The Christian Comparison Game: 3 Reasons Why We Should Stop Playing It

Part 1 of a 2 Part Series about the Christian Comparison Game

The comparison game. Ugh.

We all do it, even those of us who know better.

Women compare themselves to other women in so many ways.

Why can’t I keep my house as clean as she does? My pile over there has been growing since October. At what point does paper grow mold?!

Her kids are always dressed so cute. Does she think mine look like they just rolled out of bed? I mean, okay so maybe they did just stumble out of their messy rooms.

She’s got the cutest jeans and her hair always looks perfect. I don’t even want her to see me in these sweats. She must think I look frumpy… at best.

Oh my word, she feeds her family actual balanced and healthy meals. I can’t let her know I just ordered pizza….again. Is soda one of the food groups?

You get the idea. You could probably add a few more examples to the list.

But as Christian women, I’m afraid sometimes we take this comparison game in an even more dangerous direction.

Oh, I wish we didn’t! But if I’m being honest, I admit that I’ve struggled with this and I’m wondering if I’m not alone.

We fall into a Christian comparison trap.

We compare our “Christian service,” our “good works,” our “ministries,” our “Kingdom efforts.”

We can’t see the treasures that are being stored up in Heaven, but we think we can maybe estimate how much we’ve earned… and we’d like to make sure it’s at least as much as so-and-so over there, if not a little more.

For example:

She leads a Bible study every Tuesday morning. She gives handouts with detailed notes to the ladies. Doggone, she even put a cute Pinterest graphic on the pretty paper. I’ve never led a Bible study. In fact, I don’t even want to go to hers.

She is so courageous. She follows God’s leading to the most intimidating places. Can you believe she spends time with the homeless on the streets of the inner city?! I don’t even like to drive to the grocery store after dark.

That woman must be a saint. She’s been teaching the preschool class at church for 16 years. She even sits on the floor with them and patiently wipes their grimy little noses. I barely survived my own children being preschoolers.

Are you kidding me? She’s moving to Honduras? She not only learned the Spanish language, she’s now going to uproot herself and work full-time in a orphanage in Tegucigalpa. No hablo Español.

We fall into this trap, even those of us who know better have been guilty of doing it.

And I believe this Christian comparison trap may be even more detrimental than comparing who has the best home décor.

Why is it so harmful to compare our service to God to the things we perceive others are doing for Him?

I believe it’s dangerous for several reasons:

1. We are discrediting who God made us to be.

Psalm 139:13-16 says;

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

We were not thrown together haphazardly. God created us each individually, not on a homosapien assembly line where we all came out looking the same and performing the same robotic tasks.

We are all unique and our days were ordained for us each individually.

1 Corinthians 12:4-6 says;

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.

We don’t get a say in what gifts and talents we receive. We just have the enormous blessing of having the Holy Spirit to guide us and enable us to use what we’ve been given to work to glorify one God.

When we compare our spiritual gifts with those of another, we are backhandedly telling God that the gifts He gave us are not good enough.

God doesn’t make mistakes. God made you to be exactly who He wanted YOU to be.

2. We are in danger of harming the Body of Christ.

The tendency for those of us who compare ourselves to other Christians is to then allow the comparison to turn into jealousy, and jealousy can lead to resentment. When we are resenting a sister in Christ we are most likely not encouraging her.

As a body of believers we are called to build each other up so that together we can glorify God and His Kingdom.

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says,

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up…

We are all on the same team. You might wish you were a point-guard, but God gifted you as a center. Stop resenting the point-guard’s swift dribbling skills and cheer her on. Those dribbling skills are beneficial to your team.

It’s not about you.

It’s not even about her.

It’s about the team, the Body of Christ, and we all should be working together and spurring each other on to do our best.

1 Corinthians 12:21 states;

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.

Let’s all be team players. That’s how it was designed to be. We were created to be a team that works together for one wonderful purpose and for one worthy God.

3. We could be tempted to do nothing.

When we compare ourselves to other believers we fight the urge to throw in the proverbial towel.

