When Jesus Calls You OUT...

When Jesus Calls You OUT...

Posted by Candace

I don't know, but I think I might have walked on water for a few minutes yesterday. 

The conference that I was invited to speak at was a great success in spite of my personal weaknesses.

I am still chewing on the word that Amber Foster gave about Nehemiah's servants heart.  A much needed word in my life, and it was immediately tested on my way home when this exhausted mom who had paced back and forth all day in cowboy boots a half size too small (but they were so CUTE) trying to keep herself calm, then spoke for an hour, and then drove home 3 hours was looking forward to a long night's sleep in her own bed and was asked to stop and bring home dinner.  Of course, every drive thru was packed and I found my blood pressure rising before Amber's words sprang up in my heart.  I was able to not only bring home dinner, but to spend patient time with all of my children and put my little ones through their bedtime "routine" before I finally got to lay down all because I chose a servant's heart.  The Word works!

The moments before I took to the platform yesterday were filled with terror.  As I shared in my testimony, I deal with physical anxiety and panic that, in certain situations, I find hard to control.  As everything within me was trying to come up with an idea of how to run, I looked up to find a big red "EXIT" sign above my head.  Nice try, enemy, but no thanks, I have run before.  Nothing but faith in a HUGE God made my legs work as I climbed the stairs.  I thought for sure that it was impossible, even for the Holy Spirit, to keep me from running off that platform before I had finished, so imagine my surprise when I asked toward the end of my notes how I was doing on time and the hostess indicated that I was over my hour.  Our God is THAT big!  Those 70 ladies don't know how much of a miracle that they witnessed yesterday, but I am beyond sure that God made His Name GREAT through this girl with absolutely nothing to offer.

This morning as I woke up, I felt myself bombarded by the enemy.  That stinkin' accuser reminded me of every public speaking "rule" that I had broken and tried to deride me for my transparency and make me guilty of ruining a perfectly excellent event.  The Holy Spirit immediately shut the enemy up as He reminded me of the several people I had the privilege of talking to and praying with afterwards that revealed their own inward struggle with fear and anxiety and how the Lord had used my message on faith (yes, He uses the weak things of this world to confound the wise...I myself was a bit confounded on His choice of women to deliver a message on faith) to speak to their hearts.  The Holy Spirit spoke words of encouragement to these women through other imperfect moms and imperfect followers of Jesus who were brave and transparent enough to share their own struggles and their own weaknesses and yes, even their own sins (sin means to miss the mark of perfection.  God is that mark so any time we don't measure up to God's standard, we have sinned.)  The worship leader for the event blew us away with the passion in her voice and her evident love for our Saviour, and I was then privileged and humbled as she furiously took notes during my session and for the first time I realized something...

The enemy has a good game going with the church called "who can be more perfect than anyone else?"  We all are striving and trying to live up to a place of spirituality where everyone looks at us and thinks "Wow!  they aren't broken at all.  they have it all together.  how can I be like them?"  So we are all playing this game where we hide our faults and our pains and our failures and our weaknesses.  We want to be in with the popular Christians...the ones who are spotless and sinless and always "on".  So we cover up things, so no one will really know that we are that sinner in the sanctuary who is beating his chest and saying "God, be merciful to me a sinner."  I used to think that the reason that man sat at the altar so humbly and destitute of any righteousness was because he just wasn't saved...but it was because he saw himself in the mirror and he realized that the only righteousness that he could attain was gonna come from the ONLY righteous One.

So I joined the club of Christian misfits yesterday.  Those of us that glaringly do not have our stuff together.  Those of us that the Lord, in all of His mercy and lovingkindness, is plucking out of the crowd to lead people to His cross.  We, misfits, can spot each other a mile away and our ministry to each other is deep and it is holy.  Why did God choose a woman who suffers often from a physical condition of anxiety and panic to give a message to His people about faith?  Because ONLY He could do something like that!  He's the same God who chose tax collectors and fishermen with tempers to be His closest disciples.  He's the same God who called a man who couldn't speak to lead millions of people to the promised land.  He's the same God who opens PRISON doors and sets captives free.  He knows that those of us that realize how much we are forgiven love Him the most and will follow Him to the ends of the earth.  Revival is going to come through people like this.  People laying on the altar and praying for mercy for sinners, in other words, mercy for ourselves.  I like being a part of this club...it's much better than the one I used to be a part of "Thank you, God that I am not like all those other sinners."

