Member Blogs

On my blog, Life Blessons, I have been running a series called Secrets of a Newlywed, where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have made my marriage the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband.

They say that opposites attract.

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On my blog, Life Blessons, I have been running a series of posts called Secrets of a Newlywed, where I share some of the lessons, insights and understandings that have strengthened my marriage and made it the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband.

“He’s not Brad Pitt.” It was a premarital seminar that my husband (then, only fiancé) and I were taking, and the woman was standing at the front of a large conference room, and telling us that, in fact, we were not marrying Brad Pitt.

Thankyouverymuch. I think I’ll take my money back now, right?

“He’s not Brad Pitt,” she repeated. “He doesn’t have a script.”

In the movies, Brad Pitt knows exactly what to say and what to do simply because it’s written into the script. He knows when to buy his leading lady flowers or when to take her dancing under the stars or when to just remain silent only because he’s memorized his lines.

Our husbands, on the other hand, do not have a script to read from to know exactly what to do that will sweep us off our feet or exactly what to say that will melt our hearts into the carpet below. Instead, they fumble along, trying to guess about what will work.

All they can do is guess…unless we decide to give them the script.

This was the point that the woman at the seminar was trying to hammer into our heads: Our husbands cannot read our minds to know what we want them to do or say, unless we tell them. That is how they get their scripts and start playing the role of Mr. Charming that we’ve cast them in.

It’s a truth that is so simple we might be prone to scoff at it. But in the earliest days of marriage, I caught myself expecting my husband to do or say something (or, alternatively, not do or not say something). And I had to consciously tell myself, “Give him the script.”

This was especially difficult for me, who desires to steer clear from conflict of any sort—even the healthy kind. But when the kitchen turned into a frenzy and I was having to jump between one pot boiling, checking on the potatoes in the oven, and defrosting some bread for dinner, I was feeling overwhelmed as it was. Then my husband came in, sat down at the table, and wanted to crack jokes with me.

There are times when making dinner just makes you harried. And that is when my sense of humor flies out the window. It’s in these moments, when I can feel frustration start to seize up inside myself, that I have to tell my husband what I need him to do. Sometimes, it’s telling him, that right now is not a good time to talk. Sometimes, it’s asking him to lend a hand and put the butter on the table.

The funny thing is, that when I tell him what I need, he doesn’t scoff or get insulted. He simply complies. Even though he can’t read my mind, when I tell him what I need (before I let the emotions get in the way), he is happy to pitch in where I need him.

And doesn’t that speak volumes more about how much he loves me than if he could read my mind? When I ask for something and he follows through to provide it, the situation is transformed into an act of selflessness and service, providing yet another glimpse into how much this man loves me.

No, he is not Brad Pitt. But I like it that way.

(To read through all the posts in this series, click here.)

Related Posts from Life Blessons How My Husband and I Met Two Years Ago Today The Truth About Conflict in Marriage

Visit Life Blessons to read more.

This is the next post in Secrets of a Newlywed, a series I have been sharing on my blog where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have made my marriage the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband.

I hope that you will never hear me complain about my husband. I hope that you will never hear a negative comment about him slip through my lips.

It’s not because he’s perfect, because he certainly makes mistakes—just as I do.

But it’s because I value our marriage and don’t want to give, as Song of Songs calls them, the “little foxes” room to roam free and wreak havoc in our relationship.

You see, I believe in the power of words. As James says, the tongue can be “a whole world of evil among the parts of our bodies” and “it starts a fire that influences all of life.” (James 3:6) Even when we’re simply joking about how he leaves dirty clothes on the ground or the toilet seat up, I think those conversations can plant seeds of discontent in our hearts that, over time, can grow into jungles of festering resentment. All because we opened our mouths and breathed life to negativity.

That’s why I greatly desire to keep any venting out of conversations with man. Instead, they only have room in my conversations with God. And I can tell you that it’s these conversations that I’ve come to see bear much fruit. I don’t know that any one can say the same of the other kinds of conversations. Simply because the Lord is the only one who can actually do something about these issues!

There have been times when I’ve found myself frustrated with situations in my marriage, but taken them to the Lord earnestly in prayer. And I’ve seen the Holy Spirit work in our relationship, softening both my own heart and that of my husband.

Because hardly ever is conflict a one-way street. Yes, it may be the actions of one. But it doesn’t often stop there. We carry logs in our own eyes, whether it’s the ways we overreact in perceiving things or in expecting perfection from another human being. The Lord steps in with sanctification even in these moments, when we think we’re blameless!

The beautiful thing about that is that my husband hardly ever knows about these things, which keeps our relationship intact and healthy. And at the same time, it grows my dependency on and faith in the Lord, to know that with him, all things are possible and that he is the rock upon which we built our relationship. I let go, and let him work.

But the tongue can also be used for good and bring life. “Careless words stab like a sword, but wise words bring healing.” (Proverbs 12:18) And so it is true in our marriages, as well.

Instead of airing complaints, we ought to sing our husband’s praises. We put words to the things we appreciate about him. We tell others of the things he has accomplished. We only let words of encouragement flow from our lips.

And it bolsters our hearts, reminding us how much we do have to be thankful for in our marriage. Because if we look hard enough, there’s always something to be thankful for. Even when there’s dirty laundry on the floor and he left the toilet seat up, again.

To read through all the posts in this series, click here. You can also read more at my blog, Life Blessons.

