Lean Forward and Soar

One of the highlights of 2013 was when I was given the honor to speak at the commencement ceremony of the school where I had taught for ten years, which just so happened to be the same school I had graduated from twenty-six years ago. Anyone who knows me knows how challenging it is for me to be in the spotlight. Add the pressure of a large crowd, beautifully delivered salutatorian and valedictorian speeches, the presence of some of my lifetime mentors in the audience, an emotional pre-speech video, and hose that had no intention of doing what they were created to do; and there should be absolutely no doubt that this moment could be a catastrophe in the making. While I cannot be certain that any of the speech I had written is what I actually communicated that warm May evening, I have been asked if I could post the speech. Since it was meant to be a challenge to new beginnings, I thought New Year’s Eve would be a good time to post it. So, here it is:

I must warn you that I am completely out of my comfort zone. The last time I felt this nervous and sick with fear was 5 or 6 years ago at Camp Calvary when I was talked into attempting the zip line because one of the students was too terrified to do it and needed a team to support and encourage her.

How I agreed to be a part of it, I have no idea, but I do remember grabbing the harness and fearing that it wouldn’t fit, then fearing that it would. Unfortunately, it fit. So I donned this uncomfortable contraption and took my place in line with the others who were beaming with excitement and anticipation. 

I’m not sure if I was convincing or not, but I tried to remain positive, calm and assuring for the sake of the terrified student. Still, inwardly, a battle raged. Each step of our ascension up the steep, steep steps toward the tall, tall platform I meditated on a scripture I have hidden in my heart, “God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” But the voice in my head was screaming, “He didn’t give me a spirit of stupidity either!" 

As we neared the platform, my anxiety was almost unbearable. I remember the voices around me became distant mumbles until they turned to a faint humming. The meditation in my heart and my head was blaring, and the core of my being was in full-blown panic mode. The zip line guy was giving me instructions of what to do and where to go… instructions that I faintly heard much less understood. I blurted out something like, “Are you sure that thread can hold me?” To which he responded with something about three ton jets. While I am confident his intent was to offer assurance. It only worsened my fears as I imagined the headlines the next morning, “Teacher breaks 3 ton line and falls to death as her students watch.” What an embarrassing way to die.

Yet, for the sake of my students, I dared not retreat. As I neared the edge of the platform, the instructor told me to sit down, scoot forward and dangle my feet over the edge of the platform. I honestly thought I was going to pass out. I heard a voice counting, followed by instructions to lean forward. Then somehow from somewhere determination arose from the inner most part of my being… maybe it was the fear of ridicule or a sudden burst of faith, whatever it was, I was determined that I would not be the last one off that platform. So “lean forward.” I did, and that’s when I experienced the thrill of soaring. Then I dangled in that uncomfortable harness with two of my fellow forward leaners as we waited for the terrified student to decide whether she would lean forward or retreat.

Which brings me here today to another platform with my feet feeling as if they were dangling, and the core of my being is once again in full-blown panic mode, but I won’t retreat because of you, the graduating class of 2013, sitting there who are probably filled with fear and excitement all at the same time. You’ve girded yourself with your harness and climbed the steps of the tower. With each step you added to your education, your experiences, your life lessons. You’ve learned your ABCs and the scriptures that go along with them, “A – All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. B – Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and that shalt be saved….” You’ve learned how to read, how to write, how to multiply, how to divide, how to reason, how to prove, and hopefully, how NOT to behave during a fire drill.

Every step toward this platform, you were empowered by parents, ministers, teachers and others who were there to assist you as you ascended. They have taught you, encouraged you, corrected you, inspired you… and most of all, they’ve loved you. 

Long after you forget how bright the planet Venus is or what Evangelista Torecelli contributed to science; when you no longer remember the formula for the area of a trapezoid, the symbols for the periodic table of elements, who wrote “The Cop and the Anthem,” the date that Columbus sailed the ocean blue, or how to sing the quadratic formula to the tune of Pop Goes the Weasel; and even if you forget the names of those who taught you those things, I hope you never forget the example they set for you.

