Trading Clothes

When is the last time you stared at your closet, full of clothes, and thought “I have nothing to wear”?  I can take a guess and say it was this morning, and if not I am pretty sure that it’s safe to say it hasn’t been longer than a week since those words (whether spoken or thought) ran across your mind.  Because we are girls and that’s what we do; we look at full closets and see nothing.  Nothing that hasn’t been worn fifty times, nothing that covers us in all the right places, nothing that is both comfortable and fashionable… nothing. 

 

It’s a gift really, like magic.  There are fifty shirts and we see nothing.

 

Just a few short months ago we moved into a new house and I reorganized my whole life.  I would like to pretend that that is an exaggeration but who am I kidding, I love organization and I seized the opportunity to go over every drawer/closet/box with a fine toothed comb and trash every unneeded thing.  It was glorious.  Until I came to my closet of course and then out of the shadows of my soul crept out this hoarder that couldn’t stand the thought of getting rid of “this shirt” or “those pants” because “one day I might want to wear them again”.  “I’ll need them one day”.  “Maybe I won’t, but I might, need them.”  So the battle between the Purger and the Hoarder began.  And in the end, they both won.

 

I put all of the clothes that I hadn’t worn in a while (or knew I shouldn’t wear again) in a trash bag… and then put the trash bag back into my closet.  Voila, compromise at its best.

 

And there, in the back of my closet, this bag has sat for three months.  I didn’t need it, but I just couldn’t get rid of it.  Because I might need it again.

 

This past weekend we held a “Shirts & Skirts Trade Event” for the girls of TheChurch at Visalia and it was so much fun to see everyone trading things they hadn’t worn in a while and going home with new-to-them clothes.  They had some delicious food, got their hair/makeup done, took some fun pictures, and shared in some great laughs.  But my favorite part of the night came at the very end when I had the opportunity to sit with them and look them in their eyes to share with them that it was time- time to trade clothes.

 

Trade clothes?  Didn’t we already do that?  Yes… and no. 

 

Proverbs 31 is a beautiful chapter of a crazy woman who wakes up at the butt crack of dawn to sew clothes, prepare meals, water fields, balance the check book, and conquer the world.  And whenever I need a swift kick in the backside in regards to being a wife and a mother I turn to Proverbs 31.  In verse twenty five there is this beautiful gem of a statement that was so fitting for our event.  It says, “she is clothed with strength and dignity”. 

 

Clothed.

 

She puts them on every day… as clothing… to cover her.  Strength.  And dignity.

 

In the Amplified version of the verse it goes even further to say that “her position is strong and secure”.  So it is safe to say that she wasn’t wearing a bikini in verse 25. Strong and secure.  If you know what I mean.  And if you are a girl, I know that you know what I mean.

 

So what does this verse mean for us?  How do we become strong and secure?  We trade.  We trade our clothing of insecurity, our clothing of guilt, our clothing of condemnation, our clothing of comparison, our clothing of compromise for the clothing of strength and dignity.  It isn’t good enough to bag all of the old stuff up and keep it in the back of our closet, because it is always there to drag out from time to time whenever we feel at our worst. 

And it is all too easy to stare at those old clothes hanging on the trading rack and think that no one would even noticed if they slipped back into your bag.   (Not that I wanted to claim my old clothes considering they were practically the only ones left after our clothes exchange; it's safe to say I must have crept into some mom style, unbeknownst to me, and now need to find my way back to this thing called "fashion".)  Just like that we are reclaiming what we know we should be giving up.  Just like that old habits creep back in.  Just like that we find our old excuses for why we need these things back in our lives.  But we don't. 

It isn’t a trade if you hold on.

 

So let it go.  And please don’t sing the song, if I hear it one more time I might go crazy.