We think, “Well, if I’m just over here changing diapers in the nursery and no one ever seems to care or notice, then forget it!” We think that since our ministry is behind-the-scenes and no one has ever asked to write a story about our efforts in the local newspaper, then maybe what we’re doing is not good enough.

Idleness is a dangerous thing.

Remember, we are all striving toward the same goal. We shouldn’t stop doing our part because we feel it’s perceived as “too small.” Nothing is too small for God to use. And even more, nothing that God uses is small!!

God desires our obedience and not an impressive resume of things we feel are worthy endeavors.

Hoses 6:6 says:

For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.

It’s not about the sacrifice, it’s about our hearts. It’s about our obedience to what God has asked us to do. It’s not about what my Christian friend is doing and if it’s seemingly more amazing than what I’m doing.

We are the hands of feet of Jesus and we can’t be twirling our thumbs in resentment toward another’s gifts while trying to stand in the same place as everyone else.

Let’s stop the Christian comparison game.

We all should be laying up treasures in Heaven. Let’s start thinking of the treasures as being in one big pile lying at our Master’s feet instead of separate piles glorying us as individuals.

And let’s remember what an honor it is to be on this team in the first place.

Welcome, Joy.

She unfolded the little slip of white paper and read the question aloud. The scribbled letters, written in marker, were legible to her little Kindergarten mind, though not always decipherable to the rest of us. Karly had filled a jar with these little scraps, each containing a question that she’d composed, and to which she wanted an answer. It was her way of continuing a tradition we’d started in our family of asking everyone a “conversation starter” question at dinner. The activity was a family favorite, and now Karly wanted to be the master of ceremonies.

“What is your favorite feeling?” our miniature emcee asked. She was thinking outside the box and wanted to know what emotion we all liked the best.

We all took a moment to think and then all five of us agreed. The answer was unanimous.

Joy.

We all like joy.

Who doesn’t?

Joy is great. Right?

So if I like joy so much, why do I sometimes find myself feeling joyless?

I’ve often heard the expression that so-and-so or such-and-such “stole my joy,” but as I think about it, is that really possible?

Can someone else take my joy? Or did I allow my joy to leave?

Perhaps it’s a crowding problem. I have so many other emotions, some that I don’t care for nearly as much as joy, that can take up a lot of space.

Fear.

Doubt.

Uncertainty.

Lies.

Worry.

There’s not much room for joy.

Sometime joy gets pushed out the front door of my heart.

I know that as a Christian I am to “be joyful always” like Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians, but apparently joy is not a constant or automatic guest in the human heart.

Joy waits for an invitation. And like any act of hospitality, to host joy takes effort and sacrifice.

But I wish for joy to take off its coat and stay awhile.

So today I’ll open the door and ask the fears and lies and doubts to hit the road.

I’m going to make room for a favorite.

I’m going to throw down the welcome mat, open the door of my heart wide,

…and welcome joy. 167324_128373713898631_4310663_n

This post is part of Five Minute Friday where a group of bloggers link up here and write about a given topic (for approximately 5 minutes.) The topic is based on a one-word prompt. This week’s word was: WELCOME

A Little Help Here?

I dug my heals into the ground and gripped the sides of the piano until my knuckles were white and my face was red. I pulled and then twisted and squirmed until the beast of an instrument finally budged a few inches. I was going to move this thing across the room in order to rearrange the living room for the Christmas season. Never mind the fact that it had taken four grown men to put the piano where it was, I had my mind set on getting this done today and, I was going to do it.

But it sure would be nice to have some help.

The rest of my family was busy doing their own thing and apparently they weren’t feeling the urgency or passion I was feeling about this particular project.

But I figured they’d see me working and realize I needed them to help.

I figured wrong.

I pushed and pulled that piano for quite awhile, taking breaks only to move the other pieces of furniture that were in my way. I had determined that I was going to do this, and if there’s one thing I am, it’s determined (though my husband may have another word for it.)

Just ask those who were in my high school youth group back in the day when we spent some time together on a lake where I wanted to learn to water ski. I had set my mind on the fact that I was going to get up on those skis and I tried over several days… a mere 54 times… before I got it. (Come to think of it, don’t mention this to my old youth group friends; I think they’re still trying to block it out from their memories. They spent a lot of time turning circles in a boat.)