Don’t forget the heart of a servant you saw in Brother Dale.
….the uncompromised integrity in Pastor and Mrs. Parker.… the kindness and gentleness in the Skinners and Mrs. Stark.…the high standards of Mrs. Garcia and Mrs. Dodson.Don’t forget the tenacity and the mercy of Mr. Stark and Mr. Stone.… the enthusiasm and joy in Mrs. Von Quintus and Ms. Herridge.Don’t forget the encouragement of Mrs. Weaver.…the wisdom of Mrs. McMinn.…the faithfulness of Mrs. Cano and Mr. and Mrs. Boyd.…the compassion of Mrs. Reynolds and Ms. Tucker.… the commitment of Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Stanton… the generosity of parents and grandparents who volunteered their time for sports and school activities.And never forget the patience and the incredible heart of Mrs. Burchett.

Because the greatest lesson you learned at Calvary Baptist School isn’t written in a text book; the greatest lesson, the lesson that sets Calvary Baptist students apart from every other student in every other school is written on the heart of the Administration, the staff and the families at Calvary Baptist School. It’s love -- authentic love.

So, when I sat down to work on my last charge to you, I asked the Lord, what can I say that hasn’t been said over the course of the last thirteen or fourteen years? And I was reminded of a book I started reading about a year ago that challenged me to create a personal mission statement. The book gave several samples and suggestions, but I wanted mine to be completely original, something that was uniquely me… so I put the book down and over the course of the year, I have considered my mission and reconsidered it, written it and rewritten it. Nothing I could come up with seemed to capture the essence of who I want to be. But a few weeks back, as I was helping a young client make some decisions about her life, three short phrases were dropped into my heart, and I knew this was what I was created to do….. Love God. Love People. Live Passionately.

That’s it. Nothing creative about it. It’s simple really – not at all original or uniquely me. Because that’s what we were all created to do.

Class of 2013, my last charge to you is simple:

Love God.
To love Him, you have to know Him. Spend time getting to know Him. Pursue Him. Foremost. First. Seek Him in everything you do. Let nothing and no one distract you from your pursuit of your first Love. If you live your entire life and never know God in an intimate way, you will find nothing but emptiness and loneliness. Loving Him is what life is all about… this life, and eternal life. Love God. He desires a relationship with YOU!  Nothing is more important than your relationship with Him. Love God.

Love People.
Loving people is just an extension of loving God. Because if you love Him, really love him, you can’t help but love those who He loves, and believe it or not, He loves ALL of us. So love those who are lovable and love those who are unlovable. Matthew 5:46 says, “If you love them that love you, what reward have you? Do not the publicans do the same?” Even the world does that! So, love those that challenge you, frustrate you, discourage you, and even push you away. Remember: it is the imperfect people in our lives that He uses to perfect us in Him. I am finding that in loving the unlovable, God reveals His greatest beauty. So love people. Love them like He does when they love you back and when they don’t. Just love them.

Live Passionately.
Again, this is just an extension of loving God and loving people. If you truly love God and love people, you can’t live without passion. God places a dream in the heart of each of us, then He equips us with the potential to fulfill that dream. Those who live passionately are the forward leaners who live up to their potential and fulfill their dream.

Passion will make you lean forward and not retreat. People who live passionately don’t sit around and wait for the dream to happen. They don’t retreat when circumstances get scary or uncomfortable. People with passion climb the platform, let their feet dangle over the edge, then lean forward and soar. Those without passion may climb the tower, they may even make it all the way up the platform, but when things get the most uncomfortable, they refuse to scoot forward and let their feet dangle… those without passion will never know the thrill of soaring.

Consider the children of Israel who were living in bondage in Egypt. God placed a dream of the Promised Land in their heart. They began to climb the steps toward the platform. As they left Egypt the dream, the passion for the dream, drove them. Each step of the way, God prepared them by meeting their needs and building their faith. He equipped each one of them with the potential to fulfill that dream, yet when they got to the platform and Moses sent twelve spies to scout out the Promised Land. Ten spies retreated; they moved away from the edge, and an entire generation of a nation retreated. They spent 40 years on the platform and died there, never acquiring the dream, never fulfilling their potential or God’s plan and purpose for their life. They missed their destiny. But there were two spies who chose to live passionately and trust God with the Dream… Joshua and Caleb leaned forward. And because they did, they attained the Promise… lived the Dream… fulfilled their purpose. They experienced the thrill of soaring. They lived passionately.