 

You sang it, didn’t you?  *shakes head*

 

We need to wake up every morning, look at ourselves in the mirror, and choose to be strong and secure.  Just as you decide what you wear to school.  It is your clothing.  It is a choice. And just as our clothes sometimes take a beating (especially if you are me and are prone to find every hidden mud puddle or slippery patch of grass), our strength and dignity will take a beating as well.  “But when we are in Him, we are a new creation.  The old passes away [with all of its stains and tears] and EVERYTHING becomes new.”  So if you find yourself wearing dirty clothes put them in the washing machine of 2 Corinthians 5:17 and wake up to some new ones. 

 

You are beautiful.  You are strong.  You are secure.

 

And of course, you is kind, you is smart, you is important too!

 

 

 

Psalm 30:11

You changed my ·sorrow [mourning] into dancing.
You took away my ·clothes of sadness [sackcloth],
and clothed me in ·happiness [joy].

It has been long enough

Centuries ago the Israelites wandered in the desert celebrating the miracles of God one minute and forgetting all about Him the next.  Praising Him for their deliverance and then cursing Him for their “lack”.  And after reading through the first few books of the Old testament I can’t help but wonder, if we ever look as fickle and ridiculous as we sound sometimes. 

 

Because...

 

He either is My Provider or He isn’t.

 

He either is My Healer or He isn’t.

 

He either is My Redeemer or He isn’t.

 

Surely He can’t be both, can He?  Because in all fairness, we treat Him as though He were… both that is.

 

One minute we are thanking Him for providing us with our needs and the next we are crying over another obscure bill that has just come in the mail.  After the five other obscure bills that had just come before that.  Or is that just me?

 

One minute we are praising Him for ridding us of our flu (I know I am not the only one who has muttered the words, “if you just heal me it’ll be the last thing I ask for”, mid-barf) and the next we are sitting in shock over another cancer diagnosis. 

 

One minute we are sharing His goodness over the difficulties He has helped us to overcome and the next we are bottling up our emotions and hiding our faces as we endure yet another trial.

 

He either is or He isn’t, my friends. 

 

When reading in Deuteronomy the first chapter opens up with the end.  The end of the wilderness.  The end of the trials.  The end of the their wandering.  The Israelite’s finally get to have their happy ending, the Promised Land.  God speaks to them in verse six something so powerful that I almost missed it when reading it the first time, He said “‘You have stayed long enough at this mountain.”  Such beautiful words.  You have stayed long enough.  Or for us, we can read it this way… it has been long enough.

 

It has been long enough wandering around in our wishy-washy Christianity.  It has been long enough doubting the very Creator who has proven Himself time and time again.  It has been long enough carrying the burdens of this world on our own.  It has been long enough rebelling against the very things we know we should be doing.  It has been long enough.

 

The Promised Land was still going to be a fight but it had been long enough.  It is time to really trust Him, to really take Him at His words.  That no matter the life circumstances, the truth of the Word is still absolute.  Whether we understand it or not, He is who He says He is.  He can do what he says He can do.  And in this season of celebrating the gruesome death of our Savior so that we could live eternally with our Father, let us not find ourselves in the same wilderness as the Israelites.  Rejoicing one day and forgetting the next.

 

He is the great I AM, so let Him be whatever it is you need Him to be. 

 

If you need a provider, He IS   (Philippians 4:19)

 

If you need a comforter, He IS   (John 14:26)

 

If you need a friend, He IS   (Proverbs 18:24)

 

If you need a healer, He IS   (Isaiah 53:5)

 

If you need a redeemer, He IS   (Isaiah 44:22)

 

If you need a savior, He IS   (1 John 1:9)

 

How many times must God prove Himself before we truly believe without doubting?  How many times must He rescue us before we trust Him completely.  How many times?  If we have forgotten then it is time to start remembering.  It has been long enough my friends.

 

 

 

James 1:5-7

If any of you is deficient in wisdom, let him ask of the giving God [Who gives] to everyone liberally and ungrudgingly, without reproaching or faultfinding, and it will be given him. Only it must be in faith that he asks with no wavering (no hesitating, no doubting). For the one who wavers (hesitates, doubts) is like the billowing surge out at sea that is blown hither and thither and tossed by the wind. For truly, let not such a person imagine that he will receive anything [he asks for] from the Lord.