Anyway, when I’m determined, I’m determined. And nothing, not even a dinosaur of a piano, is going to stop me.

“Hello?”

“Do you guys not see that I’m doing this right now and could use a hand?!”

“A little help here?”

Of course, I didn’t actually say any of these things out loud because I figured that I didn’t need to. It was obvious by my groans and facial expressions that I needed help.

But turns out they weren’t paying attention. They didn’t notice what I was doing and they had no plans of joining me.

I had to swallow my pride (and try to stand up straight without wincing) and ask for their help.

Sure enough, they then joined me, and together we moved the furniture, piano included, with much more ease.

I’m not here to throw stones in regards to watching others work and not seeing a need and helping. In fact, I’m guilty of it too.

There have been times when I’ve stood leaning my arms on my mom’s kitchen counter chatting away about whatever is on my mind while she does an entire family gathering’s worth of dishes. I’m looking at her, but I’m not seeing the fact that I could easily grab a towel and help.

I’ve missed opportunities to join others in tasks more times than I could count.

But I’ve been thinking, how often do I miss joining in on what my Heavenly Father is doing?

I know from studying Scripture that God is working. He has a plan and purpose and He wishes to involve those who are willing.

It’s like He’s there waiting and thinking,

“Hello?”

“Do you guys not see that I’m doing this right now and would use you too?!

“A little help here?”

Philippians 1:6 says,

…that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

And later in the same book of the Bible, Paul continues with this idea by saying in Philippians 2:13:

…for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

I see reasons to believe that God is working toward making me more like Him and I believe that according to Romans 8:28 that ALL that He does will ultimately glorify Himself and His Kingdom. It says,

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

God is at work in my life and all around me.

• Have I noticed Him lately?

• How can I join Him?

• Have I prayed about what God wants me to do today to honor Him?

• Am I living in a way pleasing to Him to make sure I am striving to BE who He wants me to BE?

These are questions that I hope to consider more often in the coming year. I don’t want to be caught leaning on the counter watching others work when I could be rolling up my sleeves and grabbing a towel.

It’s not because God needs me or that He couldn’t get it done without me. On the contrary, anything I do outside of Him is nothing.

Lord, may you open the eyes of my heart this year so that I may SEE you. Give me the WISDOM to know how and where you want to use me. Grant me the HUMILITY to OBEY. Make me into the woman YOU desire me to be. May I bear FRUIT, not for my own benefit, but for your Kingdom. And to You be all GLORY now and forever. Amen.

Oh… and by the way, now that Christmas is over, who wants to come over and help me move the piano back?

14 Things I Learned During the Christmas Season of 2014.

In keeping with my own tradition the past couple of years, I thought I’d sit here in my pjs and slippers (that I waited to put back on until 3:30 this afternoon) on this last Sunday of “Christmas Break” and share:

14 Things I’ve Learned during the Christmas season of 2014.

14. If your Kindergartener puts homemade “reindeer food” on the front porch on Christmas Eve, she in turn expects that on Christmas morning this special recipe of marshmallows, pretzels, carrots, M & M’s, and chocolate chips will be gone/eaten. If you happen to forget to remove the said “reindeer food” while the said Kindergartner is sleeping, then you must stall your three children at the top of the steps and go “check” to make sure that it’s “safe” to go outside to the front porch. You then must shove very soggy marshmallows, pretzels, carrots, what used to be M & M’s, and waxy chocolate into your pockets.

13. Wet marshmallows are sticky.

12. Barbie MEGAblocks are not MEGA. According to the dictionary, “MEGA” means, “very large” or “huge.” If by huge they mean “half the size of your preschooler’s fingernail,” then MEGAblocks is an appropriate name for the Barbie MEGAblocks sets.

11. If the box containing the unassembled Barbie MEGAblocks swimming pool claims that the pool can be built by a 4-8 year-old, then these children must be in the MENSA program and/or are already construction engineers.

