He is everywhere!

Youth camps were a big part of my teenage life.  As soon as one was over I was counting the days until the next one would happen.  When I was sixteen I had become so fond of these camps that I became a co-counselor and at 17 I was counseling on my own.  I don’t know exactly what I was thinking considering I myself was still in high school but those weeks brought some of the best memories I have as a teenager.  One of which being the traditional stop at the Pizza Factory in Marysville on the way home.  It was such a fun time to defrag from the week with other leaders, laugh at the craziness, and thank God for lives changed.  It was the only time each year that I knew we’d all have the chance to sit around a table, eat some amazing pizza, and be in awe of yet another incredible week.  God is so good.

 

As the years have come and gone we have moved a little further and a little further away from that camp up in Chico, CA but it’s memory will stay with me a lifetime.  From time to time I crave the camaraderie I found at that table, the encouragement, the laughs, the memories made, and even that delicious pizza.  Oh the pizza! If only it weren’t a five hour drive to get that little slice of heaven! 

 

After being in Visalia just a short while, my husband and I decided to explore our new city a bit and take the boys on a drive up the mountain to the Sequoia National Forest. (Granite we had only made it to the gate before realizing that we had started our trek a bit too late in the day for the boys to really appreciate it without a nap and had to turn back around.)  When we were about twenty minutes into our trip we reached a place called Three Rivers and we were in awe at how charming this little nook of a town was hidden in the mountains.  It has the cutest little ice cream shop, antique stores, trails galore, and then- out of the corner of our eyes we spotted it- a Pizza Factory!  It was here too!

 

Many of you who know our family, or have been following the blog, know that we lost an incredible woman last summer.  She had a huge impact on not only my life but so many others.  She was my youth pastor, my mentor, my spiritual mom.  Her words of advice have not only run laps but marathons in my mind throughout each season of life and as I saw the pizza sign that day for one of my favorite teenage memories something she had once said came to life for me...

 

“God is bigger than [where you are now]”.

 

I have to say I teared up a bit and had a bit of difficulty swallowing due to the giant lump in my throat that had formed from hearing her voice yet again in my head.  Her loss hasn’t been easy and I think of her often.  But this piece of advice, this one I’m sharing with you today, holds special meaning.  It was one of the last ones she had left with me before leaving this earth and I hope it speaks volumes to you…

 

We had been visiting after my husband and I had moved to Stockton (about 4 years ago) and she was inquiring as to how we were liking things.  “We love it”, I remember saying.  “It’s not Roseville, but it’s exactly where we are supposed to be right now and I love it.” She started smiling and shared with me about how she herself and her husband had faced a similar transition early in their marriage.  They were moving from a town she had always known to a place she had only heard of.  “It was scary, but I realized afterward that God was bigger than Marysville.”  She had moved from a place where she had come to know God and realized that He was with her wherever she went.  And not only that, but He was already in that new place working on people before she had even gotten there.  He wasn’t tied down to a city or to a place, a camp or a church.  He was everywhere. 

 

He is in the small church down the street and the megachurch on the corner.  He is in the town of two hundred and the city of two million.  He is present as far as the eye can see and He is present in places our human minds will never be able to comprehend.  He is everywhere.

 

He isn’t your mom and pop hole in the wall coffee shop, He’s Starbucks, and He is everywhere.

 

So for my friends who are graduating, the ones facing big life changes, and the ones still undecided about what to do next- rest in this, God is bigger than where you are now.  You will see, just as I had when finding that Pizza Factory hidden in the side of a mountain, that God is not so small that He can only be contained to one place.  He is bigger.  You don’t need to worry if God will provide; He will.  You don’t need to worry about the right doors opening; they will.  You don’t need to worry whether or not you will make new friends, new memories; you will.  You don’t need to fear the future, any part of it, because God is bigger than where you are now.  Take a big breath and jump right in to the destiny God has for your life, just as a child in a swimming pool.  It may be scary at first because you’ve never done it before but don’t worry; your Father is already there.