In this club, you are blessed with poignant moments from the Father that have no explanation.  Yesterday before my session was to begin, I went to the bathroom to check my hair and fix my microphone.  In the bathroom were two framed pictures with Scripture printed on them...one was about faith and the other hope.  Since I have a Jessica Faith, a Katherine Hope, and a Naomi Grace, I just absentmindedly thought "I wonder where Grace is?"  After service, my dear friend who I was so excited to reconnect with at this conference, brought me a necklace.  It is a beautiful cross.  She said, "The name of this necklace is Grace..."  That's the kind of God we misfits serve.  We hear His voice and follow Him out and He pours on the Grace.

My Great Romance

My Great Romance

Posted by Candace

My first kiss came in 9th grade.  It was a peck on the lips from a 7th grader in the movie theater as his dad sat 4 rows back chaperoning.  Crazy to think that my oldest son is older than that boy was, but that is beside the point.  Most of the boys that I took a liking to in school were younger than me... sometimes because it was my only option (the Christian schools that I attended were small) and at other times because I was fairly safe from rejection with the younger "men".  My huge insecurities kept my standards low...as in, if I heard tell that he was interested, I was his.  I was not any kind of a catch.  I was a nerd and a goody goody.

Enter David Roberts... He started attending my church when I was at the end of my sophomore year in high school.  Beats me what he saw in the gangly praise team singer who was never taught proper hygiene or how to properly apply makeup, but for some reason he picked me out.  He asked the pastor's son to introduce us.  My friends told me that he was rich and that he drove a BMW.  Not only that, but he was in college.  In reminiscing about this first encounter, I can only attribute his attraction to me as a complete act of God...I mean, God blinded a couple people in the Bible to accomplish His purposes... I suppose He could have just as easily blinded David Roberts.

It is quite funny to me that David had been THE man in high school...captain of every team, popular with the students and teachers, Christian Man of the Year... I mean, this guy had his pick of the litter in high school.  The girls were chasing him down.  He ended up in 2 fairly long term relationships before we met with girls completely out of my league...and his age.

Our first date was to Applebees on a Wednesday night after church.  I don't remember much about it except I felt like I might throw up the entire time.  I hadn't dated much (like I'd had maybe 2 dates before David; I was only 16), so I was almost out of my mind with nervousness.  I wonder why he even wanted a second date, but he asked again.  We went to Japanese this time (I didn't eat a thing) and then to play mini golf.  As I said goodnight to him, after what I considered an epic fail, I also told him that I was not having sex until I got married...Well, goodnight then.  I really think this is what hooked him in.  I mean, how many girls will put it all out there on the second date.  I still laugh at myself, but I was honest...and scared.

After our third date, we were sitting in the driveway looking at the stars and the girl who wanted to take things slow finds herself saying "So aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"  He obliged and we were committed.  I had a boyfriend...a much older one.

I was ecstatic for a month.  He wanted to see me every chance he got.  He would drive by my work and leave notes on my car.  He paid for everything, took me places I had never been, hung on to my every word.  But he was also in a different place in life...college.  He might have mentioned the "m" word a couple times...and this girl, who was 16 and had barely dated had a panic attack.  I really did.  I couldn't breathe, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.  What if he wasn't the man God had for me?  What if I didn't really like him as much as I thought I did?  What if I had to spend the rest of my life with him?  I had to get rid of him...easier said than done, since we had exchanged "I love yous" quite often and had dived into some serious topics of conversation.

So I pulled out the "how to break up with a great guy" card and told him that it wasn't him, it was me (it really was me anyway) and could we just be friends?  I told him that things were moving too fast and that I wanted to concentrate on my studies (now that part was a lie... I wanted to concentrate on playing the "field").  We remained friends, but he continued to pursue me as I dated guy after guy. 