Look up

Have you ever been told, “you’re just not seeing the big picture”?  I have...  and it is always in the worst possible moments.  I have to say that unwanted advice always comes when you are sitting smack dab in the middle of a situation and more times than not you’ll hear about this supposed “big picture”.  As if this person is seeing it.   Well if that’s the case, my friend, be my guest and tell me what this big picture is- because I’d love to be looking at it with you.

 

Of course all of that comes out of the mouth of teenage Vanessa.  The girl that was so full of sarcasm and cynicism that looking back I am a bit embarrassed because I was, in fact, too close to the situation and there is most assuredly a “bigger picture”.  So here it is… what I wish someone would have said when I was sitting smack dab in the middle of a seemingly overwhelming situation:

 

Look up.

 

That’s it.  Not that I’m doing it wrong, or I am being too negative.  Just an encouraging word to take a minute, a few minutes, and just- look up.

 

I was a teenage girl with zero hand eye coordination which made extra-curricular activities more of a laughing matter than a reality.  In an attempt to get out of the house when I was in the junior high I joined the track and field team.  Not for the fun things like pole vaulting or the hurdles or even the shot-put.  No, I joined to run.  It wasn’t fun- it was six miles every single humiliating day- but it was the one thing I could do.  And like everything else that involves physical ability, I wasn’t very good at it. 

 

It was almost the end of the season when I found myself in yet another race but this time was different, I wasn’t in last.  I was second to last, but it wasn’t last.  I was so proud of myself as I rounded the last turn until I heard that noise.  Yes, that noise.  The noise of the last place girl only a few steps behind me.  With every ounce of strength I had I tried to push harder but my body was just too tired. The noise grew louder and louder until she was right behind me.  I tried, with everything in me, I tried.  But I just couldn’t.  She passed right in front of me.

 

I knew I was a failure but I wanted one, just one, race that I didn’t feel like it.  One that I could say I wasn’t last.  I mean it’s not like I was going to brag about being second to last, but at least I could say I wasn’t the worst one out there… again.  I gave up in that moment.  I didn’t even want to finish, what was the point?  And then I heard another noise…

 

It was coming from the stands. 

 

At the moment of my failure I heard something I never thought I would hear.  Cheering.  Cheering coming from my dad who had missed all of my meets until this one.  I knew it was him because I knew his voice but I was too embarrassed to look up.  How could he cheer for me?  I was and always have been the worst one on the track.  Wasn’t he ashamed?  Wasn’t he wanting to look away, pretending I was someone else’s daughter?  He didn’t have to claim me.  No one would have known.  He didn’t have to say a word.  But he did. 

 

I hated myself but he was still proud of me… because despite my being in last, I kept going.  I crossed the finish line and in the moment I thought I would have a complete melt down because I had failed, I looked up and found my father’s face.  He was smiling at me.  I wanted to cry but he was smiling. 

 

Have you ever been so ashamed that you sat staring at the ground afraid to look up? Just knowing that someone would catch your eye and confirm your greatest fears, that you were in fact a failure?

 

Last week I wrote about practice not making us perfect, just better than we were the day before.  If you haven’t read it, read it.  It’s true.  Every word of it.  But sometimes even practicing, day in and day out, gets us no closer to our goals.  We’re still running in last place.  So what’s the point?  Why go on?  I may be better, but what is the point if it’s still not “good enough”?

 

If I were to say anything to you facing this same question it is this, look up.

 

God, our heavenly Father, is sitting in the grandstands of life and He is cheering you on.  He isn’t pointing at you with a look of disappointment and shame.  He is saying, keep going.  “A righteous man may fall seven times but he rises again”… and again… and again. 

