"You are More"

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I went to Rock the Park at Carowinds last weekend, and this simple writing was on a t-shirt at Tenth Avenue North's merchandise table. "You are More" is one of their current radio singles. I've heard the song many times, but I really started thinking about what it's trying to say.

It doesn't have some type of Joel Osteen, feel-good, fluffy kind of message. (Pardon me if you like Joel.) It's not about merely pumping our self-esteem up. It's about facing your failures and regrets and knowing that, as a child of God, you are more than those past mistakes and your future ones. They don't define you. Sin doesn't define you or hold you in chains. We, in ourselves, are definitely unrighteous, covered in sin, but God allowed Jesus' righteousness to define us instead and remake us.

The chorus to the song is:

"You are more than the choices that you've made;

 you are more than the sum of your past mistakes;

 you are more than the problems you create;

 you've been remade."

God knows what we struggle with and have previously struggled with; He knows the things that distract us from Him and that tempt us. We don't have to pull ourselves up by the bootstrap before He can help us. If we think that we are the ones who have to somehow clean ourselves up for God before we can start living for Him in the right way or get back on the right path, then that's not trusting grace alone--that's bringing things back to us. We can't clean or fix ourselves in any way; it's God that does it all. That's what makes it amazing. He's the One Who leads us to Himself anytime already...Why would He expect us to fix ourselves first?

What makes grace beautiful is that there's not a limit; it doesn't just apply to the "little" things we've done wrong; it doesn't cease to cover us once we've gone "so far." Sin is sin. We are sinful people whether we've done things that seem really bad in human eyes or not. Nobody is better or less sinful than anybody else.

You can't be too far gone for God. The beauty of grace is that is has no cut-off points. We're not going through a metal detector type thing that alerts, "Bom, bom, bom. You are too bad to continue."

Repentance isn't just saying "sorry" and doing our own thing over & over again, though, so we should seek to live differently and in a way that is pleasing to our Savior; but when we fail, we have hope. We don't have to have a checklist that just brings us down and makes us feel like hopeless failures when we don't abide by it perfectly. We aren't called just to live by rules; we are called to love God and love one another. So we should be living in a *because of God* way. Meaning: our actions should be an overflow of the awareness and appreciation of Who He is and what He's done and is doing...We should be living in a way that concentrates on those things...obeying because we love Him and are genuinely grateful for His mercy. Getting to know Him through His Word and focusing on these things should lead us to live differently. Knowing that we were so hopeless that Jesus' blood was the only way to save us and knowing that He willingly died as our ransom should lead us to live for His glory instead of casually living for ourselves. We make mistakes, because we're still human, and sometimes we lose focus of what's really important in a distracting world; but, in our weakness, He is strong. Despite our failures, there is mercy. We have consequences for our actions, but forgiveness remains. God gives us strength to keep going, and He continues to work through us until our days on earth are done.

The bridge of the song:

"This is not about what you've done, but what's been done for you;

 this is not about where you've been, but where your brokenness brings you to;

 this is not about what you feel, but what He felt to forgive you and what He felt to make you new."

No matter how far you feel you've fallen, God's grace is deeper still.

Don't believe the lie that you're too far gone or that you've totally messed up your life.

If you're not a believer, don't convince yourself that you've messed up too much for God to forgive you.

We're all hopeless without Christ; He's given hope. We're in need of Him from the start. And it's not about how much faith you have; it's about Who your faith is in. 

In Christ, we are children of God, despite ourselves.

We are more than what we've done; we are forgiven and stand righteous before God through Christ. It wasn't anything of our doing; it's only by His grace. This isn't for us to be put on a pedestal; it's for His glory. 

0-19 in 7 Minutes

When I was born, I weighed about half a pound over 7. They called me Victoria, after two special ladies from my Mom’s side of the family. I had a grayish color to my eyes, but they didn’t stay that way for too long before re-coloring to a dark chocolate. My Mom was 30; my Dad was 40. I came home to a pretty 6^th grade-sister and a recent high school graduate-brother. I didn’t know much about the world compared to them. My home was in the suburbs of Orangeburg, South Carolina. I was born in November of ’91. George H.W. Bush was President. Bill Clinton was soon to be. I didn’t know then, but I didn’t like Bill much. I don’t remember much about ‘91. In fact, I don’t remember anything from that year at all. ‘92 is pretty fuzzy, also. Some of my best friends entered the world that year, though. I didn’t know it then, but I liked them a lot. We played up a storm in the nursery, had good laughs at Paula’s Playhouse, and experienced good bonding moments in the close proximity of play pens. ‘93 came and went; the highlight of the year was when I ate an unknown type of brown insect. I tried out a moth as well, but it didn’t suit my fancy. I didn’t know it then, but gummy worms are my favorite type of critters. Finally, ‘94 rolled around. My first memory was a part of this year. I had a Barbie birthday cake and a cool baby sitter. She came to my 3^rd birthday party, and so did one of my mom’s best friends. There were plenty of others there, but these two stand out the most. I was the young friend of our family chocolate lab named Max; he stole my McDonald’s Happy Meal hamburger in the grand year of ‘95. I got a ride-around Barbie Jeep for Christmas that year and also the next. ‘95s batter died, and it was cheaper to buy a new Jeep than to replace a battery. I didn’t know that then; I thought it was nice to have a fresh Jeep, though. I was a natural behind the wheel--cruising around our 8-acre lot every afternoon after a trying morning shift at daycare. Max followed closely behind.

