Wait.

It’s a dirty word in my generation.

We are a fast-paced, microwave, iPhone, have the world at our fingertips, 24-hours-a-day, now, now, now society.

In fact, I get impatient when it takes more than 2 minutes to get my drive-thru meal at Chick-Fil-A.

Or my Hotmail account takes more than 5 seconds to delete my junk email.

So, wait is a 4-letter word in every sense of the word.

Dictionary.com defines wait as “to remain inactive until something expected happens.”

We all spend a lot of time waiting.

More time than we want to.

We wait in line at the supermarket. The post office. The dry cleaners.

We wait for our tax return money to arrive.

We wait for the light to change at the intersection.

And we wait to get married.

I’ve seen far too many young women wait around as if their lives are on pause until they finally get married and have a family…then their lives can officially start.

I’ve even heard of some girls who won’t buy nice dishes or hang pictures on the wall in their houses because they are convinced that their Prince Charming is about to sweep them off their feet any moment. And I guess it would require way too much effort to take the pictures down when she becomes his princess bride and moves into his castle.

Yes, I want to get married and have children. A lot of kiddos in fact.  

I’m waiting.

But not the passively sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, knitting an afghan, petting my cats kind of waiting. No offense to knitters or cats.

One of my wise friends once gave this advice to a group of 18-year-old young women that she was mentoring, “Have a 10 year plan that doesn’t include marriage.”

This is gold.

No, really. This is gold.

There is a lot of life – good, fruitful, joyful life – to be lived even before you get married.

(Gasp!)

Learn to love.

But not just so you can be a “good wife” one day.

Learn to serve.

But not simply as “practice” for being a good mom one day.

By doing so, you are being an obedient Christian today.

Your choice of loving and serving now is not just practice for one day when your real life or real ministry begins.

It’s valid now.

It’s needed now.

Have an active plan to go deep in your relationship with Jesus.

Don’t look back in 5 or 10 or 20 years with regret at many opportunities that were missed because you were waiting for the one day.

I’ve decided to not live with the one day when mentality.

I won’t give into inactivity.

I want to live a full life today.

We usually assume that what’s most important is the fairy-tale life that we are waiting for and often miss what is happening in our hearts in the waiting.

I want to encounter the tender heart of God while I am in the waiting.

Either He is good in all of His dealings with me or He isn’t.

Either He has me or He doesn’t.

Either all my days are written in His book before one of them came to be or they aren’t.

Either I trust Him or I don’t.

Could it be that there really is a happiness found in the waiting?

Is a joyful contentment really possible?

Psalm 34:8 “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed are those who trust in the Lord.”

Blessed here means happiness. Happy are those who are confident that the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe really knows what He is doing. Happiness comes from trusting that I can flee to Him as my refuge in every season of my life.

Even in the waiting.

Especially in the waiting.

Being content in the waiting comes from a heart that is at rest in the trusting.

So, single ladies (and guys), go hang those pictures. And love Jesus fully today.

Until next time…I’m off to eat dinner on my nice dishes.

Oh, I cringe at that word! It reminds me of the dress I need to finish mending, the closet I need to finish organizing, and the letter I need to finish writing.

I recently spent some time reading through prayer-journals from my teen years. Some entries are heart-warming. Others outright hilarious! One entry when I was 17 years old read, “Lord, if there is any impurity left in my heart, please purify me. I want to be like You, Jesus.”

I’m sure my entire neighborhood heard me burst out laughing when I read that super-sincere yet super-naive prayer. IF there is any impurity left in my heart … are you kidding me, little teenage self?

I guess I had forgotten the song we always sang in Children’s Church that goes something like this:

He’s still working on me to make me what I ought to be. It took Him just a week to make the moon and the stars. The sun and the earth and Jupiter and Mars. How loving and patient He must be. He’s still working on me.

And obviously I had not yet memorized the verse in Jeremiah 17:9 that says “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?”

Deceitful? Desperately wicked? Who me? Never! I must have thought I had reached full Christian maturity even before I graduated high school.

It cracks me up every time I think about it!

Maybe it’s the decade of living with me since that entry that has made me so aware of the darkness of my own heart. But I also think it has a lot to do with spending time each day looking at the nature of the only Man who is the completely holy One, Jesus Christ.

The more time I spend gazing on His perfection, the more I am convinced that there is no room for “if” in my prayers.

I’m unfinished.

If the Apostle Paul describes himself as the chief of all sinners (1 Tim. 1:15), then who do I think that I am? There are most definitely impurities in my heart. More than I even know. And I’m very grateful that God doesn’t show them all to me at once. Talk about overwhelming!

Do you remember those TV commercials for Drain-O where they showed what clogged pipes look like on the inside? Yeah, it’s disgusting. I hope you’re not eating while reading this. Anyways, I kind of picture my heart like that and the light of God is the only thing that can clean it out.

And in case you’re concerned, I’m not involved in any blatant sin. But there are deep recesses of my heart that still need to have light shone into them.

I’m unfinished.

If I had been faced with the truth of my heart being dark a few years ago, I think it would have sent me into a tailspin of despair and trying to figure out ways to fix me so I could earn God’s love. This is called self-righteousness or religious perfectionism…and it’s not okay.