10. I am not a construction engineer.

9. My 4-year-old is not in MENSA.

8. If your sister-in-law has a December birthday you celebrate at Christmas and she mentions that she’d always wanted a “Doll Dress” cake when she was a girl, you give the woman a Doll Dress cake by sticking a Barbie in the Baked Alaska cake your mother-in-law made. You’re never too old for a Barbie cake. (Aluminum foil may be required to keep the cake G Rated.)

7. It’s best to be slow to speak and quick to listen as your child questions you on the validity of Santa Claus. The standard, “Well, what do you think?” reply works well.

6. The standard, “Well, what do you think?” reply does NOT work well with your husband when he is asking you what size of clothing he should purchase for you for Christmas.

5. It’s very easy to find something fun to buy for ten-year-old boys.

4. It’s very difficult to find something fun to buy for forty-year-old boys.

3. When your little one says she knows the Santa at the mall is just someone dressed up, just be quiet for a couple of beats because she may just follow that statement up with, “Because I know the REAL Santa is still in the North Pole.”

2. Three kids and seven hours of baking makes for A LOT of goodies and a very sore lower back. (And, you can get ALMOST anything to stick to a pretzel rod you’ve dipped in melted chocolate.)

1. The Christmas season can be full of anticipation and joy. The best gift of all is anticipating the joy that can be ours because of that perfect baby, Jesus, who we celebrate all year long!

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Here’s to a great 2015!

Counting My Blessings

My husband and I have a little tradition we keep each Christmas season. We make popcorn and snuggle up to watch the movie, White Christmas, together. Real men watch Bing Crosby dance… in case you didn’t know.

Each year I get teary-eyed as the snow falls at the end of the movie and as Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney’s characters realize they’ve fallen in love.

My love and I get certain song lyrics stuck in our heads for days after we’ve watched the movie. And actually, there’s one song I try to recall often throughout the year.

There is a scene where Bing and Rosemary’s characters can’t sleep. They too snuggle up with a snack and then they sing a beautiful song with the following lyrics,

When I’m worried and I can’t sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep
Counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep
Counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you’re worried and you can’t sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you’ll fall asleep
Counting your blessings (Irving Berlin, 1954, White Christmas)

I like those lyrics.

I admit that I don’t often live by them (or fall asleep by them!) Unfortunately, I sometimes find myself lying awake worrying about various things. Sometimes my concerns are valid and other times I’ve created imaginary scenarios that will never come to pass, but I spend time worrying about them anyway.

My worries or complaints don’t just occur as I’m trying to fall asleep. Sometimes I find myself complaining out loud during the day or fretting as my schedule becomes full.

And that’s when I start counting.

I don’t count to three to try to regain my composure or to get one of my children to obey.

I don’t count how many items I have remaining on my to-do list.

I don’t count how many times I’ve lost my cool that day (or hour!)

I count my blessings.

It’s a game changer, folks.

I’ve discovered that it’s hard to complain when you’re making a mental list of how many things have gone right for you on any given Tuesday afternoon. And even on terrible days, there’s always something that has been good.

I’ve found that it’s difficult to worry about the future when you’re looking around and naming all of the gifts you’ve been given in the present.

And I know that it’s hard to fret and bite your nails when you’re sinking your teeth into the blessings you’ve been fortunate enough to reap.

I have to admit that I don’t sound nearly as good as Bing Crosby or Rosemary Clooney when I sing this song in my head. But the attitude change that comes from putting these lyrics into practice sure does bring some beautiful harmony!

A Glutton For Grace

I drew in a deep breath and then let it out quickly. I pushed my lips firmly together and shut my eyes while I clenched my fists.

Why was I so angry?

It was a pile of toys, for crying out loud. And it was in the basement where the kids are supposed to play with toys.

But I couldn’t let it go. Even though I wanted to, I just felt compelled to make them clean it up before we walked out the door.

They know better. They’ve been warned.

So I called up the steps for the three of them.

“Guys, get down here and clean up this stuff! We’ve got to go and we’re not leaving until it’s picked up!”

My two girls slowly made their way down the steps as if in a depressed stupor. They robotically began to clean up the mess.

And I waited.

Where was their brother? I called up the steps again. I could hear him in the kitchen at the top of the stairs. Certainly he could hear me. Again, I shouted for him to come down, but he did not.