I’d like to conclude my last lesson to the class of 2013 in the same way I began my first lesson to you back in elementary school, when I visited your classroom for Young Authors Club.

The first step was to create a character; that step has been done for you. The Creator of all creativity has done that part for you. The character is you. Don’t lose sight of who you are, who you were created to be. The second step was to give your character a desire and obstacles to overcome on his way to achieving his dream.

Graduates of 2013, God has placed a dream in your heart, and He has equipped you with the potential to fulfill that dream. The empty pages are in your hands…now fill them with days of loving God, loving people, and living passionately.

Just lean forward and soar.

Book Review 1: The Women of Christmas (. . . and Anna)

A few days ago, I took the Jon Acuff Empty Shelf Challenge. I made a commitment to not only read more books in the next 365 days, but to finish some books that I've started then put down because I found them too challenging to deal with or too difficult to focus on at the time. Since I had just started the The Women of Christmas by Liz Curtis Higgs, I decided that it would be the first book I would complete and place on the empty shelf.

I have never read any of Liz Curtis Higgs other books and probably wouldn't have picked up this book had I not seen her in an online Christmas video with Ann Voskamp (author of 1000 Gifts). As Ann read an exerpt from Liz's book about the young Mary, it gripped my heart, I knew this was a book I would have to read. So, when I was walking through Mardel a few days later Christmas shopping for others, and I spotted the book just under a "special price" sign, I was adament. I picked up the copy of The Women of Christmas and told my husband that I just had to have it. Not only did I purchase it, but I also wrapped it for myself. Since we opened our Christmas presents on the 21st, I was confident I would make the time to read it before Christmas Day. I started reading it the evening of the 23rd and finished it on Christmas Eve.

The book shares the stories of Elizabeth, Mary, and Anna. While Liz does a beautiful job describing Elizabeth's role and Mary's role in the Christmas story, it was actually the story of Anna that compelled me to continue reading the text with vigor. I mean, I have heard the story of Elizabeth and Mary so often; I know where they fit into the greatest Story ever told, but who is this Anna? And what is her role? Her story, Liz's allurement to Anna's story, is riveting. Anna, a woman who is mentioned for only a few short passages in the Word of God, yet her story is so incredibly inspiring.

If you didn't receive The Women of Christmas as a gift this Christmas season, add it to your wishlist for 2014. Or better yet, just go buy yourself an after Christmas gift. Remember, you don't have to wait until the Christmas season to celebrate the greatest Story every told. We are supposed to be celebrating His Story every day of the year! Liz shares the stories of Elizabeth and Mary with a fresh, new perspective; but perhaps, for you too, it will be the story of Anna that inspires you to be a better you in 2014! Let yourself be captivated by the Story!

He Came!

"He came! He came! He came!"

Oh how many Christmas mornings I remember that excitement, surprises under the tree and all around the living room. Dressed in our Christmas gowns and pajamas, Mom and Dad snapped pictures and no doubt sat back and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Christmas morning had arrived, and they'd pulled it together once again. I can't remember one Christmas morning when Santa disappointed the Stone children, not even that Christmas when I was too sick to play with my new toys.

Awake before the crack of dawn and what a thrill it was to discover he had come, just as we expected he would. The milk and the cookies we left for him, anticipating his arrival, were gone. Our stockings were full to overflowing, and with a house full of children, our living room looked something like a toy store.

As wonderful as those unforgettable Christmas mornings are, my mind today is transfixed on someone else who came. Unlike Santa, there weren't any cookies and milk, no adorned tree nor sweet little note to welcome His arrival. The news wasn't reporting UFOs and other signs of His coming, and there wasn't even an elf on the shelf to greet him with a cheesy smile. Instead, at every house and inn, He was turned away and rejected.