In ‘96, I started school. This time, it was the real deal. (I tried out the education scene a year prior, but I decided pre-school was not for me. Can you blame me? The know-it-all at my neighboring desk tattled on me when I colored out of the lines.) Pretty soon, I decided to end my hiatus and see what Kindergarten could offer me. The pros: we had a daily nap-time, and the girls had dress up sessions with Mrs. Roberts’s old leopard print dresses and high heels. The cons: we had to trace our ABC’s in our sketch books until our hands were too numb to hold our animal crackers steady at lunch-time. I didn’t know it then, but animal crackers are the bomb.com. We had a teacher’s substitute one time who had extra long fingers. I won’t mention names. She reprimanded a red-headed boy for a not-so-distinctive atrocity, and her right pointer finger seemed like a petrifying element of a 3D movie as she fiercely shook it back and forth in front of the chalk board. I didn’t know it then, but I’ll never forget that woman or that finger. I made friends but had one who was closer than the rest. We enjoyed merry times on the see-saw, until one day when I jumped off suddenly during her time in the air. We all know where that’s going. She ended up with a mouth full of kindergartener-trodden sand, and the next day she got revenge on me. I didn’t know it then, but you reap what you sow. Sometimes your harvest brings a delightful lump of dirt to the table instead of animal crackers. I was given an evaluation in Mrs. Sheely’s class on a hot day toward the end of my K-5 year, and I found out that I could move on to the 1^st grade. Quite frankly, I was shocked. During the test, I had slight troubles being patient enough to get to the end of the sentence before going back to cross my T’s. Somehow I made it, though. The 1^st graders shared a room with the 2^nd graders, and I felt like big stuff. Still, I was always self-conscious when I sharpened my pencil at the front of the classroom. It was so noisy, and I knew I was the one causing the commotion. All of the big, cool kids watched me with beady eyes as I made my way back to my seat during the 30 seconds that went by in very slow motion. I made it through the year without many problems, somehow. (…Aside from the sole detention of my whole educational career thus far.) The crime that caused it is no longer lingering in my memories, but the 30 minutes that I had to stay after school, and that my dad had to wait for me in the truck, will never leave me. Every minute seemed like an hour as my 6-year-old feet dangled five inches above the floor beneath my miniature school desk.

2^nd grade came and nothing significant happened. Well, one thing was somewhat big. My cousin started going to school with me, but we didn’t find out that we were cousins until half the year through. Good thing I didn’t develop a crush on him; I would’ve been the crushed one when our parents made us aware of the baffling relation. 3^rd and 4^th grades were nothing special. I had an awful hair-do during the 4^th…the epitome of awful childhood do’s. I didn’t know how bad it was then; wait, yes, yes I did. I wore an over-sized hat out of Granddaddy’s hat collection to church the night I got it. To church? Yes, yes I did. How on earth I got away with it, I do not recall. The sight of it was enough punishment, though, rest assured. (P.s. I’m not passing the blame to my hair-dresser-mother; I asked for this do.) For 5^th and 6^th grades, I had my favorite teacher of all time. She taught us valuable life lessons on top of our regular book learning. We went to a petting zoo in the middle of nowhere during 6^th, and my best friend rode a camel with me. I had a crush on a boy from Texas, and I doodled pictures of me with him in our wedding attire in my electronic Password Journal. Girls are so strange; I fear for my sanity if I have a daughter.

In 7^th grade, I switched schools, because the new curriculum at my school of 8 years was not working out so well for me. I sadly left all of the people I knew there and met new friends at a slightly bigger school. The change was scary, but it was good. I remained there until the finish of my 9^th grade year, and my mom decided that another school right outside of Orangeburg would benefit me even more. I was successfully enrolled and looking forward to beginning 10^th grade there when I found out that I had scoliosis in the summer of ’07. Everything came to a screeching halt when additional tests showed that the curvature of my spine was 55 degrees and growing. How had we never known? Well, I grew up standing with my hand on my hip to give a visualization of my too-cool attitude. The hip that was jutting out more and more as I grew up just seemed to be a part of my act to my family. I didn’t know it then, but in ’91, I was a chick born with a rare extra vertebra. As I grew, it simply made my spine curve more and more, and, left untouched, it would only get worse and worse as I grew older. We decided to un-enroll from the new school and pursue home-schooling until I could recover from the back surgery that was inevitable.