 

Look up my friend… look up.  Because the “big picture” is that this is just one of many races.  He is proud not of how well you’ve ran, but that you’ve kept running despite everything that has told you to stop.  So keep going.  Keep running.  You might finish before everyone else and receive praise from everyone with how well you ran…. Or you might be so tired, so worn out, that you can barely pull your lifeless, emotionless body across the line to finish altogether… But no matter the race, no matter the outcome, His voice will still be there… so look up.

 

 

Hebrews 12:1-3

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before Him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

What High School PE taught me about Life

I would like to open this blog up by first saying that I am the queen of two left feet, invisible obstacles, and hand-eye UNcordination.  And if there were ever a perfect time to start having panic attacks, high school PE was it for me. 

 

I was not the girl who could play every single sport and had to weigh out each year which she would have time in her busy schedule to devote herself to.  I was not even the girl who could play one sport.  I was the girl who woke up before the sun to go to marching band practice- and chose an instrument I didn’t even have to march with. I was that girl.  So PE… yea… no… just no.

 

My sophomore year of high school I had the pinnacle of physical education teachers.  It was his life.  HIS LIFE.  And I have never been more embarrassed in all of mine. 

 

To give you a picture of what that class looked like for me, let me start by saying he never called me by my first name but rather referred to me as “Benbow” for the entirety of the year.  Yes, my maiden name was Benbow (not to be mistaken with Bimbo) and you can only imagine the utter joy I felt as I heard it screamed each day.  Especially since I was SO GOOD at everything and “Benbow” was immediately followed up with “constructive criticisms” that felt more like public flogging than anything.  It was horrible and every day I would have to use any bit of strength I had left to fight back tears as my self-esteem fell lower and lower. 

 

High school PE.

 

I just knew it would be the death of me.

 

Watching my son start teeball brings back all too many memories of when I would strike out inning after inning in our softball unit.  Not just for the first day, but for every day.  Every day that was until the last one.  On the last day I had finally made contact with the ball… twice.  It shocked more than just me.  My teacher, who was so used to telling me how I was doing it wrong, was now walking over to me with a ball and pen.  I’m not sure if he was mocking me as he had me sign my name, but when he handed it to me to take home I stood a little taller.  I finally did it.  I finally hit the ball.  I finally knew what it was like to succeed after failing time and time again.  And even if it was a joke, the joke was on him as I walked off of the campus that day with a piece of school property in my backpack.

 

I don’t know about you but I am tired of hearing, “practice makes perfect”.  Because it doesn’t.  Perfection is something I killed myself trying to reach for years and after all of this time, a few victories and a lot of defeats later, I am waving the white flag and saying “I give up”. 

 

I give up on having this unrealistic expectation that if I do it “enough”, or work hard “enough” then I will be something that no one on this earth besides Jesus has ever been… perfect.  The only thing that practice does is make you better than you were yesterday.

 

Maybe you missed that so instead of you going back to read it I will just write it again. 

The only thing that practice does...
 is make you better than you were yesterday. 

 

And that my friends is what high school PE taught me about life.  That I will fail time and time again, but as long as I am even one iota better than I was yesterday then at least I am traveling in the right direction. 

 

Psalm 106:3 says “how blessed are those who keep justice, who practice righteousness at all times!”  I want you to realize something that could be of the most significance to you and how you decide to live your life; Righteousness is something we practice, it is not something we achieve.  We are humans and as such no matter how good we are, we are never worthy enough to be considered righteous.  That is why Jesus had to come.  Not because we are righteous, but because we are sinful. Righteousness is a continual act of work.  It is a daily choice.  It is not a destination.  But in choosing it day after day, moment after moment, we will be better than we have ever been before.  Not perfect, but better.

 

I am not a professional ball player.  I am not even a veteran high school ball player.  And to be completely frank I am not and never could be a coach for a bunch of five year old ball players.  But I did it.  I hit the ball.  Twice.  And keep this in mind if you are ever feeling like a complete and utter failure… no matter how often even professionals, who are paid millions to hit balls, practice; they still fail more than they succeed.  So try again.  You can do it.