Then people at church started to try to set him up with other girls.  Most of them had been happy enough when our short relationship ended because the age difference was quite a scandal around the place.  I remember hearing wind of him having dinner at a girl's house and being overcome with jealousy.  I had no idea why I was jealous, but I was.  Even during the six months we were not dating, we would still sit out in the church parking lot until all hours of the night talking.  I cringe with embarrassment when I think of the conversations that most often included the latest guy I was crushing on.

And yet, he continued to love me.  I don't know how in the world I had made such an impression on this guy in such a short amount of time, but he didn't give up on me.  He could have had any other girl he wanted, but he wanted me.  And as he began to be pursued by a new girl at church, I realized that I wanted him too...all to myself... but I was still terrified of commitment...of screwing up my life...of being outside of God's will.  So things went on like this for several months before the day that I will never forget.

I had called David and left him a message about something rather.  I can't remember the details, but it was in some ways mushy and crossed the friendship line.  Next thing I know, David Roberts shows up at my door.  After forcing me to listen to the message, he laid out an ultimatum.  I needed to make a choice.  Either we were going to be in a committed relationship or we were not going to be friends at all.  He was done. He was quitting.  As completely scared out of my wits as I was, I didn't want to live without him.  In the less than a year that we had known each other, he had become my best friend...truly the best friend that I had...and I had always longed for a friendship like we had.  I told him that I was willing to try again.

We received the gamut of advice about our relationship as I think many people were still concerned about a junior in high school dating a senior in college, but I think from the first week that we dated that second time we knew it was forever.  Throughout my junior year we planned our wedding and named our kids.  I was so in love that I couldn't even see straight.  I know I was young. It could have been a complete disaster.  Looking back, however, God knew what He was doing.  My parents divorced about 3 months after we made a commitment to each other.  David walked me (and my family) through some of the hardest days of my life and he hasn't stopped walking since.  He asked me to marry him two weeks after I graduated from high school and we were married 6 months later (it's better to marry than to burn...short engagements are the safest).  The next time I had a panic attack over David Roberts was 60 seconds before I was to enter the sanctuary and become his wife.  I almost pulled a Julia Roberts (I don't think that would have disappointed my man one bit since he's in love with her too) instead of becoming Candace Roberts, but those doors swung open and as I met the eyes of the man I would spend the rest of my life with, a peace descended on me and I knew I was walking steps prepared for me long before time began.

We struggle to find the romance these days.  Fifteen years and five kids later, we stay exhausted and forgetful about our early days together.  But there are moments when he looks at me with tenderness, when he texts me that I am the best thing that has ever happened to him, when he does something just because he knows I need it, that I am reminded how it feels to be so pursued by love.  The miracle is not that David and I are still married or that we somewhat successfully navigate the stress of the life that we live...the miracle is that he ever chose me to begin with.  I took for granted so much when I was younger... I have lived a great romance.

It's Faith I'm Standing On

It's Faith I'm Standing On

Posted by Candace

He has to leave again.  Every week it gets a little bit harder.  My early week is spent trying to get used to doing this on my own again.  Usually by mid-week, I am getting a little more comfortable with being that single working home-schooling mom to 5 kids.  Friday he comes home and we are once again fumbling around to try to find a “groove”.  By Sunday, I have forgotten that he is not here during the week… and then comes the dreaded Sunday night.  He packs his things. He kisses the kids.  He tells me that he will call me tomorrow and he is gone again.

I try to hate everything in these moments.  I try to hate our out of town business.  I try to hate that we moved.  I try to hate that we never thought of how desperately hard this would be when we chose to follow Christ…but I find myself back at this…He called, and we answered.  We have been blessed beyond measure in so many ways, and though everything within me wants to hate it…nothing within me wants to change anything about it.  I don’t want Ascend to fail.  I don’t want to live back in Loganville.  I don't want to ever give up the Word that is sown in us here and the friendships that daily support us.  I don't want to have less than 5 kids.  I don’t want to go back to life before I was stepping out onto the unknown.

