Because sometimes when life sucks...

Sometimes...life just sucks. Am I right?

Homework never ends, and teachers don't seem to care.

Friends are awesome, but we all have days where we feel incredibly lonely. And, let's face it--that's not a good feeling.

You try to be a good person, but for some reason certain people just really get on your nerves. And the conversations always end up with you feeling angry. It just happens.

Then, there are the things you think about but don't actually admit out loud:

... The way you feel when you see pictures of yourself, you feel ugly or fat.

... How you can hear your parents fighting every night after you go to bed.

... That moment you felt like puking because you were mocked in front of friends.

... How you have a ton of questions about God, but you know actually asking them would make you feel like "bad Christian."

... How you cried yourself to sleep to a few nights ago because you miss your grandmother since she passed away from cancer.

Like I said, life sucks.

And here is where the usual advice would be "God understands. Talk to Him. He will comfort you!" But I get it--you may not feel like He actually cares. To a lot of people, God is some big  guy in the sky that doesn't care that you're upset about what you're ex-best said about you. And it will take a long time before you feel comfortable even talking to Him.

I pray that you will be able to reach that point. And I pray that you do understand that He does love you and He does care.

But until that moment, when life sucks, don't be afraid to reach out to someone now. Reaching out doesn't mean that you are weak, or that you have to find someone to "fix" you. Nah... reaching out just means finding that one person you trust to just listen, and give you a hug.

Because sometimes when life sucks, you don't want advice. You just want a hug.

Parable of the Kingdom

I came across this sermon and absolutely loved it. And since we were talking about parables last weekend, it was incredibly relevant. I challenge you to listen to the entire thing! Click here to watch the video.

Buzz Word: The Last Supper

I'm sure "The Last Supper" is no new word to many of you. It's an incredibly important story. But do we really understand the weight it holds? I will admit that I did not. Watch this video. He explains the Last Supper in a way that makes our comprehension of the story imperative to our life with Christ today. 

When You Need a Song to Refresh You...

Reasons I Love This Video:

1. It's a room full of people, but everyone is personally worshipping and communicating with God. It's amazing how God can be communicating with each of them at once!
2. They are singing as a group. Having a worship leader is great, but it's so refreshing to see them singing and worship as a community.
3. Hands! All the hands! There's no shame in raising their hands to worship. It's hard to be that confident during worship sometimes.

Working Hard, or Hardly Working?

Up until I was about 20-years-old, I thought that hard work was the expectation. And I did everything I could to meet it. I worked. I volunteered. I prayed--or at least, closed my eyes and made it looked like I was praying. I memorized dozens of Bible verses and could spit out the books of the New Testament in one breath.

And then I met these people. Now, I call them my closest friends. But back then, they were weird to me. They didn't try hard to be Christian, they just relaxed and enjoyed the fact that they were loved by Christ. They didn't grumble when the alarm went off on Sunday mornings. They literally jumped for joy at the chance to sing their favorite song and worship God. They prayed--out loud. For a introvert like me, it was terrifying to pray out loud. What if someone, who wasn't Christian, heard me? More importantly, why pray out loud when I didn't even feel as if God heard me.

It pains me to look back and realize that I literally thought God couldn't hear me. I grew up in a Christian environment where my walk with Christ was based on what I did. And it was exhausting. I worked so hard to meet people's expectations, that my relationship with Jesus never actually was a thing.

I couldn't rest in Christ's love, because I was too busy working hard to earn his love. I couldn't enjoy going to church because I had no reason to go to church other than making an appearance to the people around me. I cared more about what came out of my mouth during a prayer, than what a prayer really should be about: what comes from inside of you. I was too busy to realize that I didn't need to scream to some distant sky to make God hear me. God is already in me, through the Holy Spirit, and that I can communicate with Him right inside of me.

There is a real sense of calm and love when you pray--like, really pray--to God about your life. There have been times where I have felt I have literally no one to talk to about the struggles I feel. But I have caught myself thinking, "At least I can talk to God about it."

There is a real sense of acceptance when you don't feel like you have to work for God's love anymore. There is no stress, no feeling of guilt.

That being said: We are here on this Earth to do God's work. I'm sure you have heard that before. We are called to work for God, but we don't have to work for God's love? Sounds a little confusing, right?

Challenge: 
Search the Bible for verses about "doing good works" or "good deeds."

Think about this:
So where is the balance? If you don't have to work hard to become a Christian, why do Christians keep working hard even after they are saved?

