Tuesday, August 6, 2019

The church of my youth.

I remember my mother driving down an unfamiliar street one time. I asked why we were going down the road and my mom said, "Sometimes I like to drive past nice houses and imagine what it would be like to live in them." It sounded sad to me as a kid, kind of depressing actually, but to my mother it wasn't, and I understand her better now that I am an adult. She was daydreaming, and the simple act of daydreaming brought her pleasure. After our little "joy ride", we drove back to our apartment... the one we lived in off and on for most of my grade-school years. 

I loved the apartments, to be honest, but I knew that my dad did not share the same feelings. As the provider of the family, he felt defeated each time we had to move back to the apartment complex. Deciding to move into a house was a choice that was made with the hopes of the better life that both of my parents wanted. Boxes were packed in anticipation. The decision to move back to the apartments, on the other hand, was harder because it was usually made in discouragement, after the reality hit that we couldn't afford the house or duplex we were living in. 

For me, though, the apartments were way more fun than any house ever was. Mostly because there were endless friends in the apartment complex. There were tons of other kids to play with, and a playground for us all to play at. The tire swing on the playground was my favorite. I was never bored! We were outside all day until it was dark, playing and using our imagination. All of my friends were in close proximity, and were connected by a "courtyard".

The kids in those apartments taught me all kinds of things, good and bad. It was far from ideal, from a parent's standpoint, I understand that now. But as a kid, I just loved it. Let's just say that somehow, by the grace of God, I was saved from many things, and all I can think is that when I wasn't praying (and I did pray a lot) my momma was!

At a very young age, I was hanging out with other kids who smoked. I was offered my first cigarette by a slightly older child when I was just 6 or 7 years old. I didn't know what to say at the time and I was relieved when another child spoke up for me, "Don't ask her that! She is too young!" It was dropped and I was never asked again. 

At one point, my brother and I were taught how to go across the street my mom told us not to cross and steal candy. This went great until an older boy ratted us out to our parents and we got in really big trouble. For some kids, getting in trouble meant being grounded for a week. Not us, though. For us, it meant our parents calling a policeman to talk to me and my brother, and all of us walking into the store we stole from to apologize to the workers there.  Let's just say I never did that again.

The kids around me in the apartments didn't all go to church. I knew words to songs I shouldn't have known, and I had crushes on boys twice my age that my dad would not have approved of. 

Through it all, though, the ups and the downs, the constant in my life was church. No matter what living situation we found ourselves in, or where we laid our heads each night, on Sunday mornings we went to the same old familiar building... Lansing First Church of the Nazarene in my younger years and Lansing South Church of the Nazarene up until the time I graduated high school and went on to college. 


I learned that no matter where I was mentally, socially, and physically, the church would always be there.


Church was a mix of every kind of person you could think of. I loved Sunday nights when people would share their testimonies, because it gave me (and all of us) insight into what each person went through. I especially got a feel for just how different everyone was, though, once a month when they would do their "Singspiration" night. The whole "Singspiration" service was dedicated to people coming up and singing or playing their instruments for the congregation. The sweet older couple on their banjos, literally slapping their legs every time they sang was followed by the young flutist just learning to play a new song, and then the beautiful lady who nailed every note perfectly, with the most angelic voice EVER. The whole thing would just make you smile, really.

Walking the halls of the church was as comfortable as walking the halls of our old apartment buildings. The super duper sweet older man with a round body that matched his round face would show up every single Sunday with candy in his pockets to share with the children. You could see how much his grandchildren adored him and every kid wished he was their grandpa. His heart was as big as his smile, and you just couldn't help but love him.

Being involved in the teen group meant that I got to go on great vacations (mission trips) with some of my closest friends too -- something that would have been an impossibility for our family otherwise. Some of my greatest childhood memories were created because of the church. I could sense the love and devotion of those who worked with the youth and it made going to church a joy. The congregation felt like extended family to us. They wanted good things for our family, and they encouraged and inspired us each time we went. Church was always a happy place for me.

When the going got REAL tough, and my parents were bogged down with too many medical bills to count, it was the other adults in the congregation who encouraged them, prayed with them, listened to them, and then offered advice along with bags of groceries. "South Church" was good to us. It wasn't perfect, because people went there and people weren't perfect, but it was good.