With a new year comes new plans and goals and all varieties of resolutions. While I’m not much of a resolution maker, one of the things that I have marked the new year with the past couple of years has been to use this fresh start to settle on a Bible reading plan that will guide me for the following months.

The past two years, I’ve used a chronological Bible-reading plan that takes you through the Bible more or less in the order that the events written about are thought to have taken place. (For more on this chronological Bible-reading plan and to download a copy, go here.)

The goal of this plan is to walk you through the Bible in a year, which makes it not for the faint hearted because it does require a considerable amount of dedication to sit down with your Bible for an hour or so a day. Because I work from home as a freelance writer (more on that transition here), I have the time to dedicate to that.

For this next year, though, I am going to slow down and use the next few months to really dig into different Scriptures and to linger with them longer than I was able to when reading through them for this previous plan.

There are books—starting first with that of Hebrews—that I want to back up and chew on, slowly and intentionally. I have already checked some commentaries from the library and downloaded some online resources to get more perspectives on these writings. As I pour over them, I want to ponder them, explore their cross-references, really know them.

To really know them. That has been the desire of my heart for my Bible reading over the past couple of years that I have been attempting to cultivate. And I am loving the fruit that it is bearing.

So, as we inch into this new year, it seems as good a time as any to make an effort to explore this discipline of Bible reading.

Which is why over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be sharing some more Bible-study thoughts and resources that will hopefully aid you as you take this year not only to make resolutions to lose weight or save more or spend time better but to remember that which is most important: to get to know God better by committing to reading more of His Word.

This is the latest post from my blog, Life Blessons, where I write at length about my journey of faith as a 20-something woman. Read more of what's going on in my life there.

Are you starting a new Bible reading plan this year? What kind of approach do you use for reading the Scriptures? I'd love to hear more, if you'd like to chime in on the conversation at my blog!

This is the next post in Secrets of a Newlywed, a series I've been running on my blog where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings--the little secrets--that have made my marriage the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband.

In Proverbs it says that, “A worthy wife is a crown for her husband.” That verse goes on to say that, “but a disgraceful woman is like cancer in his bones.” Ouch.

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One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only. This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord, “You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?” The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.” The first time I read this poem was when I finished my confirmation class. They gave each of us confirmands a footprint pin and a copy of this poem. I always loved it but when I came across it the other day I began to think of it a little differently. I don't think the way God works is that simple or that easy. Now don't get me wrong, I think that if we turn our lives over to God that God will provide, but I don't think God simply picks us up and carries us when things get rough. In fact, let me offer up a different explanation as to why there was only one set of footprints in the sand when times got rough. I think that it was because Christ, like a big brother would, picked me up and tossed me in the ocean. I don't have a big brother but I remember when I was younger I went to the pool with a friend of mine and his older brother. My friend's brother was pushing me on a tube into the deep-end when all of a sudden he flipped the tube. This would have been just fine except the fact that I didn't know how to swim. I immediately started freaking out and began to sink. I then, somehow, began to work my way back to the surface. Then, slowly but surely, I doggie paddled my way to the shallow end. You see, God is fully capable of picking us up when things get rough. It is fully within God's power to do so. But if when the tide came up God simply scooped us up and carried us, how would we ever learn to swim? You see by tossing me in the deep-end, my friend's older brother helped me learn to swim. His reason for doing so may not have been to teach me how to swim but rather just be a mean older brother but for the sake of the analogy we're going to pretend like he had my best interest in mind. Likewise, God does not intervene because if God did then we would never learn to swim. In learning to swim the possibilities opened up. No longer did I have to fear the deep-end, no longer did I have to sit in the baby pool while everyone else was in the big pool, no longer did I have to wear floaties or a life-jacket when going to a water park (although floaties are pretty sweet so I might have worn them anyway). When we make it through difficult times we also gain certain freedoms. We might learn lessons such as not worrying so much, not fearing death, learning to trust others, or most importantly learning how to love God, ourselves, and others. This doesn't mean that God simply leaves us, God is still on the shore waiting for us to come back to God. God is calling out to us so that we can hear God's voice and follow it. God is giving us instructions on how to swim. Ultimately, the decision is ours. We can choose to swim towards God, we can swim towards the shore, or we can turn our backs to God and swim deeper and deeper into the ocean and deeper and deeper into death and destruction. Now don't take this analogy too far. I don't think that God places us in these difficult times. I don't think God inflicts pain and sorrows upon us. I do, however, think that God can use the situations. God uses the fact that we are stranded in the ocean to teach us how to swim. Likewise, God uses whatever situation we find ourselves in to share God's joy, to share God's love. So next time you find yourself in the middle of the ocean kicking and screaming, beginning to sink to the bottom, not sure which way the shore is, Stop. Listen for God's still, small voice and follow it to shore. Peace, Lazarus Lenguadelaz.blogspot.com

I recently shared everything I was hiding in this post. It increased my faith and freed me from things I didn't know I needed freeing from. I had faith the size of a mustard seed that one person would be moved by this post. I ended up getting almost 350 hits on that post. I was completely overwhelmed with God's goodness. I still have a long way to go in this journey with God, but I am so excited. I hope it blesses you as it blessed me to write it. http://anishastands.wordpress.com/2011/10/31/no-more-hiding/ Also I'm raising money for clean water. $20 gives someone clean water for 20 YEARS! any amount would be appreciated though :) http://mycharitywater.org/anishastandsforwater

Right now on my blog, I'm running a series called Secrets of a Newlywed, where I and a handful of other bloggers open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have strengthened our marriages.