 

Proverbs 24:16

"For a righteous man falls seven times and rises again"

 

 

Run And Don't Look Back!

It has been said that “if you set yourself on fire, the world will come to watch you burn.”  If you’ve been to San Francisco you will realize that this is so true, and it takes much… MUCH… less to cause people to stop and take notice.

 

Last summer I had the privilege of mentoring a young girl for an entire month on purity.  We had met a few times for picnics, walks, and such but I decided that our last talk should take place on a train to San Fran.  We would talk, shop, walk (I only add that because it rhymes- and there was a lot of it) and admire the beauty that is the ocean- it would be a great day I was sure of it. 

 

Once we had arrived we set our sights on Pier 39. After getting some delicious donuts, window shopping in some of the cutest shops, getting utterly creeped out by a store filled with everything made from alpaca hair, and being unable to find a place to admire the ocean view due to our untimely visit during the AmericaCup- we found ourselves in front of that little stage.  I am sure you know the one.  There have been many a performers to grace it and that day was no exception.

 

Standing near the back we attempted to blend in with the background so as to not make a fuss if we decided to move on.  And of course this plan failed horrendously when the performer set eyes on this lovely girl I had brought and drew everyone’s attention as he instructed us to sit in the front row.  So we did.  We sat there.  It wasn’t what we wanted but to not cause a commotion we did it.

 

And that is when I failed her as a mentor… Not too long into the act our now new dear friend the performer decided to marry this young girl off.  The only thing I could think was- oh, great.  Her parents entrusted me to talk with her about purity and my genius brain takes her to San Fran and gets her married in one day.  It was incredibly awkward watching the man beside her enter into a forced proposal (of course I am sure he wasn’t completely unwilling) and at the first opportunity of attention diverted, I grabbed her hand and whispered “run, and don’t look back”.

So we did.  We ran.

 

This past weekend I had the honor of celebrating this beautiful girl’s “rite of passage” (which is a bit like a Jewish bat mitzvah) and this memory flooded my mind.   I could feel myself smiling ear to ear recalling all that had happened that day.  And in my one last opportunity to impart as much as I could to her, I left her with what I want to leave you all with today-

 

Run, and don’t look back.

 

It is not only God who has a plan for your life, but the world has one too. 

 

Often times we find ourselves in situations when we sit down so-to-speak, not because we want to but because we know we would ruffle a few feathers if we decided not to.  The world imposes its will on us and to keep the peace we do exactly as they say.  We follow the story they’ve written out for us to the “T”.  We don’t just tolerate, we celebrate things that don’t align with God’s word because it is just plain easier.  We don’t want to stand out; we want to be accepted, so we sit down.  We bow to culture, media, and the overwhelming desire to be liked and in that moment the world’s plan wins.

 

The bible instructs us on our desire to be liked- it says sometimes we won’t be. Not always anyway.  OUCH!  I don’t like that at all.  I want people to like me.  We all do.  But if we are looking to this world for its acceptance we will be utterly disappointed.  Following the world’s plan will be fun for a season, maybe even a few seasons but I can guarantee you that it will not turn out well for you.  I have watched so many girls get swept away in it all only to find them years down the road lost and confused.  Just think of it like the island on Pinocchio.  It looks like fun.  And it is… until it’s not.  Until everything that was promised- love and acceptance- turns out to be a horrid conditional imitation of the real thing.

 

So run girls.  Run and don’t look back.  Seek God for His plan for your life.  As someone who has followed His voice even through the most opposing of times, I can tell you that it is so SO worth it. 

 

 

 

2 Timothy 2:22-26

²² Now flee from youthful lusts and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart. ²³ But refuse foolish and ignorant speculations, knowing that they produce quarrels. ²⁴ The Lord’s bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged, ²⁵ with gentleness correcting those who are in opposition, if perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to the knowledge of the truth, ²⁶ and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, having been held captive by him to do his will.