But over the past 3 years, I’ve been studying the emotions of God (yes, God has emotions) towards people who aren’t perfect, which includes the entire human race, by the way.

Now if you know me well enough, you know that I cannot stand when people use the “I’m not perfect, but God understands” line as a license to sin. No way! That’s sloppy grace that has become popular in our culture but is not taught in Scripture. True grace empowers me to stop sinning.

However, God enjoys me even before I’m perfect.

Even while I’m growing.

Even when…

I’m unfinished.

Knowing His affections for me in the journey emboldens me, with His help, to reach toward holiness, and not shrink away from Him because I think that I am disqualified and He is mad at me.

Can a 2 year old read, write, or drive a car? No. She spits out her food, draws on the walls, and throws temper-tantrums. Is she perfect? No. Do her parents expect her to be fully mature at 2? No. Does this mean that she can continue these patterns when she is 12? Or 18? Or 40? Of course not! Do they need to discipline her? Yes. Do they still love and enjoy her as she is learning and growing? Yes.

That’s how God wants us to see ourselves and know His feelings for sincere yet immature and weak believers. I am dark (in my heart), but lovely (to God). (Song of Songs 1:5)

Believing this about the heart of God enables me to run to God instead of from Him when I stumble. He delights in me and is tender toward me as I am immature yet reaching for more obedience.

Reaching. Again, this is not settling into staying the way I am. When I sin, I get up, repent, and reach again with an obedient heart toward God. And realizing that He is delighting in me and my reach all along the way. Not just when I am finally finished maturing.

I recently saw a sign near a construction site and it read, “Caution: Work in Progress.” I’m starting to see my heart like this construction site.

I’m a work-in-progress. Yet God is delighting in me today…not when I am finished.

I’m unfinished.

And I’m learning to be okay with that.

I must have owned 17 or so of his cassette tapes. Too bad I didn’t keep them. Today they’d probably be worth a fortune on Ebay. My favorite song was “Life without God’s love is like a donut – there’s a hole in the middle of your heart.”

Then one day in my pre-teen years, I graduated to Hosanna music on compact disks. At last, no need to waste all that time rewinding or fast-forwarding the tape to find a specific song. And long-gone were the days of your boom-box “eating” your cassette and leaving you with nothing but a pile of mangled brown tape. How many days did I spend, sharpened pencil strategically placed in the holes of the cassette, trying to roll that blasted tape back into its place? I feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it!

I grew up in a church where our Sunday night services often turned into a Holy Ghost Hoedown. And you only really know what this is if you’ve been part of one. Let’s just say that if we had chandeliers, many people would have been hanging from them.

Jericho marches around the sanctuary were fairly common, as well. I have a very vivid memory of a particular man, clothed in his Sunday suit and tie, running across the front of our sanctuary and doing a cartwheel before he began another lap around the building. Yes, I said a cartwheel.

I’ve seen and heard it all. But lately I’ve been pondering one of the common phrases that we use in Christian-ese: “Jesus didn’t come to make us happy. He came to make us holy.”

So often, we throw happiness and holiness in a boxing ring and wait for the fight to ensue. But the more I study the Scriptures and live life, the less I’m convinced that this is true.

I am a firm believer that holiness and happiness are not at odds with one another. In fact, I believe that holiness is the only way to true and lasting happiness.

Whether it’s Happy Birthday, Happy Meals, or Happy Feet, we all just want to be happy, right? I wonder how many sales McDonald’s would have made if they had named their signature kiddie boxes Grumpy Meals?

“Hey, Mommy, Susie and I are going to the play in the Playland ballpit. I want a Grumpy Meal with a cheeseburger, fries, and Sprite, please.” Uh, yeah, I rest my case.

The pursuit of happiness even made it into the inalienable rights of American citizens when the Declaration of Independence was being written way back in 1776.

Happiness: everybody wants it, but few really have it. However, I believe there is a clear path to happiness laid out in God’s Word for those who are willing to follow it.

So, I am setting out to explore this belief with a multi-part blog. I’ve been looking at the word blessed in Scripture. There are a few different ways that the word is used in the Bible, but the one that I want to delve into in this series is a Hebrew word that is also translated, you guessed it, happy!

Blessed. It’s a word very casually thrown around. “Bless you” – we say it when someone sneezes. “Bless her heart,” is how we respond when we feel sorry for a pitiful woman. And my favorite is the super-tacky airbrushed t-shirts that read “Too Blessed to be Stressed.” Now, if your mama has one of those shirts, I apologize. Bless her heart!

But what does blessed really mean?

Dictionary.com defines blessed as “blissfully happy or contented.” Far too many people have bought into the lie that this way of life doesn’t exist. We will look at some of the ways that society tells us happiness is attained and the truths of what happiness really is and how to get it!

Go to the bottom of this page and subscribe to my blog to receive future parts of this series. I’m headed to get a donut…oh, I wish I had kept those blasted cassette tapes. I’d probably be a millionaire by now!

Mark Driscoll is apparently a “voice for our culture” and I didn’t know much about him…until yesterday. Yep, I guess I’m a little behind the times, eh? (Eh? – I learned that one from a Canadian friend. We traded. I gave her my Mississippi “y’all” and she gave me her “eh?”)

