I Choose Jesus

The afternoon sun was hot on my face in the Target parking lot as she talked about the "real Christian" girl she knows. I know my face must've contorted when she said it or she wouldn't have felt the need to explain herself. 

She said, "You know. A 'real' Christian, like you. You know how you read your bible every day and witness to people and stuff?" 

My heart broke. 

It doesn't work that way. We don't live on a scale. 

Thank Jesus. 

No really, thank Jesus. 

That thought, the one that made her feel 'less than' when she compared herself to me or the girl she works with, that was nothing but conviction telling her what she already knows. She should read her bible more. She should pray more. She should go to church more. But not because it'll push her up a few notches on this fictitious Christian scale. She should want to do those things to draw near to her Savior. Trust me, that relationship is a beautiful thing when you can no longer trust your own strength to carry you. 

I know why we don't do those things sometimes. I'm guilty of it, too. We don't like feeling convicted, and conviction has a way of slapping you in the face when you open The Good Book or hit your knees in prayer. 

I had just finished explaining to this beautiful soul why I started Luke's Legacy, essentially witnessing to her, and she wanted to share another woman's story. As she started, the devil whispered a little lie into her ear that she isn't a "real" Christian because her works don't measure up to mine.

I wish I could tell you that I said, "Not today, Satan!" and straightened her thinking out right then and there. I'll be honest though, I was surprised (and okay-fine, a little flattered) so much by her statement that I missed an opportunity to tell her that my works don't make me the follower of Christ that I am. And they certainly won't get me to heaven. If I said otherwise, it would make me no better than the Pharisees that crucified Jesus. 

What she sees are fruits of the Spirit that resides in me, but they are certainly not the way to get to Heaven. Nope, there's only one Way. 

That's Jesus. 

Thank You, Jesus. 

What she sees are the products of my walk with The Lord. Evidence. Nothing more.

Now, is there evidence in your life? If not, maybe you should ask yourself if you're really saved. That's not up to me to decide, or anyone else for that matter. 

That's between you and Jesus. 

I can tell you this though. There isn't a scale that ranks Christians in order of their authenticity. There's either Salvation or not. 

Grace or not. 

Hope or not. 

Victory or not. 

Jesus or not. 

I choose Jesus.   

John 14:6-7 NIV

[6] Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. [7] If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.” …

The Blank Basket: It'll Still Hold Eggs

I had a familiar feeling come over me yesterday while driving to my sister's house. As I crossed the 'four-lane' (as we southerners like to call it), I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to get J's Easter basket monogrammed like I had totally planned to for weeks. I even bought his basket in February so that I could take it to my monogrammer in plenty of time for Easter. In the middle of my pity party for myself and my forgetful brain, I had another startling realization -- I forgot to get Jasper an Easter outfit, too! I had even had whole conversations with coworkers and friends about Easter outfits for our children. After this realization, I had an avalanche of unchecked To-Do's flooding my brain, and I got very overwhelmed with life.

When I finally got to my sister's house, she mentioned that she'd be going shopping later that day and asked if I needed anything. I asked her to pretty please pick up something for J to wear to church, and we began a conversation about all of the stuff that I forgot to take care of for Easter. I told her in my best whiny, poor me voice that (gasp!) I forgot to get Jasper's basket monogrammed. In a way that only she can do, she looked at me with what I can only describe as "loving disgust" and told me in no uncertain terms that I was being ridiculous. She said, "But guess what?! It'll still hold eggs."

I laughed in response and went on my way, but her comment started me thinking. Okay, so yes, between raising a little boy, building a house, nurturing a marriage, rocking my full-time career as well as my new part-time job, and trying my best to walk with the Lord every day, I guess that I forgot to do and buy all of the 'stuff' that I've been brainwashed to think I need to have for Easter. But does any of it matter? Yes, those adorable knee socks and a darling little heirloom Easter basket would make for some precious pictures, but does it really matter? No.

Do you know what does matter? The fact that I asked my two-year-old if he knew why we were going to church this morning, and he responded, "Jesus!" No, he doesn't yet understand that Jesus died for our sins; he doesn't yet understand that he died and on the third day arose from the dead; and he doesn't yet understand that Jesus' resurrection is the cornerstone of Christianity...but he will. And that's what really matters. 

So, yeah, I'm the mama who picked her child's Easter basket goodies at the very last minute. I'm the mama who, because of a very busy schedule and slightly poor planning, had to stay up late to get Easter goodies ready. We're the family walking in to church ten minutes late because we had to turn around twice for forgotten things. We're the family surreptitiously pulling tags off of new clothes in the middle of a sermon because we didn't buy said clothes until the last minute and are always so rushed on Sunday mornings that we forgot to pull the tags off. I'm the mama who is just as likely to forgot the basket at home and force her son to hunt eggs with a grocery bag. 

But we're also a family that is overwhelmingly thankful that God hold us to a standard of Grace. And we will do our best to make sure that our son understands that Easter is less about your Sunday best and hunting eggs and more about a celebration of God's Unending Love and Amazing Grace.

By the way, we did hunt eggs using that blank Easter basket, and my sister was right...it did still hold eggs! 

Thank you to my first friends.

I heard her say it as I was perched on the edge of her sofa trying to keep J from breaking one of her little cute knick-knacks. She was explaining to her friend that she had people over at her house and 'my husband's friend's wife' was her description of me. My husband's friend's wife. She meant absolutely nothing by it. I'm sure that it came out of her mouth without a second thought. But, that's when I realized that I was never going to be more than just 'my husband's friend's wife' to many of my new 'friends.' 

Let me back up. I was blessed to grow up with a tight knit group of friends. Real friends. We went to kindergarten together. We participated in pageants together and cheered harder than anyone when one of us won. Space camp wasn't ready for us when we went in the sixth grade, and Auburn University certainly wasn't ready when we toured it in high school. Emergency shower anyone? We'd spend whole weekends sleeping over at each other's houses. We rode with each other in our first cars and experienced that first taste of freedom together. We cried as we hugged each other after graduation not knowing that we'd experience many more life experiences with these friends right by our sides or at least on the receiving end of our Snaps. These friends have been there from first kisses to first babies. They know my most embarrassing secrets, and they love me anyway. These are friends are something special. My first friends. 

I moved closer to my husband's hometown when we got married, and now there is at least a forty minute drive between me and my closest friends. Not ideal, but I just always figured that is make new friends closer to my new home. No big deal, right? Wrong. Making real friends as an adult takes effort. I'm not saying that I haven't made friends. I have actually come to know some pretty amazing women in my new town, but these new friendships are not like the uncomplicated friendships you forge as a child. There's judgement and criticizism in new friendships. You have to work harder to be accepted into new social circles. You don't know the same people they know. You can't participate in the same walks down memory lane as they can. It's just harder. 

Even some work friends aren't like real friends. I'm sure I've been described as 'this girl I work with' by more than a few of them. I know I've described a few of them that way, anyway. I do have true friends that I happen to also work with, and, by the way, those workplace friendships are irreplaceable too. But even these are much more difficult to build and way too easy to lose. As soon as someone changes jobs that friendship begins to fade. 

But those first friends, they're always there. You might not speak to them for six months but you pick up the conversation like no time has passed as soon as your phone rings. So, thank you first friends. You are irreplaceable, and I can't imagine my life without you.

Proverbs 18:24

Friends come and go, but a true friend sticks by you like family.