Psalm 46:1

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." NIV

Psalm 46:1

"God is our Refuge and Strength [mighty and impenetrable to temptation], a very present and well-proved help in trouble." AMP

Am I Okay?

They fumble around with no sense of direction or common sense.  They have way too much energy, courage, and curiosity for their tiny awkward stature.  And they always get into way too many shenanigans to be left unsupervised even for a moment… children… they are terrifyingly unaware of anything… until it is too late, that is.

 

As a teenager these miniature humans seemed so fragile.  At a youth event I once saw a child take a nose dive off of a few stairs onto a tile floor only to see the parent look at me and without missing a beat say, “don’t react”.  SERIOUSLY?! Your kid probably has a brain bleed after that fall and you are asking me to not  react, not even to check to see if he is ok?  I know he said this because he could see my eyes widen to an abnormal width and my arms flail out like a pizza delivery boy protecting his pizzas after being cutoff in traffic, but this was a time for panic- wasn’t it? 

 

I learned a very valuable lesson that day, one I will carry with me always as a mother.  When a child gets hurt, or thinks they may have gotten hurt, the first thing they will do is look for their parents' face and without uttering any words ask the question, “am I okay?”.

 

It has been proven time and time again.  And with much practice I have learned something even more valuable with dealing with a child who unfortunately has taken after his very clumsy mother; to the extent that I react they react. 

 

If I am in a panic then my boys will follow my lead and think that tripping over the rug for the umpteenth time will in fact be the cause of their untimely deaths.  But if I am calm as I hypothetically watch my child run through the house (after being told not to over a million times) and head straight for the side of our couch causing him to spin out of control and smack his face on the ground, all the while being watched by our social worker who is judging to see if we would be fit parents to adopt a little girl (or two), then I can instruct my shaking son who is looking at me with eyes that would bring any mother to tears and peacefully say- “you are ok, I know that must have hurt, but you are okay” and watch as he takes a big breath and continues on with the story of his baseball game.  Eye turning colors, swelling to double the size, and all.  Hypothetically of course.

 

But he is okay.  Because I said he was.  Not in a “suck it up, be a man” kind of way, but in a trusting “mom would know what to do if it was really bad” kind of way.  I have seen my fair share of trips, falls, smacks, whacks, and everything in between with these two boys of mine and I know as any parent would when it is most definitely not okay.  So when my boy looks at me after yet another accident I can assess if this is a hold-them-tight-and-repeat-you-are-okay kind of moment or wink-at-their-clumsiness-and-laugh-it-off one. 

 

Over time I have realized that there are many ways to deal with the fumbling’s of children.  Many that causes the children more trauma than comfort when a situation is catapulted way out of control with a parent’s hysteria.  And as children do, they feed off of that reaction and assume that they are in fact dying.  This is the end.  That is the last patch of grass they will ever trip over.

 

Here is what we can all learn from this, being a mother or not.  When we as children of God find ourselves in tough situations, look for His face.  Don’t look around at other people who will nine times out of ten make you feel more angry, more bitter, more hurt than you already do after a three hour venting session.  Look for His face.  Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Creator of the universe, the One who knows the beginning and the end, our Father, will most certainly be saying- you’re okay.  I know that must have hurt, but you are okay.

 

Not in a suck it up, fake it 'til you make it kind of way.

 

But in a trusting, my Father would know what to do if it was really bad, kind of way.

 

Look for His face.  Seek refuge in His divine nature.  Rest in His willing and able hands. 

You don’t have to pretend that you are okay in that moment, just trust that you will be.

 

 

 

2 Thessalonians 3:3

But the Lord is faithful.  He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.

 

2 Samuel 22:3-4

My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation,

my stronghold and my refuge, my Savior; You save me from violence. 

I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.