Have You Ever Been Frustrated with God?

Have you ever been  extremely frustrated with God? I'll admit it: I am.

I don't think I could pinpoint another period in my life where I have ever been as frustrated with Him as I am right now. It's not one of my proudest confessions.

Let me clue you in.

Right now, I feel like God put a singular door in front of me and told me to open it. Admittedly, it was a tough door for me to open because it came with a lot of risk. But I listened.

So I open the door and, lo and behold, I find a long hallway of doors on the other side. Awesome right?! So many doors. So many options. So many possibilities. In my mind, my life was about to take off.

Not so much. Let's fast forward a little bit.

Right now, I feel as if I have made it to the end of that hallway without making any step toward progress. I feel as if I opened every single one of those doors in that seemingly opportunistic hallway, only have them slammed in my face just moments later.

So, where do I go when I am at the end of the hallway that God asked me to walk into the in the first place? Why was I sent down a hallway of pathless doors? What is the purpose of getting my hopes up?

I ask Him these questions every day and I continue to tell myself there is an underlying purpose because He does, in fact, know what He is doing.

Disregard my cliche Christian girl quote here, but the man Francis Chan said it best: “Can you worship a God who isn't obligated to explain His actions to you? Could it be your arrogance that makes you think God owes you an explanation?”

True that Mr. Chan. And I completely agree. God owes me nothing. My struggle here is not that fact that I can't understand God because, well, that's inevitable. And regardless of how frustrated I am, I don't underestimate His ability to take care of me or put me on the path He needs.

Here is my struggle: I just sincerely wish my heart wasn't so bitter while trying to be patient for that slam-less door.

Here's another Chan quote for you: “When I am consumed by my problems-stressed out about my life, my family, and my job-I actually convey the belief that I think the circumstances are more important than God's command to always rejoice.”

Is that where I have fallen? That I am so consumed by my circumstances that I have harbored such bitterness in my heart that I am completely blind to any joy that God is trying to give me? Have I reached that level?

I was talking to one of my best friends on the phone a few weeks ago. It was late and I was walking back from sitting on the beach. Now, don't find me weird, but the beach is where I feel closest to God. For some reason, sitting on the beach at night near the ocean makes me feel small--in a good way--and I am able to really just sit, think and connect. But this particular time, I felt oddly disconnected and I called my friend in a mild panic, saying, "I can't hear Him. I always have the best quiet time at the beach but now I can't even hear him there. What do I do?"

Her response, as always, was straight forward and honest.

"Then you keep trying. He may not want to you to hear Him right now, but gosh darnit, you keep trying. You don't stop."

She's right, you know. Sometimes God wants you to hear Him and sometimes I think He intentionally remains silent.

I think that is where I am at. God is giving me the silent treatment right now. He's trying to teach me something. I've reached a point where I am so engulfed in the circumstances of my life that I have let them control my joy, not Him. I have put my trust in them, not Him. So here I stand, upset and frustrated.

I may be frustrated but I guess the best lessons to be learned will never be the easiest to grasp.

God had his moment of "conversation" with me when He told me to open that first door. But now, in this idiotic hallway of slamming doors, He is silent. Waiting. Watching. It's almost as if He is giving me the opportunity to completely trust Him and seeing if I will actually walk the walk.

Hello, I'm Insecure.

No matter how much I try to argue myself out of it, there will always be things about myself that I don’t like. I will always have insecurities, and they will always be an uphill battle of pep-talks, sideways comments, and blushing cheeks.

But, even though these insecurities will never disappear, here is my attempt to convince myself that it is, in fact, going to be okay.

My birthmark has been with me, obviously, since birth. It’s rather large and obnoxious, rivaling the size of Texas or a small horse (in my opinion at least). I honestly didn’t even think twice about it’s existence until about the end of elementary school or beginning of middle school. That was when other kids my age started pointing it out, and they assumed it was a burn, or poison ivy, or some mega-contagious rash. And it was always a bother to have to explain that it was just my skin: normal, non-contagious, non-fungal, and non-painful. Just skin, that happens to be red in some areas on my wrist, hand, and fingers.

In all honestly, I don’t know why this birthmark is such an insecurity for me. I have yet to meet a single person who was disgusted by it, or changed their interactions with me based on it. Everyone understands. Everyone else likes my birthmark. Except me, and I don’t know why.

