One More Truth

Reflections on faith, truth, and being human

Picture Perfect – the Selfie

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Selfies…oh, where to begin?

Or better yet, selfie lovers…where to begin? They’re an interesting breed.

I’ve studied selfie lovers (not so much professionally as curiously) in several of their natural habitats – the driver’s seat of their vehicles, in the mall holding a latte, and even strolling down the sidewalk, wind in their hair and the ideal amount of sun on their back. They’re sure to be found anywhere with gorgeous natural lighting, and their strange, pouty expression and outstretched arm (typically at a 45 degree angle) make them easy to identify.

Selfie shutterbugs require nothing more than their own camera phone and a few clever angles. They know what they want and they know how to get it, even if it takes 27 tries, 8 filters, and an exact 103 degree angle from lens to face. Rest assured, they will capture the perfect image – the selfie that hides every flaw and looks less like the actual self and more like the imaginary version in their mind.

Everyone knows the perfect selfie fools no one but the self.

Pointing fingers at the narcissistic flaws of the selfie show boater is easy, because I don’t take selfies. I’m too good for pride that repulsive, if you know what I mean. I read my Bible, after all. I sponsor kids in Africa. I volunteer. I remember people’s names. I love my kids. I, I, I…I look pretty darned good from this angle!

But let’s chat about my concern with the numbers on the scale and my stupid calorie counting. Ask me what kind of mood I’m in when the kids come home from school and I realize I’m not going to squeak in my daily dose of exercise. See if I invite you into my house when my floors need mopped and dirty dishes are stacked by the sink. Watch me politely ignore the bum asking for a few dollars as I drive home with a trunkful of groceries. And yes, One More Truth is all about Jesus, but I can’t help but wonder if each post is getting harder to write because I’m less concerned with His truth and more concerned with the way His truth reflects…me.

Truth be told, my real self – my inside self – is more flawed than I’d like to accept. The more I ignore my flaws and inspect myself from my preferred angle, the more convinced I become that maybe, just maybe, I’m finally almost perfect.

I’m a fool.

God sees my heart from all angles, from my good side and my not-so-good side, in bad lighting and natural lighting. He sees me overexposed, underexposed, and completely unfiltered. He sees my imperfections, my motives, and my thoughts. He asks me to look at myself from His view – flaws and all. Not to embarrass me, not to shame me, but to help me see how much the real me needs Him. Because if I ignore my weaknesses, I won’t need His strength. If I’m convinced I’m perfect, I won’t need a Savior. If I deny I’m flawed, I’ll miss out on His grace, and it’s because of His grace, I don’t have to hide. I’m free to be me.

Little, ordinary me.

And I’m okay with that.

 

Disneyland, lines, and lessons in effort

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For many families, visiting a Disney park at least once is some kind of rite of passage. A necessity if you’re going to call yourself a good parent, at least. I spent my teenaged years living only an hour from Disney World, and thanks to my parents’ generosity, I enjoyed the perks of Florida residency and the annual Disney pass. We spent many a happy day leisurely roaming Orlando – a privilege I valued at the time, but relish even more decades later.

The trick was to go when the tourists weren’t there in droves, which pretty much eliminated May through August. Not that we minded tourists. Their vacation energy was invigorating and their contributions toward our state economy was much appreciated, but no one goes to Disney to stand in line for hours. We were too clever to waste a day sweating in 90% humidity, dreaming of riding rides. Most of our Disney adventures were in February and October, or on bonus holidays like Martin Luther King Day or Good Friday.

But how soon I forgot the clever tricks…

We took our kids to Disney in July. Mistake number 1. We also chose Disneyland over Disney World. Mistake number 2. Now I will say, July in California is far less sticky than July in Florida, and even though Land held only a fraction of the splendor of World, it also required only a fraction of the walking, so we easily tackled the whole park in a day. Lucky mistakes.

Tickets for 6 cost a fair chunk of change, similar to the cost of a minor medical procedure or a new appliance, but sometimes as a parent you spend this amount when you are convinced your children will soak up every dollar’s worth of thrill. My second oldest (also my most opinionated and most particular child) was only 7. We weren’t 20 minutes into our first line for the day before she turned to me, looked me square in the eye, and asked very matter of factly, “So is this all we do here? Wait in line?” She was dazzled already. Money well spent, just as I had hoped.

