Beautiful?

“Good morning, gorgeous lady!” I hear as footsteps roll quickly down the stairs. Boss, a nicknamed Iranian member at the health club, greets me in his booming voice before 6 a.m. I’m startled awake as I read dreamily in another non-fiction theologically charged book. You know all too well that I’m no romance reader. A good thinking book gets me going in the “wee small hours of the morning.” C.S. Lewis, A.W. Tozer and John Bevere have been known to sit at this front desk, but this particular book is noteworthy for other reasons.

“When Jesus Came to Harvard,” discusses a non-theological class on Jesus’ teachings. Harvard implemented a department of moral reasoning after many alumni were caught in unethical scandals. To wash some of the dirt of is face, Harvard covered its booty. One of their professors of theology, Harvey Cox, began the course in the 80s with a small group of students in the back of a dilapidated armory. After years of teaching, the class became so wildly popular that it was moved to the campus’s main auditorium that typically hosted rock concerts. I give it rave reviews when club members ask about what I’m reading. My hope isn’t that they will ask me questions about it. Instead, I want them to pick this one up.

Back to Boss. I find myself happy, yet overwhelmed, whenever he swipe in. Boss has a way of greeting me with flattery and charm that seems kind. He leaves to the dressing room and returns minutes later to lavish more gushiness on me. “You are a beautiful lady,” he says, looking to the other members in the foyer waiting for the elevators. “You are the most beautiful girl,” he continues on until it becomes sickening. I make an unspoken prayer that the elevator arrives more quickly. Then he does something downright embarrassing. He looks to a regular and ropes him into the compliment-fest. “Isn’t she beautiful?” The member is shy, and seems off put by a required response. However, he kindly obliges and answers Boss’s pestering. “Yes, very.” He offered too much. Now, I’m blushing, even more than the makeup I put on at 3:45 a.m.

The moment the doors close I exhale. At that same time, I examine the interaction. Mind you, this isn’t sexual harassment. Boss is just a middle aged man who likes to make me blush. He’s never soliciting or asking for any personal information. He’s only giving out free ego-boosters, one line at a time. There is no detriment in taking them, is there?

Just as I thought this, a few phrases filled my mind. “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” Proverbs 31:30.
Have you ever heard the phrase, “Show me you love me”? Under this adage, Boss’s words are harmless and meaningless. I could even go as far to say worthless. Sure, he’s paying a compliment, but why do I need an inflated ego? Especially if it’s guaranteed that I won’t be like this forever. If beauty is fleeting, I need to take a good look in the mirror. Let’s face it. someday my hair will turn a soft white mixed with a paler red color much like what’s left of my father’s hair, I anticipate. My skin will sag, my body will ache. My thin frame will make room between my bones and my skin for more weight. And my toenails will inevitably turn yellow, like my grandmother’s. I will get old, and so will you.

My body will fail me, but my anxieties about dying are squelched as the proverb is finished with a promise. “A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” No reassurance for you boys, but I’m sure it can be used for you as well. Lucky for me, I’m working this whole faith thing out with fear and trembling already. I will continue to fear the Lord, adding an speechless beauty to my life. As I continue to grow deeper, I must take Boss’s charm with a grain of salt. Otherwise, I may look in the mirror one day and say, “Getting old wasn’t supposed to happen to me.” I smile at him again as he leaves a trail of thick expensive cologne, chirping, “Goodbye gorgeous girl, have a great day.” I will Boss. See you tomorrow.

Laying down at Subway

My skin is crawling right now. It could be the cup of coffee I just downed, or the experience I had while eating fresh.

I never buy the $5 foot-longs. Can't afford them, frankly. Instead, I stick to the $3 6-inch sub of the day. That's a safe play. $3.31 for a full stomach with no leftover to lug around? I'm cool with that.

Today, however, I did order a foot-long. Ask me why.

I asked God this same question as the cashier swiped my card. $5.56. I spent at least 20 minutes earlier today rearranging my budget. I don't really have enough money to forget my lunch in the morning. Today the decision was be on time and be hungry or be late and full later. I was lazy and on time.

I anticipated a quiet lunch. After 2pm, people have typically eaten lunch and are making their way through the depression called the last half of the work day. For me, work began earlier, but this last half of the day has been full of distraction. I still need to write one story on a woman who started a library in South Africa.