Here's the latest post from this series:

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Right now on my blog, I'm running a series called Secrets of a Newlywed, where I and a handful of other bloggers open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have strengthened our marriages.

Here's the latest post from this series: Letting Your Husband Provide For You.

I have always been an independent person—a mild feminist, I suppose. When I know what I want, I work hard to achieve my goal. I’m the oldest child from a divorced home, so I guess I always felt like I had to take care of myself.

My husband and I got married when we were still in college, so we both had to work, waiting tables. We always felt like we were in this together: A welcome balance and equality—something that I think was crucial in our early years.

We’ve just passed our sixth wedding anniversary. We’re done with school (I finished grad school a year ago), and we’ve started (or will soon be starting) our careers. And, we’ve finally gotten to the point where we want kids in a few years.

Our marriage has changed a lot in six years—and we have changed a lot ourselves. Lately, God has been teaching me a lot about being a wife. What it means. Who I want to be. What my husband wants.

We recently moved from Philadelphia back home to Louisiana. It was all very sudden—we felt God leading us back home, so we obeyed and went. We lived with my mom for a little while just to save up some money and find jobs.

My husband wanted me to take a month off before getting a job. Of course, I was delighted to take a break! However, I found that after a week, I felt the urge to work again. I’ve had a job since 11th grade, even while in school. We’re trying to get debt free, so I felt like I should be contributing to our finances. But, no, my husband said I’ve always worked and needed some time to relax, refresh, and recenter. (What a keeper!) And, what’s a sure fire way to figure out what God wants you to do? Be still and listen.

I found that after I let go of the need to be in control—be independent—be the one to make sure everything is always fine—God started teaching me about trusting not only him, but my husband.

Now, it’s not that I didn’t trust my husband before. I’ve just always wanted to do it myself. And, this was the first time I was letting him do it. Letting him take care of me.

Of course, I will get a job eventually and contribute financially. My husband found a teaching job, so we have a stable income and benefits, and right now we can make it on his salary.

For probably the first time in my life I feel okay with just being. Not working towards something or stressing over something or taking the burden on all by myself. And you know what? I feel at peace. In no rush. Living everyday and enjoying it and what we have. It feels good to relinquish control and let someone take care of you financially, while I can take care of the home for him.

As a woman in our era I think I fought against being a “wife” in the traditional sense. Lately, though, God has shown me the joy you can feel when you’re not trying to do it all—all by yourself.

So, I think, especially when we have kids, I will have a better (and much-needed) respect and reliance on my husband. And I think, this will be important in his development as a father. Equality is not just about how much each person contributes financially, but how we trust and rely on each other. I take care of him and he takes care of me. Respect, appreciation, and trust. Marriage is a partnership, so getting out of the feeling that I have to rely on myself will make our relationship stronger.

(Please stop by and visit my blog, Life Blessons. To read through all the posts in this series, click here.)

This is the next post in Secrets of a Newlywed, a series I have been running on my blog where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have made my marriage the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband.

"A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls." Proverbs 25:28

I used to have a friend who would carry a granola bar in her purse. Just in case her boyfriend got hungry. Because when he got hungry, he also got cranky.

She realized this cause-and-effect situation and was smart to realize how easy it was to avoid, simply by carrying a treat with her. This is certainly not a bad idea if your significant other operates in the same way.

But for me? I carry the granola bar because I’m the one who gets cranky when I’m hungry.

There are lots of things in life that can set us off, so to speak. Things—like being hungry—that can make us crankier, meaner, snarkier than normal. For me, I’ve realized that things get ugly when I’m hungry, tired or rushed. (Don’t even think about what it’s like when I’m facing all three at once!)

This really doesn't have much to do with marriage until you go back to that whole "becoming one" vow that we took and realize that when these kinds of situations come up, it's our spouses who are affected most by them. They’re the ones who have to deal with our cranky, mean, snarky selves. They're the ones who have to deal with these situations that we can take steps to avoid.

If we take a moment to figure out what it is that sets us off, we can stop the situations before they escalate into a Jekyl-and-Hyde-like transformation. So, I know to bring a snack along with me if I'm going to be away from home for awhile. I know that when it’s getting late, I need to tell my husband it’s time for us to leave. (Remember, we have to tell him; he doesn’t have a script!) And I know that if we need to go somewhere, it's my responsibility to start getting ready with ample time so that I don’t feel rushed.

By being aware of the things that make me cranky, I can be proactive about avoiding those situations in the first place. But even when they do crop up, and I find myself without a granola bar in my purse, I can recognize that the problem is not my husband (even if he is doing something annoying) but it actually has more to do with the fact that I haven't ate, or I'm sleepy, or I'm fill in the blank.

So, I carry a granola bar in my purse. Which surprisingly makes not only for a happy spouse but also a happy marriage.

What is it that makes you cranky? What do you do to be proactive to avoid those cranky/snarky moments?

Read more by visiting my blog. To read through all the posts in this series, click here.

