Growing up we decorated for Christmas the Saturday after Thanksgiving every year. My dad, brother, and I would pile in the car – a burgundy Chevrolet Monte Carlo, mind you – and make the trek to the Christmas tree farm. Having grown up 20 miles outside of Atlanta, my husband doesn’t believe me when I tell him that I never saw pastures of land and farm animals. Well, this was the one day of the year that I may have seen a cow or two.
My mom didn’t go with us because she said she couldn’t bear walking through a Christmas tree farm bypassing the short, thin Virginia Pines for the tall, beautiful Frasier Firs. “It would break my heart”, as she put it, and she’d want to take all the Charlie Brown Christmas trees home.
I have always been very blessed with really good health. I am so grateful. But two weekends ago I had a cold. I’m not talking just an average cold; I’m talking an epic cold where my nose flowed like a river all night long. Before this epic cold I’ve never had to get up to blow my nose in the middle of the night. And don’t get me started on sleep. There was none.
Maybe it’s because I don’t get sick often and I’m just a baby (actually I’m sure that’s what it is), but I felt like I was going to die. And while I laid there thinking about how miserable I felt and how I might possibly be the first person to die from the common cold, I realized how nothing else in the world – and I mean nothing – mattered except for getting better.
I didn’t have this post planned for today, and so I’m writing it in the middle of the afternoon planning to hit “publish” as soon as I’m finished. I typically try to be a little more prepared with my writing, but this one just came to me this morning as I sat down and realized: Today starts Lent.
I grew up in a Baptist church and have attended nondenominational churches ever since, so “Lent” was not really ever recognized in my world – nor was Advent. It’s only been in the past several years that I have come to appreciate these special times of the year as we prepare for Jesus’s coming and for His death and resurrection. Which is why I write this post.
So we’ve been snowed in for the past three days. Seven inches of snow, y’all. Seven inches. Okay, honestly I think that’s the most snow I’ve ever seen at my house. I mean, I went skiing once many, many years ago. But that doesn’t count. Don’t laugh. I’m from Georgia (even though I now live in the “north” – North Carolina), and for this southern girl seven inches of snow feels like we’ve entered the Ice Age.
What’s been fun about it, though, is reading wise and witty Valentine’s Day blog posts from around the web. Here are a few that I though you’d like. And today and tomorrow the Passion Conference is going on in Houston. But you can stream it live here.
I was a terrible person to break-up with when I was single. I had three significant relationships before I got married and in every one of them I did everything short of get on my hands and knees and beg the guy to choose me. Just think of the girl on The Bachelor who doesn’t get the rose, gets into the limo, and then hyperventilates through her tears. Yep, that was me. I was a broken girl. One day I’ll tell you more stories about that girl – stories that will shock you and embarrass me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about why I acted the way I did when guys broke up with me. It’s painful to think that I begged guys to choose me. But you know what? I’m still that broken girl.
I wish I could say that I’m free from the bondage of begging to be chosen, but I’m not. On Wednesdays I go to Bible Study Fellowship (which I highly recommend to you). There are a group of “cool moms” there. They’re young, in their late twenties/early thirties, they wear leggings and scarves and knee-high boots, and they all sit together. I smile at them and they half smile back probably wondering why I have a big cheesy smile on my face. I so want to be a part of their group. But at 37 I’m just not. It doesn’t matter that I have a 15-month-old too. I sit there with a jealous knot in my stomach hoping one day they’ll choose me.
Then there’s the online crowd. Out here in blog world there is an in-crowd just like in “real life”. The Christian women bloggers who chat over Twitter. I’ll send a tweet to one of these ladies then check my phone every two minutes to see if they tweeted me back. But nothing. My heart sinks.
My desire to be chosen also sits closer to home. My mom passed away three years ago. Since that time I no longer have a mom-figure in my life – no one who is in my corner always. I hear these stories of older women going up to younger women and saying things like, “God just told me that I was supposed to be your mentor.” I wish an older women would choose me.
The stories don’t end there. For most of my life I’ve just wanted to be chosen.
Today is Valentine’s Day, and you may feel the same way. More than anything you just want to be chosen by someone. You want someone to reach out his hand to tell you you’re accepted and loved and special.
I know that feeling, and I also know the thoughts that accompany it. “What’s wrong with me?”, “I’ll never find anybody!”, “Nobody will ever just like me for me.”, “I’m going to be single for the rest of my life!”, “Maybe I’m too . . . (you fill in the blank).”
Sometimes I struggle with writing truth to you because I hate pat answers, and I don’t want to give you a roll-your-eyes, “that’s what everyone says” answer too. But in this case there’s only one way to say it.
Those thoughts you’re having about why you’re not chosen? They’re straight out lies from the enemy. Bold-faced lies to destroy you.
And it’s time to bind them up and throw them out.
If you have to sit and read these verses over and over to yourself tonight or this weekend or any day after this, then I want you do it. Let God’s Word sink in and transform your mind.
Because you are chosen. Chosen by almighty God himself. If you were the only person on earth, He still would have come to earth to die on the cross. For you. Just for you. He loves you that much.
Whether single or married or somewhere in between, there will always be times when we are not chosen by this world and the people in it. But if we remember God’s truth, then we will not make decisions out of the feelings those times bring. Instead we’ll stand up and say, “I’m not chosen by this world, but I’m chosen by God, and God is where my home lies.”
Bible verses so you know you’re chosen:
“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” 1 Peter 2:9
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love” Ephesians 1:3-4
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” Jeremiah 1:5
“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.” John 15:16
“For you are a people holy to the Lord your God, and the Lord has chosen you to be a people for his treasured possession, out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth.” Deuteronomy 14:2
The other day I got a text message. It wasn’t the kind filled with exclamation points and emoticons but with hard periods and imperatives. And it was concerning Christmas.
The moment I read it I got a knot in my stomach. The knot stayed there for days, and now as I anticipate this week of Christmas I can’t shake the words. You see, this week I’m going to see the family member who sent me that text message. As much as I want to say my thoughts are of compassion and forgiveness and love, they’re really filled with dread. I imagine conversations I’m going to have with her. What I’m going to say if she says this or that. How I’m going to respond to the looks, sighs, and snide comments.
This isn’t the first time I’ve faced dreadful moments with family members during the holidays. And I’m certain it won’t be the last. Holidays can be messy! What I can do this week and in the future, however, is remember what I’ve learned from times before.
Today I’m sharing one of those times over at Encouragement Cafe and how we can love the unlovable by being living sacrifices. Join me there, and let’s pray for each other this week that no matter what holiday messiness we find ourselves in, we will be the hands and feet of Jesus – living sacrifices – that point others back to Him.
Merry Christmas, dear readers!!
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