But He came. He came anyway. He made his entrance into a world that was too caught up in their own agendas, with lives so busy with day-to-day distractions that they weren't even aware the Promise had arrived. There, in a stable, with witnesses of cattle and sheep, He came. The Word became Flesh. The Promise, the Prince of Peace, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Beautiful One came.

I have to wonder if I had been there that day or even the eight days later when He was taken to the temple amongst a crowd of people, would I have been so wrapped up in the details of my life that petty distractions would blind me from recognizing that the King had come? Or would I be like Simeon or Anna who were excitedly anticipating, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Messiah?

How I have been captivated by the Story this season. Distractions have worked desperately to steal my focus and win my attention. It feels like I've been hit from every angle and knocked on every side, but the Story has captivated my heart. There is no greater story, nothing that compares to the Gift of Jesus, a child who was born to become my sin, born to die a humiliating death so that I might have freedom and eternal life.

He came! He came! He came!

And He's coming again! He's coming again! He's coming again!

Oh that my heart and your heart will be excitedly anticipating and eagerly awaiting His return!

Peace Has Come! Are you too busy to notice?

I don’t know about you, but there have been more than a few times in the last few days when I have felt this sense of intense panic. Time slipped away, and there were way too many things still undone and just too little time left to accomplish what needed to be accomplished. And then there was that unplanned, unbelievable situation that caught me off guard, caused deep grief and tremendous heartache, and for a while, I completely lost focus. In more than one stressful moment, I heard the ugliness of sarcasm slip across my lips and spill its poison to the man who loves me most.

I failed again.

I got so wrapped up in making the moments special and trying to make things happen as planned that I almost let myself get sucked into the chasm of overwhelmingly meaningless hoopla. So I stole away for a few minutes of peacefulness, a place where I could refocus and redirect. I simply took the time to breathe, and He met me there, in the upper room of my mother’s home, when twenty-four guests were downstairs talking, laughing, sharing, and even singing. But for that moment, in that upper room, all was still; all was quiet. He offered peace, perfect peace. The Prince of Peace met me there in the middle of my mess.

I imagine Bethlehem, in the midst of tax season, was a mess, a terrible mess. The town was crowded, maybe like the stores and the malls in these last few days before Christmas. The people were short-tempered. Many of them had traveled great distances, and the inns were all completely full. Just think for a moment what it must have been like. Dusty. Dirty. Loud. Busy. Chaotic.

But there, in the middle of the madness, in the middle of the mess, the Prince of Peace made His debut. Among the tremendous crowds of people, a town overflowing with residents and travelers alike, He was there among them, and they didn’t even know. Think about it; a host of heavenly angels proclaimed the news to shepherds in a field NEARBY, and no one in the town even noticed. They were so busy with their own agendas, they weren’t aware that Peace had come.

Are you overwhelmed, distracted by your own agenda: the shopping, the baking, the preparing, the planning? Peace has come, and He’s waiting for you. Steal away for a few moments to refocus and redirect. In the middle of your madness, He will meet you there too.

The Center: His Rightful Spot

My mother and I collect manger scenes. (For those of you who wish you collected something, but don't like to dust, consider that manger scenes only gather dust for a few weeks every year.) We've been adding to the collection for years, and each year as we unwrap each delicate character, I get so excited to see which one is underneath the bubble wrap, tissue, or styrofoam, as if I am seeing their faces for the very first time.

As much as I love each manger scene, I have to admit that my very favorite one is the single nativity my mother had when I was a child. It was a gift from my dear aunt Melba, and it is blue. The faces of the individual characters aren't painted with exquisite detail, they are simply glazed in light blue. The donkey is missing his ears, and I'm almost confident that the angels wings have had to be glued more than a few times; but every year, my mother would lay out a cushion of beautiful white angel hair and carefully place the glazed blue characters on top, encircling the sweet baby Jesus. I don't remember the details of how she decorated the front door or what her centerpiece was on the dining room table, but I remember the details of that manger scene, the little sheep, the cow, the camels, the earless donkey, the shepherds, the wise men, the beautiful angel, Mary, Joseph, and the sweet baby Jesus. I even remember exactly what the donkey looked like before he lost his ears.