I have had a blog for about a year now and growth that I have had in Christ is showing through it. I hope that it will bless someone here as well because I've felt led to show more people what I write. Check it out my most recent post at http://anishastands.wordpress.com/2011/10/11/part-1-stress-is-stupid/. God bless

This is a post that I have been meaning to write for a while now but frankly it has been difficult to work up the confidence to write it. This post is about a personal struggle that we all have but has been extra difficult for me lately. That struggle is the struggle with pride. I have always been a very prideful, driven and ambitious person and at times it has been a good thing. There are times that I have used that drive to get things done and to allow the spirit to work in and through the actions and decisions I make. A few examples are my trips to Peru, my working as co-president at the Wesley Foundation, and the recent trip I have been planning to travel the south east United States visiting various New Monastic Communities. I have been blessed with gifts of leadership, vision, and passion but with these gifts I often find myself patting myself on the back. This is often times further propelled by others who congratulate me, compliment me, etc. Most of this, in and of itself, would not be a problem. The problem lies when I begin to believe that the things I do and the opportunities I have are mine and mine alone. If I begin to think of myself as great without giving the credit to the true source which is God and the Holy Spirit, then I become as Paul says "a noisy gong or a clanging symbol". We are called to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind and to love our neighbors as ourselves. If we begin to give ourselves too much credit and not look to God and to others then the only person we are loving as ourselves is...well...ourselves. I think to the various leaders we find in the Bible and how pride made them lose sight of love. Leaders such as Saul, Caesar, Pilate, and Judas. Then there were other leaders who battled with pride but were able to humble themselves before God and in doing so their ministries flourished. I think of leaders such as Moses, David, Paul, and Peter. Those of us who struggle with pride are called to humble ourselves before God. Paul speaks to the Corinthians about not being "puffed up" with pride. I also think to the story of Babel and how it was not the people coming together and building the tower that angered God but that they wished to make a name for themselves. There is no reason to try to make a name for ourselves because no matter what name we make it will always be pale in comparison to God. So instead of trying to make a name for ourselves why don't we empty ourselves and let Christ live within us. In doing so we can then not point to ourselves and say "look how great we are" but instead we can point to our God and say "Look how great God is". I had a test of humility about a month ago when I had the opportunity to preach at Casa Linda at their Spanish speaking service. Whenever I preach I always do my best to allow the Spirit to work in and through both my preparation and my delivery. Often times I will get complemented on my sermons and I am quick yo give credit to the Spirit because a sermon really is a thing of mystery since what we are trying to do each Sunday is preach God's word. Well the fact that I was preaching in a congregation that I was not used to, in a language I was not used to, and for longer than I was used to, it made it much easier to turn to God rather than myself. I put in extra time doing research and extra time writing my sermon as to counteract the other factors but in the end I delivered a sermon that frankly I'm not sure how it went. I spent a few days in a bit of a daze (no pun intended) as I tried to discern what it was that I was feeling and whether or not it was a good sermon. Honestly I never did figure out what that feeling really meant and I never was quite sure how the sermon was received and I probably never will. In the end I had to have faith in God and myself. I had to have faith that I had humbled myself in order to let the Spirit move in and through me that Sunday. My battle with pride never will be finished and I will continue to have times when I am overly prideful but then I will also have times when I simply give up my foolish pride and turn to God. So please help me out, if you see me trying to take too much credit or acting prideful, arrogant, or boastful point it out, hold me accountable. I apologize that this post is not the best written post I've made but there is so much I could say that it's hard to me to formulate a good post. I would LOVE to continue the conversation with anyone who would like to though. For now I will leave you with a little prayer that I have on a post-it on my computer that I read every day. Lord, I am ambitious, I am prideful, and I am arrogant. Save me from myself. Tear me down and build me anew. Build me as an empty vessel that may be filled with your Holy Spirit. Place the Cross before me and not behind me. Amen Peace, Lazarus

This is the next post in Secrets of a Newlywed, a series I'm hosting on my blog, Life Blessons, where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings—the little secrets—that have made my marriage the wedded bliss that it is. Like anything else, they are easier said than done. But I know from personal experience that when I do manage to live them out, I've seen what beautiful fruit they bear in my relationship with my husband. So, today, I share another with you: Showing Respect When Asking for His Opinion.

It was the in the middle of the cereal aisle at the grocery store that I learned one of my first lessons about the respect and humility that love requires, a lesson that has stuck with me ever since.

It's a lesson I learned even before my husband and I were married. We were still dating long-distance at the time, and he was in town visiting for the weekend when we made a pit-stop at the grocery store. While still in the get-to-know-you phase of our relationship, I asked him what kind of cereal he'd like. He pointed to the Cheerios.

"Cheerios?! Nah. What instead?" I responded, suggesting a frosted-wheat cereal instead. I don't remember what we ended up picking in the end, except that it wasn't Cheerios. And that for the rest of the trip, I pushed the cart and my husband lagged a few steps behind, not talking.

When we left the store, I asked what was wrong with him, completely unaware of the gravity of the situation that had taken place in the cereal aisle, where cheesy cartoon characters and cheery cardboard boxes leered in the background.

"You asked what I wanted," he said, reminding me of the Cheerios.

"Yeah, but I don't like Cheerios," I told him, hoping he'd appeal to compromise.

"Well, you shouldn't ask me for my opinion if you're not going to take it." There! That sentence, right there! That hit me smack in the forehead.

Of course, I didn't mean any disrespect by the cereal veto. I merely wanted us to get something we both liked, and Cheerios certainly was not that.

But that situation was an epiphany to me, beyond just breakfast foods and boxed grains. I realized that if I'm going to ask him for an opinion, I must be willing to accept it. I realized what it means if I ask for his opinion and then disregard it, like it doesn't matter.