So tonight, I sit here…struggling so desperately…letting the tears fall…attempting to figure out an answer to it all and I realize that I am standing on faith…nothing but faith in the One who loved me and gave Himself for me.  It takes faith to believe that I can sleep alone every night.  It takes faith to believe that tomorrow when I wake up the Lord has already gone before me and will give me the strength I need to accomplish what He puts in my path. It takes faith to believe that I can fulfill the needs of 5 members of the future generation on my own. It takes faith to believe that we are right in the center of His Will and even when things are excruciating, He is with us.  It takes faith to believe that He will continue to be as faithful as He always has been. 

This is where I’m standing… on the invisible bridge that spans the gap between ordinary life and the reward of Christ.  You can’t see the bridge…you can only look down and see how far you might fall if it’s not there.  Each step you take requires eyes focused on Jesus and a belief that the bridge will still be there when the weight of your body comes down on it.  This is the life of faith.

I fail daily at keeping my eyes on the prize.  Many times I give into the temptation to look down.  It freaks me out a little bit and I am often enticed to turn back.  By the grace of God, I look back up and I see Jesus and I realize that NOTHING in that ordinary life compares to Him.  I wish I could say that I take the next step forward because I am so full of faith or because I have learned to rely on the bridge or because I am brave, but many, many times, I take that step because I would rather fall into the ravine than to walk away from the life I have known following my Savior.

So tonight I am lifting up my leg to take another step.  On Friday, I will look back and once again, see that I was worried for nothing.  The invisible bridge of faith is still as sturdy as it ever was.  Oh how I yearn to see every Christian walking it with me.  I don’t know what He is calling you to…but if it doesn’t require a walk on this bridge, it’s not His voice.  Look up and take that step.  You won’t fall.  It’s faith you’re standing on.

 

Enjoy Every Moment: A Parenting Myth

Enjoy Every Moment: A Parenting Myth

Posted by Candace

There is no shortage of blogs on parenting and I don’t expect this to be one of the more enlightening ones that you have ever read, but I just can’t help bringing this up because it is something that I am and have been struggling with since my first child was born.

Many times when I am having a rough day… looking a mess, feeling a mess and just generally living a messy life…some well-meaning stranger has attempted to encourage me with “Enjoy every moment!” or some similar chastisement.  Now I know that this is meant to pick me up off of the floor where I am bending down to clean up the 15^th spill of the day, but can I just be completely honest for a second?  Just being honest… This doesn’t encourage me…rather it makes me feel pressured and it makes me feel guilty.  It makes me feel guilty because I have TRIED to enjoy every moment.  I have spent my parenting life thinking up ways that I could make myself enjoy every moment.  I have felt the pressure of all of the saints who have gone before me in raising children.  Especially the ones that can only remember how those were “the best days of my life” and “I wish my son/daughter was back at that age because they were so cute/sweet/perfect etc…etc…etc”. 

And I get it…

I get it that I will miss the different stages in my kid’s lives.  I already do.  Sometimes I look up at my teenage son (because yes, we have hit that stage where he is taller than me) and miss with all my being his cute little baby fingers and toes.  But I am convinced that we have selective memory when it comes to the past.  The Israelites, while they were wandering in the wilderness remembered Egypt (remember the place where they were making bricks by hand) as a land flowing with milk and honey (remember the land where they were actually going that God had promised them).  We often remember things as being much different than they actually were in the moment.  When asked about my favorite ever vacation, I would tell you about the time David and I went to Colorado.  We fought the entire trip.  So bad, in fact, that I distinctly remember not talking to him for almost a whole day while we were there.  But we both more readily remember the beautiful scenery, the fact that we were without children, and the spa treatments that we splurged on.  So when people say that they miss the years when their children were young and they wish they could go back, I think they conveniently forget the diaper changes and the long nights and the temper tantrums and the mountains of homework and the never ending messes, etc. etc.  They only remember the hugs and the kisses and the cute little phrases and the fun, family times together.  They simply do not remember all the moments that they did not enjoy.  This contributes to their impossible encouragement that every mother should enjoy every moment of parenting.