Anyways, back to Mr. Driscoll. I’ve heard his name on a few occasions but didn’t really know who he was until a Facebook friend of mine posted one of his YouTube videos about ending the all-too-common perpetual childishness of guys by calling little boys into manhood. His challenge was for men to step up to the plate, take responsibility, and avoid the 15 or so years of adolescence that our culture says are normal.

It was a great message. I agreed with many of his claims, one of which was that a 34 year-old living in his mama’s house and saving money from his job at the burger joint to buy the latest video game is not okay.

Yes, I was waving my white “Amen!” handkerchief around at this point.

Another one of his points that created a laugh out loud moment for me was when he referred to a bachelor pad where 27 guys live in a studio apartment and pay 5 bucks each for rent.

I like this guy. He is funny and interesting.

So, enjoying what I heard from him, I wanted to hear more. I found a recent podcast interview done by Boundless, a ministry of Focus on the Family.* In the interview, host Lisa Anderson asks Mark and his wife, Grace, questions about their recently released book entitled, “Real Marriage: The Truth About Sex, Friendship, and Life Together.”

I googled it and found that the book is #1 this week on the New York Times best seller list. Not behind the times on that one, eh?

The interview was going great. They were discussing the fact that many people, even those who have grown up in Christian homes, have done many things that they regret in their college and single years and how this affects them as they enter into marriage.

Mark said that not many people these days can say “I’ve been in church my whole life, won the Bible Trivia Bowl, and kept my purity ring on until I got married in my late-thirties.” He joked about these people being so rare that you could hold a convention for them in a telephone booth.

Again, humorous Mark struck my funny bone. Lisa, the podcast host was laughing, Mark and Grace were laughing, and I was laughing.

Until the next sentence.

Mark continued, “It’s pretty rare today to make it through your singles clean, loving Jesus, and with a boring testimony.”

Boring?

That’s when my wheels starting spinning.

So living a clean life and loving Jesus all throughout your college and single years make for a boring testimony, eh?

I beg to differ.

First of all, let’s get Mr. Webster to help us define what boring is.

Synonyms of boring: dull, uninteresting, tiresome, colorless, drab, dreary, dry, ho-hum, monotonous, stale, and stuffy.

I’m going to give Mark an out here because I understand where he is coming from. I’ve been guilty of it myself.

In my 28 years, I’ve heard lots of testimonies either from people in the various ministries that I was involved in at my home church or while working with youth and young adults for over 10 years.

And oftentimes, the more that you’ve done “wrong” before coming to Jesus, the more “powerful” your testimony seems to be.

Don’t misunderstand me here. I love Jesus more every time that I hear a testimony of a person being snatched from the fire and rescued out of a lifestyle of addiction. But why do we assume that their salvation required a greater transformation than another who may have been classified as “goody two shoes?”

I remember hearing the story of the poster child for an “awesome testimony.” She was a gal who started smoking cigarettes at age 11, using drugs as a freshman in high school, and sleeping around with countless guys not long after. By college, she had experimented with homosexuality, bi-sexuality, and given birth to her son out of wedlock. But then at age 25 she “got saved” and is now living boldly for Jesus.

After hearing stories like these, I would usually go away and think to myself, “Wow! She has a powerful testimony! She really has been pulled out of darkness into light.”

Especially compared to me and my boring testimony.

I mean, I haven’t done any of those things.

I’m not at all claiming to be perfect. I’m very far from it. But cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol have never touched my lips. And I am a 28-year-old who is saving my first kiss for my wedding day.

Boring, right? I always thought so.

Until one day when the spirit of revelation touched my heart. My testimony, and those of you who have a similar story, is anything but boring.

Salvation has always been by grace through faith in Jesus (Eph. 2:8-9). God didn’t use a measuring stick to determine how deep in darkness I was compared to the girl who has done everything under the sun. After all, we have all sinned and fallen short of God’s glory (Romans 3:23).

Our stories are different in many ways. Yet we have many things in common.

We were both sinners.

Both lost.

Her sins mostly outward. Mine mostly inward.

Both deserving of God’s wrath and on our way to hell.

We were both in desperate need of a Savior.

In His tenderness, Jesus reached way down to redeem each of us and we both met Him.

Now we are both clean and clothed in His righteousness.

It didn’t take more of the blood of Jesus to wash her sins away than it did mine. Without my acceptance of His sacrifice on the cross, all of my good works would not have reconciled me to God (Isaiah 64:6, Romans 3:10).

My abstinence from drugs and sex may have spared me from jail time and STDs, but simply livng a moral life apart from Jesus wouldn’t have saved me from eternal damnation.

The grace and mercy that pulled her out of darkness is the same grace and mercy that has enabled me to love Jesus throughout my teen, college, and single years.

And it has been anything but boring. It has been the most fulfilling life I could imagine. I don’t regret any of it.

In fact, I’d say my journey has been the exact opposite of boring.

Webster’s Dictionary says that the antonyms of “boring” are exciting, amusing, thrilling, enrapturing, and fascinating.

Yes, fascinating!