Though the scenario was innocent on the surface, I now saw it in a new light, that my actions spelled out disrespect and insult.

I realized—yet again—the power of words, and even more so, the power of respecting those words.

That lesson has lasted with me ever since, and the moral leaps to life again whenever I think about asking my husband for his opinion. If I'm going to ask it, I prepare myself to accept whatever he says.

What does this look like practically? Well, if there's an option I don't really want (for instance, which restaurant to eat at or movie to watch on Netflix), I have to be upfront about that rather than expect him to read my mind. Sometimes, I have to be willing to make a choice (say, to wear this blouse and not that one) with confidence, rather than indulge the desire to fish for a compliment by way of asking him for an "opinion."

I've learned to think a bit more before I speak, and when I do, to let my words be filled with respect.

(Click here to read all of the posts in this series.)

I've been running a series on my blog called "Secrets of a Newlywed," where I open up and share some of the lessons I've learned from these first few years of my marriage. This is the latest post from the series:

I remember when my husband and I were going through our marriage-counseling seminars. The seminars were filled with workbook pages and breaks for us to talk over things like how to address conflict, what we wanted our marriage to look like, and what kinds of expectations we had.

“I don’t have any expectations,” I remember thinking. On second thought, I realized I did have one expectation: That my husband would take out the trash, a chore I looked forward to retiring when I got to wear that pretty silver ring.

But to my innocent mind, I couldn’t think of anything else I expected from my husband.

That’s the thing about expectations, you don’t realize you have them until it’s too late…

Fast forward to the day-in-day-out reality of married life: Inevitably, I'd find myself upset over something my husband did or didn’t do. At some point along the way, I realized how many of those incidents were linked to expectations of mine that had prowled beneath the surface.

Whether it was that I expected him to want to spend a Saturday evening mooning over romantic comedies with me rather than want to check out a concert or that I expected him to applaud the fact that I found natural dish soap marked down for something ridiculous like $0.50, I suddenly realized that I was filled—overflowing, actually—with these sorts of expectations.

The truth is, they’re not things you consciously decide on; they’re just the things you just think are normal and natural, which is why it never occurred to me to question them in the first place. That's what makes them so stealthy; they sneak into your marriage without you even realizing it!

The problem with these kinds of expectations, though, is that they're a recipe for disaster. Because who can live up to our lofty expectations? No one, and certainly not our husbands. If we nurse these expectations, we're setting ourselves up to be discouraged, disappointed and angry. Which is no way to live a marriage, if we can help it.

It must have been the grace of the Holy Spirit more than anything else, but slowly I started to catch hold of this truth. In the midst of me feeling discouraged or frustrated, I'd suddenly realize what was really going on: "It was all about my expectations! That's why I'm upset!"

That simple recognition was a turning point in those times when I was tempted to be upset over something that didn't fit what I felt ought to be "normal." Like a helium balloon popped and slinking down to the floor in a tangled bunch of colored plastic, those realizations did wonders to keep emotions from escalating and prick my selfishness, showing it for what it really was.

(To read through all the posts in this series, click here.)

You can also read more at my blog, Life Blessons.

Through my recent reading of the book Freedom from Performing, I found myself sifting through my emotions and feelings about who I am—in my own eyes as well as in the eyes of the Lord. The way I see myself is incredibly different than how the Lord does. When he sees me, he sees beauty, but when I look at myself, all I see are my mistakes and weaknesses glaring back.

I’ve noticed that in church circles, it’s easy for us to dwell on how “wretched” we are and throw that word around like confetti.

The problem is that I am all too aware of that fact; my personal struggle is not so much in realizing my own sins but in embracing the truth that Christ has made me righteous. More than being reminded of my wretchedness, I need to be reminded about my righteousness.

As I was reading and praying through this book, I tried to wrap my head around this righteousness of mine and what it truly means. It’s hard to grapple with, to try to make yourself internalize it. I don’t know that I really can. And I became discouraged at myself even over that!

Then a verse from Song of Songs came to mind: “I am dark, but lovely.”

The woman in the story was well aware of her shortcomings; in a time when a fair complexion was prized over tanned skin, she acknowledged that, compared to everyone else, she fell short here. And yet, she knew that beneath it all, she was lovely. Her lover agrees, calling her “O most beautiful woman,” “a lily among thorns.” She knew this truth about her real beauty, even though her circumstances may have spoken otherwise.

Likewise, I am all too aware of my shortcomings, the “dark” things about me. But I must remind myself that that is not all there is. I am more than those shortcomings. I am lovely, because of Whom I am loved by. The One who indeed calls me “beautiful.”

So though I may not feel it, I whisper to myself over and over again, “I am dark, but I am lovely.” Slowly, I’m learning to push through the veil of my own wretchedness and get a glimpse of the righteousness I have through Christ.

Slowly…

“Dark, but lovely. Dark, but lovely…”

Read more at my blog, Life Blessons.