As I was saying. I anticipated a quiet afternoon of prayer at Subway. Ready to eat, a family came in. Three adult women and four small children. I'm pleased to see children in the city. What could've been a nice experience of watching kids be kids, became a time of frustration. My mood immediately changed. The mother of these beautiful kids seemed to be so bent out of shape. She was harsh every time she addressed them. They couldn't seem to do anything right. I watched them as they darted around the restaurant. Besides a man in the corner, there wasn't anyone else there. Instead of hearing footsteps, I heard threats and hisses from this woman.

I tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. After the three women sat down with foot-long subs, I noticed that the children weren't being fed. I became angry.

Not only were they required to sit still while their mom ate an entire meal, but they were hungry.

I thought for a few minutes while my eyes filled with fire. "Really? God gives you children, and you neglect them? You treat them like an inconvenience and berate them in public." Assumptions were racing in my brain. I was looking at these women with disgust, anger and hatred. I felt like I wanted to give one woman a verbal lashing on how her poor choices had brought her to be an awful mother and woman. I thought, "I would go hungry for weeks if I had to if my child needed food. I would go naked to clothe them, and thirsty to water their souls. What are they doing!?!" I knew I couldn't think this or say these things. God doesn't want us to hate. He tells us to love. So I loved in the only way I thought to.

I looked at the kids sitting in a booth off to the side. In my mind, the leftover six inches of my sandwich could be split into four filling pieces for little children. But how was I going to do this without looking like I was trying to show them up?

I walked up to the table of kids. I asked, "Are you hungry? Have you had lunch?" Then I looked at the mother, "Is it ok if I give them the rest of my sandwich?" She sputtered, "Sure, but they've already eaten. They've already eaten." I can't say that she was lying. But she still let me give my food to them.

I cut up the six-inches of leftover and thought about Jesus, the loaves and fish.

My demeanor changed. Instead of being angry, I knew this lesson was mine: lay it down. Everything. Give away your food and in doing so you lose your pridefulness and ill mindset.

I've been waiting weeks to be able to give back. I've been feeling like a useless Christian, sitting around thinking and wondering about people's needs. Discussing what actual Christians do, rather than going and doing.

Today, I realized, God was bringing me to a place of humility.

Dwell on this: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13.

It might be life, it might be pride, it might be anger or frustration, but whatever the case, we're called to lay it down for our friend.

I'm laying down pride.

What will you lay down?

Look Different

Last week I asked the question at the women’s Bible study I lead, “Who is pouring into you?”

To this, one of the ladies replied, “That’s a little Christian-ese, isn’t it? Pouring into?”

I smiled. I suppose sometimes I speak a little differently…no wait. I talk the same at all times. I can’t help but question that if we are in fact Christians, our lives, speech and actions are going to be different. And sometimes we’ll look different.

I went to a Joyce Meyer conference a few weeks ago. She spoke on emotional healing. I was impressed. It brought back memories to hear her voice. My mother would fold clothes in her room every morning when I was a child. I could hear this deep voice blaring out of the television. For many days, I thought my mom was obsessed with Ross Perot. It was during an election, what was I supposed to think? But as I stepped into the room and peered at the TV, I realized a woman preacher was impacting my mother’s life while she folded one of the 13 loads of laundry she’d do that week.

Post Joyce Meyer, we visited Café Latte on Grand Ave. We giggled for hours and closed the place down. I walked with my friend Marilyn to her car. Upon leaving her, I reflected on the time spent and what I needed to do to move on from any hurts. But just before I sank into a reflective car ride where I wouldn’t quite remember how I got home at the end of it all, a gentleman ran out in front of my car.

Hands up, signaling that he wanted me to stop, I obeyed the man.

Short and gaunt, the fifty-something black gentleman looked tired, so tired. The wrinkles in his face cut deep, and though it was nearly midnight and dark, I could see his face in full spotlight.

Though frightened, I stopped, rolled my window to a crack and asked the man how I could help him. For a second I thought, “This is how news stories begin. ‘Young girl stops to help gentleman in ally, found dead in her car.’” But as he approached, a sense of peace fell over me.

He began to speak, “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’ve been wandering around for hours and I saw you and…you’re going to think I’m crazy. I listen to God, and he told me to talk to you.” He explained that he could see a light around me.