It’s a rare thing in the earth in 2012 to meet people who have stayed on the narrow path while living in a culture where we are constantly bombarded by temptations to get off of it. I love hearing stories of how they, despite the pressures to “just do it,” have loved and followed Jesus all the days of their lives.

Now, that is a powerful testimony!

Mr. Driscoll, you’re right about this: it may be hard to find us because we are a rare group of people. Look for us convening in a telephone booth near you, where we will be gladly praising Jesus for our powerful testimonies that are anything but boring!

*I mean no disrespect to Mark or Grace Driscoll, Boundless, or Focus on the Family. Again, I know little about the Driscolls, but his comment gave me some food for thought. I highly respect Focus on the Family’s stand for moral values throughout the years.

Did you ever have one of those B.F.F. necklaces? You know, the heart-shaped ones that are broken in two pieces? One half read “Best” and the other one “Friends” and each friend wore a piece of the heart around their neck.

The necklaces could usually be bought for 50 cents from a gumball machine. They were cheap. They turned my neck green many times but it didn’t matter because they represented a friendship that was pure gold.

We pinky-swore to be best friends forever but in hindsight it seems like our friendship tarnished as fast as the cheap metal the necklaces were made of.

Time flies. Seasons change. I often feel like I was just yesterday that 14-year old teeny bopper.

Michael W. Smith lied to me. What happened to “Friends are friends forever if the Lord is the Lord of them?”

With this passing of time, friendships change. Some friendships evolve. Other friendships dissolve.

Friends that I was practically attached to their hip 15 years ago, I rarely see now.

As a high-schooler, I could not imagine that there would ever be a day when I wouldn’t regularly talk to the girls with whom who I was best friends.

But it happened.

We grew up.

Some went to college. Some got married. Some moved away.

Some are still in the same place, living in their same house in our hometown but we might as well be on different planets when it comes to where our current interests lie.

We had a lot in common in 4^th grade when we both loved shopping at the Hello Kitty store (yes, there really was an entire store devoted to Hello Kitty at our local mall) or talking about our latest crush while doing one another’s hair in our teen years.

But not so much anymore.

After the initial run-into-each-other moment around the holidays, there’s not a whole lot to talk about. We briefly share what we’ve been up to for the past decade and then the awkward silence is so thick you can practically hear the crickets chirp.

Come on, I know you’ve had similar moments.

But this is not always a bad thing. Some friendships need to dissolve. Others naturally evolve according to our current life situations and it is right that they do so.

And then there are other friendships that continue throughout the years. I believe it is because we have what I like to call a “heart connect” that goes much deeper than cheap necklaces, Hello Kitty, and cool hairstyles.

As we all know, friendships take work.

Whether you are super-busy or all you’ve got is free-time, it requires that we put forth effort to spend time with the people that we love. And even harder than scheduling a coffee date is really opening your heart up to your friends while on that coffee date.

Vulnerability – truly a 4-letter word in our generation.

Why all these thoughts about friendship lately? Well, it started when I recently read about one of my oldest Friends.

“And I (Jesus) will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever – the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you (John 14:16-17).”

It hit me: I’m going to be friends with the Holy Spirit forever.

The same Holy Spirit that I talked with 10 years ago as my 18-year old heart really wanted to love Jesus is the same Holy Spirit that I talked with yesterday when I had an hour alone driving in my car is the same Holy Spirit I will be talking with 5,000 years from now.

We have a real relationship. A history together. Memories shared.

He watched with delight as I was knit together in my mother’s womb.

He knows every joy and every pain.

I can be vulnerable with Him without fear or shame.

He knows me as I really am.

He leads me into Truth.

He tells me what Jesus and the Father are like.

He is my Helper, my Counselor, my Comforter, my Advocate.

He not only lives with me but He lives in me.

He goes with me everywhere I go.

I like to think of the Holy Spirit as my Constant Companion.

He will abide with me forever.

Now, that’s a friendship worth cultivating!

Gotta run. My Friend is waiting for me.

71…72…73…It was midnight and I was counting sheep. But not because I couldn’t sleep. Actually I had just woken up from a full 8 hours of sleep and clocked into my shift out in the fields, where I nightly keep watch over my flock.

The strangest thing is: this schedule feels normal.

I’m a shepherd.

I do the NightWatch here in Israel.

It was a night like any other. Until suddenly an angel stood before me and the glory of the Lord shone around me. And I’m supposed to not be afraid? Easier said than done! I know you were bringing good tidings of great joy, but heavenly host, can you give a brother a little warning next time?

The angel declared that this was the day all of heaven and earth had been awaiting. The Savior, Christ the Lord, was born and could be found, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Good thing I had saved some vacation days, because after a promise like that, there was no way I was going to stick around those stinky sheep.

I was immediately in pursuit of that Treasure.

I was going to search until I found Him.

When my eyes saw Jesus, I was forever changed. Finally! Emmanuel. God is with us.

Some call me crazy. But I’ve found real gold and He is worth leaving everything else behind.

Watchmen of the night, Jesus still wants to be found.
Behold and bless Him, all you servants of the Lord, who by night stand in His house.

Take my word for it: There’s something sweet about seeking the Treasure of the One you love in the middle of night.

I’m a list-maker.

I should have bought stock in Post-it Sticky Notes.