I wrote this on September 11, 2011 reflecting on the tragedy ten years ago. Check out more of my writing at my blog: http://thedelusionist.tumblr.com/ Today is September 11, 2011. Ten years since the twin towers fell toppling to the ground. Like everyone else, I remember where I was when I heard the news. My memory is somewhat shameful because I remember me and my college friends did not feel the gravity of the situation. We thought it was some kind of joke and were happy to get a few hours out of class. The world of New York City seemed so far removed from our small Christian college in Tennessee it was hard to take the news as soberly as everyone seemed to require. Later that year our college choir took a trip up to New York City in December. Our goal was to “minister to” and “lift the spirits of” the city that had suffered so much loss. But the city though heavily grieving, seemed resilient. The city seemed solemn in the wake of the tragedy but it was a city nonetheless and it necessarily moved on. I remember we went down to ground zero and our choir was going to sing a song there. They were still taking the buildings apart and you could still see smoke billowing from the remains. We were foolishly arrogant to think that we could sing in the face of such devastation. In the midst of a bustling city, this place was strangely, morosely quiet. To be honest, ten years later, I still have a hard time feeling any sort of personal attachment to the tragedy. I’ve heard the stories, even watched a movie or two and been moved. However, I would never say that I really experienced a personal sorrow. It’s partly because of my distaste for the media and how it commercializes tragedy. I’m not saying they intentionally take joy in tragedy, it’s really just the nature of the beast. My disconnect from the tragedy is also partly due to the patriotic bastardization of the event. We rally around a flag and call for war when we should be comforting our neighbors and seeking peace. Also, I get overwhelmed by the tragedy when comparing it to and tallying it up with other great tragedies: genocide in Rwanda, Tsunami in Asia and our own dropping of atomic bombs in Japan. Each begs for a sorrow on one hand and for us to take a side on the other. For us to act quickly as if that will fix the problem and make the pain go away. More than anything I feel that my disconnect and that of others stems from a poor understanding of what it means to mourn with those who mourn. We shake our head as we watch hours of news coverage, donate to a cause, maybe even lend a hand in a restoration project. But we are not good at mourning. It is painful and awkward. It is hard for us to emotionally invest in something if we are not directly affected by it. However, sometimes mourning is all we have. I’m unsure of what the answer is and it is probably different for everyone. Maybe it is discussing the depth of tragedy at coffee with a friend. Sometimes it may just be a hurried prayer sent up for others. Or it could just be a blog post. But we should not give in to simply being the consumers of mourning. We must do more than send money or watch the news. We should actively participate in the mourning and remembering. St. Paul had some good ideas on ways to actively participate in tragedy and in all that is wrong in the world. I found this passage particularly relevant today: Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:14-21

Throughout history, those who have followed God’s plan have rarely done so in a responsible fashion. The disciples, being the best example, immediately left their careers when asked to follow a man they’d just met. What would the world say if we all left our careers one day to travel with someone we barely knew? We’d be labeled as irrational, irresponsible, and probably insane. We’d be viewed as someone trying to avoid real life. We’d be asked why we left a steady paycheck for an uncertain future. But that’s just it – our future’s not uncertain.

When we’re young, we’re all told we can be whatever we want to be. We’re told if we try hard enough, we can get anywhere we want in life. We also know what we want to do “when we grow up.” We all want to be firemen, or princesses, or pirates. My brother wanted to be a shepherd – a sheep-saving, robe-wearing shepherd just like the ones in the bible. Our dreams weren’t dictated by financial security, or at what age we could retire. We were more interested in doing something that we loved. We didn’t care how much it paid until we grew up.

With age the world told us about responsibility. We learned that responsibility is doing homework on time. It’s going to college, and being able to find a job that can provide a comfortable life. It’s always planning the next move, and being ready for the wrenches thrown in. We also learned that if we live irresponsibly, we’ll end up stuck in a low-paying job that we hate, unable to provide for those we love. We learn that irresponsibility will lead to a life full of unhappiness and missed opportunities.

But what if something comes along in the midst of all these responsible decisions that tells us to jump ship? What if this something has nothing to do with money or security, and more to do with trust and faith? What would have happened if the disciples were raised in the shadow of the American Dream?

Before Jesus interrupted, the disciples had promising careers ahead of them. Peter, Andrew, James and John were all commercial fishermen. Matthew was a tax collector – which is about the equivalent of a lawyer today. Peter, Andrew, James and John were in a family business destined for the same futures their fathers and grandfathers carried out before them, and they left it at Jesus’ first request. Being a tax collector was among the most financially rewarding careers of the time, and Matthew left that for a life of homelessness and wandering. They each gave up their worldly security, and made an irresponsible decision to follow a man they hardly knew, and it led to the revolution of Christianity.

Now most of us won’t have the opportunity the disciples had, and most of us won’t be asked to leave everything we have. We will, however, be asked to do things we don’t understand. Often times it will involve one of our greatest insecurities. For most of us it will be something small, like befriending a co-worker or volunteering around the community. For others, it may require a bigger commitment. When Henry Blackaby, the writer of “Experiencing God,” told his pastor he felt called to ministry, his pastor responded by telling him he had “too much promise” for that. Dr. Blackaby could have listened, but instead he didn’t settle for less than what God could accomplish. He is now among the most influential Christian writers on earth, and has now written over 20 books, published in up to 45 different languages.

Whatever we feel called to do, it’ll likely scare us to death. The things I’ve felt called to always have. Often times, it’s just telling something to a friend – something that they might not like to hear—in order to show them who I am on a deeper level, and letting them know that they can come to me with issues. Other times, it’s simply talking to a stranger and seeing what comes up. Of all my callings, however, writing has quickly become one of the most frightening. I’ve gone through school thus far thinking I’d graduate with one of the better paying degrees – going on to live a life of no financial worries. I then discovered I have almost no interest in my degree. So I started writing. In order to succeed, I must trust that God will provide, and won’t have to use my plan-b degree. Although the financial uncertainty is frightening, I feel that through writing I can truly impact those around me. I can impact them in ways that designing a building never could – in their faith. I know that by taking this direction, I have no idea what my life will be. I’m trusting that God will provide in the midst of these uncertainties.