So let’s just get it straight and then we all can breathe a sigh of relief.  The definition of enjoy is to take pleasure in something or to benefit from circumstances. It is IMPOSSIBLE for you to enjoy every moment of your life or even every moment of parenting.  It is a myth and it is something that distracts us when we strive for it.  If you think about it, it is really a selfish expectation that every moment should be pleasurable for us and it leads to all kinds of wrong decision making.  Even Jesus, Himself had moments, as a man, that He certainly did not enjoy.  His whole mission in life was to get nailed to a cross as the worst sinner who ever lived (He, Himself, BORE the sins of the world...God looked at Him as if He had committed the acts Himself and therefore had to turn His back).  This is not exactly a life that would scream “Enjoy every moment, Jesus!”

I’m just gonna come out and say it… Some moments in life REALLY, REALLY STINK…others are REALLY, REALLY HARD!  And though we can have a soul joy and peace that Jesus has overcome those moments and will bring us through these moments, it doesn’t make the moment feel more enjoyable.  When I am in the throes of dealing with temper tantrums or a child that is lying or a child that won’t obey or laundry that never goes away or a husband who thinks because I stay at home I am spending the family finances away on bon bons (he doesn’t, by the way…at least not since the number of children has been upped to 5), it is ridiculous for me to also have to beat myself over the head because I am not enjoying these things.  Furthermore, if I thought the purpose of my life was to enjoy every moment (or even MOST moments for that matter), I am fairly convinced that I would not have the life that I have today.  No, I would not trade my life for anyone else’s, but that is specifically because the moments that I have NOT enjoyed the most have pulled me closest to the One who gives beauty for ashes.  True joy is found when we give up the expectation that we should enjoy our lives all the time. *BIG GASP* Did she just say we shouldn’t enjoy our lives?  Read it again… We should not EXPECT to enjoy our lives ALL THE TIME and taking this point a bit further, we can get ourselves into MUCH trouble if we are constantly pursuing enjoyment.  We should absolutely enjoy to the fullest any moment of happiness, pleasure, escape, or comfort that our Father blesses us with, but we should not be spending our lives seeking more of these things.  If we do, we miss some absolutely HARD things that lead us right into the purpose God has for our lives.

Trying to enjoy every moment has ruined quite a few moments for me.  Because I always have an expectation that “I should be enjoying this more”, I have often not enjoyed anything.  Even celebrations can be ruined because of this expectation.  Until we learn to accept from God’s Hand what He gives, whether it is enjoyable or whether it is the most difficult thing we have ever done, knowing that in the end He knows what direction and purpose our lives should take, we will never experience true joy.  “Rejoice in the Lord always” is not a command to feel happy all the time.  It is rather an encouragement that because He has conquered the world, no moment in life will ever conquer us.

So I say… quit thinking about enjoyment and instead focus on commitment and obedience to Jesus.  The world would be a much better place if we would instead say to Moms and Dads who are struggling… “Stay the course, Momma or Daddy.  Stay committed to your work.  Be not weary in doing good…for in due season, you are gonna reap if you don’t give up!”  And when the moments are full of drudgery and suffering and telling that child “no” for the 57^th time of the day, we give others permission to experience frustration…to, for a moment, wish that they lived the life of perfect enjoyment of every moment that exists ONLY in our heads…and then we helped pick them up from ridding the floor of stickiness and encourage them to give thanks in everything and to keep moving forward.

Because I am here to encourage you, Momma, that you are not the only one unable to enjoy the poop explosion all over the bed.  Feel free to vent your feelings to someone who will understand and who will realize that enjoying every cotton picking stinking moment is not the point.  Rather be encouraged that if you are not giving up, you are winning the battle and someday soon, you will see the reward for your labor.  Find grace in the moments you don’t enjoy…because I can promise you it is there.

And if you are reading this and you enjoy every moment of your life, feel free to enlighten this girl.

PS. This is not a condemnation on anyone who has ever responded to a parent's complaint with "Enjoy every moment!"  Rather it is an enlightenment on how that simple phrase may not be the best advice for a struggling parent :). 