I could tell that he was exhausted. He began to say that he’s been battling demons all day and all night. He began to cry huge tears. Part of me was skeptical, but I sensed this undercurrent of peace. It was if something inside of me was saying, “Help him in any way you can.” So I listened as he talked about how his life was in shambles as he served God. His wife died a few years earlier, he was living with some other woman, Jeanetta, who he said was covered in demons. He was hungry and tired and felt hopeless. I asked if I could pray for him. He listened for a while, but then he cut me off and tried to make excuses why it was so hard for him to live. He was crying harder. The tears flowed through the deep wrinkles in his emaciated cheeks. I could see is that he was lonely, tired and in need of love.

After about 45 minutes of listening, I knew the night had to end. I asked him, “Peter, what is it that I can help you with?” He explained that he was thirsty. He wanted to sleep at the shelter up the street, but he didn’t have any money.

I thought about this for a few moments. Though usually I would hold on tightly to money, I knew that I couldn’t do that. This was an opportunity to serve God. To give something I don’t really have, sacrificially, is part of this whole Jesus thing. A friend had gifted me money that was to go toward fresh fruit and vegetables. At this point I was struggling to pay bills, but Peter, he didn’t have anything. He didn’t know how I was doing but I thought through my life. I have a place to sleep, a community surrounding me, and love. Oh so much love from God and friends. This man had nothing, except God.

I drove up the street to Super America to get him a soda and break my money. He needed money more than I did. I came out of the gas station with money in one hand and a Mountain Dew in the other. Peter sat on the curb, looking so frail. A pair of boys in a VW Golf watched as I gave him what I had. I sensed that they were concerned with this interaction.

Peter looked up at me and said, “You remind me of Jeanetta…Why are you doing this?” I stumbled over my words and finally said, “You need it. God bless you, Peter. I’ll be praying for you.” He looked at the ground, tired.

I left with a swirl of thoughts going through my mind. But some things have popped up as I contemplate this experience.

1. Though he might have been a little crazy, he could see that I looked different. I couldn’t see it, but he could. God had opened Peter’s spiritual eyes. I only hope that when people see me, they see a light like Peter did.

2. I couldn’t pass this man up and throw up a prayer hoping he would be fed or taken care of. God presented a need. I had to meet it.

3. I have no clue what Peter used the money for, but as for me, I was able to pay my bills with the income I had. If anything this experience was able to sharpen my faith.

I want to look different. Not just in the way I live, but the physical appearance of light, God’s light.

“You are the light of the world…let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:14a, 16

Prayer. Period.

If you’re a consistent reader, you’ve probably noticed that I haven’t blogged in a few weeks. I’m not sure why. I have plenty to talk about. Plenty I’m learning. But some of the issues I’m most passionately thinking about daily seem too personal. Me thinking something is too personal to share? Me, who is vulnerable to the point of tears sometimes while she writes this? Yes, I want to make sure that everyone I know has confidence in me that I wont write something to telling of their soul. After all, it’s not mine to share. It is theirs.

So I’ll stick to what I’ve been thinking about for the past two weeks.

Prayer.

“You will keep in perfect peace
him whose mind is steadfast,
because he trusts in you.”
Isaiah 26:3

I’ve experienced so much peace lately. However, the past few nights I’ve been awakened at 2:45 a.m., and all I hear to do is pray. I pray over the next day’s events, over my heart, over the people I will see, over the will that God has for me and others. And I send up prayers for healing, prayers for the fullness of real, authentic love for my friends. I weep as I say them because I know my God, who is rich in mercy and abounding in love, my God who tell the stars to shine and sends lightening form his throne, my God who makes the blind to see and sets us, as captives, free, he is listening to me. He is hearing me as I ask him to do everything because I can do nothing. He remembers me in my low estate, Psalm 136:23, and still loves me forever.

I’m weeping even now as I write this because I want you to know this. This God that I love, he can be your God, too. He is your God. He loves you and wants to hear your prayers. He wants to love you uncontrollably. He’s doing everything he can to chase you, pursue you, find you. And you do so much to hide from him. Oh, that you would take away your barriers and let the God of all love pour over you his goodness and love.

Everything I read these days is knowledge. I tend to pray through it. Every time I pray, it becomes experience. I don’t want any more head knowledge. I just want to access more and more of God’s love through prayer.

