not to be contemplating her own death. 

Ten years old.

Obviously, something must be done about the bullying.  Students at Ashlynn's school called her a "slut" and teased her because of her weight... although look at the picture to the right, I don't see anything but a beautiful little girl with a smile that could light up any room.  If the bullying in public schools has gotten so bad that fifth grade girls are turning to suicide, then there is obviously a huge problem. 

However, I'd like to discuss something else I feel strongly about that involves Ashlynn's death. 

I feel like suicide is taken far too lightly.  Popular websites like Go Cry Emo Kid joke about dark and depressed young people, self injury, and even suicide.  Everyone seems aware of suicide these days and it seems like I hear jokes about it on a weekly basis.  Almost every day, I see fellow students bringing a finger to their head and pretending to shoot themselves out of frustration about school work or stress... not seriously, of course, but as a joke... like suicide is "funny."  I've spoken to groups of young girls and received multiple emails from readers of this blog and it seems like many, many young people have contemplated or even attempted suicide before the age of eighteen.  I did as well.

What is it that has made life seem like something to be thrown away so easily?

It's almost as if contemplating suicide has been accepted as a normal behavior of young people, and that is entirely unacceptable.  It's not okay.  Life is meant to be valued and treasured, not hated and destroyed. 

Look at the face of beautiful Ashlynn Conner.  Look at her smile, at the light in her eyes.  With one stupid mistake, she has thrown away her life.  She has broken the heart of her family and friends.  She has taken away her bright future on this earth.  And part of me wonders if she even fully understood what she was doing and how final death actually is, or if she was simply following what has become a terrible, terrible option. 

I lost a good friend to suicide.  He was only fifteen years old at the time.  His decision was impulsive and hurt so many people who knew and loved him.  He was extremely talented, loving, and smart.  He loved music and was the best guitarist I've ever met.  I saw what my friend's actions did to his friends and family and to my own heart.  I grieved for him.  After my friend committed suicide, I was quickly forced to learn what suicide really meant, the finality and pain and selfishness of it all... and I was horrified to have to admit to myself that even I had dealt with those issues myself only a year before.  Until suicide affected me personally, I had no idea how serious it actually was.

Please, please never joke about suicide.  It isn't funny.  It isn't okay.  It only breaks hearts and ends bright futures.

And finally, I feel like suicide is made to be too much of an option.  We talk about how bullying leads to suicide so often and they even have little workshops in a lot of schools and health classes to raise awareness about what red flags to look for in your friends... and I'm torn about it.  To an extent, raising awareness about suicide is a good thing.  It can save lives.  But does the magnitude of awareness being made about suicide in high schools, middle schools, (and now even elementary schools) only place the idea of suicide in young students' minds?  I'm not sure.  Ashlynn had to get the idea from somewhere.  I was bulied in the fifth grade, but I'm not sure if hanging myself would ever have even occurred to me as a ten-year-old girl. 

When I saw Ashlynn's photograph and heard her story for the first time, I cried.  Even now, my heart breaks for her family and for her lost future.  And my heart also breaks for her bullies.  They were so young as well and they will hold the guilt of Ashlynn's death in their hearts for a very, very long time.  Let's be sure to lift up everyone who knew Ashlynn in prayer this week and whenever we remember her sweet smile.

(These pictures were taken off of Facebook.)

Today I'd like to share a verse with you that has been brought to my heart the last week and a half or so.  Ahem, please open your Bibles to Philippians 1:21... or keep reading right here.

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."

I enjoy reading multiple translations and paraphrases, so here is the same verse in the New Living Translation.  I love this translation of the verse.

"For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better."

This last week has been one of the hardest weeks I've had in a quite a while.  Nearly every day I've woken up and become immersed in my own worries and hurt.  It's so easy for me to lose track of what life is all about. 

To live is Christ. 

I've felt alone, broken, stressed, and hurt.  I walk to class, study, go to sleep, struggle to maintain new relationships and continue to build my friendships here... and occasionally, I'll spend an entire day focusing on my concerns more than I focus on Him... or on anything, for that matter.

This reminds me of my favorite Shane and Shane song called "I Miss You."

I had a fleeting thought this morning and I mentioned You today.  It breaks my heart just to know You in part and not to be with You where You are.

Living means living for Christ.  I want every part of my life to be for Him.

My life isn't easy right now. 

But it's not about me.  It's about Him.  Lately, I've been trying to change my perspective around... and that's hard to do sometimes.  But here's how I'm re-molding my mind with His help.

• On bad days, I purposely wear Christian t-shirts and cross necklaces so I'll be constantly reminded to act like a city on a hill, even when I don't feel like it. 
• I've tried putting encouraging Bible verses around me so I'll think of His promises rather than my own doubts. 
• I make it a little game to mention Him in every conversation I have. 
• And Stephanie and I have been meeting every Thursday as accountability partners.  We share Scripture with each other, pray together, and talk through any of the doubts or struggles we've been facing throughout the week.  That's been a huge blessing in my life. 

And you know, I think this is working more and more each day.  The Lord is restoring my heart piece by piece.  And even during the hardest weeks like this one, I am constantly reminded that He is there.  He is holding me.  He loves me despite everything I've ever done. 

It's funny because many days living here, I feel so pumped up in my faith.  Living in a place where I'm the minority is invigorating.  It's one of the biggest mission fields I've ever seen.  And then a week like this will happen and I'll start to lose focus.  Again.  I can never forget all that He has given me.

Living means living for Christ.

Today I'd like to share about a bad habit I have.  Sigh... we all have bad habits and I know I have more than this, but this particular bad habit of mine has been a problem for me lately. 

My bad habit is staying up late at night.  This sounds like something easy to overcome, but it's actually quite difficult.

I'm an insomniac, so sometimes I'm simply not tired until three or four in the morning, but sometimes I'll become distracted with writing or studying or chatting with a friend and then I'll take a look at the clock a few hours later and think, "Oh no... I have to get up at seven tomorrow!"

I usually go to bed around two every night, including the times when I have a nine o'clock class the next morning, which isn't always a good idea.  But for some reason, I find it very difficult to actually convince myself to settle down and go to bed when I feel like I have so much left to do.  With studying and my college social life, I have to fit in writing and relaxation time somewhere and that tends to come at night.  (Well, except of course for the nights when I stay out late with my friends, which happen quite frequently.)

But it's so bad for me.