I don't recall Mom ever telling the Story as she placed each character in their "rightful" spot, but I actively watched as she placed each one, and I felt, for the moment, as if I were there in the stable watching the Story take place. It was, by far, my very favorite part of Christmas. I even enjoyed watching her put it away after the season was done, anticipating the unwrapping of the characters next year.

The last few years, the blue nativity has not been displayed. Due to small children and a very hard floor, we have opted to display only the hardiest of scenes. Yesterday, I helped Mom place some of the nativities in the safest places we could find, and as I was placing each character in their "rightful" place, I remembered all those Christmases watching Mom place her delicate blue characters. So I stopped what I was doing and handed a set of safe, chunky wooden characters to Mom, and I sat and watched as she arranged them in the center of her coffee table, placing each one in their "rightful" spot, encircling the sweet baby Jesus. For that moment, even though she wasn't telling the Story, I felt as if I were a part of the Story.

I guess you could say that I was captivated.

If you haven't already done so today, I invite you to set aside your own agenda for just a few moments to let yourself be captivated by the Story.

You will be so happy that you did.

Not a Spectator Story

I sat in the restaurant last night and watched people stare down the waitress because they were tired of waiting for their food. I listened as the customers complained, grumbled, and griped at the restaurant personnel, and I found myself wanting to stand up and shout at each of them, "It's the season to be JOLLY, people!" Instead, I just looked at those grouchy people with the sternest "teacher look" I could muster, and I discussed their behavior with my husband who said, "I certainly hope I don't turn into a grouchy old man when I get old." (Go ahead, call us judgmental; we can handle it.)

On the way home, I kept thinking about how those people had behaved and wondered why it bothered me so much. I mean, let me be painfully honest here, I can be just as impatient as anyone else. So it is a bit hypocritical, yes, even judgmental of me, when I see impatience in others, and I find it to be so stinking ugly. Revelation time -- thanks, Holy Spirit -- so that's what I look like when I don't walk in the fruit of the spirit. Ugly. Terribly, disgustingly, horribly ugly.

When I sat down to journal today, I thought I would be journaling about the Story since that's obviously what God has laid on my heart this week, so I asked Him what on earth does the fruit of the spirit have to do with the Story. I'm not sure I got a clear, definitive answer, but I do know this: everywhere I look this season, I see the words peace, joy, and love. We sing songs and quote phrases like Joy to the World and Peace on Earth. We call it the happiest (or jolliest) time of the year. Could it be that maybe, just maybe, the fruit of the spirit is all about the Story and maybe the Story is all about the fruit of the spirit too? After all, the essence of the Story is Love fulfilled which is when true Beauty re-entered the earth.

I think I get it. The Story isn't a spectator story, not apart from us, but a part of us. We carry the Story in us and with us. The Story isn't a season; it's eternal.

The Story is the glimpse of Beauty that others see when we walk in the fruit of the spirit. And when we don't walk in the fruit of the spirit, it isn't the Story that other people see, and it isn't Beauty either.

So, when I get impatient because the people in the Walmart line are asking the cashier a million and one questions about candy and gum, and I just want them to move so I can go home, I'm not sharing the Story. When I'm walking around the department store with a furrowed brow and blank stare, I'm not living the Story. When I'm fretting about what I'm going to buy for whom and what I'm going to buy it with, I'm not a part of the Story. And when I'm griping and grumbling because the decorations are still not up and those cards I had committed to mail this year are still just in the idea phase, I'm not captivated by the Story.

My prayer today is that I put away the ugly and let myself be captivated by the Story, and that through me, others will see a glimpse of true Beauty, so that I might share with them the Story, the Ultimate Love Story.

Who Do You Say That He Is?

Did you remember this morning to take a few moments from your day to let yourself be captivated by the greatest Story ever told?

Long before the Story began, there was a promise of the Story.

Isaiah said we would call the Promise things like Wonderful, Counselor, Everlasting Father, Mighty God, Prince of Peace. The angel Gabriel told Mary that He would be called Jesus, the Son of the Highest.
 