I’m a self-proclaimed queen of to-do lists. Grocery lists. And especially packing lists before going on a trip.

Toothpaste? Check. Snorkeling mask? Check. Boarding pass? Check. Photo ID? Check. House cleaned? Check. Suitcase packed? Check. Neighbor kid reminded to feed the dogs and water the flowers? Check.

This is my routine every time I go on a trip. The night before my departure, I lie in bed restlessly trying to doze off, mentally going through my “list of things to do” before I leave the city.

Of course, I had previously made a real list on paper and marked off the things that were already taken care of, but that gnawing “it still seems like I’m forgetting something” feeling always haunts me.

And how exciting the dreams are leading up to a big trip! For example, you forget to pack your swimsuit for your vacation to Hawaii and, since albino pirates have captured the importing cargo ships, all of the swimwear stores on the entire island are completely sold out, leaving you stuck in your hotel room longing for the sand and surf.

Or you dream about a truck hauling a herd of premature piglets that is overturned on the highway, making your car get stuck in traffic. You then feverishly dash through the airport only to learn that you’ve missed your flight to London by 3 minutes.

Don’t laugh at me. You know exactly what I’m talking about!

Maybe it was my good ol’ Southern home-training or my mom’s perfectionistic tendencies but we were never allowed to go out-of-town unless our house was clean. And she made a list to make sure it was done. All of our beds had to be made, the toilets sparkling, and the trash cans emptied. My mom wanted our house to be “in order.” You know, in case someone breaks in or our house catches on fire, we’d hate for the burglars and firefighters to think that we were slobs.

So, this good habit has been passed on to me. And at the end of a trip we would have to check the hotel dressers and underneath the beds at least 6 times to be sure that we didn’t forget anything.

Our biggest “make sure you don’t forget anything” moment happened the day that we moved out of the house that we had lived in for 20 years. I remember doing the 17th (and final) walk-through, opening every cabinet and looking behind every door to make sure that none of our belongings were left behind. Then checking off each room on our list as we exited. As I shut the door for the last time, I knew that I would never step foot back in that house again.

It’s good to make sure everything on your list is taken care of, right? After all, neglecting one thing on your list would be more costly than another. For example, forgetting to buy a gallon of milk or pick up your dry cleaning after work, not a life-altering big deal. But forgetting to show up for your wedding day or jury duty? A much different story!

I have been wondering if Harold Camping was a list-maker.

You probably remember the name Harold Camping, right? He was the man who was made a household figure (and laughing-stock) after predicting that Jesus would return on May 21, 2011, at 6 pm in each time zone.

When I Googled his name, one of the top search results was “May 21 Rapture Jokes.” You probably heard some yourself. Or saw the photos of clothes sprawled out in public parks, as if their owners had suddenly left them behind.

What in the world do you put on your “MY LAST DAY ON EARTH” list?

Talk about daunting!

How did Harold Camping live what he believed to be his last day on earth? Did he sleep at all? If there is any night to be restless or pull an all-nighter, it seems like that would be a good one!

What list was he mentally checking off as he lay in bed on the eve of what was to be his departure day? Was he afraid that he would forget to do something?

Maybe he used that day cleaning his house – making the beds, cleaning the toilets, taking out the trash. You know, just in case the news reporters came to do a report from his now unoccupied home.

Did he eat his favorite meal? Did he splurge on dessert because the calories wouldn’t matter the next day?

Now, I know some of this is humorous, but these are questions I have really been pondering. Don’t you think that he and his followers lived differently since they thought that their last day was nearing?

Or were his thoughts much less on what would be left behind than on what, or better yet Who, he would see once he got to his destination? Did he spend the final hours repenting of his own sin because he was about to see a holy God? Or were they spent trying to evangelize his family, friends, and neighbors?

While I never thought that the rapture would actually happen on that specific day, I did find it astounding how committed Harold Camping and his followers were to this cause. As we say in the South, “they put their money where their mouths were,” meaning they used all of their time and resources on billboards, radio announcements, and signs on 18-wheeler trucks, trying to make sure that people knew to be rapture-ready.

I’ve really tried to watch my words concerning this topic. There are many mockers. I don’t want to be like them. Because I know what it is like to be mocked for believing that there really is coming a day when the bride of Christ will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

I don’t want to mock a man who spent millions of dollars on his belief if I haven’t even taken the time to share the gospel with my neighbor. I have been provoked. Do I live as if Jesus is returning soon? I like to think that I do. But does the way that I spend my time, my money, and my energy reflect that belief?

Am I truly living with urgency?

Scripture is clear that “no one knows the day nor the hour (Matthew 24:36).” However, it also says that Day will not overtake those who are living in light, soberly watching and waiting for Jesus’ return (1 Thessalonians 5:1-11).

The reality is that my life and your life really is a vapor that appears for a moment and then quickly passes away (James 4:13-14).

After all, what is 70, 80, even 100 years in comparison to eternity?

When considering forever, it is as if life in this age is almost over – even from the day that we are born.

Harold Camping was wrong about the date of his May 21^st predictions but he was right about one thing: Jesus is coming back!

This doesn’t have to be bad news. It’s actually words that can bring comfort and hope!