I know, I know... this is the college life (younger readers, prepare yourself now), but I wish this was a habit that was easier for me to break.  Some nights, it would be best if I could go to bed around eleven or even midnight.  Getting seven or eight hours of sleep sometimes would probably be a good idea.  You know, it might be kind of healthy.  Maybe a little. ;)

Life can be such a distraction.  Blogging, Facebook, Youtube, Netflix... all of these things capture my attention in the late hours so much that sleeping seems so dull.  Why sleep when I can watch a cute puppy video?  Why rest when I can blog about what I ate for dinner last night?  Why go to bed when I can creep on acquaintances on Facebook?

...I have such an interesting life, don't I?

Are you a night owl like me or do you prefer to get everything done in the mornings?

(Thank goodness for naps, right?)

The other day, I was walking to class and I saw an unusual sight.  Although I do see the occasional adult who has decided to return to college (and then a few professors here and there, but they are always very recognizable), elderly men are generally an uncommmon thing to be seen on campus.  Especially a lone man dressed in nice clothing and standing a few feet away from a sign that said: FREE BIBLES FROM THE GIDEONS.

I love the Gideons.  And the sincerity on the old man's face made my heart reach out to him.  In nearly ninety degree weather, the elderly man held out New Testaments to students walking by.

I was surprised at the abrasive responses I saw from passing students.  Some waved the man off irritably, some ignored him completely, and some snapped "No!" or "I don't want one!"  One student even said in an angry voice, "I don't want your Bible."

The responses made me sad.  About a week or two ago, a couple of Mormons were passing out tracts to passersby, and while I didn't see the same level of angry reactions that were directed towards the old man, most students brushed past the two young men without saying a word.  What's interesting is the fact that as a Christian whose set of beliefs is very different from the Mormons', I was very happy to say hello and smile at them as I walked by.  Their efforts did not offend me at all.

Really, why is passing out Bibles so offensive?  The old man wasn't threatening the fires of hell or judging the people around him.  He wasn't even necessarily trying to convert people to his faith.  He was simply passing out New Testaments... allowing students to study for themselves in order to know what they believed.  He wasn't being malicious or holier-than-thou.  He was only trying to share what he thought could help those around him.

As a Christian, it can be difficult to step out and be a witness.  I've gotten snide remarks and dirty looks over wearing a Christian t-shirt.  Sharing my faith opens myself up to even more anger.  Witnessing is difficult and not always very fun, but it's the greatest expression of love I can think to give to those around me.  This is why I'm not offended when people of other religions (kindly and politely) offer to share what they believe with me.  The biggest way I could show love to an unbeliever would be to say, "This is what changed my life and this is what has saved me."  Not to force my beliefs upon someone (because I am very eager to hear what he or she has to say about their beliefs, and if they say no, then I'm okay with that.  I've done my part), but only to share what saved me.  And this is all the Gideon was doing.

The students waved the old man away from them with expressions of resentment and irritation.  The man nodded and smiled, continuing to quietly offer New Testaments to anyone who would take one.  Out of probably thirty students I watched pass by, only one took a Bible and he did so without hardly stopping to look at the Gideon. 

When the man saw me, he offered the Bible in my direction, the same way he had with all of the other students.  I smiled at him and said thank you, hoping my words would refresh him after the torrent of negativity he'd received from other students.  "God bless you," the old man said, grinning, and he took yet another New Testament from his nearly-full box to offer to passing students.

The Gideon's New Testament now rests in my purse and I plan to give it away someday.  In love.

Something I've begun to learn recently is the meaning of disability.  Since I've been at college, I joined an organization called Deaf Aggies and Friends (DeAF).  I've been taking ASL as a foreign language and I've been able to get to know and befriend a few members of the deaf community in Aggieland. 

As a child, I always considered deaf people to be disabled.  In fact, if I saw someone signing at a restaurant or out in public, I usually sympathized with them, thinking, "How sad that he can't hear!  I wish there was something that could be done for him."  And I definitely never considered the fact that I could ever be disabled.  I was disability-free.  Me?  Disabled?  No way.

It's true that I don't have a physical disability.  I can walk.  I can see.  I can hear.  But being disabled can mean other things too, and I've come to realize that over the last two months.

Recently I went to a deaf social at a frozen yogurt shop with the DeAF club.  While there are several hearing members of the club, I arrived early with a friend.  For a while, we were the only hearing people there.  Everyone else was deaf.

As the people around me conversed in quick and flawless sign language, I struggled to keep up.  When it came time for me to sign, my words were broken and shaky and jumbled.  I had only been learning ASL for less than two months.  In order for me to be a part of the conversation, the others had to make an effort to include me and be patient with my mistakes and many questions.

For the first time, I began to feel like I was the disabled one. 

Out of everyone in that room, I was the one with the disability, not them.  I was the one everyone had to pause for.  I was the one who couldn't speak the language.  I was the odd one out.  Of course, everyone was very nice and didn't exclude me or make me feel guilty for being one of the only hearing people there.  However, despite everyone's eagerness to help me learn, it didn't change the fact that I was the one who was struggling to communicate.  Me.

Spending time with the deaf community has given me perspective about the meaning of disability.  Deafness is technically a disability, sure, but it definitely does not have to be a defining attribute... at least not in a negative way.  There is a beautiful deaf culture and community that I have come to see and appreciate over the last several weeks.  This community has been unseen by so many people.

Recently I was given the chance to see what it was like to be the odd one out in a room full of deaf people.  Hearing or not, I was the disabled one.  It certainly wasn't them. 

I'm quickly learning that disability is relative.

Friendship is what matters.

The fingerspelled letters come from here.

When Ali and I get together and visit convenience store, we often find ourselves drawn to the toy aisle.  Cute dolls, cuddly stuffed animals, and Nerf swords are worth the effort.  Recently, Ali and I went to Walgreene's.  Like always, we walked over to the toy aisle and began to look at the different toys.  Of course, some little things caught our eye, like singing stuffed creatures and a stuffed Snow White with frightening orange eyes. 

No, orange-eyed Snow White was not meant to celebrate Halloween.  Somehow, her creators thought she might look nice with neon orange eyes and a matching hairbow.  Nice decision, guys.  Way to stand apart from the actual movie. 

On a more alarming note, Ali and I found several dolls that were a part of "Monster High."  All of the dolls were dressed in fishnets and chains and featured gruesome scars, skulls, and vampire teeth.  They came with best friends and boyfriends and accessories, just like Barbie dolls would, but they were just so dark.  I can't ever imagine allowing my child to play with dolls that advertise being dark and scary in an almost sexual manner. 

The doll below was apparently named "Draculaura."  She featured heavy makeup, long fangs, and an extremely immodest outfit.  While Draculaura wasn't dressed as dark as the other dolls were, she was dressed the most immodestly.  While most of the skirts came up inappropriately high, Draculaura wasn't even wearing tights like the others to cover up some of the leg she was showing. 