I probably laughed out loud. Every other grade-school kid in the park that day was convinced they were living the dream, but my daughter was jaded before the first ride. And she was thirsty. And hot. The adventure was off to a stormy start.

Experiences and memories are shaped by perspective and attitude,  meaning my daughter was headed into less than enjoyable day. Focusing on the negative would surely subtract from her moments of actual excitement. We wouldn’t be in line all day, but from her standpoint, if experiencing the rides and attractions required the effort of waiting in line, maybe we should have just stayed home.

We tend to think this way, don’t we? Is the effort we’re putting toward living a satisfying life really worth it? If entertaining guests means cleaning the house and cooking a meal, then maybe I’d rather sit alone in my messy house and eat ramen. If having my finances in order means I have to cut my spending and budget every dollar, maybe I’m okay with credit card debt. If writing a blog takes so much time and makes me nervous with every post, maybe I should have never given it a shot. (Hey, sometimes you have to be transparent. Confessions are healing.) Maybe a fulfilling life really can be lived on the couch doing nothing, because easier is better…right?

During times of woe and self pity, I run to Jesus. I take another good, long look at His life and His spotless character. His life was marked by tireless effort – healing, praying, teaching, showing compassion (all day, every day). He quietly stood trial and endured crucifixion. He conquered death and worked some more. Was it worth it? Jesus had a different perspective. Fulfilling the work of His Father would offer us a fulfilling life – both here and forever. Were His efforts worth your salvation? You tell me. Better yet, tell Him.

Then tell everyone.

It’s worth it, I promise.

 

 

Angsty aging and accepting surprises, happy or not so happy

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My daughter turned 18 last week, making me the official parent of a legal adult. (Also making me officially old.) She wants to believe her new age changes a lot of things for her, but I have no trouble tenderly reminding her that as long as my financial responsibilities for her and her needs remain the same, her responsibilities within our household and our relationship remain the same. That’s how that works.

When she was younger, she enjoyed a few quasi-epic birthday parties. Five was celebrated at Chuck E. Cheese. Ten was a cupcake decorating party with a piñata. Thirteen was a covert mission with my daughter’s best friend to pull off a pretty awesome surprise party. For the Sweet Sixteen, our party attempts were a flop. It was the casual gathering our daughter had requested, but the entire high school band had been invited and maybe 8 of them showed up. Great for the parents hosting the party, perhaps, but not so great for the birthday girl.

This year, our daughter opted for some fun that didn’t require a crowd – dinner out with her boyfriend and her parents. And part of our gift to the new adult? No younger siblings on this outing – 18 and up only. Our daughter chose a high end establishment where Kool-aid is served in Ball jars and the boasted entrée is fried chicken and waffles. Chicken gizzards, grits, and biscuits and gravy were on the menu, as were fried green tomatoes. Yes, I was tickled and yes, I ordered the fried green tomatoes. A DJ sat in the back corner mixing up all kind of throwback jams. Our southern roots – nearly withered by the ways of the West – found nourishment at that restaurant that went deeper than delicious meals. Needs were met and we had a blast.

I’ve had 18 years to prepare, but I still find myself surprised by my new parenting status. If I reflect on all the living that’s been squeezed into my daughter’s lifetime, it’s suddenly clear how I became the parent of an adult. I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten, her first day of Jr. High, and her first driver’s permit (there have been several). A few weeks ago I paid for her cap and gown, which should have at least clued me into the fact that I have a child who will soon be graduating from high school. But as all parents say – and I confirm it to be true – kids grow up so fast. Maybe the unsettling part for me as the parent is the question, “How did I grow up so fast?” Aging is the logical progression of living; if you continue to live, you will get older. Being old is something we know will happen to us, but always sometime in the future – never in the present.

During His life on earth, Jesus invited people to follow Him into a life full and real. If you call yourself a Christ follower, you’ve accepted this same invitation. Life with Jesus is good, it’s better, it’s real living, but it’s no cake walk. And Jesus never promised it would be. He actually talked quite a lot to His disciples about the suffering they would face. He prepared them – no surprises.