I trust that most of you reading this have called Him Savior and Lord. And for me, He's been all of these things and so much more.

The Promise fulfilled has been my Peace in the middle of my most chaotic messes. He has been my Comfort when my world was turned upside down. He has been my Strength when I didn't think I could carry on. He has been my Best Friend when I was at my loneliest, most miserable point. He has been my Healer when my body and my spirit desperately needed healing. He has been my Provider when my bank account, my gas tank, my refrigerator, and my wallet were completely empty. He's been my Way-Maker when circumstances and situations made the way an impossible feat. Oh, He has been the Wonderful One. He has been the Great One. He has been the Beautiful One, the Awesome One...

I challenge you this morning to think about the Promise of the Story and how that Promise has been fulfilled in your life. Let yourself be captivated.

Who do you say that He is?

Happy Birthday, Chelsi!

I will never forget that warm summer evening when we sprawled out in the back of the truck watching the thunder storms roll in and then kidnapped MeMaw and made her ride along to the end of the street so we could have a better view. As the lightning lit up the sky, you said, "This is better than the Fourth of July!" Later, when the warning sirens started alarming us that a tornado was approaching, we made a fiasco of the situation screaming, "We're gonna die! We're gonna die!" And PawPaw got all flustered with us, as we got on the floor and hunkered down, laughing like we'd lost our minds. I will never forget the alien hunt, our mail order business, the evening we sat in the blue bonnets with Stephanie, the day we played Charlie's Angels with Courtney, or the countless other times when our imaginations and spontaneous spirits have led us to adventure.

It is no wonder why every year when I get to this day, I can't help but get a little emotional because I am so thankful for the wonderful gift of you... And each year I grow more and more thankful. You have enriched and continue to enrich my life in so many ways, and I love you more than words can even attempt to express. Today, I spent a little extra time thanking the Lord for the gift of you and for your amazing parents who did such an awesome job with you and your handsome brothers. I am eager to see what God has in store for year 25, and I am confident that it is going to be full of new adventures and exciting surprises. Enjoy your special day celebrating the precious, valuable, and unique gift of you. Even though you are miles away, I'm going to do a little celebrating myself. Happy birthday, Chelsi Kendrick! You truly are my sunshine; thanks for teaching me to look for the beauty in the storm and find the laughter in the chaos.

Captivated by The Storyteller and The Story

People tell me that when I get really excited about something, I am a really animated storyteller. I don't know how true that is, but yesterday as we were walking into Walmart there was a young girl standing in front of a display of "Frozen" toys, and she was enthusiastically telling her mother all about the movie that she had seen. David and I walked slowly and lingered closely just so we could hear this excited storyteller rattle out the details of what must be the best movie ever. The last thing she said was, "and it was just so amazing!" As we walked away, David said, "Well, now we don't have to see the movie." But I was thinking, "Now, I wouldn't miss seeing it for the world!"

Later, as I replayed this episode of my day, I thought about how this little girl's mother was distracted and wasn't listening to her daughter nearly as intently as David and I were, and decided that it must be because she gets to hear her daughter's animated storytelling so often that she has learned to tune it out. She's become so familiar with the excitement and enthusiasm that she is no longer captivated by it.

As Christians, sometimes, I think we are too much like that mother. We've heard the story. We've read the book. We've seen the miracles. We've become so familiar with the Story and the Storyteller that we've learned to push the ignore button and carry on with our lives, taking care of our personal agendas. Oh sure, like this mother loves her daughter, we love our Storyteller, we just brush aside the excitement and enthusiasm and no longer let that passion ignite the spark that is in our hearts, waiting there to be ignited so that it can consume us again.

I don't know about you, but I'm weary of being complacent and nonchalant about the greatest Story ever told! What better time of the year than NOW, to stop the hustle and bustle of the season to sit and listen to the Story and let ourselves be ignited with the passion of the Story and the Storyteller?! I awakened early this morning, thinking about the final words of that passionate, animated little girl, "and it was just so amazing!" And I thought... He is and His story is just so amazing! Isn't it time we remember how truly amazing the Story really is?!