I thought these dolls must be part of a generic line for Wal-Greene's, just like the odd Snow White doll, but Rebecca and I found more of the dolls at Walmart a couple of weeks later.  Again, the dolls were dressed immodestly and wore dark themes like skulls and crossbones.  Young, innocent children play with dolls.  I stopped playing with dolls when I was around nine or ten years old.  As a little girl, I cannot imagine my mother allowing me to play with dolls that dress like the ones from Monster High.

I visited the Monster High website and saw something on the front page that said: "Be yourself. Be unique. Be a monster."

Be... a monster?

The little children who play with Monster High dolls are going to want to be like them.  Heavy makeup, dyed hair, revealing clothing... can you imagine a seven-year-old girl dressing in skulls and crossbones and thick eyeliner?  Honestly, I'm not sure how those qualities make someone unique.  Also, do you see the weight of Draculaura in the picture above?  She may actually be thinner than a Barbie doll. 

When I encourage a child to be herself, I mean that she should embrace who she looks like without all the makeup and accessories.  She doesn't need to disguise her looks with a lot of makeup.  She doesn't need to wear revealing clothes to attract popular friends and cute guys.  She can be beautiful and unique with her natural color of hair and flattering clothes that don't flaunt her body.  God made each little girl to be beautiful. 

Perhaps I'm looking too far into the whole "Monster High" line of dolls.  It just bothers me that five and six-year-old girls are going to be playing with and idolizing dolls that dress as darkly and immodestly as these do. 

What do you think?

My nineteenth birthday is coming up on Friday.  I've never really minded having an October birthday.  Sure, I don't get to sleep in because it's usually on a school day, but my mom would always make me my favorite breakfast (milk toast) and take me out of school to my favorite restaurant (Abuelo's).  Teachers would give me special privileges, I'd often encounter little surprises waiting for me at school (like a wrapped locker or a birthday hat to wear), and a lot of people would tell me, "Hey, happy birthday, Emily," which is the highlight of a kid's birthday. 

With summer birthdays, you can have pool parties and go to water parks, sure, but with an autumn birthday, none of your friends are out of town on family vacations.  So I've always enjoyed having a birthday in October.

It hit me a couple of days ago that this will be the first year of my life without a birthday party.  I've always had a party with my friends, eighteen years in a row.  Sleepovers, scavenger hunts, murder mysteries... and in 2011, I won't be having a birthday party at all.

It's not that I'm upset because I won't get as many presents or I won't have a bunch of people over in honor of my birthday.  No, it's not that at all.  The thing that bothers me a little is that this is the first year I won't get to see any of my friends on my birthday.  We'll all be several hours away from each other, which feels a little weird.

I'm so, so blessed that I will get to go home on my birthday this year.  I'll get to see my family and spend some much-needed time with them.  And if I had to choose, I'd rather celebrate with my family.  I've missed them a lot these last few weeks.

I guess this whole birthday thing is just another part of college and growing up.  And there isn't any reason to mope around.  I will still celebrate my birthday.  I get time with my family on my actual birthday, and Ali is coming up to celebrate both Rebecca's and my birthday the next weekend.  It will all work out.  I'll see my other friends on Christmas Break.  It will be fine. 

I've never been jealous of those with summer birthdays.  In fact, I've always preferred mine.  Seeing all of my friends that day, being pulled out of school a little early, blowing out candles on a homemade cake from friends in the library before the smoke alarms go off (yes, I have really great friends), and Rebecca would probably agree with me that October birthdays can be pretty fantastic.

But this may be the first year I've ever felt a twinge of longing to have a birthday in June or July.  Just a little.  Maybe.

Okay, I'd still rather have my October birthday.  (See, now it gives me a reason to fly home from school for a few days and see my family for the first time in what feels like forever.)  So it all works out in the end.

Yeah, I'm pretty blessed.

Have you ever seen a cute and figure-flattering outfit on a mannequin and decided to buy it for yourself?

Recently, I read an article about how plus-sized mannequins at department stores are actually about a size six... and how normal-sized mannequins are so thin that they would be considered anorexic and unable to have children if they were alive.  While I cannot find the same article I first read, I merely Googled "too thin mannequins" and came up with several similar results. 

Mannequins are made to be unusually thin and "attractive" so that consumers will see them and think, "Oh, that's how I'll look if I wear these clothes."  In fact, some of the mannequins I've seen wear blouses with tags hanging out that have large sizes, but the blouse is tucked in or safety-pinned in the back until it's form-fitting and looks fantastic.  It's a deception.

Ali and I decided to visit a popular department store and take a look at the plus-sized mannequins to see if they were made to be skinnier than most plus-sized women or just the right size.  What we found is that the mannequins were thin and fit, but they were larger versions of the average-sized mannequins.  For example, while the average mannequin might be 4' tall, these plus-sized mannequins were over 5' tall.

I posed with one of the plus-sized mannequins.  Her jacket hides most of her waist, but as you can see from her legs, she really isn't that much wider than I am... and I don't wear plus-sized clothes.  However, the mannequin, even without a head, is taller than I am by a couple of inches.  I'm a little over 5'1. 

When Ali placed her leg next to the plus-sized mannequin, other than the fact that the mannequin's legs were insanely long, there wasn't much of a size difference between them... and Ali also does not wear plus-sized clothing.

We came across a mannequin that was wearing a size 16 blouse.  The mannequin looked rather thin to be wearing a size 16 and when we inspected her a little further, we discovered that the back of her blouse was discreetly safety-pinned so that the blouse was form-fitting on her slender frame.

These mannequins aren't plus-sized.  They're taller and thus slightly larger versions of average-sized mannequins.  How can they accurately model plus-sized clothing when they aren't plus-sized themselves?

The world constantly tells consumers what is beautiful and what isn't.  Even mannequins are made to be unnaturally skinny in order to look "more beautiful" than they would if they were proportioned normally.  To be honest, it makes me sad. 

I'll write more on this soon. 

When I was in middle school, I stopped believing in God.  I think there was a piece of me that still believed He existed, but I was just so angry and bitter against who I thought He was that I refused to have faith for any longer.  I was very depressed.  Self injury became the main outlet for my feelings, which only ended up hurting my heart even more.  Over time, I became suicidal.  I hated myself and thought I was absolutely worthless.  All I wanted was to die and simply become nonexistent. 

As I finished eighth grade, nothing about my life was getting better.  I was miserable, fearful, severely depressed.  Cutting was becoming such an addiction that I couldn't find a way to stop on my own, even though I could tell it was destroying every part of who I was.  While I still refused to allow myself to believe in God, one day I finally broke down and prayed something like:

"God, I've been trying to control my own life and I can't do it.  If You exist, then work through me this summer or I will end my life for good.  If You show me that You exist, You can have my life.  I don't want it anymore."