Toady, I’m taking that time. I’ve holed myself up in my room, not to see anyone, which is probably better for them. My tearstained cheeks and red eyes aren’t a sight to see. However, the heart behind it is. I only want that God hears my prayers and so amazingly answers them that no one can say anything except, “The Lord—He is God!”

Now prayer isn’t something too many people get excited about. I find in the church, anything related to food and fellowship receives great attendance. Prayer meetings are for the mystical, hyper-spiritual or super charismatic. But fellowship isn’t powerful. What does it say in James? “The prayers of a righteous man are powerful and effective.” (5:16b) I’m not saying to stop going to fellowship opportunities. But tell me, what makes your peace increase? Is it talking with a stranger, or talking with an almighty God that says, “Cast your cares upon me and I will give you rest”? I like good barbeque, but I just want more than food that does not satisfy. I just want to be with the Lord, corporately. I want others to fan into flame a passion to talk with God together. I want people to be excited about what our God can do. I want to see that passion and hunger increase, not for myself, but because prayer is effective. Prayer is amazing. And if we are willing to wait on an almighty God for answers, just imagine what is possible. We who can do nothing can have everything change through our God.

For the next two weeks, I’m going to take prayer very seriously. For two dedicated hours each day, I will be going to my God, my king and petitioning him for help, praising him for who he is, and asking for direction, clarity and peace.

“Never weary in prayer. When one day man sees how marvelously his prayer has been answered, then he will deeply, so deeply, regret he prayed so little.” God Calling, May 16

Be blessed as you are in the presence of our Lord through prayer in Jesus’s name.

Jackie Chan Meets Pink Linens

Surrounded on four walls by athletes including Kobe Bryant and Jackie Chan, I find my pink bedding a stranger to this boyland. My new place is fantastic. I have my own space and ample storage. But the best part: three new brothers.

I recently moved to Forest Lake after feeling that I needed to move from my sister’s 750 sq. ft. apartment. For the six months I was there, I bunked up with my two-year-old niece. At the beginning of our room sharing experience, she would often shut me out of the room saying, “Kenna’s room. Get out, Doy.” However, by the end of it all, I found that I love her more than really any other kid.

I remember one night when Mel and Stefan went to the airport at 4 a.m. Just after leaving, McKenna woke up and began searching for them. I was in a deep slumber. McKenna reasoned that going outside on this chilly night in November, without shoes mind you, would be a great way to remedy her problem of missing parents. Wandering around the neighborhood, wailing, my neighbor awoke. Praise God she brought her home. I’m sure the neighbors thought I was a delinquent aunt, but at 4 a.m., what would you expect? After she was returned I watched her with eyes wide open until Melody returned.

I don’t anticipate that my new brothers will be doing anything like this. However, stories will be told.
Here they are, eldest to youngest,
Ryan, who is 17 years old, lives in the basement. He’s tall and thin with beautiful blue eyes and a small gap in his teeth. But he’s become very shy. For years his identity was vested in sports. Ryan wasn’t a boy; he was an athlete, complete with detachable glove and shooting arm. After being cut from the basketball team last November, he has burrowed himself deep into a cave of depression. He remains reclusive in a dank and chilly basement.

Nate, the middle child, is amazingly gifted with music. He is trendy with a thin figure. When we were younger, he joked with me about all sorts of silliness. I often stole one-liners from him. He coined the phrase, “That’s the way it should be.” But now, he closes himself off with an iPod. He attends a charter school where he says there isn’t much diversity. Watching the kids disperse after I picked him up from school yesterday, I find this to be true. There are two black kids. The third was expelled after selling her Adderall to classmates, he says. I’m not sure if this is the diversity he speaks of, but if so, he’s dead on. I ask him about friends, he says all the kids at school use drugs. I say, “Good boy. Stay away from that stuff.” Tough he remains solo at school, I find him great company.

The youngest, Dylan, has become a bookworm in his short 10 years. His silliness has taken the space where once Nathan’s was able to use his quick wit. Though he was chubby for much of his childhood, a newfound excitement in baseball is becoming his haven for weight loss and friend making. Slimming out, he’s becoming less of a little kid and more of a boy. He always has something new to talk about and much of the time will tell you new and interesting facts about children’s fiction. I adore his precociousness and buzzed haircut.