You don’t really believe that this life is all there is to it, do you?

Your final day on earth may be the day before the rapture, or 30 years from now lying in a hospital bed surrounded by loved ones, or…tomorrow.

One of my favorite authors, Leonard Ravenhill, emphasized eternity this way: “If God should stamp eternity or even judgment on our eyeballs…I am quite convinced we’d be a very, very different tribe of people, God’s people, in the world today. We live too much in time, we’re too earth bound. We see as other men see, we think as other men think. We invest our time as the world invests it. We’re supposed to be a different breed of people. I believe that the church of Jesus Christ needs a new revelation of the majesty of God. We’re all going to stand one day, can you imagine it – at the judgment seat of Christ to give an account for the deeds done in the body…and there’s no court of appeal after it. The verdict is final.”

You may not be a list-maker. But one thing you and I have in common: We all will have a final day in this age on earth.

You may not like to think about death and eternity, but you would be wise to do so.

Add this to your list: Live each day as if I could meet God at any moment.

Because one day you will.

I have very fond memories of those first through twelfth grade years. Yes, my classroom desk was our family’s kitchen table. Pajamas were allowed to be worn in class. And if our mom was busy in another room, my brother and I would occasionally sneak away to catch an episode of “The Price is Right.” My favorite games will always be Cliff Hanger and Plinko and Drew Carey can never replace Bob Barker.

Which reminds me, I need to help control the pet population by having my pets spayed or neutered.

These are just a few of the many advantages to being homeschooled. Another is being the only student in my graduating class because I won every award – valedictorian, most likely to succeed, best athlete, most beautiful, tallest, shortest, and wittiest.

Has it really been 10 years since I donned that hideous royal blue gown, white pantyhose and matching white shoes that would make even your grandma cringe? It was a make-do homeschool graduation. I had never met any of the other graduates but our families wanted to make it as legit as possible. Cap and gown, tassels, cake, punch, pastel mints, group photos, Pomp and Circumstance, and the whole nine yards.

The best part of graduating from high school was checking the mailbox every day to see if I got another card from congratulatory friends and family. And more importantly, if the card had money in it.

Don’t act “holier than Thou.” You know you did the same thing!

How many of those cards do we really read anyways? I think I could quote Jeremiah 29:11 in my sleep during that time. Is there an unspoken rule between card-makers that the “I know the plans I have for you, to prosper you, to give you a hope and a future” passage is the only Bible verse ever allowed to be used on graduation cards? Sorry, Aunt Lucille! But let’s be honest, most of us probably tossed those cards in the trash on our way out the door to cash the checks!

That graduation money really came in handy for me. The summer after I graduated, I used the extra moolah to take my first international mission trip to Nicaragua. It cost $1,000, which was a lot of money at that time. Who am I kidding? It is still a lot of money!

Before I could leave the country, I was required to get a tetanus shot. I hated needles, so as I sat in that crowded health department waiting room, I reassured myself that there would be special treasure in heaven by making this huge sacrifice for the sake of the Kingdom. Maybe Foxe could add a chapter to his book for those who were willing to undergo such treatment? It would read something like, “Some were beheaded, others burned at the stake, and still others received immunizations in order to share the gospel.”

I also had to get my passport, which seemed like it practically took an act of Congress to receive. I could barely contain my excitement when it finally arrived in that oh-so-official United States Government envelope. Its pages were empty but that was okay because I had big dreams.

After all, I had said yes to the Lord’s call into full-time ministry 3 years earlier at summer camp. I was going to be a world-traveling missionary, who spent more time in foreign lands than in my own home.

I remember going to the airport for my first ever plane ride that hot July day in 2001. The intimidating officer at the customs check-point gave me my first stamp in my brand-new passport: Nicaragua.

I was so proud of my 18 -year-old self!

I made a promise in my heart to fill every page in the passport with stamps to various countries before it expired in 10 years.

I thought to myself, “10 years! That’s such a long time! What in the world will happen in 10 years? Where will I be in 2011? I’ll be 28 years old, probably married, and have a few kids by then. We will be a traveling missionary family who visits a different continent every weekend. Oh, the places I will go!”

Well, my passport expired this month.

It has 3 stamps in it.

Only 3 stamps in 10 years! Pages and pages are empty. Pages that I planned to fill. Is there something wrong with me? I had such big dreams. My life was planned out perfectly.

Kansas City, Missouri, was definitely not part of my plan.

My life at 28 doesn’t look like what I thought it would when I was 18 years old. I’m living in the Midwest of the United States…but I’m living my dream!

So, that’s what Proverbs 16:9 means when it says “A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.”

Being an intercessory missionary who has the honor of standing before the Lord in the watches of the night and touching many cities and countries in the place of prayer and worship wasn’t what I envisioned. But now that I’m doing it, I’m convinced that it is what I was created to do.

I haven’t gone to many nations, but many nations have come to me. I’ve had the privilege to disciple numerous young people from all over the world in the past few years. And some of these spiritual children are now in various nations, and they are training others how to walk out their love for God.

I am not married and do not have natural-born children yet, but I claim the promise of Psalm 127:3-5 for myself and my spiritual kids in this season of my life. “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord. The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be ashamed, but shall speak with their enemies in the gate.”