That summer, the Lord did work in my life in ways I could not have imagined.  By the time school began in August, I was on fire for Him, more so than I had ever been in my entire life.  I wanted to give everything I had to God, every single part of me.  My life was His.

All of that happened more than four years ago.  I was not yet a freshman in high school, while I am now newly a freshman in college.  In so many ways, the person who I was while I was in the midst of self injury and suicidal thoughts seems like another human being.  It all seemed to happen a lifetime ago. 

I still love the Lord.  I still believe in Him.  However, I'm afraid that sometimes I forget the promise I made to Him.

He showed that He could work in my life.  He showed me that He was there.  So my life is His.

And yet there is still a piece of me that wants to take it all back and say, "Thanks for patching things up, God, but I can take it from here."  I want to do this, go there, become this kind of person.  I want to make my own plans and carve out the path for my own life.  I'm clutching dreams in my hands that are my dreams more than they are His.

I cannot forget.

Without the Lord's help, I would either be dead right now or a very angry and confused young girl, lost in my shame and bitterness.  Without Him, I wouldn't be anything.  The fact that parts of me still try to turn from Him and attempt to make my own path again is almost unbelievable.  And yet I still do this.

God, even if you must break me over and over again to gain my loyalty, then do it.  My plans on their own will only lead to sin and failure.  Your plan is so much bigger and better and more beautiful than anything I could ever imagine.  Please show me the things that You want me to pursue.  Reveal to me Your heart and Your will for my life.

A song comes to mind in this moment.  I am pretty sure it was written by Jeff Johnson, who was actually the worship leader at Impact, but I heard this song for the first time during chapel at my high school.  The lyrics are a little frightening to my selfish heart, but they are so true.  Brutally honest.  The song is called "Ruin Me." 

 

Ruin my life, the plans I have made. 

Ruin desire for my own selfish gain.

Destroy the idols that have taken Your place,

'Til it's You alone I live for, You alone I live for.

 

I can never let myself forget the things God has done in my life.  I can never let myself forget that I am living for Him, not for my own glory and success.  I am His.  I must follow His plan rather than mine in every aspect of who I am.

Okay, girls.  This is for you.

Today I'd like to talk about dating in high school.  If you're in middle school, go ahead and add yourself into this conversation as well.

I'm JUST starting college, so I'm barely out of high school.  I remember like yesterday (because it basically was) how much pressure there is to have a boyfriend.  I remember my senior year, I mentioned to one of my friends that I'd never kissed a guy, and this friend literally said in a kind, but very patronizing way, "Awwwww, Emily.  That's so cute!  But... why?"  While I am so blessed that my closest friends also abstained from romantic relationships in grade school, I know what it's like to feel pressured to date.  I know that most people look at you like you're crazy when you say, "No, I'm not looking for a boyfriend.  I don't want a high school relationship."  I know because that's what happened to me.

And I know that it's more than just peer pressure.  Sure, it's not fun to be given strange looks and teased because of a choice, but we aren't finger puppets.  Our actions aren't controlled by our friends.  We're individuals.  We can make our own decisions. 

Having a boyfriend seems wonderful.  When you watch a movie like Twilight or Dear John, how can you not feel a little ache and wish that you had a beautiful relationship like that?  I think everyone wants someone who will hold them close and love them unconditionally.  When you doubt yourself and you doubt some of your friendships and you doubt your home life and you doubt everything around you, a steady relationship with someone who loves you with every piece of his heart sounds great.  I get that. 

Occasionally, a young girl writes me and tells me that she really, really, really wants to start dating in middle school or high school.  She just really, really, really wants to have a relationship with a guy who loves her.  These girls often struggle with whether or not they should give into their feelings and date someone.  When they come to me for advice, here is my typical answer:

WHY do you want a boyfriend at this point in your life?

You're obviously not ready to start looking for a spouse.  You can give me the expected argument: "I have a teacher/friend's mom/neighbor/uncle/grandparent who started dating someone in high school and they're happily married, so there."  I know, I know there are stories like that in real life.  But they aren't the norm.  In fact, they're very, very rare.  They're so rare that you can't use those instances as an excuse to start looking for a boyfriend at 15, 16, 17 years old.  In fact, I'm almost nineteen and I still struggle to imagine myself being married, even if I'm "legally" old enough.

That's the purpose of dating though, isn't it?  (If not, then shouldn't that be the purpose?)  It doesn't make sense to try to fall in love if you don't want to get married.  When you start a relationship with someone, you should be thinking: he might be the one.  In high school, it's not time to be thinking about marriage.  And if he's really the one, then why wouldn't he be willing to wait a few years for you both to grow and mature?

So if you aren't yet ready to start searching for a future husband, then why do you want a boyfriend right now?

The reason why I personally wanted to have a boyfriend while I was in high school was because I wanted someone who would love me for me.  If I got into an argument with a family member, if I had a bad day at school, if I was feeling worthless or ugly, I wanted someone who would compliment me and mean it, who would hold me close and whisper sweet nothings into my ear, who would write me songs, who would say "I love you" and mean every word.  I wanted a boyfriend so I would feel special and loved.

Is that much different from the reason why you want a boyfriend?  To feel good?

The problem about this is that when you're still in grade school, it's simply not time to awaken those romantic feelings.  You've probably heard the verse that every single Christian dating book tends to mention, Song of Solomon 2:7. 

"Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."

That verse used to bug me so much when people used it to say: "See, this verse is proof that it's a sin to date in high school!" 

"Until it so desires?" I would think to myself.  "Are you kidding me?  How do you know it doesn't desire right now?  I feel like I'm ready to find love."  But let's be logical.  Yes, Mary fell in love as a young teen.  Juliet fell in love at thirteen.  But in this day and age, is it healthy to fall in love as a young teen?  Is it realistic that you'll stay together?  Is it good to fall in and out of love when you're not even old enough to drive a car?

When you're truly mature enough and ready to start looking for the guy that the Lord wants to put in your life, then perhaps it's time.  Then perhaps you can arouse or awaken love because it so desires.  But right now, what is the purpose?

Before, during, and even after a high school relationship, your thoughts and feelings will be consumed by a boy.  When you're crushing on him, you cannot help thinking about him all the time.  Believe me, I know.  Throughout the day and night, your mind wanders to him: what he's doing, who he's talking to, whether or not he's thinking about you too.  During the relationship, you'll constantly think about him and want to be near him.  After the relationship, your mind will still frequently wander to him.  You'll still want to know what he's doing, who he's with, whether or not he still thinks about you.  Your mind is going to be packed full of thoughts about this guy for a long time.