The Power of the Cross

The Power of the Cross

Posted by Candace

It seemed much too trite to throw these pictures into a photo album on Facebook.  I think it's because I have spent many of the moments I have felt closest to God at the ocean.  There is just something holy about the beach (and I am not talking about most of the bathing suits people wear).  I think it speaks to me so loudly because as I walk across the grains of sand, I remember that His thoughts toward me are just as many...and when I gaze out across the water, I remember that His love for me is deeper and wider and higher... and when I wade out into the waves, I remember that He has cast all my sins into its depths.  The ocean is special and it is a gift.

So my opportunity to introduce my beloved daughter to this place was a very special one.  A girl who had never seen such a sight as this.  She was excited from the moment we explained where she was going.  Viviene, my Mandarin friend, was over working with Jessica on her English and I asked her to explain to Jessica where we were going.  She ran around the house jumping for joy and hugging Nathan exclaiming, "We go to the beach!"  She was very happy... not so happy on the 7 hour car ride to get there, but happy before and after said car ride.

We stayed the weekend at my dad's place and he and his wife were very gracious to allow all 7 of us to invade their 2 bedroom home.  We arrived on Friday night and slept in on Saturday while they were at a previously planned engagement, but when they arrived home, it was time to go.

This was the scene when we arrived...

She waded carefully into the water and then before we had barely a chance to take a picture, she embraced it...

She embraced it like she has being a big sister...

She embraced it like she has being part of a family...

She embraced it like she has being an American...

She sat down and covered herself in it as if she never wanted to leave...

This girl, once poor...

Now crowned...

That, my friends, is the power of the cross.

Something About that Name

Something About that Name

Posted by Candace

I rarely am able to process all of the things that course through me these days as I watch my oldest daughter learn about her Savior.  I would say that of all the things adoption has given me, watching this girl start to understand truth...watching it transform her life...this is definitely the best.

In China, children are taught from a young age to rely on themselves.  They are their own god and the only one that they really need to look out for.  The philosophy that Confucious left behind...that as long as a person is a good citizen and contributor to the state then all should be well inside of them... is alive and well.  Chinese Christians that I have talked to have said that they were taught that needing God was a weakness.  "What? You need a god?  You can't do it yourself?"  This is the kind of worldview that is inherited by the young people of China.  "You are not a sinner.  You are a good contributor."  Calling them a sinner is likely as insulting to them as spitting on them.

Tonight I asked Jessica, "Had you ever heard of Jesus before Katie told you about Him?"  She said, "no."  In almost 14 years, she had never even heard the NAME. As a matter of fact, when Katie started telling her the Gospel story she thought she was a little loose in the head.  This blows my mind.  Tonight Jessica told me of stories that Tim Hedden with Bring Me Hope camp told to illustrate the point of God's love.  The story about the Ugly Duckling and about the dollar bill that had been crumpled and dirty and stepped on...the intrinsic value that we have to God.  Tears came to my eyes as I realized what these stories meant to a girl who had been crumpled up, dirty, and stepped on.  Yes, my dear sweet one...because of Jesus you have just as much value as every other human being on this planet.  Nothing could make you more valuable or less valuable to Him.

Jessica is amazingly smart...and she is processing all of this.  What I love the most is that she is not just accepting Jesus because she is a part of our family... she is asking questions, she is reading, she is listening, she is being honest about where she is at and what she is thinking.  And in between there is this language barrier.  I want to tell her so much...explain so much... listen to her questions and answer them and I feel like I fall so short.  When we are discussing spiritual matters, I pray desperately that I don't screw her up in the translation of my hand motions.  I was never great at charades.  But the Lord has been gracious to send even more help.  Our sweet friend, Viviene is starting a Chinese Bible Study in her home on Friday nights with some other Chinese people in the area and Jessica attended it tonight. It will, at the least, give her some more understanding of the Scriptures and a place to ask questions in her own language and understand the answers.