In October of ’07, a very cool guy named Dr. Locke cut my back all the way down and removed that pestering vertebra. (I later asked to see it but wasn’t permitted a viewing.) He put a few lengthy titanium rods and a number of 3-inch screws in, and stapled me back up. 11 hours after the start, I woke up in ICU and was denied my beloved Coca-Cola. 24 hours later, I was moved to a regular hospital room, and my Dad was moved from a nearby hotel room to a nearby hospital, where he died of a massive heart attack. Because of morphine, I didn’t know it then, but it was a really hard and long day. It was also a really hard and long process of facing a new reality.

In August of ’08, I was wheeled back into surgery after falling in the Edisto Gardens and causing a screw connected to my left hip bone to come loose. I was home-schooled again for my 11^th grade year as a result of this. I didn’t know it then, but the following summer we’d be moving to Simpsonville, SC. I left my friends and family and began the strange adventure of making new friends in a place where I knew few people. I entered my 12^th grade year at Southside Christian School, and I met a girl in 1^st period science class who, though I didn’t know then, would be my future roommate in college. I made close friends and memories that I will never forget at that school, and I finished my high school career in May of 2010 as a SCS Saber. 

I have always been afraid of flying, and I didn’t know that for my first plane ride, I’d be going across the Atlantic the following June for a trip to Paris. I didn’t know that the little girl who was afraid of ferris wheels at the fair would ride the biggest rollercoaster in the Southeast for her first coaster ride the following July. I didn’t know that I’d end up at Anderson University in August, where my best friend from Kindergarten talked about going when we were in 6^th grade. I didn’t know that the girl who used to be afraid at sleepovers and would call her mom to bring her home would ever grow up. I didn’t know I’d reconnect with people from my childhood and that they’d be best friends all over again. I didn’t know the day would ever come for me to get my very own “I voted” sticker. I didn’t know it was possible to face the last year of teenager-dom. I didn’t know that things can change in the blink of an eye. But now I know what I didn’t know as a little girl rebelliously singing “I Like it, I Love it” in church…the little girl who loved Garth Brooks, George W. Bush, and Chuck Norris. I know that things happen for a reason; we have winter in our lives, but spring comes soon thereafter. There’s pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning. I still know very little, but I know that I’m ready to keep learning.

A Broken Water Pitcher

“Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so through Christ our comfort also overflows.” 2 Corinthians 1: 3-5

I recently read a book by Mary Beth Chapman, the wife of Steven Curtis Chapman, which talked about the journey that she and her family have been on since the death of their 5-year-old adopted daughter in 2008. It’s a hard read sometimes because of the deep, deep hurt that is expressed, but it is extremely encouraging through it all.

One of many parts that stuck out to me was this:

A while after the death, the family took a water pitcher outside to throw it onto the concrete where their little girl had passed away, and afterwards, they were going to take the broken pieces of the pitcher and glue them all back together. It was a different kind of way of reminding themselves of God’s work and healing in their lives…a picture of it.

She says, “Our idea was that the mended pitcher would leak water, our reminder that in our brokenness and eventual healing we would leak out the comfort to others that we ourselves had been given.” The idea was inspired by the verses at the top.

When we go through tragedy, God doesn’t leave us in our brokenness. He picks us up and brings us a healing that only He understands. As a mended piece of pottery would leak out water after water is poured into it, we can leak out comfort to others that God pours out to us. It’s not that His work isn’t perfect; it’s just that we won’t be complete until we see Him. Our scars allow us to be a witness to others and show them how God continues to heal us. We can then comfort them in their tragedies and sufferings.

If we go through terrible things, we may never see a complete transition back to the way things were before or to the way we think things should be for us here on earth. That doesn’t mean that God isn’t working through it all. He’s entrusted us with something to tell others about. We can tell them how we have seen Him work through an awful situation and bring good things out of it. One day, though, when we reach eternity, we will be completely whole.

In 2007, I went through an 11 hour back surgery to correct a severe case of scoliosis that would have eventually (if left alone) resulted in me being paralyzed in crookedness at an older age, for lack of a better phrase. The next day, my dad died of a massive heart attack. I stayed in the hospital for a week to recover and had to miss his funeral. I never knew that when I said, “Goodbye,” to him when I was wheeled away into surgery, it would be the final goodbye. Also, after hoping that I’d never have a surgery again, I had another back surgery a few months later to repair some internal (scoliosis-correcting) equipment that had been damaged after a fall, and my dad’s dad died a few days before.