The teenage years are a time to grow closer to the Lord and develop a strong foundation in your relationship with Him.  Right now is when you need to start setting your standards and try to discover who God wants you to be.  When you're focused on a boyfriend, then it is so easy for your thoughts and your heart to become distracted from Him and instead set upon him.

Now I'm not going to go so far as to say that dating in high school is necessarily a sin, at least not in every case.  It's a tough decision that is ultimately up to you and your parents.  However, I do think that dating while in high school will most likely lead to distraction, heartbreak, and doubt in yourself, others, and even in God. 

Right now, while you're growing and transforming in your relationship with Christ, ask Him to become those feelings of fulfillment and adoration that a boyfriend would give you.  I know it isn't going to be the same, but it has the potential be even better. 

:)

Lately I've been complaining about something. 

Our well is going dry, which I've mentioned before, and what water we have left has turned a cloudy brown color.  Some days are better than others, but recently, the water has been dirtier than ever.  Sand coats my shower drain.  When I turn on the sink faucet, water pours out and turns the sink brown in a matter of seconds.

The other day, I didn't realize the water had gotten worse, so I took a quick shower before going to bed.  The next morning, I noticed that the bristles on my hairbrush were stained brown.  Disgusted, I rubbed them clean, but when I ran the brush back through my hair, the bristles came back brown again.

I was horrified.

My hair was so covered in sediment that it felt stiff to the touch.  It felt like I had gone outside and bathed in a mud puddle.

Lately I've been complaining.  Our water situation makes me feel incredibly frustrated.  Not being able to wash clothes, dishes, shower... not being able to grab a drink from the faucet.  It's inconvenient.  Annoying.

And then today I was looking through some photos I took when I was in Kenya, Africa.  One picture in particular stood out vividly to me.  Do you see what is captured in this blurry photograph?

Women are gathering water from the puddles that line the side of the road.  They'll use this water for drinking, washing, bathing.

While I was in Kenya, I saw the water that pooled along the roads.  See for yourself:

It's filthy.  Feces, debris, and insects fill the water until it more closely resembles sludge.  People walk barefoot through this water.  Kids use the streets as a toilet.  Pigs, cattle, and dogs roam the slums, sharing the water as well.

I wouldn't subject my dog to the water those women were collecting.  Their water is filled with life-threatening diseases like cholera.  My water is a little sandy.  You know, I bet they would take the quality of water from my well and feel grateful.

At least I have other alternatives.  I don't have to drink our well water.  I use water bottles.  I can shower at grandparents' homes.  I don't have to use the dirty water coming out of our faucets.  Even if the water in my shower is sandy, I am still surrounded by access to clean, sanitary water.

I am so blessed.

When I'm thirsty, I can have a drink without worrying about cholera and parasites.  I can wash my hands and my clothes.  I still have water, even if it's not always the prettiest or most accessible. 

And in a matter of days, I'll be living in a dorm with total access to clean water again.  I'll be able to brush my teeth using water from the sink.  I'll be able to grab a glass of water during the night, wash my clothes, rinse off my dishes.  There will be a pool and a fountain outside.  How could I not feel incredibly blessed?

I don't ever want to forget how blessed I am with the gift of water, even when it doesn't always come in the way I want it.  The Lord has provided me with so much.  I take my blessings for granted so often.  My ungrateful attitude needs to change.  No more forgetting.  No more complaining.

It's time to be thankful.

O: Old People

I'm honestly afraid of getting old.  I grew up visiting a lot of nursing homes and I've seen what a terrible thing it is when you no longer have your mind and your body.  But before that REALLY old point in life, there will hopefully be an adorable time period.

Think about it.  Some old people are just cute.

I used to work at a frozen yogurt shop.  Occasionally a little old lady or man would come in, hobbling on canes and looking around the small shop with wonder.  One lady even told me, "I've never heard of these new-fangled places before."  I loved to wait on them and help them decide on their flavors and toppings.  Elderly men were always the best tippers.  Elderly women were always very complimentary about my necklace and my eyes and my smile (and even my speaking voice).

My Nawnie is starting to become one of those little old ladies who is incredibly friendly to everyone.  If you're in the same room as my grandma, you're her new best friend.  She teases and compliments and starts conversations with EVERYONE.  Sometimes it's a little embarrassing, like the time Nawnie walked across the fancy dining room while we were on the cruise and began to massage a strange woman's shoulders, saying, "How was your day today?"  But most times it's endearing and even admirable.  We rarely leave a building without someone telling us how sweet Nawnie is.  And she is.

I visited my friend's church about a year ago.  There is a little old lady who has attended that church for as long as my friend can remember.  As soon as I began to find my seat, she hobbled over to me, held out a little basket of wrapped candies, and said, "I'm so glad you came today, honey.  Would you like a piece of candy?"  What a sweet, welcoming woman.  And she didn't just approach kids and teens.  She even offered my dad a piece of candy.

Basically, after all of these short stories, I'd like to describe the kind of old person I'd like to be.  I want to be sociable and friendly.  Old people don't seem to care about embarrassing themselves or getting weird look.  It's like they're past that point.  I want to have that fearless, friendly nature.  I want to offer people candy at church and make them feel welcome.  I want to coo at strangers' babies.  I want to hobble around with my cute old husband and have people look at us and say to each other, "What an ADORABLE old couple.  I want to be like that someday."

I don't ever want to be in that painfully old stage where there is nothing left of me except for an aging shell of a body.  I never want that.  But I've finally realized that I don't think I'll mind AGING.  I think white hair IS a crown of beauty, just like the Bible says, even if the world might say otherwise. 

Of course, I'll definitely enjoy being young while I still have my youth. ;)

The last week of school is always the worst and best week of the whole year.  It's the best week because since it's the last one, the teachers don't bother to give any assignments, the rules are usually relaxed, and everybody is feeling happy and excited.  It's the worst week because it seems to drag on FOREVER.  Since there is nothing to do throughout the day, class time seems to drag on and on and on.

This is my last week of school.  That would normally be exciting enough in itself... but even better, this is my last week of high school.  Period.  No more twelfth grade, sure, but no more high school is even crazier.  I am stoked and a little sad at the same time.  After this week, I won't be in high school anymore!  My biggest solace is the fact that I won't technically have graduated until May 27, so technically I have a little time left to call myself a high school student.

This week has most definitely been exciting.  There is a tangible buzz whenever you're around any of the sneiors.  Our last week.  Our last week.  No more high school.  We're done.  We're done.  It's like we're all silently singing the same song.