 

Galatians 1:10

¹⁰ Now am I trying to win the favor of men, or of God? Do I seek to please men? If I were still seeking popularity with men, I should not be a bond servant of Christ (the Messiah).

Who moved?

We live in a magical land of disappearing mountains…  I wish I was kidding. 

 

We are fifteen minutes, at most, from the bottom of the Sequoia’s and on a good day I can see them from my front yard; giant, glorious, snow-capped mountains.  And then there are the other 6 days of the week that I step outside and all I can see is the sky.  And by “sky” all I mean is the color blue.  Which is far less exciting.

 

I have to say unless you are from the Central Valley this concept is a bit foreign and irrational.  The only way a phenomenon like this could take place is well… in a Disney movie.  Mountains don’t just disappear.  They can’t be here one day and not the next.  They are mountains for goodness’ sake. 

 

But, there are two things I am certain of…

 

I haven’t moved.  I am in the same city, in the same house, with the same front yard. 

 

And, the mountains haven’t moved.  They didn’t wake up one day and decide to reside on some other plain until God Himself decides they should relocate, so come Hell or Noah-high water, they are there.

 

These two factors are not up for debate.  They are constant, unchangeable.  Therefore the only possible thing standing in the way of my beautiful mountain-view, is the sky. 

 

And in this case specifically, the smog in the sky.  It’s tricky and blends in with its’ surroundings.  You wouldn’t even know that it was there except for the fact that it alters the appearance of things familiar to me causing me to try my best to explain to visitors that although it may not look like it now, there are in fact mountains in our skyline.  And when I see their eyes roll a little- or their courtesy head nod- I say more boldly, “no, I promise, they are there!  It may not look like it today, or maybe even tomorrow, but they are there!”       

 

Have you ever tried to convince someone of something that you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt to be true?  

 

Or… have you yourself ever walked away from something that used to be “so clear” but has become murky and confusing?   

 

If so, I hope you can find peace in my mountains. 

 

I have been through seasons of life where I felt like God was more tangible than anything I have ever known, but I have also been through seasons when I have felt like I was completely and utterly on my own.  On the top of the mountain one day only to find myself in search of any mountain at all the next.  And in those moments I ask myself one question.  Have I moved? 

 

This question can only be answered with one of two words- yes or no… So which is it?  Are you feeling confused, uncertain, uneasy?  Have you walked away from friends, mentors, church, or even God?  Have you moved, changed, or done something to create space between when you had peace and now?  And if the answer is no, if you know that you know that you know, that you are exactly where you should be- then let me tell you something my friend.  Something that may seem confusing and absurd at first.  Something that may even be irrational… God hasn’t moved.  It may seem like it.  You may stick your head out of the window of life and be visually assured of what you believe in your heart is already true- but it’s not. 

 

He is there.  He is for you.  And He thinks the world of you.

 

Exodus 14:14 says “The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” This verse has brought me more comfort in the last few months than any other...  I shall hold my peace.  The word they use in the Hebrew is “charash”- which literally means to be silent or keep quiet.   It is a verb, a deliberate action of controlling yourself from speaking and thus “holding” onto peace.   When I start to feel confused or uncertain of things I remind myself of this verse.  I remind myself to just stop… to trust God… to hold my tongue… and to grip down on the unchangeable truths found in the Word.  So be it smog, storm, cloud, or flood- whatever may be getting in the way of my beautiful peaceful view- I will plant myself on the solid rock of Jesus Christ until it passes by.  I will be immovable. Unshakeable.  Certain of what my eyes temporarily cannot see.  I will HOLD my peace until everything clears up again.  And my prayer for you, is that you will too.