It was a period of brokenness. I remember people asking why we weren’t mad at God about it all. My mom could have had to plan two funerals that week; some people have died in the first surgery I had. For me, it was a big success, and we were really grateful. Even in the midst of the pain of loss, we were comforted and experienced other big blessings. Yes, we had much pain, but He’s helped us through that as well.

I don’t tell these things to get sympathy but to tell of how the comfort that I received in my brokenness can hopefully also lend comfort to others. I have scars (metaphorically and literally) and bad memories that I won’t ever forget, but one day everything will be perfected when this life is done. I have seen tremendous healing brought about by God even since then, and I’ve seen God bring about many good things even after tragedy.

 As Steven Curtis Chapman’s son, Caleb, said, “When you’re real close to a painting like this, it’s hard to focus, it’s blurred, and you can’t see what’s going on. You have to walk really far back, and then the whole painting comes into focus and you can see what the artist was doing. That’s what this experience is like for us. We’re just really, really close to this mess…but I think the farther we get away from it in time, the more we’re going to see this picture come into focus.” He also said, “I can tell you, because I’m in the midst of this, that Jesus is real, and man, He shines through some really, really dark places.”

So don’t forget: you’re not alone, and He’s not finished with you yet. 

Learning How to Love

Ok.

How many times since I've been a teenager have I been asked this question: "Do you have a boyfriend?" 

A LOT.

Why does society think that as soon as we turn the ripe 'ol age of 13 that we should begin "dating"? 

Why do our friends and family make us feel that we must have a boyfriend (or vice versa) or there is something wrong? Television, magazines, movies, etc. throw these things in our faces all the time. 

I remember watching the Disney show Lizzie McGuire when I was around 12 or 13 and thinking that I should be like this character, Lizzie. She had cute clothes, a fun personality, cool friends, and yes, she had love interests at the age of 14. I wondered, "If no boys seem to pay me any attention, is there something wrong?" Because, no, I did not have a boyfriend at that age. And I didn't have a huge group of boys knocking outside my door, either. 

And you know what? It’s quite alright. 

I see notifications on my news feed on Facebook all the time stating, "So-and-so is now in a relationship with so-and-so." Guess how old some of these 'so-and-so's are. 

Around 12 or 13. 

Why? Why is it so cool in our society to be able to say, "I'm in a relationship.”? What do you do in a relationship when you're 13? Ask your parents to drop you off at the movies a few times and basically set yourself up for heartache in the end. 

If you start "dating" at such a young age, you're never going to want to be without someone at your side. (Typically.) You’ll want another as soon as something goes wrong with the current one.

Why aren’t pre-teens and teens just satisfied with hanging out with their family and friends and enjoying the youthful years?

While I see the notifications of people being "in a relationship," I also see a lot of "So-and-so is now single."

What is the point of having a boyfriend or girlfriend for a little while, only to move on to another one in a few weeks? Why have a boyfriend or girlfriend just to say that you have one?

It just irks me. 

I'm not going to say that people MUST wait to date the one that they think they are going to marry and never date anyone besides that. I just think it's not very wise to simply date around for the fun of it (and especially to begin at such an early age). 

I just don’t want to put myself through the heartache of having a long list of failed ‘relationships’. 

I think that (1) a relationship should start with friendship. 

Get to know them. As you develop a close friendship and realize that there’s more there, that’s great. After all, don’t you want the person you fall in love with and marry to also be the one that you can tell everything to and be your closest friend? Seems pretty important to me.

(2) that you should be able to see yourself potentially marrying that person.

Because isn't that the goal? To find the person you're supposed to spend your life with?

Like I said, I don’t necessarily believe you are required to only date one person. But if you do and realize that they are the one you are meant to be with, awesome. I hope that happens for me.

Why not avoid the petty stuff and wait until you find something that could be serious?

So yes, I’ve been asked ten million times if I have a boyfriend in the last 7 years or so. I’ve had a massive slap-in-the-face realization in just the last month or so, though. I want to be the girl that I would want someone to date and eventually marry. I have things to learn and maturing to do before I should be in a real relationship. I have priorities to get in order. I don’t want to have a negative impact on another person. We often think about the type of character, etc. that we want to see in another person, but what about the things that we need to take a look at in ourselves? I think that a relationship should revolve around seeking Christ together; if we're not both becoming more like Christ, it's not the type of God-glorifying relationship that it should be.

I really like a song called “Learning How to Love.” One line says:

“While waiting, I’ll keep taking steps for you.”

I’ll never have it all put together…But by the time I get to that point in my life, I want to be a much more God-focused, mature, considerate, selfless, compromising person (and much more). Pursuing the Lord and following Him is the only way for that to happen, but it shouldn't be done in order to get something else, such as a guy. God is more than satisfying, and if He wants to bring a guy into my life for His glory, then so be it. If not, I'll do His will without one.
For now...

“I’m still learning how to love.”