The seniors get out a week before anyone else, so the rest of the school doesn't have the same level of excitement as we do.  I feel bad for the teachers, in a way.  They have to deal with our excied chatter, our restlessness, and our lack of concentration.  Believe me, when there are only three days left of your high school career, it's pretty difficult to pay attention to any lecture or assignment.  I think the teachers gave up on their lesson plans two weeks ago.

But hey.  We're graduating.  There is reason for excitement.

Several exciting things have happened this week, making everything even better.  I got my LASIK eye surgery last Thursday, so I can see everything now.  I don't have to worry about glasses anymore.  I feel like a Bible character, healed by Jesus.  I can see!  I can see!  That fact alone has brightened my entire week.

My friend Zeek's eighteenth birthday was yesterday, so a big group of us went out to celebrate with him.  It was so much fun to spend time together and enjoy each other's company.

On Thursday, my environmental science class will be going on a field trip to a local canyon.  We'll hike, soak in the sun, and have a good time outside.  I'll be sure to share pictures with you all. 

Friday will be our last day, so I'm sure there will be plenty of excitement, silliness, and tears.

This has been one of the strangest weeks of school for me, simply because whenever I look around, I can't help but think: This is all about to end.  I won't walk down these halls anymore.  I won't see these people anymore.  I won't be a high school student anymore (which may not be all that bad).  This is about to be over.

It's only Wednesday, so I still have tomorrow and Friday, but the feeling is already there.

Half of me wants to shout, "Why am I still here?  I'm about to GRADUATE.  We're sitting around doing nothing!  Why can't I just stay home or go out with friends?!"

But then again, I'm glad they're making us come to school this week.  It's our last week.  Ever.  It may be boring at times.  It may seem to drag on forever.  But we're sitting in class for a few hours each day, hugging and talking and taking pictures.  Each moment left at school is time we're spending together as a class.  We won't get that anymore after this month.  I might as well enjoy the time I have left.

Although, when it finally ends, I'll probably be cheering. ;)

PS: I know I'm sharing a lot of ramblings about graduation and stuff right now, but once the month is over, I'll be done with all that.  This is just seriously what's on my mind and my blog is the best place to share my thoughts. :)

You know, being negative is one of the easiest habits you can make.  It might start out with a bad day or something that makes you pretty mad... and then suddenly, your entire outlook is transformed.  Honestly, is it easier to remember the difficult things that happen in a day or the happy things? 

I've noticed lately that many of the people around me are much more negative than they are positive.  I also easily fall into this habit.  I go to school and a friend walks up to me and says, "I'm so tired.  My alarm clock didn't wake me up this morning, so I had to get ready in five minutes.  Plus, I didn't get to do my homework last night, so I'm going to fail," and in an agreeing way, I often reply with something like, "Ugh, I know.  I didn't fall asleep until three in the morning.  I'm exhausted.  I hope I didn't fail the test last period."  And so the negativity begins.

This needs to stop. 

When we're as pessimistic as we so often are, we're putting down the blessings we've been given by God.  We're ignoring the good things in our lives and focusing on the negative.  Look at the things you do have.  Life, breath in your lungs, a Savior...  There are so many gifts you've been given and those are only a few.

1 Chronicles 16:10 says, "...Let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice."

\Sometimes, you gotta vent.  I understand that because I have to vent too.  But when the conversations you have with the people around you become more negative than they are positive, there is a problem.  This week, I challenge you to outnumber the negative things you say with positive things.  If you're feeling brave, I challenge you to not say anything negative at all, at least for an entire day. 

Instead of negativity, fill your thoughts with happy things, with your blessings.  If someone hurts your feelings, remind yourself about the friends you do have.  If you wake up late, just think... you got a few minutes of extra sleep.  If you get into an argument, remember that difficult situations sometimes happen, but they don't have to define your day.  When you begin to shape your thoughts to think about joyful things rather than negativity, your entire outlook on life will begin to change.

God created you to be joyful, not down in the dumps and full of complaints.  1 Thessalonians 5:15-18 says, "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  You were made to be joyful.  Not lonely.  Not sulky.  Not negative.  Not complaining.  Strive to be thankful, even if you're having a tough time.

After all, there are so many things to be thankful for.  If you're having trouble finding them, it may be time to start to change the way you think. 

I remember reading Numbers 11:1 last year and feeling shocked.  "Now the people complained about their hardships in the hearing of the LORD, and when he heard them his anger was aroused. Then fire from the LORD burned among them and consumed some of the outskirts of the camp."  God hates complaining.  I can complain a lot at times.  I stubbed my toe.  I'm tired.  I have a headache.  I've had a bad day.  It's so easy to dwell on the negative.  But negativity causes God's anger to burn.

Yes, it's easy to think about how much you don't fit in or how bad of a day you've had or how much you wish you could be doing something else than what you're doing with your life... but it isn't God's will for you to dwell on the bad stuff in your life.  He has blessed you, even if you don't feel like He has.  If you're breathing right now, you're blessed.  If you have one friend, you're blessed.  If you have an education or food to eat, you're blessed.  You've been blessed.  It's time to act like it.

Have you ever known a true pessimist?  You know, someone who can twist any situation into something awful?  Aren't they an irritating person to be around?  Don't they just bring you down?  Try to remember that when you're with friends and constantly complaining or talking about negative subjects, you're bringing your friends down.  You don't want to be "that friend" who brings everybody down with your pessimism.    

You know, your relationship with Jesus Christ should give you joy.  Are you focusing on the joy in your life or the things that make you unhappy?  Which do you think glorifies God more: negativity or positivity?  The Lord has given us so much.  Let's thank Him with our thoughts, words, and actions and try to keep them positive.  Does anyone agree?

Philippians 4:4
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!      

I have to take care of a Ready-or-Not Tot for my economics class at school.  It cries all the time: while I'm driving, sleeping, taking a shower.  It's torture.  Everyone in my senior class has to take care of one of these babies at some point.  Yesterday, my friend and I were joking around about how much we hated taking care of the baby, and my friend laughed and said something like, "You know what? Life isn't even worth living.  Let's just get a couple of guns and end it all.  We can point them at our own heads- no, I'll point mine at your head and you point yours at my head- and we can die together."

To be honest, I wasn't sure how to respond.  I know he was kidding, but I've been thinking.  At what point is it okay to joke about suicide?  When does it cross a line?  Should it be crossing a line? 

If you're a regular reader of this blog, then you know that a friend of mine committed suicide three years ago. 

More than 5,000 teens end their lives every year.  That breaks my heart.  5,000 teens is like a small university being wiped off the face of the earth.  5,000 is nearly double those who died on 9/11.  5,000 is more than many small towns in Texas.  Those were 5,000 kids who had families and friends who were devastated after they learned their loved one was gone.  5,000 is a lot of people, and that's just the teens.  30,000 people of all ages commit suicide each year.