Today, I find myself wanting other young people to feel just as welcomed at the church as I was growing up. I want them to walk the familiar halls and sense that they are loved there... that no matter where they come from, and how the world around them changes, a church that loves them will be a constant for them that they can keep coming back to.

What a treasure we offer our children when we bring them to a church once a week for their whole childhood. When they experience, for themselves. the love of other believers in the church, they are learning that the church is a place to go for comfort, direction, encouragement, and community. This piece of knowledge offers an extra sense of stability in their lives, both in the present and in the future. What a blessing. Thank you, mom and dad, for the priceless gift of taking me to church every Sunday and the "breadcrumb trail" that was left because of it. Love you both, and love you, "South Church"!

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Compassionate Souls.

What do you do with sorrow? Sadness? Hurt? Disappointment? 

I found this in Oswald Chamber's book, My Utmost for His Highest, and I thought it was worth sharing...  May you get to a place where you can nourish others after you have come through the fire, for that is the Christian's sweet spot, but it must not be rushed. Allow for God's timing.

". . . what shall I say? 'Father, save Me from this hour'? But for this purpose I came to this hour. 'Father, glorify Your name' " (John 12:27-28).

As a saint of God, my attitude toward sorrow and difficulty should not be to ask that they be prevented, but to ask that God protect me so that I may remain what He created me to be, in spirit of all my fires of sorrow. Our Lord received Himself, accepting His position and realizing His purpose, in the midst of the fire of sorrow. He was saved not from the hour, but out of the hour.

We say that there ought to be no sorrow, but there is sorrow, and we have to accept and receive ourselves in its fires. If we try to evade sorrow, refusing to deal with it, we are foolish. Sorrow is one of the biggest facts in life, and there is no use in saying it should not be. Sin, sorrow, and suffering are, and it is not for us to say that God has made a mistake in allowing them.

Sorrow removes a great deal of a person's shallowness, but it does not always make that person better. Suffering either gives me to myself or it destroys me. You cannot find or receive yourself through success, because you lose your head over pride. And you cannot receive yourself through the monotony of your daily life, because you give in to complaining. The only way to find yourself is in the fires of sorrow. Why it should be this way is immaterial. The fact is that it is true in the Scriptures and in human experience. You can always recognize who has been through the fires of sorrow and received himself, and you know that you can go to him in your moment of trouble and find that he had plenty of time for you. But if a person has not been through the fires of sorrow, he is apt to be contemptuous, having no respect or time for you, only turning you away. If you will receive yourself in the fires of sorrow, God will make you nourishment for other people.

Monday, May 28, 2018

And when you turn back, strengthen your brothers.

Sometimes it takes going through a challenging time to knock off some of the rough edges that we never knew existed in our lives. Peter was one of those people who needed some rough edges knocked off.
Most of us are familiar with the way that Peter failed Jesus by denying him three times prior to the rooster crowing. . . just as Jesus said he would. . . and just like Peter insisted he wouldn't. What many don't catch in the Bible is that Jesus also admitted to Peter that there was a deal made with Satan over Peter's life.

Luke 22:31-32 says,  “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

Satan has asked to "SIFT YOU AS WHEAT". (gulp) wow! Seriously? Satan wanted to tear Peter apart, to break him down, until there was NOTHING left of the poor guy. Jesus tells Peter that he has prayed for him that he would get through the "sifting", and his faith would not fail, and that he would be instrumental in strengthening others with his faith when he comes out stronger after his ordeal.

I'll admit, the first time I read this I found no comfort in it at all. I couldn't get past the "sifting as wheat" comment, and I questioned why any deal should be made with Satan at all. Like, why does he have to get involved? Shouldn't he just leave the good Christians alone?

Something shifted in my mind after I went through a time of "sifting" myself that lasted much longer than I was comfortable with. I saw those verses differently when I tried to process my own personal sifting experience.

After the sifting comes a breakthrough and from that breakthrough comes a movement of others being strengthened. The trials that Satan wanted to put Peter through actually made him stronger, and because he was stronger, he could use that as a teaching tool that would then go on to strengthen others.

This was the hope I could cling to... that the terrible things that were happening that I couldn't make sense out of could somehow be used for God's glory, and therefore, not be all-for-nothing... or more importantly, not leave me weak, vulnerable, and alone, which is what I feared all along.

How about you?
Maybe you have already been through a challenging time that felt like a "sifting". Maybe you are going through that challenging time right now.