My good Shepherd has directed my steps so perfectly. Once again the Creator of the universe has shown me that His plans for my life have turned out to be much better than I could have ever dreamed.

I have a good heritage from the Lord. My reward is rich. I am not ashamed.

My passport may be empty but that’s okay because my quiver is full.

And it only dimly reflects the fullness of my heart!

They say I live in “tornado alley.”

I’ve been a skeptic.

I usually laugh when people call Kansas City by this name.

After all, I grew up in Mississippi – the grandfather of all tornado alleys.

I have many childhood memories of sirens blaring and my mom pulling the mattresses off of our beds, then gathering her chicks into the most interior space, a narrow hallway surrounded by floral mattresses – a claustrophobic’s nightmare.

It was fun for me as a seven-year old because it gave me an excuse to stay up late and write in my Hello Kitty diary about this unexpected incident. And my 6-year-old brother would never turn down an opportunity to get in a few extra minutes playing with his Ninja Turtles in this homemade fort.

I remember my dad, who missed his calling as a Meteorologist and never gets scared, running into our rooms one stormy day. He was as white as a ghost, telling the entire family (dogs included) to pile into his pick-up truck. My mom thought he was crazy to be on the road, but it proved to be wisdom that he drove his most valued treasures – his wife and kids – as fast as possible in the opposite direction of the funnel cloud approaching our hometown.

Many adventures!

In fact, during one tornado drill, my best friend in kindergarten got her first kiss underneath the back pew of the sanctuary in the church where we obviously learned more than our ABC’s and 123′s.

So after living in Kansas City for over 2 years and never having a scare nor hearing a siren, the description of it being “tornado alley” has struck me as humorous.

I’ve been a skeptic.

Until today.

Yesterday was very bad weather – torrential rain, thunderstorms, and lightning shows. But we all thought it was gone. The newscaster said that we “dodged a bullet,” so I went to bed unalarmed and was sleeping like a baby.

I had been asleep for 4 hours when suddenly the siren directly behind our house started doing its job. My first thought was, “Is this a test or real?” After groggily calculating that today wasn’t the first Wednesday of the month, the day it is tested, the realization struck me and the grogginess left.

It was real.

My three roommates from upstairs quickly came downstairs into my bathroom because we had been told it was the place to be during tornadoes since it was partially underground and without windows.

Two of my roommates piled onto the cramped space on the floor, I sat on the toilet, and the other made herself cozy in the bathtub, which we decided probably wasn’t as safe as we thought since it had huge glass doors.

We were scared.

What was happening outside our usually peaceful abode? We had no way of knowing what was looming outside the doors but had to stay put until the sirens stopped.

We prayed and read the Psalms. I felt peace but couldn’t help but think that today could be my last in this life. I’ve heard stories of people in situations like these calling their families to say that they love them. Or others writing a final note to their loved ones.

I debated letting my family know, just because if it wasn’t a big deal, I’d hate to make them worried when they are nearly 700 miles away. But if something did happen to me, I know they would wonder why I hadn’t contacted them.

I texted them and told them to pray. My mom instructed us to get pillows to protect our heads from potentially falling debris. She also said that she knows that I am exactly where the Lord wants me to be and trusts that He has His big ol’ hands around me.

I’ve been in tornado warnings before but never without my family. How I wanted to be back in Mississippi with my mom’s reassuring voice in our cramped hallway with my pink diary and my brother’s plastic mutant friends, Michelangelo and Leonardo. I wished my dad was there watching the Weather Channel to let us know when it was safe to leave or drive us away from the storm.

It never felt this scary when I was a kid.

At the house of prayer where I serve as an intercessory missionary we often speak and sing about trusting the Lord’s leadership over our lives. It’s easy to do when all is well – when the family is healthy, the bills are paid, and the skies are sunny. It’s a different story when you are sitting in a basement thinking that today could be your last day in this life. So many thoughts raced through my mind:

Will recovery teams be pulling our 4 pajama-clad bodies out of here tomorrow?

We are all so young. So much more life to live. Many yet fulfilled dreams.

What if I am literally standing in the presence of God in less than an hour?

Am I ready? Really ready?

The last conversation I had with my mom 3 days ago was about how the righteous are not exempt from suffering loss during disasters. There were many godly believers who died in the Twin Towers a decade ago, the earthquake in Haiti, the tsunami in Japan, and more recently the tornadoes in Tuscaloosa and Joplin.

How does my theology fit with that?

God doesn’t fit into the box I used to put Him in. (He never did but occurrences like these bring the reality of it to the forefront.) In the past if I had been in a situation like this, I would find myself thinking “I can’t die now. I’m here in Kansas City serving the Lord. He is obligated to protect me.” But I didn’t feel that today.

Most of us think that God is unjust in letting “bad things happen to good people,” because we subconsciously believe that He owes us something.

He doesn’t owe me anything.

I can’t accuse Him of allowing my last breath to be in a tornado at 28 years of age when I didn’t deserve the first breath He gave to me. He gives life and He takes away (Job 1:21). It was His mercy that gave me life and it is His mercy that sustains me by giving me breath each day.