Joking around about suicide, twisting your hand into the shape of a gun and bringing it to your head when you're bored or annoyed, making suicide sound so lighthearted when it should be such a serious thing... this needs to end.  Now.

Suicide isn't a joke.  It ends a life and it emotionally destroys those who care about the one who died.  It's such a difficult thing to heal from.  And as one who has once considered suicide as an alternative to the life I lived, let me tell you... feelings of suicide are no joking matter either.  They're so, so, so serious.  I can't emphasize this enough.  Don't let someone who is struggling with suicidal thoughts or depression see you make a joke about suicide and make light of the feelings that are consuming his life right now.

You've possibly joked around about killing yourself before.  You know, before my friend committed suicide, I would.  I'd bring my finger to my head like a gun and say "Just kill me now" if we had a pop quiz or if I had to do an extra chore that day.  I didn't think it was that big of a deal.  Since my friend has died, I've become more aware of the emotions surrounding that subject.  When someone jokes about suicide, I can't really laugh anymore.  I freeze.  Something in my heart hurts. 

When we make light of a situation, we're lessening its impact.  Suicide is making a huge impact in the lives of countless people right now.  30,000 lives are ending every year.  Don't make that a joke.

-----------

SUICIDE HOTLINE
1-800-273-8255

The other day, I talked about how precious life was and how we shouldn't ever waste it.  Today I'd like to expand on that topic a little more.  Your life is valuable.  You're precious to God.  But there are other precious lives that are vanishing every day, and that's what I'd like to discuss right now.

When I see images of the kids in third world countries who are dying from preventable issues such as hunger and malaria, my heart feels like it's literally splitting in my chest.  The children who have died and are dying from starvation and diseases were never even given a chance to survive.  They've been restrained within the barriers of poverty.  Their deaths were painful and easily preventable.  They died without being remembered.  They died without the world knowing they ever even existed.  It's like they've been invisible.

It really is.  Look at the photograph to your right.  Don't turn away because it makes you uncomfortable.  I want you to feel uncomfortable.  Allow your heart to start pounding in your chest.  Let chills rise on your arms.  Let your stomach churn and your hands tremble.  This child is dying.  If you're thinking to yourself, "Oh, that's so sad," but plan to do nothing more than think about this image for the next few days or weeks or even months, then this child is invisible to you.

If you see the World Vision ads that appear on the sides of your screen while you're surfing the internet and all you feel is a twinge of sadness before you move on to something happier and less uncomfortable, then these children have become invisible to you.  You're ignoring the deaths of precious children who have a Father in heaven who cherishes them and feels terribly grieved when they die.  These kids may not have anyone on earth who cares for them or remembers them, but Jesus Christ died for them too.

A dying child should make you leap from your seat with shock and horror.  It should make you shout, "No!  His death doesn't have to happen.  None of these deaths have to happen.  I'm going to stand up and do something."  Children are dying.  What are you doing about it?

I went to Kenya, Africa a couple of summers ago.  I saw many things that changed my perspective on poverty and sacrifice while I was over there, but an instance sticks out in my mind especially today.  A friend and I were taking some pictures of kids to send to those who sponsor them through Christian Relief Fund.  We would go down the long list of names and ask the kids who would crowd around us, eagerly waiting to help, to find the child we needed to photograph and interview.

At one point, we asked the kids to bring us a little girl.  I don't remember her name now.  I wish I did.  There were many names we read off that day.  The kids grew silent for a long moment until a young girl finally spoke up.  "She died," she told us in a somber voice.  When we questioned her, the girl's response was, "She died from chicken pox two weeks ago."

She died from chicken pox.

In the world today, there are still little children dying from chicken pox.

I remember that moment quite often.  Children are dying from preventable issues every single day without a chance to leave their mark on the world, without a chance to change someone's life, without a chance to learn or experience new things or to grow.  The lives of these children are truly a mist, likes James 4 discusses, but their tragic lives could be made longer than they are now.  We could be making a difference.

James 1:27 says, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..."  You've probably read that verse before, but take a moment to read James 2:15, 16, located a few verses down.  "Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to them, 'Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?"  What good is it?  When you see the images of starving children and feel bad or say a quick prayer for them, in all honesty, what good will that do?  What good is it?  What tangible difference are you making in their lives?

Here's a quote by A.W. Tozer that impacted my perspective on faith and prayer.  "...I believe the problem is that we have been trying to substitute praying for obeying, and it simply will not work... Prayer will become effective when we stop using it as a substitute for obedience."  Here, A.W. Tozer was talking about praying for revival, but the same concept works with praying for God to end poverty.  You may be praying for the starving children, but what are you doing to obey God's law?  What are you doing to help the orphans and widows in their distress? 

I read somewhere that if everyone in the word who claimed to be a Christian tithed 10% of their earnings to the church, then we would eradicate world poverty and AIDS in less than a year.

What are you doing to help the needy?

Every minute, more than 110 kids die from starvation, equaling about 160,000  a day.  Each minute, two kids die from malaria.  Every two minutes, a child dies from AIDS.  What are you doing to try to prevent these deaths and save the lives of these little children?  If you're not fighting for the destitute and needy, then it may be time to reset some priorities.

In the ten minutes it took you to read today's blog article, more than 1,125 kids have died from preventable issues.  1,125 babies who are treasured by the Lord. 

Life is precious.

It's time to stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves.

I found the pictures from this article here, here, here, and here.  

 

Church isn't always a happy place.

As Christians, we should strive to treat each other with love and respect, but I often overhear words of hatred and anger exchanged between believers. 
"Christians shouldn't listen to instruments during worship." 
"Christians have to worship on Saturdays, not Sundays." 
"Christian girls who wear pants are immodest." 
And the arguments go on and on and on.  Some arguments are big.  Some are small.  Many are hateful and filled with bitterness. 

Why do you think there are so many branches and denominations within the church?  Everybody has differing beliefs, and that's okay.  Is there a definite right or wrong?  Yes.  Do most of these debates truly matter in the grand scheme of things?  No, not really. 

Despite our differences, we should accept one another with love, whether or not we agree with every point in each other's doctrine.  Look at Colossians 3:13-15.  "Bear with each other... And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace..."

It makes me sad when I see so many people fighting against each other when we should be of one body.  Why should we squabble like we do?  Why should we burn each other with mean words and hateful attitudes?  Why shun our brothers and sisters in Christ?  Why can't we love each other, even when we disagree?

The other night, I was reading Galatians 4-6.  Its words impacted my heart and made me ache for peace and unity.  Galatians 5:13-15 says, "...Serve one another humbly in love.  For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'  If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other."