Then there is this beauty. My infamous scar from my broken-arm surgery, and it happens to be on the same arm as my birthmark. In short, my whole left arm is just kind of pathetic looking. I would love to go one day without a complete stranger pointing out my “one heck of a scar!” Or looking shockingly at my arm only to exclaim in the loudest voice possible, “That musta hurt!” I always feel like responding in some sarcastic way–“No, duh sir. It hurt a whole heck of a lot.” But, I refrain. Mainly because I know 99% of the people that point it out don’t intend to be mean, they are just curious and empathetic.

This scar is so new. It’s only a year or two old, but the sense of insecurity it gives me feels like it has lasted a lifetime. In my mind, it is extremely large, annoyingly bumpy, and stubborn. It just won’t disappear or fade.

Big insecurity number three: my glasses. I can sum up my feelings about having to wear glasses in one word: abhor.

This is more of a mental insecurity, than it is a physical one. For the most part, I actually like the way my glasses look on my face. Nah, this insecurity is more than just the way I look; it is the way I feel.

It all started when I was around six years old. That was when I was told I needed glasses. My first pair were extremely large and round (just imagine a typical 90s pair of glasses). And, not only did I need glasses, but I needed to wear an eye patch too. The doctors thought that if I covered up my good eye with an eye patch, it would force my bad eye to work harder, and in turn, make it stronger to improve the sight. So, for months on end, I was the girl at day care walking around with this eye patch. I remember it clearly. My mom even let me color on it with markers to make myself feel better about wearing it. I hated standing out like that. And the smell of those sticky eye patches wasn’t too enjoyable either.

Then we get to the magnification dilemma. The prescription in one eye is so much stronger than the other eye, that without special lenses, my eyes look like completely too different sizes when I put my glasses on. Seriously, I could walk into a fun house and the funky mirrors would probably make it look more normal. I didn’t notice it for awhile, but once I did, everyone else did too. Around middle school too, that was fun.

So we have eye patches, and then we had different sized eyes.

Next we have my complete dependence on them. I remember in middle school, I was supposed to give this speech at an induction for our honor society. At the time, I didn’t have contacts. But, I didn’t want to wear my glasses because we were supposed to “dress up.” And I simply didn’t feel pretty with glasses on, so I didn’t wear them. Not a good idea–the moment I stepped up to the podium to read my section of the speech, the entire page went blurry and my eyes went out of focus from the bright stage lights. I stood there, wide-mouthed, speechless, and embarrassed, as the entire assembly just stared at me. I ran off stage and had to put my speech on hold for a few minutes while I looked for my glasses. So, not only did I have an embarrassing moment, I had to return to stage feeling much less “pretty” with my glasses on.

My most recent issue with these glasses is my sense of identity. Okay, okay, I hope I’m not losing you here, but just stay with me. When I think about myself and what I look like, I do not picture myself with glasses on. I feel better without them off. I feel more like myself without glasses on my face. Yet, as I got older, people started identifying me as the girl with glasses. Innocent pictures drawn of me included glasses. People always throw comments at me like “Oh, I’m so used to you with glasses on” or “You look different! Oh, it’s because you aren’t wearing glasses.” Oy vey; I absolutely despise comments like that simply because I don’t identify myself as a person with glasses. So, when other people do, I easily get self-conscious.

So, if you see what I mean, I am not as much physically insecure with my glasses. I am insecure with my dependence on them, and their constant ability to make me stand out.

My last, and less literally pictured, insecurity are my two-left feet. Obviously, I don’t mean literally. But, my clumsiness, while most of the time is funny, is really embarrassing.

I don’t know why, but I just can’t seem to get it under control. I am little sick of being the girl that is always falling, tripping, spilling, breaking, or bumping things. A majority, if not all, of the embarrassing moments in my life are due to the fact that I cannot control my own body.

Yes, these are my four biggest insecurities.

Yes, these will always be present in my life.

No amount of “It will be okay” or “You are still beautiful” sort of comments will change it.

But, I post this as a medicine to myself. To tell myself that it’s okay to have insecurities. I’m allowed to feel self-conscious sometimes.

The difference lies in the response to these insecurities. I could either wallow in self pity, which I had the habit of doing. Or, just embrace them

My biggest remedy just comes with talking to God, and saying “Hey God, this is how I feel. But, I know you made me this way, so, all in all, I’m okay with it.”

Feelings can only go so far. Decisions–to embrace, love, and accept your insecurities–go farther.

So, here it is folks: Hi, my name is Taylor and I am insecure. And I’m okay with that.