I’d had it.

In my firmest voice I yelled for him and my anger was easily implied in both my tone and my volume.

Karson came down the steps with a confused and hurt look on his face. “What, Mom? What do you want me to do?”

“Are you serious?! I’ve been calling you to come clean up this mess and you’ve been completely ignoring me. Now get to work!”

He lowered his eyebrows in confusion and then squatted down to help his sisters finish clearing the pile.

“Mom, I didn’t hear you. I didn’t know you were calling me.”

I huffed again and then headed up the stairs to get coats and shoes ready for us to head out the door.

As we drove down the road several minutes later the guilt hit me.

I had no reason to yell like I did, and I knew it.

Sure, I had excuses.

My husband had been out of town and I was worn out from taking care of the kids alone for a few days and keeping up with a full schedule. On top of that, I had had this “brilliant” idea to get the kids up that Saturday morning at 6:30 so that we could have an “adventure” and go to the grand opening of a local doughnut shop where the first 100 costumers got free doughnuts for a year. The kids had begged me the previous night to wake them up before dawn that morning so that we could go try to win. I thought it sounded kind of fun and like a great springboard to a special memory (and good doughnuts!) so I set my alarm and we all stood in the freezing cold for an hour and a half that morning.

And we were the 107^th in line.

Good things come to those who wait, but these yummy treats and the warm coffee were a long time coming… and not free. But it was a fun morning. And boy were those doughnuts yummy.

Now, as I drove our minivan to my nephews’ basketball games it was only noon, but the kids and I had had our fill of doughnuts, and we were tired.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and found Karson in the rearview mirror. I swallowed my pride, as I so often have to do, and said, “Karson, I’m really sorry that I yelled at you in the basement. I thought you heard me ask you to come down and I assumed you were ignoring me. I’m really sorry, bud. Will you forgive me?”

“Yeah. That’s ok.” He said and quickly went back to the conversation he was having with his sister in the backseat.

I thought I’d learned my lesson for the day.

Later in the afternoon as I sat on the top bleacher watching our third basketball game of the afternoon, my sister-in-law climbed back up the bleacher steps and sat back down beside me. She’d gone out to the hall for a few minutes to check on our younger kids who weren’t playing basketball, or watching it for that matter, but were playing together in the hallway all afternoon.

Laura smiled as she sat down and said, “Do you know what happened out there?”

“What? Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes, it is now. Karly was upset with Karson about something in the game they were playing in the hallway and she got all worked up and started whining and swinging her arms at him as if she were going to hit him. I stopped and asked her if I needed to bring her to you. Before she could answer, Karson spoke for her. He said, ‘It’s okay, she’s just been up since 6:30.’

Laura laughed with me about how understanding Karson was as a big brother to recognize that his little sister was just tired and needed to be shown some grace.

Outwardly, I agreed with her. Karson was exactly right.

Inwardly, I cringed.

Why couldn’t I have responded to him a few hours earlier in the same graceful way he’d responded to his sister.

I turned my head to watch the basketball game once again but I let my thoughts simmer on Karson’s response for a few moments.

“It’s okay, she’s just been up since 6:30.”

And I realized that our early morning doughnut adventure proved to do more than just make me appear to be a glutton for great sweets.

That day has made me yearn to be a glutton for grace.

Did You See That?

Here I am again trying another Five Minute Friday. This is where I link up at this site with other bloggers and we all write about the same topic for 5 minutes (or so…this one was closer to 10 minutes for me) and then we link up with each other for fun. We are all given the same one-word prompt and it’s interesting to see what direction we each take it as we write. I’ve enjoyed giving this a try for several Fridays. It’s a fun challenge! Anyway, here’s my latest FMF post.

This week’s word: NOTICE

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Did You See That?

There are those who see the world through rose-colored glasses, and those who have to squint a little to see much of anything at all.

There are some who astutely observe the smallest of details in the colorful and bustling world around them.

And then there’s my husband.

Don’t get me wrong. I adore the man. He’s wise, handsome, kind, witty… but one thing he ain’t is observant.