After an hour huddled in the bathroom, the sirens finally stopped and we realized that the storm had passed by us. Obviously, today wasn’t my last day in this life.

But one day will be my last. It may be in a tornado, in a car wreck, in my sleep, in a prison, in a hospital bed, or in the rapture - but one breath will be my last. I may be 28, 47, or 90 years old. I don’t know when that day will come but God does (Psalm 139:16).

No one who suddenly died in New York City, Haiti, or Joplin woke up that morning thinking that day would be their last. They probably had plans for the weekend. Instead, their lives were over.

We all have a final day appointed for us in this life. Then we will each stand before Almighty God who breathed life into us to answer for what we did with His Son, Jesus (Hebrews 9:27-28). Everlasting life will be given to those who followed Him and everlasting damnation for those who rejected Him (John 3:16-17).

Sometimes it takes things like tornadoes to wake us up to reality.

I am going to die.

And the same goes for you.

You are going to die.

Are you ready? Really ready?

“So teach us to number our days, that we may present to you a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12

There’s nothing like a quiet, late-night drive. Windows down. Cool breeze sweeping across my face. Serene. Tranquil. Smelling freshly blossoming flowers in the air. Searching for stars on the horizon. Listening to crickets chirping and frogs making melodious music.

Oh, the freedom of the open road! Definitely one of my favorite things to do! But I didn’t expect what happened next.

Suddenly brightly flashing red lights and the loud sounds of a blaring horn and metal on metal filled my senses. In the distance, I could see a train roaring down its tracks.

As I came closer, I saw the giant crossbars descending in front of me. How dare they invade my peaceful, spring evening! Don’t these restrictive metal bars know that I was thoroughly enjoying my time and that I had plans – places to go and people to see?

Their intrusiveness offended me.

I didn’t want to be restricted. I wanted to do what I wanted to do!

Sitting at a halt as the train howled by, I remembered an article I had recently read of a pregnant woman, her unborn baby, and three of her younger siblings being tragically killed in a collision with a train because there was no signal or crossbars at the crossing. Images of the mangled vehicle and devastated family members at the scene of the wreck flooded my memory.

Considering that tragedy, these long red and white striped bars no longer seemed to be my enemy preventing me from getting where I wanted to go or keeping me from doing what I wanted to do. In reality, they were a beautiful hedging of safety. They were actually there for my good. Not interrupting my peaceful evening but ensuring that it remained as such.

Suddenly, I realized that these crossbars were not intruders but friends.

How foolish I would be to refuse to heed this warning that was screaming at the top of its lungs, “Danger Ahead.” It would be irrational to insist on forging ahead with my plans. How many lives have been cut short because they thought, “I can beat the train,” but didn’t?

I’ve seen these “crossbars” other places recently, as well. No, not on an open road. Not made with metal. But serving the same purpose, nonetheless.

Where?

On the pages of both the Old and New Testaments. Because God is kind, He warns us all throughout His written Word. Like the crossbars and flashing red lights, the commands of Scripture warn us of danger ahead – eternal separation from God in the Lake of Fire (Rev. 20:15).

I’ve heard more times than I can count, “Christianity is merely a list of rules.” But the same people who voice this complaint would reprimand a father who just sat back and watched his 3 year old daughter walk into the road as an 18 wheeler truck approached, saying “Oh, but I just don’t want to tell her what to do or not to do. She wants freedom, so I choose not to say anything.”

God is a good Father and wants us to be with Him for all of eternity (John 14:1-4, 17:24). That is the reason why these warnings are seen on almost every page of the Bible.

But how often we view God’s ways as too restrictive and intrusive to our plans. Our hearts say, “I wanna do what I wanna do!” It offends us that anyone – even if it’s the Creator of the Universe Who gives us every breath we breathe – would tell us how we must live our lives. In our society, it enrages people that Jesus is the only Way to God (John 3:16, 14:6).

We think that we can “beat the train,” so to speak. In other words, how close can I get to “the line” of sin without reaping any consequences? Or we assume that the day that each of us will stand before God and give an account for our lives (Romans 14:12; 1 Peter 4:5) is a long way off.

We live as if eternity is not reality!

He has given each of us the dignity to choose whether we will obey His commands or not. Along with that choice comes blessings of obedience or  consequences of refusing to heed the warnings.

There is a wide gate and broad road. Many people choose it. They perceive that there is lots of room and freedom to do what they want to do. It may feel good for a season, but notice where it leads…to death – eternally (Matthew 7:13-14).

I want to joyfully, not begrudgingly, obey the commands of Scripture, knowing that conformity to them allows me to enter the narrow gate and keeps me on the path that leads to life – both abundant life of a satisfied soul in these days and true life in the presence of God for all of eternity.

I want to cling to His ways, not offended by seeing them as restrictive intruders but thankfully viewing them as faithful friends. I truly believe that those who delight in the law of the Lord (Psalm 1:2, 119:174) are a sign and a wonder to our generation.

So, the next time that I am enjoying a peaceful, late-night drive and suddenly have to stop at a railroad crossing, instead of being frustrated that I have to heed the warnings of the crossbars, I will be reminded of a kind Father. A God Who has given me His warnings because He desires me to be with Him forever. Not because He’s a dictator, but because He is good!