If you are in the middle of what feels like you are being sifted as wheat, take heart, and do these things:
  • Hold onto your faith. God may be using this time to refine some things in your life and that is okay. 
  • Continue seeking God. Pray, and read your Bible. Meditate on God's word, digging for nuggets of truth that speak directly to where you are at in your life right now.
  • Stay close with fellow believers who will help keep your accountable in your faith.
  • Make your question, "What are you teaching me here, God?" or  "What are you revealing about yourself to me right now?"
OH! And take notes... you just might be "strengthening your brothers" someday!!!


Friday, February 7, 2014

life.

“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.”
-Mother Teresa

Friday, December 27, 2013

Ten years of marriage.


I met my husband in college. Freshman orientation. He had on a plaid shirt, and he had a full facial hair thing going on. He was in a group of about four guys. The guys I met him with that day would be the same core group of friends (give or take a few) that he would have all the way through college. I, on the other hand, was joyfully friend-hopping. I was swept up in the idea of meeting TONS of new people, and I wanted to meet each one. Our interaction was a very brief and informal meeting: "Hi. What's your name? Oh.  My name is...Oh okay. Well, see you around!" I might not have even remembered that brief interaction, except that I remember thinking that he looked too old to be a freshman, with the great big beard thing going on.

We didn't actually start dating, or even really hanging out, until our junior year of college. 
When we did hang out he was funny. 
And he was fun. 
But he was also serious. And I didn't understand him...

...and he continued to come around, 
and he continued to grow on me.

By the end of junior year I was wondering why we weren't married yet. We got married December 27, 2003... just a few months after we graduated.
Today we are celebrating our ten year anniversary. 


It dawned on my today how much has changed since we met, and got married. Scott has a joke he likes to tell, "Men marry women thinking they will never change. Women marry men thinking they will change....And both of them are disappointed." He waits for the reaction, and then he adds, "We laugh because it's true!"

I have changed a lot. There are many reasons for that, and Scott has embraced the changes and loved me through them all. Scott, on the other hand, he seems to have only become a better version of who he already was. All of the character traits that stood out ten years ago are the same ones that would prove to be refined with time and stand out like gold. When I was first getting to know Scott, I was impressed by his honesty, his confidence, his consistent integrity, and his impressively even-tempered personality. I felt secure with him, because I could trust him. 

 None of those things have changed, but have only increased in value with time.

Unlike Scott's character, things in life will continue to change, and so I thought I might take a few minutes tonight to write a brief  list of a few specific things that I appreciate at this point in our marriage. Scott, this one is for you...

Your witty sense of humor.
The creative way you take care of problems.
The sound of the garage opening and you coming through the door in the late afternoon.
The kids jumping up and down when they hear that daddy is home.
The way you eat my food without complaining. 
The way your hand swoops across my back as I pass you in the kitchen.
The sideways smile you shoot my way after one of the kids does something crazy. 
The subtle way you communicate things that are unique to just you and me.
How you make me laugh so hard that I have to stop you and gasp out, "Wait! I have asthma!"
Going on long trips for no reason just to enjoy nice conversation.
The way you patiently listen...even if it means hearing me say the same thing over and over again.
The way you patiently listen to everyone. 
The soft answer that brings perspective when I am desperately lacking it.
 The gentle way you lead our family.
The firm way you deal with necessary discipline in our home.




The way you lead by example. 
How you drop me off at the door, and then go park, on cold days.  
When you surprise the kids and take us someplace special.
Cuddling.
Laughing. 
The sweet, quiet times of reading to the children and praying with them at the end of the day.
The humble way you work and serve those around you.
The way you make goals, plan, and work hard to achieve your goals. 
Your faithfulness to the things God calls you to.

God knew that it would take a man like you to deal with a woman like me.  I appreciate you Scott Michael Hughes, and I am glad I get to do life with you. It's funny because when I first met you, all I saw was a guy with facial hair. Now all I see is a man who does what he wants. :) Same guy, different perspective. I don't know where I would be without you.

Thank you for being a rock when things get hard, a light when things get foggy, and a safe place to land when everything settles.

I love you.

Happy Anniversary honey!!

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Blessed.

"Sing joyfully to the LORD, you righteous; it is fitting for the upright to praise him." ~Psalm 33:1