“I’m a terrible driver. I can’t do anything right. Clearly, I’m worthless and nothing is going to go right today.”
Whaaaa . . . what? That was a quick sneak attack from the mean half of my mind, huh? Where did those thoughts come from? Does this ever happen to you? Do you hear things like this in your head too?
I’m not sure if you know this about me but something rather drastic happened in my life a couple months ago – I found out I had an intolerance for gluten. If you follow me on the Twittersphere (LT_Christina) you’ve probably seen me talk about this. Scratch that, you’ve probably seen me complain and bemoan my gluten-less state while everyone else is so happily eating muffins and bagels and brownies.
St. Paul says in Ephesians 4:4, “Live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” The reality is that for a lot of us the calling we have received requires us to have “things” in order to carry out what God wants us to do and be who God has made us to be. It’s different for everyone, because everyone has a different calling.
Can we just have a moment of silence in respect of the creative genius that wrote these lyrics and immortalized my thoughts about purity for endless generations to come? ( ……. ) Thank you. Just put your eyes on this . . .
Do you ever feel like there’s some big secret to becoming a saint and you can’t figure out what it is? What did they do to become so awesome? Was there a book they read? A certain prayer they prayed? Does a diet of bread and fish help?
That’s what I was wondering. (Not so much the bread and fish part.) God has been teaching me that you become a saint by . . .
Modesty is annoying. That’s right, I said it.
And not just little brother level of annoying. It’s like stand-still traffic, spilled hot coffee, only AM radio, and little brother in the back seat level of annoying.
I really, truly, feel this way. Dressing modestly is not easy. You have to search longer when you’re at the mall. You can’t always embrace the new fashions without a little (or a lot) of modification.
Today the song “Payphone” by Maroon 5 came on the radio as I was driving. Of course since then I’ve had it stuck in my head . . . particularly the line, “If ‘happy ever after’ did exist, I would still be holding you like this.”
This line annoys me. If I could say two things to Adam Levine (the lead singer) I would tell him . . .
“I stepped in gum . . . in my bare feet.” “My girlfriend/boyfriend moved to Europe and broke up with me over text.” “I can’t find a summer job; no one wants me.” Maybe you haven’t said one of these things exactly, but I’m sure you know what it feels like to have a bad day. Today my sister Maureen was telling me about her bad day and after I gave her my heartfelt and wise advice she said, “You’re really in the ‘just deal with it’ mode this week, huh?” So Read more [...]
Planned Parenthood is targeting you, and especially you teen girls with the message that they’re the ones you can trust. They say they’re the ones you should go to for answers; they say they’re fighting for you. They’re fighting for your trust and support.
It seems a little unfair honestly. There are all these crazy and dramatic details in the story of Pentecost, and my life is so mundane in contrast. I want the Holy Spirit to work in powerful ways in my life too.
So what’s stopping Him?
Me. I’m stopping Him. I’m scared and I’ll admit it . . .
A couple of weeks ago Beyonce was given the title of “World’s Most Beautiful Woman” from People Magazine. I feel like once you’ve got that award in your back pocket you can either:
No really, congrats Beyonce, you are gorgeous and have cleared up any confusion about how far I have to go to reach the plane you exist on.
Last week I ran in a race and a couple times I was reduced to the “I feel hot and nauseous; I’m so over this” jog that is very slow (if you’ve never experienced it for yourself). And you know who did NOT motivate me? The 70 year old next to me who was speed walking at the same (if not a faster) pace than me. Come on. Really?
It’s in moments like this, and other times when I feel like I’m not good enough, that I ask myself, “Why can’t I be more like that person? They must be so much better than I am.”
Imagine what your life would be like if you couldn’t hear your phone ring, the microwave beep, or the doorbell? What if you couldn’t go to the movie theater or hear birds?
That’s what life was like for Sarah Churman until last fall. She was born deaf and last fall received an implant that allows her to hear. You’ve probably never heard of her before, but you might recognize her if you were one of the 12 million people who saw the viral YouTube video, “29 years old and hearing myself for the first time.”
I begged and cried and begged more . . . “God fix this. You have to. I know you’re in charge but come on, this can’t be what you want . . . right?”
That’s how my prayers typically went when I prayed for Catherine, my friend’s mom, who was diagnosed with cancer in 2009. Catherine’s health fluctuated in the following years and she never left the top of my prayer list.
Her family said it was time to pray for a miracle when Catherine stopped responding to treatment last fall. So I continued to beg God for a miracle. Every time I was miserable about something – the Arizona heat, a hard workout, the flu, or heartache – I offered up my suffering for Catherine.
How do you define a miracle? Is it only Jesus walking on water, raising someone from the dead, or healing people? And then there’s the saints – they did some pretty awesome things that are definitely miracles. Those miracles were such a long time ago though. We don’t see too many today, huh? Or do we . . . ?
You see it all depends on your definition of a miracle. There’s this amazing athlete, Emmy Kaiser; she’s 21 years old and the #1 U.S. woman’s wheelchair tennis athlete. She has Spina Bifida but that didn’t stop her from pursuing her dream of being a professional athlete.
He was laughed at for the things He said. They called Him a liar. They even spit on Him while He was hanging on the cross. What I’ve experienced in my life is that people like to laugh at my beliefs when they don’t conform to what they’re comfortable with. I haven’t been spit on but I’ve been verbally slapped for sure.
Okay, listen. I really like the Hunger Games. I could not put the first book down this summer and so of course at the first minute of Friday the 23rd, at 12:01am, I was sitting in a theater to see the movie. “But it’s about teens killing each other!!!” This is the reaction a lot of adults have. (At least that’s what my parents said.) Yes it is about killing. And it’s terrible. It’s horrific.
See, this movie is not supposed to be about glorifying killing. The two main characters, Katniss and Peeta, are horrified that they have to participate in the Hunger Games and fight to the death, much like Roman gladiators. Though the governing body, the “Capitol”, finds it enjoyable, the majority (except for three districts) of the population is appalled by these games year after year.
But I found some very inspiring themes in this story . . .
The idea of stealing something is totally scary to me. I can’t even imagine the amount of fear that would paralyze me if I ever went to steal something like shoes, cash, or a camera. I would be shaking like a wet puppy in winter. But I would be sweating like it’s Phoenix in July. And I’m also pretty sure that the sick feeling in my stomach, the shame, and the guilt would drive me to return the stolen item the next day. I’m a sensitive person.
So, why am I writing about this commandment?
When this video started I quickly labeled Leila Hurst as “cool” and “popular” and “happy.” I saw a gorgeous, blond, teen surfer who was getting lots of money and fame for doing what she loved. What could be better? As the video went on I saw her close relationship with her sister who has spinal bifida, and how strong the bond of siblings can be if we don’t let our struggles or resentment get in the way. Then I listened more closely to what Leila was saying. This is what I heard: “When Read more [...]
There’s a hole in the side of my parents bathtub and it’s all my fault.
I was 11 years old. We had only lived in our newly built house for 2 years. On this particular evening my siblings and I were getting ready to go to a square dance. Yes, I just said square dance. Leave me alone. It was cool.
