It’s day 28 of the series 31 Days of Lessons Learned from My 20’s. If you want to read all the posts in this series, you can find every post listed here. If you want to have all the posts delivered to your email inbox, subscribe here.

I remember when I taught first-grade one of my little six-year-old students asked me one day where I slept. I looked at him perplexed and answered, “I sleep in my bed.” “But where’s your bed?” he replied as he looked around the room. I then realized he thought I slept at school.

To him my entire life was wrapped up in the walls of that school and the role in which He experienced me. He only saw me as a teacher.

I used to think the same thing about my parents.

It wasn’t so much that I thought my parents were only parents. I saw the other roles they filled as spouses and employees and siblings and friends and children to their parents.

But in my mind, their entire essence was confined to my existence. Before me there was nothing and without me there was nothing.

This made my expectations of them impossible. 

I knew my parents weren’t perfect. I knew they were human enough in that sense. But I thought that their love for me should trump all else. And if it didn’t? I assumed I wasn’t loved. 

For example, my mom was a smoker. I was one of those pretentious-type kids that came home and demanded my mom stop smoking because one day she would die from it – which she did three years ago. When she didn’t stop smoking, I came to the conclusion that she didn’t love me. After all, who would ever want to jeopardize the opportunity to live a healthy life with their children? Not to mention the negative effects it has on the children themselves. For many years, even into adulthood, my mind couldn’t wrap around the reasoning.

Then one day, I had a revelation. 

My parents are human and broken.

I was in my late 20’s, and from the outside looking in, I was an upstanding, morally dignified, successful person. I had two degrees. I supported myself. I had friendships. I served in the church. I prayed and studied the Bible. I loved Jesus so much. 

But on the inside I knew that despite all my “goodness” I was still rotten to the core if left to my own self. I struggled with insecurity and pride. I was haughty at times and judgemental. Cigarettes weren’t my drug but food was. I binge ate and then went for a seven mile run the next morning (A socially appropriate lifestyle, right?). 

I desperately wanted to figure out what this is inside me that makes me yearn for God and in the same breath do the exact opposite of what I want to do (Romans 7:15).

My conclusion?

I am broken. Without Jesus I am nothing.

And so are my parents. 

Life didn’t start for my parents the moment I was born. There was a lifetime before me that shaped them. Some of it was good. Some of it was bad. But regardless they struggle just like everyone else. Just like me. 

And so there is grace. 

When I came to my own brokeness and need for grace, I could much more quickly extend grace to my parents. Grace doesn’t condone actions or make sin “right”. Grace just recognizes that just like me, they’re broken too. They’re in need of Jesus, too. And so like Jesus, I can offer grace to them. 

Is it hard for you to offer grace to your parents? Why or why not?

It’s day 27 of the series 31 Days of Lessons Learned from My 20’s. If you want to read all the posts in this series, you can find every post listed here. If you want to have all the posts delivered to your email inbox, subscribe here.

Over the past month I’ve written a lot about time. And I’ve taken many looks back on my own time. For each of us our time is brief. The depth of this truth becomes greater the older you get. And don’t even get me started about what watching your newborn turn into a one-year-old is like. Next week our baby girl will be one. It’s been the fastest year of my life. And the year I wish I could freeze over and over again.

There’s so much unknown about what’s to come. None of us knows. But today, let’s take to heart the words in Psalm 39. Let’s allow the busy rushing to stop. The wishing for the next season to stop. The pining over what we want to be – wish to be – to stop. The fear to stop.

Instead, let’s rest in hope. Hope for what’s to come. Sure, there’s hope in the next years in this life. But let’s also hope in what’s to come in eternity. That’s where our peace lies.

I can’t say that I’ve fully learned this truth now. But I sure wish I had begun to learn it in my 20’s.

Do you feel you’re living in a place where your hope is in the Lord?

Photo Credit: Creative Commons: Rich Bowen

It’s day 26 of the series 31 Days of Lessons Learned from My 20’s. If you want to read all the posts in this series, you can find every post listed here. If you want to have all the posts delivered to your email inbox, subscribe here.

Happy Weekend! Here’s a little something extra fun for your weekend.

If you don’t know, I’m addicted to podcasts and listening to sermons on my iPhone. Totally! So here’s another one of my favorites. I recently listened to this whole series, and it’s great for every stage of life. Oh, and can you tell who my favorite pastor is? I have lots of “favorites” right now, but Andy Stanley is probably my most favorite. I’m from Atlanta, remember?

Watch Here:

You’ll Be Glad You Did ::

Get Out, Stay Out & Clean Out

Do you have a favorite sermon applicable to this 31 Days series? Share with us!

Hey Reader Friends!! I’ve gotten behind on #31Days since company came in over the weekend! It’s been hard to catch up!! But I will! So please check back! It’s day 24 of the series 31 Days of Lessons Learned from My 20’s. If you want to read all the posts in this series, you can find every post listed here. If you want to have all the posts delivered to your email inbox, subscribe here.