I don’t live with them because of the free rent. I feel that God has brought me to just this place for one reason: love.

They’re all going through things, even the parents. I won’t get into detail, but I will say, the only reason I’m living in this place is because God made it happen. I prayed for a family to take me in. The next day Julie asks me to live there for the summer. I knew I needed to take time for the boys, so what happens? God works out my schedule so my jobs consume fewer hours. All the while, the income remains the same, if not more. My God is good.

Though, I’m finding myself caught between patterns of the past, which are not desired anymore, and the near future. The choices are clear. I can lazily take my days as they come, or be intentional, setting aside hours of the day for the boys and making the days off meaningful. I can procrastinate writing assignments or I can work them out quickly so to have more time to do other things. I can fill every hour with lunch dates or coffee dates with people at church, or I can slow down and limit myself a bit. I want to make wise decisions. With God’s help, I will.

If you think of it, pray for this family. I’ve been interceding for them. Every time I think something should be happening, and I get frustrated, God reminds me, “It’s just a matter of time.”

I’m still waiting on a few promises, but that doesn’t mean my God isn’t faithful. It means that he’s giving me time to take in the goodness that he shells out to me everyday. If he fulfilled everything now, I’d have a heart attack. It’s how Peter explains it in 2 Peter 3:9, “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

As my faith increases, God puts more on my plate. I find this all a blessing. Though, sometimes its difficult and I feel like a screw up, I know he’s got a plan. And because I’m weak, he’s stronger. We are weak warriors. And will we be overcome? “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” Romans 8:37

Equal Rights but they're still hungry

My office closed early today leaving me with a few hours on my hands before I could catch the bus home. I found the streets of Minneapolis so welcoming. Its definitely my home city. Nearly a year ago, I walked the streets at night alone, searching for some sort of belonging. Now, alone, I feel as though I belong to myself and God. There is no other longing or desire to belong to a building, group or even a person at the tables lining Nicollet. Only the want to give.



I see people supporting causes everyday on the corners with clipboards and brightly colored shirts. The other day some guy from the ASPCA wanted me to donate $30 to the fair treatment of animals. While I do believe this is a worthy cause, I felt that giving to some program isn't what I want to do.

Today, however, some folks from the equal rights campaign, you know the one with the yellow = sign, were getting some petition signed. As I walked past, I became very angry. It wasn't the cause that made me angry. It was the total lack of awareness for real needs.

Before I came across the pair canvasing the mall area, I sat with a 21-year-old homeless girl named Tasha. Her mom kicked her out for a boyfriend. Though I don't know her whole story, I don't need to. She was hungry so I gave her my yogurt. I expect that this is what Jesus did. He didn't walk up to people and say, "Give me some reasons why you need my grace." Or, "Tell me why you deserve money, food, clothing." Or ask, "Will you change your ways if I give this to you?" I bet he did what I did. Just sat and asked some questions, prayed with Tasha and gave something, anything that would meet the immediate and long term need. Because it's not the food that she needs. It's love. I left her with my card and told her that she could call if she needed anything. Hopefully she'll call.

I prayed for her as I left. It wasn't a huge moment. I didn't feel God's overwhelming presence. In fact, I just felt right. Like he was saying, "This is what you're supposed to do. You don't need any recognition." And while I sat with Tasha, two other people gave her a few bucks. One lady even passed by and came back. "Huh, its amazing what people will do when they realize these people aren't lepers," I thought.

So back to the pair. I see them asking people to give money for gay rights or sign a petition for equal rights, and I think, "How about you give those hungry people that money? How about you give people who really don't have any rights some rights, huh?" The truth is, the equality movement isn't about rights. Its about love. People want others to sign petitions for more support instead of asking for the one thing they really want: Real Love.

It's not about the campaign. I love these people. It's not about making them heterosexual. I encourage a few of my gay friends to get more involved in the churches they already attend. Its about getting them in a place where real love affirms them instead of the lusty culture of the Hotel or the Eagle downtown. Places where you're only seen as a pretty orifice. And that isn't what they are. That isn't what anybody is. But somehow, people can't see past that. We're too blinded by lust to see people as people.

Instead of yelling at the couple promting their cause, I walked up to another homeless lady. Her name was Victoria. I asked her what she would want to eat if she could have something right then and there. She said, "Subway. A ham sub with mayo." I said for her to stay there for a bit. I raced into a building. Purchased a 5-dollar-foot-long and raced back. She had shifted her seat, so I thought she left.