The Name of Jesus is changing my girl.  And tonight I told her and I believe this with all my heart, "Jessica, Jesus picked you out of China and brought you here so that you could know Him."  "Why?" she asks.  Why does Jesus do anything that He does?  That's why He's God, right?  All I know is that you would be hard pressed to find a story like ours anywhere else.  There is something special about this girl... and something incredible about that Name.

We get used to it...hearing His Name.  In the South, we can even use it in a sentence with coffee.  But there are places, ya'll...whole countries full of people who have never heard it.  Millions and millions who are separated from Christ, excluded from His covenant, without hope, and without God in the world.  Bringing hope to hopelessness is our JOB as believers.  We are God's ambassadors.  WE are.  WE ARE. The harvest is GREAT, the laborers are few. Where are WE?  Somebody is reading this who needs to say "YES." to the Lord.  He is calling. You know that He is calling.  You have been thinking of every excuse in the book as to why it is probably just your imagination or why you would totally and epic-ly fail Him in what He is calling you to, but you know deep down that He is calling.  There are thousands upon thousands of Jessicas out there.  What could you spend your life on that is any greater than bringing them hope?  The only true safety in this world comes from being totally obedient to Christ.  Jesus is calling... He is asking you "Will you go for Me?"  On behalf of my daughter and the uncountable number like her, I beg you..."Please say 'Yes!'"

What's Love Got to Do with It?

What's Love Got to Do with It?

Posted by Candace

Greetings from over here in the refining fire!  I know it's cold outside, but it pretty hot in this furnace that I have been dropped into lately.  I used to think that I was a pretty even tempered sort of a person.  I mean, I've had my moments, but I never thought that controlling my temper was a really big deal for me.  Sure there were those days that I used to throw remotes at my sister's heads and that time that I slapped that girl my mom babysat in the face, but hey, those days are long gone and I have grown up...matured even.

Evidently not so much... Just double the whiny fits, the laundry, the amount of food to be prepared and halve the amount of people to carry the workload and Presto! it is the recipe for some really angry Candace.  Put me in the garlic press and I have found that growling, yelling, and clenched fists tend to come oozing out.  And you know what, I HATE this about myself.

You see, it's okay to have weaknesses as long as they never surface.  I don't mind that I had a temper... I just don't want it in my face where I know that I have a temper.  I don't want to have the awful feeling I get when I know that I have blown my top AGAIN for the 3rd time today.  I don't want to have to go to the throne for grace AGAIN.  I mean, get it together, Candace, you just asked God to help you 5 minutes ago... there are other people on this planet with much bigger issues.

And in the very midst of this struggle, suddenly God makes it clear what this is really about.  It's about grace and it's about love.  Two words that are thrown around in our culture today with barely a thought to the infinite depth of meaning that they hold.

The other night, David and I fought.  It was an ugly fight on both of our ends.  It left me hurt and angry...the kind of angry that streams tears down your face in the dark while you struggle not to make the slightest sniff so your husband won't have the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry.  As I laid there struggling to breathe (my nose was totally stuffed up and breathing quietly out of your mouth while you try not to make a sound is quite a feat), I prayed.  As I prayed, I just wanted to be angry.  I wanted to hate him.  I wanted to nurse my wounds.  I told God all of the reasons why this was all about me and why David was selfish and mean and would never change.  I tried to rage in my head as only a helpless victim can do.  It's not fair.  It's not meant to be this way.  This is not how I want to live the rest of my life.  You know what God kept saying to me.  "Are you loving him?"  But God... "Candace, are you loving him?"  But he... "I didn't ask about him. I asked you, 'Are you loving him?'"  God, this is a really inopportune time for me to answer that question.  I mean, why don't you ever ask him if he's loving me!  "Candace...Daughter of mine...Child of the King...Representative of my Kingdom, are you loving him?"  No, Lord.  I'm not.  I'm not loving him all day while I stew over his ridiculous work schedule.  I'm not loving him as I make snarky comments to make him feel guilty for things that bother me.  I'm not loving him while I sit here and try my best to hate him.  No, Lord, I'm really sorry. I'm not loving him.  Help me to love him.