What is God telling you to do in order to fulfill your potential in Him? All God needs is our trust, and He can put us anywhere. The disciples put their trust in something better, yet unknown, and were then used to spread the message of Christ throughout the world. Henry Blackaby trusted in things greater than his potential, and is now a leader in the Christian world. I’m trusting, without fully understanding, that God will lead me to things better than what the world could offer. Where does God need your trust in order for you to become who He wants you to be?

[From my blog a pitiful masterpiece]

I live in an intentional community called the Bonhoeffer House in Dallas Texas. Saturday morning I woke up to help one of my brothers at the house, George, clean up a little bit outside. We were out of trash bags so I walked over to grocery store behind the house to buy some more. As I was walking in, a man walked up to me. He said that everyone had been telling him to (buzz) off and that no one cared about him. I assured him that I would not send him off and was willing to talk with him. He simply looked me in the eye and said "do I look like I could use some help?" I was humbled by his humility and asked him what I could do to help. He said he could really use a hot breakfast. I told him to wait outside as I went in to pick up the trash bags. I came out and he and I walked back to Bonhoeffer. On the walk over I learned a little bit about him. He goes by Uncle Jay, he usually stays on the other side of the city, and when he fell asleep the night before he lost his backpack which had all of his belongings. We then got back to Bonhoeffer where George had already begun raking up the leaves. Uncle Jay offered to help and so for the next 30 minutes or so we cleaned up the driveway and talked a little bit. When we finished up we went inside and began to cook breakfast. George cooked some eggs and sausage from the night before, toasted some toast and I threw on some grits. The three of us then sat down at the dining room table to share a meal and conversation. We learned a little about Uncle Jay, shared a little about our selves, and simply cut up and had a good time. All of a sudden Uncle Jay just got quiet. He looked at George and I and said "If I hadn't run in to you at the grocery store I probably would have just gone off to get drunk to numb myself". It was then our turn to get quiet, we weren't entirely sure how to respond and all we could say is that we were glad to have him with us and that he was our brother. He then yelled out "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all the drinking. This little body of mine could drink 12 bottles of alcohol like it's nothing. The body isn't meant for that, but that's what I've done to it." At moments like that there isn't much to do but to be supportive and to pray. We assured Uncle Jay that we were here for him and if he wanted to break free from the hold that alcohol had on him that we would support him along the way and help pick him up when he fell. At that point we moved into the prayer room and took out our Common Prayer books. We began to go through our saturday liturgy with him. We got to the point in the liturgy for confession and as George began to speak, Uncle Jay cut him off. He said he didn't want to hear any of that. George and I discussed it and we weren't sure what he meant by that. Maybe he didn't think that what George was confessing compared to what he needed to confess, maybe he was afraid that if we were confession then he too would feel compelled to confess, or maybe it was something beyond either of those possibilities. Either way, George stopped and there was a period of silence. Then, with tears streaming down his face, Uncle Jay began to share more of his story. He shared with us that he spent about 12 years of his life in prison for burglary. His whole life he made one bad decision after another to lead him where he is today. He said that he sees himself as the prodigal son, that he squandered away all that he had acquired and it wasn't until he hit rock bottom that he noticed that. He was ready to change his ways and be accepted if those from his past would accept him. There is one major catch, however, to Uncle Jay being the prodigal son. Uncle Jay told us that his dad was an alcoholic. He had never been there for him, never supported him, and done far more damage than good in his life. He then told us that his dad also has cancer and is currently in the hospital and most likely not far from death. How can Uncle Jay fulfill the second half of the story of the prodigal son if he doesn't have a father to turn to who can pick him up off the ground, kill the fatted calf, put a ring on his finger and throw a party? How can he return to good graces if he never actually was in good graces? How can his friends and family help him out if they are in similar or worse situations than he? Now I know what many of you are thinking. The story of the prodigal son was a reference to God. It means that even though Uncle Jay may have turned away, he still has the chance to be reunited with God. I get that, but what about the part of the Lord's prayer that says "Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven". Uncle Jay may have a little harder time buying that part of the prayer. He hasn't seen the kingdom come on this earth as in heaven. He has seen a kingdom on this earth but probably more likely one from hell than from heaven. So where is Uncle Jay's celebration? Where is Uncle Jay's reconciliation? Where is Uncle Jay's forgiveness? Where is Uncle Jay's father? Where is Uncle Jay's family? I hope that we at Bonhoeffer can be all of that for Uncle Jay. I pray he can continue coming here and that we can support him on his journey. I pray that he can fight his addiction to alcohol. I pray that he can find housing. I pray that he can find a job. I pray that he can regain his name and his dignity. I pray that he can find a family with us and others that can support him. I pray for a miracle. Here's the reality check. Uncle Jay said that he would come this morning and go to church with me. He said that he would also go to New Day and try to come to our morning and evening prayers. He didn't show up. Maybe he'll come this evening. Maybe he'll come tomorrow for morning or evening prayer. Maybe he'll come friday for our community meal, but then again, maybe he wont. Maybe yesterday when he left he went straight to begging and then to the liquor store. Maybe he past out and that's why he didn't come this morning. Maybe he's too ashamed to come back. Even worse, maybe he's dead. Now I know that this all seems very cynical. Many of you may be thinking that with God all things are possible. I agree with that. I agree 100% that it is possible that Uncle Jay is sober. It is possible that Uncle Jay will be knocking on the door any moment and has a perfectly good excuse for why he wasn't here this morning. It's perfectly possible, but it's not probable. I listened to a podcast by Bart Campolo in which he talked about a story much like Uncle Jay's. What Campolo pointed out is that miracles are miracles for a reason. They don't happen all that often. Now don't get me wrong. I'm praying for a miracle, I'm hoping for a miracle but in the mean time I'm also praying that Uncle Jay, if nothing else, knows that he's loved. I'm doing all that I can to let him know that he is loved and I hope he really does. Even if he never comes back I hope he can remember the time that he came to Bonhoeffer for breakfast, prayer, and family. I hope that this prodigal son can be reunited to his father through unconditional love. Maybe a miracle will happen. But I'm certainly not going to sit around and wait for it to happen. Peace, Brandon