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine. She’s about my age, she has three kids, and her husband’s a pastor of young adults at their church. She mentioned that one of her best friends is 27, single, and in their ministry.

Secret envy immediately crept into my heart when I heard my friend describe her 27-year-old single friend as her “best friend”. Not envy because I wanted to be my friend’s best friend, but envy for the single woman. What a blessing to have such a Godly woman in her life – mentoring her, speaking truth to her, and sharing life with her.

When I was single I had one special friend kind-of like that. I taught her first-grade daughter, and they also went to my church. Even though I wasn’t too much younger than she, we were worlds apart – her with a family, me wanting a family.

Every month or so she would invite me over to eat dinner and watch a movie with her after her girls were in bed. Her husband travelled some, so this worked out nicely. More than anything, it made me feel a little more “normal”. If you’ve been single for any length of time, you know what I mean. Sometimes there’s an invisible stigma from married women towards single women. It’s no fun to be in the middle of it. 

So I would go and hang out. It was nice to get a home cooked meal, be in a “real home”, and hear children playing.

But one thing I missed out on – forming a mentor-type relationship with my married friend. You know, past just eating dinner and watching a movie. A relationship where it becomes comfortable to share your soul and hear someone else’s perspective. The kind where someone says the hard stuff and you receive it as a blessing. The kind where truth is spoken. 

I made a lot of really dumb choices in my twenties. I joke that most people’s dumb choices are in their teens and early twenties. Not me. Mine were after college. “If only” rings through my mind quite often. If only someone was there to speak truth to me. 

Now, please don’t get me wrong. I’m not blaming anyone for any of my actions. I know I am 100% responsible. I’m just saying that having a mentor – a true mentor – would have been a blessing. 

That is one reason my main ministry is for young adult women. My heart breaks for women in their 20’s who don’t have anyone to speak truth into their lives. God does say He brings good from all things, doesn’t he? This is the good that’s come from my experience.

So, if you’re single remember, you can’t do it alone. You really can’t. I am bold enough to say that if you do not have Godly women in your life speak truth to you, you will not leave your 20’s unscathed.

And married women, you can’t do it alone either. We all need mentors. I want to encourage you to not only have a mentor for yourself but be a mentor to one of these younger women. 

For more resources on mentorship, please visit MoretoBe.com.

 

Do you have a mentor? Do you want a mentor?

It’s day 21 of the series 31 Days of Lessons Learned from My 20’s. If you want to read all the posts in this series, you can find every post listed here. If you want to have all the posts delivered to your email inbox, subscribe here.

I want you to do a little activity with me. Find a piece of red or pink paper. It doesn’t matter this size, really, just a piece of red or pink paper.

Then, I want you to fold it in half and cut half of a heart shape along the creased side. Next, open up the paper and see the heart you made.

This is your heart.

Now I want you to think back to your very first date. Even if your mom or dad drove you, think back to that person.

Mine was when I was 14 years old. I didn’t consider it a date at the time, and neither did my parents,  because his mom drove us. We went to a Valentine’s Day dance at his school. His mom was also a chaperone because she taught at the school. However, that boy kissed me at that dance. It was my first kiss. So, yes, I now consider it a date.

Okay, tear off a piece of your paper heart. Make the size of the piece you tear off correspond to the significance of that relationship or experience in your life. For instance, if that past experience had little effect on your life, then make the piece of paper small. If the experience had a significant effect on your life, then make the piece larger. Next write that boy’s name on the torn piece of paper. Then think of the next boy and the next and every boy up until today. Do the same thing for each boy – tear off a piece of paper and write his name on it.

How much of your heart is left?

When I did this, some of my pieces were small – like a guy I went on one date with and never saw again. And then some were huge like the guy who I dated for four years. What’s important, though, is how much of my heart is left.

This gives us a visual of what happens when we date. It took me all of my 20’s to understand this principle.

I know what it sounds like. It sounds completely ridiculous and a little over-the-top – the idea that every dating experience affects you.

But isn’t it true? Think about it. 

The world tells us that our 20’s are the years to live-it-up, have fun, find out what you like, explore. The only problem with that is this:

Which of those guys you “explored with” no longer invade your thoughts from time-to-time? Which ones are you not tempted to just see what they’re up to on Facebook? Which ones do you not still have ill feelings towards? Which ones will you not carry with you into marriage?

Possibly only the ones you weeded out quickly after one date. But the ones you let hang around for months or years? It’s highly unlikely they’re not still carrying a piece of your heart – a piece you won’t get back.

So does that mean you shouldn’t date?

No, what it means is that you should date with one purpose in mind – the purpose of marriage. Of course, this is completely counter-cultural, but it’s the only way to have a whole heart (or as whole as possible) going into marriage.

The purpose of dating should not be to cure loneliness or discover your type or just to have fun or because “everyone else is doing it.” The purpose of dating is to ask the question, “God, is this who you have chosen for me to join in order to serve you more abundantly?”

If I had followed this one principle in my 20’s, I would have honored God so much more, and I would have saved myself a lot of heartache.

How much of your heart is left?