When we were dating, Kraig couldn’t believe how observant my mom is. She has a keen eye for decorating, and ascetics in general, and Kraig was intrigued. He couldn’t quite understand how she decorated her home with such precision and he wanted to test her once and for all to see if she was truly as observant as he thought she was.

So one evening, Kraig placed a plastic travel coffee mug amongst all of the beautiful paraphernalia that was covering my mom’s decorated mantel. The mug was nicely hidden amongst the pretty decor with only a small part of it being visible. Kraig smiled smugly at me and said, “Let’s see how long it takes her to notice that!”

A few minutes later, Kraig and I watched from our seats on the couch as mom walked into the room, stopped suddenly in her tracks, and stared at the mantel. “What’s that doing there?” she said puzzled as she walked over and removed the plastic coffee mug.

Suspicion confirmed. She’s pretty darn observant.

Kraig, on the other hand, doesn’t notice things. We’ve been married for about 12 years and I still find myself in a state of shock when I make a major change in our home and he’s none the wiser. There are the small things, like changing some wall decor, that I don’t really expect him to see. But there are some other times when I’ll move furniture or change something rather drastically and he will just not see it. Well, he sees it, he just doesn’t SEE it.

I wonder if I painted the kitchen hot pink with zebra stripes if he’d sense a change?

Sometimes Kraig’s lack of observational skills bugs me. I mean, I do ALL this work to clean up our storage room or sort and organize three billion plastic toys into various containers and he barely remembers what it looked like before I started.

Come on, man. I want you to notice all I’ve done so you’ll appreciate me.

But, just this week I was encouraged that maybe he’s noticing things after all. I overheard Kraig telling one of our children how much he loves being home because our house is such a peaceful place to be.

So maybe he doesn’t notice all of the pieces, parts, elbow grease and art that go into making our house a home, but apparently the sum of all of those parts equals peace.

And I’ll raise my empty plastic travel mug to that!

My Father’s Face

Well, it’s Friday again. This is my fourth week trying Five Minute Friday. This is where a group of bloggers (Anyone, really! Thanks, Internet!) can log on here and get a one-word prompt to write about for five minutes. After you write, you link up with the other people who have done the same. It’s a great way to get to know new writers and to see what goes on in other’s minds when we’re all prompted with the same word/topic. Plus, it’s just a good challenge (and kind of fun too!) 🙂

Today’s word was: TURN

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MY FATHER’S FACE

It was dark. Our camping trip was well underway and I was snuggled in my sleeping bag with heavy eyes. Granted we’d only gone as far as the backyard, but sleeping in a tent all night was a pretty big deal to my little Kindergarten self.

I tried to stop my brain from having so many thoughts… and I tried to stop my wiggles as well. But I just couldn’t. Sleep wasn’t happening on this hard ground where I could feel the coldness of the earth and hear strange and scary noises.

And then suddenly I knew what do to. I knew what would help me fall asleep at last.

And so I stretched out my little hand.

Beside me lay my father in his sleeping bag. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there. What I wanted to know was if he was facing me.

Was his face turned toward me?

I felt in the darkness and found his face. I felt his warm nose and forehead and patted his cheeks.

“What are doing?” his whispered voice cut through the darkness.

“Daddy, I just wanted to make sure your face was looking at me. Now I feel safe and I can go to sleep.”

I smiled and slid my arms back into the warmth of my sleeping bag.

I’d found my peace.

My Daddy was looking at me in the darkness. Even if I couldn’t see him, I knew he was there.

Now I rarely lay in a sleeping bag, but sometimes I still have trouble finding sleep. The darkness, the noises, and the unknowns of this earth can keep me awake.

Though I try to calm my anxious thoughts and restless body, I often fail.

But I know what to do.

I reach out again to my Father. The Father who is always beside me and who can provide me with a peace that passes all understanding.

His voice cuts through the darkness.

And I rest assured that He will turn His face toward me.

“The Lord bless you
    and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you
    and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
    and give you peace.”’

Number 6:24-26

That’s Gonna Leave A Mark.