I've been running a series on my blog, called Secrets of a Newlywed, where I open up and share some of the lessons, insights and understandings--the little secrets--that I try to live out in my own marriage.

I was babysitting when one of the kids had pushed his little brother. The mom was right there and she leaned over and told him he needed to apologize to his brother. With his nose scrunched up, his eyes to the ground, he forced it out: “I’m sorry.”

Certainly he thought his brother fully deserved that push, so when it came time to apologize, he had to do so against his will, without the desire, while the rest of his human nature was squirming away from doing the right thing.

And yet, unbeautifully and awkwardly, he did it. His little brother wiped the tears from his eyes and said okay. After a hug and a kiss from his mommy, he went back to playing and soon they were brothers again, sharing trains and picture books with the incident but a vague memory.

Apologizing is one of those things that none of us at any age enjoys to do. It takes humility to say, I was wrong. It takes us being willing to think of another to say, I was wrong. It takes courage to admit, I was wrong.

And yet, with that courage, humility and selflessness comes restoration, like the kind I saw that afternoon between two brothers who had no idea what they were experiencing but the grace that can happen when we let it enter our relationships.

So it is with marriage, where some of the first words I had to get used to saying were also some of the hardest. Outside of marriage, sure you apologize, but it’s not really all that often and if it is, you can usually distance yourself from the person until the sting wears off and all is forgotten. Not so in wedlock, where the person is sitting across from you at dinner and you find yourself stumbling into situations that call for "I'm sorry" on what can seem like a daily basis.

When we were first married, there were times when I knew I had to apologize, but like the big brother, I was kicking and screaming on the inside when I did. But then, despite my scrunched-up nose and squeaked-out apology, I experienced the grace that came when my husband would pull me in for a hug and tell me, without any anger or condescension in his voice, that he forgave me.

That made it easier for me in the future to apologize, because over time and through many apologies, I learned and trusted that no matter how much I had hurt him or what kind of mistake I’d made, he would meet me in my humility and we’d get through this together, holding hands and restored.

It also made me realize the importance of apologizing sooner, rather than later, which just drags the whole mess out, leaving us both to wrestle with the awkwardness and tension for longer than necessary.

Now, today, when I make a mistake or realize I’ve hurt him with something I’ve said accidentally, I know that the best reaction is the one that still is hard, but has proven itself to be the most satisfying and worthwhile: “I’m sorry.”

(To read through all the posts in this series, click here.)

Read more at Life Blessons.

Right now in my Bible reading plan, I’m in the midst of the prophets, as they cry out to the people to stop sinning and start loving God again, as they once did.

One of the things that has struck me as I’ve been reading through these writings is how specific many of these prophecies are. In Isaiah, he points out that Jerusalem is going to be conquered by Babylon but someday a man named Cyrus will let the Israelites return to their homeland. By name, he calls this country and this leader, and both come to pass 150 years later. In Micah, we get the prophecy of the Messiah being born in Bethlehem. By name, he gives us the city where the Savior will be born.

I’ve also noticed how similar many of these prophets' messages are. In Isaiah, he talks about “a remnant remains,” that even though God will bring destruction to the Israelites for abandoning him and worshiping other gods, he will not destroy them all. A remnant will remain, and those he will bring back to himself. Then, in Jeremiah, I noticed it again. He didn’t use the same language, word for word, but he still says that he will save a few and they will return to God’s blessing. I am reminded through these texts how consistent God is.

But I also noticed something else. How God always comes back to restoration. Even in the midst of warning the people that destruction is coming, he always points toward the future when they will be redeemed, when they will come back to him, when heaven will wipe the slate clean.

A few weeks ago, I heard some upsetting news, which left me almost in tears. It was nothing against me personally, just a story I heard. But it moved me. And my thoughts flashed to what I'd been reading through these Scriptures. Curled up against my husband in a hug, I whispered, "Someday, none of this will happen." I remembered the words of the prophets and how they always looked far into the future, when the sheep will lie down with the lions and peace will reign. It encouraged me to look there, myself, when faced with hardship close to home.

There is hope.

And that is essentially what these prophets are crying out, at the top of their lungs. Through their anger and disappointment and frustration, they are screaming out that there is hope—if we would just look to it and see.

Read more at my blog, Life Blessons.