Many encouraging letters of the Bible were written by people who were in the midst of unhappy circumstances, but even after reading these letters a thousand times, difficult times always seem to take me by surprise. It’s usually the unpleasant kind of surprise; the kind that quickly reveals my selfish expectations. I know faith living will be a challenge, but do I have to struggle today? Do I have to face troubles in the present? I’d rather postpone it…for a future time. My Savior chose a cross over a crown and yet I seem to believe following His example should be easy and painless.

Whether you love Jesus or not, suffering is part of living in a broken world. Hurt and heartache are unavoidable. We will endure sickness and aging, change and loss, obstacles and conflict. Things will break and wear out, friendships will end, and daily nuisances and frustrations will continue to pester us. The secret is learning to be content – in the good and the bad. Our example of faithful endurance – even in our struggles – encourages others who love Jesus. Tough times strengthen our faith, making us more like Jesus, so that we’ll be ready to meet Him one day – the wonderful day we’re living for.

So take heart and be encouraged. You may have a ‘time for a new transmission’ day or a ‘the IRS made an error in your favor’ day, but either way, live it to the fullest. And keep looking ahead.

Brand New: good, bad, and ugly (The finale)

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Running ‘nature’s treadmill’, breathing the outdoor air (maybe not fresh air, but outdoor air), and taking in the scenery had awakened my senses. My panoramic view paired nicely with the fragrance of mesquite trees, while my feet felt the ground beneath in rhythmic stride. My sense of hearing begged to join in nature’s sensory explosion. Suddenly, listening to my usual playlists – the soundtracks reminding me to be Fergilicious, animalistic, or booty-tastic – just felt out of place. I was craving something more.

(Note: As for the sense of taste, the dirt and grit in my teeth – gourmet compliments of the desert – weren’t cutting it, but tastier options would have to wait for the finish line.)

One would think I could have simply switched to ‘Jesus music’ to fix my problem, but this solution only added to the problem. My musical preferences didn’t seem to fit the mold of the Christian music genre. Pandora’s search engine couldn’t handle my high maintenance request of ‘desert-running playlist with heavy beat, no twang, no bango, less boy band/more ear candy, containing lyrics of Biblical truth, not just words of church jargon’. My requirements read more like a ‘help wanted’ ad. I was musically needy.

I don’t remember praying specifically about my musical void, which would’ve been a great place to start, but God graciously led me to find Christian rap where I discovered the lyrical mastery of Lecrae, Andy Mineo, and Trip Lee, to name a few.

I know, I know. A white, 30-something mom (who has blogging in her future) with Christian rap streaming from her earbuds is a perfectly cute suburban cliché. I don’t typically embrace clichés, but I do embrace happiness, joy, and listening to what I like, so what else could I do? I let Pandora fill my stations with any Jesus loving rapper they could find. And it was fantastic.

As often happens when you listen to the same playlist everyday, songs were repeated often and I soon had them memorized. This was great because I was memorizing truth straight from God’s Word. (Trust me – I checked.) I was reading God’s truth everyday and now hearing it in song, which encouraged me to think about His truth throughout the day, which helped me internalize God’s heart-changing truth, which deepened my understanding of God’s perfect character – the character I’m supposed to be reflecting. This chain reaction inside me made remembering how to behave easier. I have a human tendency to forget.

As a Christ-follower, surrounding yourself with God’s truth is as necessary as breathing; unless of course, you enjoy struggling against your imperfect human nature while trying to follow a perfect Savior. He invites us into a dynamic relationship and we half-heartedly toss Him a few teeny segments of our time and attention. Church on Sunday (when we can make it), the One Minute Devotional (if we remember), and a hurried dinner prayer (more routine than gratitude) don’t lend enough space for our Great Physician to perform heart metamorphosis procedures. He’s too powerful, too unfathomable, and simply too wonderful. There are no short-cuts and no cheats for spending time with Him.

We need His relevant Word everyday. And then, repeat, repeat, REPEAT!

Some moments are better with a soundtrack. Cooking with Frank Sinatra, pool time with Bob Marley, and dead lifts to the musical poetry of Lecrae are some of the great pleasures in life. But so is silence. Make room for silence, too, and listen for the quiet voice of the Master Composer.

Now that’s a sweet sound.