 

 

 

 

Matthew 28:20

And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Weird is the New Cool

When I was in the fourth grade my family moved from a small town in Central California to a city that had a grocery store just down the street, and believe me that is a notable fact especially when you once had to drive 45 minutes each way.  This move was the beginning of a lot of new things for me; a new house, a new school, new friends… and a new word that would creep into the depths of my heart and become my very identity for too long.  I wonder, just maybe, if this little word has crept into your life as well. And if it has, you are not alone.

 

* * *

 

We moved in the middle of the school year and the school I had gone to before was much further along educationally, despite our tiny town, than the one I was now seated in.  To make up for this, I was given flash cards to study while the class continued on with their daily work.  Many times during the week the teacher would ask a question and minutes would go by in complete silence until I would look up at the board, raise my hand, and give the answer only to look back down and continue on in my own little world.  I don’t say this braggingly.  In fact, it is something I wish I could forget.  I hated being that girl.  And that’s when I was first introduced to the word…  Sitting with my head down looking at my box of cards I heard a kid whisper, “she’s so weird”. 

 

Weird

 

Just seeing the word makes me want to punch something, but I digress.

 

In high school things didn’t change too much.  By my senior year I found myself eating lunch in a choir room in the back of the school, taking my own sister to my senior ball because I was the only one of my friends who hadn’t been asked.  Yes I had a few friends.  I even had great grades.  I was an intern in our youth group.  I brought ten to twenty students with me every week to church.  I was involved with marching band all four years and even made it to be a section leader.  I thought by the time my senior year rolled around I would have grown out of it but then the last school newspaper came out- the one with all of the “most likely to this” or “most that”- and I found my name…  you would think that I would have been ecstatic to have been voted for something... to have been noticed… but it wasn’t something I wanted to be known for.  “Most unique”, that is what I was voted… most unique, which I was sure was just another way of saying someone who doesn’t fit in, different, uncool, or weird.

 

Years later I still have days when I walk into a new environment and think to myself “do I fit in here?” And it is with great sadness (and joy- if that’s even possible) that I say that some days the answer will be no.  Really?  No?  Why would I be happy about that?  Why did the very word that once destroyed any ounce of self-esteem now become the thing I am most proud of?  Why wouldn’t I want to fit in?

 

Do I want to feel like I belong here?  Absolutely, we all do.  You have great purpose and BELONG just like I do.  But we shouldn’t strive to fit in.  We don’t fit.  We are square pegs trying to be shoved into tiny circle holes and being told that if we don’t conform we are weird.  (Yes, we are squares.  I said it.)  Don’t give in, don’t compromise values or your faith, don’t settle for folding in your corners to fit into a tiny space that culture will allow you to be in.  No, my friends, just no.

 

The bible says that we shouldn’t “conform to the patterns of this world, but [we should] be transformed by the renewing of our minds” (Romans 12:2).  Conformity is for faceless, nameless, robots and you beautiful girl (or kind sir… you know just in case my husband reads this) are not that.  You are weird.  Yes I said that too.  You are a weird square.  One who I hope is still reading even after all of this name calling. 

 

I want to encourage you to embrace the things that make you different.  Culture may say it’s not cool to wear turtle necks but if you love them then you just go on rocking them anyway.  Because we aren’t here to please culture.  We are here to please God.  And I hate to point it out but that will make you a “hater” sometimes, or a “hypocrite”, or just plain “weird”.  And that’s ok.  I know it doesn’t feel good, but it’s gonna be ok. 

 

If what you are doing, saying, wearing, or thinking is pleasing to God- then just keep on doing it.  He is faithful and just as He called the Israelites out of Egypt to be “separate” to lead them through the wilderness to the Promised Land, He will do the same for you.  If I could grab my 8 year old self and look her straight in the face, I would tell her it was all going to be ok.  That I made it.  That being different isn’t the worst thing that could happen.  Being the same is. 

 

So be quirky.  Crazy.  Sensational.  And for Pete's sake, be weird!

 

 

2 Corinthians 6:17

“Come out from among them and be separate, says the Lord.
Do not touch what is unclean, and I will receive you.”