I sat and talked with her for 20 minutes. She told me about her struggle. Part of me thought, "Is this woman lying?" But more of me pushed that down and listened with full focus. This woman wasn't defunct. She had visited all the shelters around and talked with Mary Jo (from Mary's Place) down the street. She said it was hard to get her family into a shelter. She panhandles all day to get a hotel room at night. Today wasn't looking as good.

Her husband had passed away in 2007 and she was still heartbroken. I asked her more about that. She told me truthfully that she still can't get over that he's not there in her bed with her at night. She longed for him to be alive again in her arms. She wanted so badly to be with him. She said the pain is not like any other loss she had felt. I watched her as tears fell down her face. I felt so helpless. But then I felt something inside me rise up.

"Victoria, can I pray for you?" She was a believer. I asked God to fill her broken heart with love and to heal it up. I also prayed that she would get what she needs and that she would go to him for comfort. After I ended the prayer, I knew that I had done what I could. God will do the rest.

While I don't know what is to happen next with these people, and many of them will continue to feel alone, I do know one thing: my job is to serve the Lord. My job is to love and give to these people, and if you call yourself a Christian, its your job, too.

I'm petitioning Christ's love. Just sign up and act.

Serious Joy

I’ve taken very seriously the working out my salvation with fear and trembling. The idea of approaching the throne grace is not something to be done flippantly. However, in the past week, I’ve come across passage after passage on the joy and peace that God brings from the hope that Christ left us.

One that particularly struck me came from my quiet time on Wednesday. As I meditated on this, it really penetrated me. Read it and think for a moment.

“May the God of HOPE fill you with all JOY and PEACE as you trust him, so that you may overflow with HOPE by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

My God, the God that made everything and does everything in his power, wants that I receive JOY and PEACE as I trust in Him. Wow.

This blew my mind. Though I have been experiencing deep peace, a peace that passes understanding, I’ve been in a very contemplative state. Off putting to some. My sister had mentioned that my “countenance” was one of sadness. I thought about this, seriously, for few days. Though, I feel that her statement was cutting, I also saw some truth in it in some situations. So I prayed through it, asking God to bring me joy and allow it exude life from me. And yesterday, it came.

I was talking with a coworker and she said that we aren’t supposed to bring gloom with us everywhere we go. “Who wants to change because of that?” She said. As examples of Christ, we are to live lives that show him. Lives that bring people to want to know why we are so excited about God, why we are so glad to be alive, why we serve the God we serve.

We aren’t supposed to go through the days with a sober mind, contemplating the sadness that was that day that he died, though this is good. It’s not about the legalism of sackcloth and ash, as it had been for so many months in my life. Yes, God is serious. I take him very seriously. But, God wants us to look to the hope of heaven, his bridegroom returning for us, and live joyfully.

In a world where Lady Gaga will not be leaving anytime soon, though she should’ve expired months ago, we must find the joy in everyday things. Some choose music, entertainment, fitness or friends. For me, it’s the weather. No matter what fills the sky, God has made a wonderful day. I always thank him for the weather. I thank him for my meals. Every opportunity to visit with another soul, I thank him with great joy knowing we grew in him as we grew with each other. I thank him joyfully for all the little blessings, like chocolate from a friend’s candy dish or free pastries at lunchtime, when I forget my lunch. (If you could work that out for today, God, I would really appreciate it. I ended a fast yesterday, and totally forgot that today I’d need a lunch.)

Once we get to that place of joy and contentment in God presence in the world, we find that God is in everything. We find joy in the time we spend with our families. We are able to naturally talk about Jesus with people of no or little faith. We can see our lives as exceedingly blessed by God instead of so-so.

I’m reminded of a song by Desperation band. Just listen to the words.



You dance over me
While I am unaware
You sing all around
But I never hear a sound

Lord, I’m amazed by you
Lord, I’m amazed by you
How you love me

It’s the amazement of unknown joy and little delights can be the most exciting. He’s dancing over us while we aren’t even doing anything devoted to him. He’s there. Doesn’t that just give you serious joy?

So today, think of God’s blessing in your life. Continue to seek him out with fear and trembling, but do it joyfully. After all, we are transformed by his glory. That's serious joy.