Change is Coming

Change is coming.  Like a storm on the horizon.  It is inevitable.  No one knows how bad it will be, where exactly it will affect the most, or even who it will drag into the middle of it all.  Only one thing is for sure… it is coming.

 

I can say this with all certainty, without even knowing your precise situation, because I know something both exciting and terrifying that many choose to ignore- life is change.  Whether you love it or hate it, it has always and will always be there.

 

When you are 12 you are promoted to junior high.  You lose recess but get school dances.  You lose friends but get a new school.  Change.

 

When you are 14 you are promoted to high school.  You lose your seniority but get a larger campus.  You lose your voice in a big crowd but get a larger variety of classes.  Change.

 

When you are 18 you graduate high school.  You lose a familiar environment but get a renewed sense of freedom.  You lose friends you’ve spent years making memories with but get the ability to choose the direction for the rest of your life.  Change.

 

When you are in your twenties there are even more changes.  New cities, new schools, new churches, new jobs, new relationships.   You get married and have a baby.  You have three babies.  Change change change.  And of course all of these are just the typical (minus the family of five status) and don’t even include a possible divorce in the family, a death, a big move, a loss of a friendship, a loss of a mentor.  So many things are constantly changing that the only thing you can bet your money on… is change.

 

I have gone through my fair share of transitions, the most recent of which being our big move to Visalia.  And for the sake of complete openness and honesty it was the hardest season of bitterness I have had to walk through to date.  Not because we moved.  Not because we felt we were wrong for moving.  Not even because every single bit of my life was altered.  It was hard because of people.

 

People make change hard.

 

People that I loved and had to leave.  People that we had poured our lives into and were devastated that God had called us on.  People that not only disagreed with our journey but made it a point to tell us how displeased they were.  People that have ignored, shunned, and even stopped believing in the calling of God on our lives because it didn’t match the plan they had for us.  All because of that dirty six letter word; change.

 

In this new season, in this new city, in this new church, and in our new home I am surrounded by an array of newness and I find myself disillusioned instead of delighted.   It isn’t what I thought it would be.  Instead of joy I am feeling loss.  Instead of excitement I am feeling anxiety.  But I know that I am where I am supposed to be, so why does it have to be this hard?  Why does change have to hurt?

 

While talking to (more like word vomiting all over) my beautiful Aunt over the weekend she made a profound statement that has brought me such peace in the midst of this storm.  She said… “you aren’t losing, you’re expanding”.  We see change as loss.  I lost a house that I made memories in.  I lost a youth group that I love dearly.  I lost mentors who once encouraged me.  I lost a sense of purpose that once defined me. But that isn’t the way God sees it.  The Bible says that “His ways are above my ways.  His thoughts are above my thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8). 

 

Everything I thought I had lost, God has expanded.  He has pushed the walls back that I once believed were so immovable and I am living in this idea of “more”.  More places for memories to be made, more students to love on and believe in, more voices that have helped shape and guide me, more vision and possibility than I could see before.  It isn’t loss it is expansion.  It isn’t less it is more. 

 

God’s intentions for our lives, His plans for us, are to move us from glory to glory (from better to even better) but we often see the years pass as two steps forward and one step back.  Something gained and something lost.  We make everything so personal that we forget the “more” that God has in mind.  We see change as bad instead of just different.  We “lose” a friend instead of a friendship being different.  We “lose” a home instead of our home being different.  We “lose” a job instead of a job being different.

 

The only thing we truly lose with change is our preconceived expectations.

 

It isn’t what you thought it would be.  It isn’t how you thought it would go.  It isn’t who you thought would stick around.

 

It isn’t our thoughts, our ways.  And that’s ok.  It never will be.  But know this; you are not alone in it.  We all go through change and will for the rest of our lives.   So get ready, because it is coming. 

 

 

Psalm 18:30

As for God, His way is perfect;
The word of the Lord is proven;
He is a shield to all who trust in Him.

 

Psalm 145:17

The Lord is righteous in all His ways,
Gracious in all His works.

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"