I’m giving Five Minute Friday a try again. I find it fun, challenging, and I just drank coffee too late in the evening so I’m wide awake and why not! 🙂 Five Minute Friday is where a group of bloggers are given a one-word prompt and then they write about that topic for five minutes and then link up with others who have done the same. The prompt is given at 10pm on Thursday night here if you’d like to join us! And if you want to read what others have written about today’s word you can find them all linked here.

Today’s word prompt is: LEAVE

That’s Gonna Leave A Mark.

We sat in a circle this morning with Bibles open on laps and scribbled words on our papers. We’ve been studying the life of Moses and today we discussed that crazy day when Joshua was called to fight the Amalekites and Moses stood on top of a mountain all day holding his staff up in the air.

Weird.

We read about how when Moses lowered the staff, the Amalekites would begin to win, and when he raised the staff up, then his people, the Israelites, would be the victors. The staff was a visual represtentaion of God’s power.

We studied that as the day wore on, Moses’ arms grew weary (who can blame him!) and so he pulled up a rock, took a seat, and had his buddy, Hur, and his brother, Aaron, hold his arms up for him.

I don’t claim to understand how this all worked. Like I said, it’s kind of strange and not something I see every day. Or ever.

But I believe it.

And what’s more, I was struck in our study by the fact that God actually asks Moses to record what happened that day so that Joshua and the rest of the Israelites (and you and me too!) would know about this whole staff and tired arms thing. And even more important than that, so we’d all see how God led His people to victory in a powerful way, like only He could.

Basically, God wanted Moses to be sure to tell the story.

To not let the memory of that day fade with the setting sun.

Poor Moses didn’t have the great tools we have today to do such telling.

He couldn’t tweet:

@EgyptnoMoe Just helped my army win a big battle… but boy are my “armies” sore now!
#punintended #AaronandHuraremywingmen

He couldn’t blog:

Check on my new post “My Triceps are Killing Me but the Amalekites Aren’t” over at http://www.wanderingwildernessramblings.com

He couldn’t even update his status on Facebook:

Check out this group selfie of my bro Aaron, my buddy Hur and me. Long day helping Joshua win a battle. Can’t win ’em all, but we sure won this one! 😉 By the way, this staff sure is something!!

But technology, tools, convenience, or not, God asked Moses to record the events of the day and to pass it down to others.

God asked Moses to tell the story.

I see this theme in Scripture elsewhere. In Deuteronomy, God tells his people to impress God’s laws on their children. To talk about God and his law in their daily lives. To tell the stories of God’s work in their history. To pile a group of stones in a location where God did something and when their kids asked, “Hey Mom, what’s that pile of rocks for?” to tell them the story.

Because when we tell the story, we tell what God has done.

And that’s gonna leave a mark.

A Different Dare.

Last week I tried Five Minute Friday for the first time and I enjoyed it! It was a good challenge for me and I had fun trying to be creative with the topic. Five Minute Friday is where a group of bloggers (anybody who wants to) write on a given topic (from a one word prompt!) for 5 minutes and then link up with others who have done the same. I thought I’d give it a try again this week.

Today’s word: DARE

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A DIFFERENT DARE

We walked down the tiled and cold hallway of the mall. My little daughter’s warm and soft hand was in mine.

Her feet shuffled quickly as she worked to keep up with my stride and her sweet little eyes moved from side to side as she took in our surroundings.

The lights. The mannequins in the windows dressed in strange clothes. The signs. The smells. The noise.

It was all communicating loudly to us without saying a word. It dared us to join in. “These are the things that society says are important.” it was clearly stating.

Wear the trendy clothes. Be relevant.

Spritz yourself daily with a scent created by someone you admire.

Be thin. No, be skinny.

Fit in with right crowd.

Spend. Spend. Spend.

To thine own self be true.

But, little daughters of mine, I dare you to be different. And I’ve found that being different is even more difficult than trying to be the same as everyone else.

I hold your hand today, but someday soon you’ll grow up and be gone. And so I want you to hear these things and hold them in your heart.

Wear dignity. Be full of grace.

Spritz yourself daily with gratitude, for you have been created by the One who admires you.

Be you. Be healthy.

Help those who don’t seem to fit anywhere.

Give. Give. Give.

Be humble and think of others’ needs above your own.

For these are the things that are truly important.

I dare you to be different.