I hear so many stories about churches breaking apart, families shunning each other, fights and debates breaking out about such small points of doctrine that they become silly.  In Galatians, the silly conflict Paul was writing about was circumcision.  Some believers had declared that circumcision was required for someone to be a Christian, which defeated the point of Christ overcoming the law.  Their words and arguments were discouraging many new and potential Christians.  Paul stated in Galatians 5:6, "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value.  The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love." 

Do I think debating is wrong?  No, not at all.  Friendly debates are great ways to form and grow what you believe.  When you debate, you realize more and more why you believe what you believe.  However, it's very easy for a small debate to turn into a full-fledged argument.  How can you express your faith and opinions through love while in a conflict?  Here are five points I try to remind myself when I debate with a fellow believer. 

No matter what we believe, we should still be unified.
The church was meant to be a place where believers could grow together and worship God as one body.  There will be differing beliefs and varying doctrines, but there should still be a unity that brings us all together.  Jesus Christ died for each one of us and we've devoted our lives to Him.  That is our point of unity.  Look at Ephesians 4:2-6.  "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.  Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all."  We are of one faith.  It's time to act like it.

Anger and sarcasm only makes things worse.
If you struggle with taming your words, I recommend James 3.  James 3:9-10 says, "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God's likeness.  Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing.  My brothers and sisters, this should not be."  When you're debating and feel impassioned about your beliefs, it's so easy to become angry that the person isn't saying, "Yes, you're right.  I was wrong."  They may even use their words wrongly and offend you.  No matter how good it feels to put down someone else out of anger, your sarcastic or angry words will only hurt the situation.

You don't need to convince anyone you're right.
I know it feels good to "win" a debate, but that feel-good feeling isn't worth an argument.  Which is better for keeping the peace: "I respect what you are saying, but I think we're going to have to agree to disagree" or pushing and pushing at the argument until you're both frustrated and red in the face?

Just because someone believes differently than you, don't love them any less.
Have you noticed that many Christians love on unbelievers in an attempt to be a witness, but often shun other Christians because of minor conflicts in doctrine?  "I serve prostitutes breakfast every Wednesday, but I refuse to speak to him.  He believes it's okay to read the NIV translation."  Isn't that a little messed up?  Yes, we should show constant love to unbelievers and to everyone around us, but we've been called to love each other as well.  I love Galatians 6:10, which says, "Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong in the family of believers."  Especially those who belong to our family of believers.  We've been called to love each other.  We're brothers and sisters in Christ.  We're all children of God.  Nothing should be big enough to tear us apart. 

If it isn't a factor of salvation, it doesn't really matter.
Jesus Christ is God.  He came down to earth as a human and lived without sin.  He suffered and died as a sacrifice for our sins.  Three days after He died, He came back to life and is still alive today.  That's the basics of our faith.  That is what unifies us all.  If we have that in common, we are one body, one faith.  We're united in Christ.  In the grand scheme of things, nothing else matters.

Yes, there is right or wrong.  When you're debating, one of you will be wrong.  However, if debates that do not rely on salvation are tearing apart the body of Christ, then it's time to back off.  Instead of alienating other believers, focus on your own heart and let others live what they believe.  Love. 

Ultimately, the truth will be revealed.  When we're in heaven one day, we'll be shown what is right and what is wrong.  You'll be right on some issues... and you may be wrong in others.  But one day, the truth will be unfolded.  For now, let the arguments and strife go.  Focus instead on what sums up what we believe: loving the Lord and loving each other.   
 

I'm a senior in high school, due to graduate at the end of May.  To be honest, it still hasn't quite hit me that in seven months, I'll be moving away from my family and friends to live and attend school in another city.  It's scary.  Yes, I've traveled far away from home before.  I've been to ten countries outside of the United States, eight of them away from my family, but I've never actually \lived away from home for longer than a month.

In my mind, I'm still a little girl struggling to learn how to tie her shoes.

How will I take care of myself in a few months?

Last night, I was curled up beneath the covers of my bed, thinking about how we had finally regulated the temperature in my bedroom.  Each year, we deal with the same issues.  At the beginning of the summer, each night is too hot and stuffy.  By the end of autumn, we've finally regulated the temperature but the weather has started to become cold at night again, causing me to wake up in the middle of the night shivering like crazy.  Anyways, last night, I was lying in bed and thinking, "Next year, before it gets so cold, I'll try..." and then I stopped.

Next year?  What next year?  I'll have moved out by then.  I won't be living at home anymore.

And for a brief, awful moment, I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me.

]See, calling myself a creature of habit is an understatement.  When my best friend Ali moved in for a couple of months, she quickly had to learn how opposed I am to change.  Once she moved the box that holds my contacts from one end of the counter to the other and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the difference. 

I have to prepare myself before I flip the calendar pages each month... because the new page will be different from the last page.

You may not have noticed, but I hate change.  I live by routine.  I wear the same kinds of clothes, all color-coded in my closet.  I keep an organized schedule before bed each night.  Want to see it?

Check Facebook/my website/etc one last time.
Take a shower, get dressed, brush teeth, etc.
Unplug all electronics.
Shut all doors and drawers.
Get into bed.
Read three chapters of the Bible.
Read my latest book until the chapter number has a 3, 5, 7, or 0 as its last digit.
Carmex and lotion.
Check to see if alarm lock is set.  Twice.
Check to see if the alarm sound is turned up.
Dim clock light.
Turn off lamp.
Check to see if alarm clock is set one last time.
Turn over pillow and start out sleeping turned away from the door.

It's the same thing every single night without fail.  I don't like change.  What scares me the most about going to college is the fact that I will have to begin a brand new schedule in a brand new environment all by myself.  Everything will be different, which \is difficult for my mind to even comprehend right now.

I've been trying to prepare myself ahead of time.  I change things in my bedroom and see how long I can take it before I have to change them back.  For example, the other day, I put one of my alphabetized (by author) books on the wrong shelf.  On purpose!  That counts, right?  I've started using a different kind of hairbrush.  I even switched around a few wall decorations in my room to different walls.

The whole preparation thing has been working out pretty well, if I do say so myself.  So far I've only had thirteen panic attacks since Tuesday... just kidding.  But seriously, how am I going to survive moving out?

Change is inevitable.  I know that.  I can't stay a senior in high school forever... and I don't want to.  I want to grow and mature and branch out and do great things, not be stuck in a high school student's bedroom for the next seventy years.

No matter how hard it might be to change environments, I know God is on my side.  He will help me and strengthen me.  And I'm deciding now that when the time comes, I will move to a new city with courage and strength... but I'll keep my alphabetized books.