So I reached over and I was rebuffed and the fight began again...and the crying all over again... and the "See, Lord.  He's impossible.  How can I love him when he won't let me?"  And then I remembered.  I remembered the week before when I had been mean...flat out MEAN to my children and before I even started to feel guilty, the Lord poured grace from heaven and mended my destruction.  I remembered crying out in the car that I was not cut out for this and what in the world was He thinking calling me to be Mom to 5 kids and He sat with me and listened and whispered that I was doing a really good job.  A good job!!  I'm a mess and my Lord was telling me of His love for me and His pleasure in my obedience.  I remembered when Naomi was crying and crying and crying and I couldn't drum up even the slightest feeling of motherhood toward her and I turned to my God in guilt "Why did you give her to ME?  Lord, the poor child, why didn't you give her to one of these 50 other women who scoop her up and gush about how precious she is?"  And the Holy Spirit said to me "She needs YOU. This is a specific assignment.  I didn't mess up.  I promise."  Oh Jesus, that you could love me so after ALL that I have done.  After who I am inside... After how I've treated the people I love the most.

In a moment I realized that true love... GOD'S love does not lessen in moments of weakness.  It does not rage at mistakes.  It does not abandon in times of hurt and pain.  Heard a quote the other day "God's grace doesn't make everything beautiful.  God's grace looks ugly in the eye and says 'I love you any way.'"  But I also realized that I had been holding this kind of love at arms length.  I had never accepted God's love for me.  I had never let it past the front door.  I would pay my way.  I would make myself pay.  Because if I accepted that kind of love, I knew that I would have to love like that.  And I was not ready to give up being the victim.  I was not ready to give up my "one up manship".  I was not ready to love while the wounds are fresh and the tears are still falling.  I was not ready to love the ugliness staring me in the face.

I realized this all in a moment the other night.  One of those furious "light bulb" moments where things just come together in your mind in such a rush that you could not even label them thoughts...And as I laid there crying out to God for the second time that night, I realized that I could either accept this love or I could continue to live like I was living with less than pleasant results.  So when David reached over in the middle of the night with an apology that could have only come from God, instead of the silent treatment he would have usually received, I scooted in to him and said a few of my own.  As you have freely received, freely give.

It's a hard life lesson, but if we are to be more like Jesus, we must love how Jesus loved.  Messing up a thousand times, yes, but getting back up and trying again.  Forgiving before the apology has been given.  Responding in love when nothing but ugliness is coming from the other person.  Reaching out even when the hurt and pain seem too much to bear.  This is how Jesus loves us.  This is how people will know that we really are who we say we are.  After all, this kind of love is supernatural.  Only those who have been with Jesus can love this way.  It is beyond our reach unless we first receive it.

So I don't know.  You may have tuned this all out 3 paragraphs up when I admitted my completely imperfect motherly behavior.  You may have lost all visions of me in my snow white clothing kissing away the tears of orphan children as I sing hymns of thanks for all He's done for me.  But if I am going to share my life with you...the story that the Lord is weaving over here...it is going to be real.  There are no cupcakes and roses in my house right now.  I had to physically leave the room when I burnt my hand and spilled macaroni and cheese all over the floor earlier.  I cringed this morning at Naomi's screams over the sippy cup that I grabbed from her only because I was trying to help her actually get liquid out of it.  I yelled about something, caught myself and lowered my voice into an apology.  All I've got is "thank goodness He uses the weak and foolish things of this world", because truly sometimes I think He should trade me for a praising rock. I'm not perfect...not even close...even after amazing and life changing revelations.

But somehow, today, I am a little more free...a little more at peace.  I am learning to accept God's love and His grace and also how to freely offer it to others.  It hasn't all magically happened overnight, but I am assured that He who starts a good work will be faithful to complete it.  He is giving me strength in the inner man...the kind that sees reactions before they happen and is able to stop a downward spiral before it starts.  It comes with the responsibility of staying really close to Him...like morning, noon, and night, but you know what?  When Someone love you as much as He loves me, that is only a pleasure.  Where else would you want to be, but with the One who love you most?  That kind of security gives you the freedom to say to everyone else around you "I love you any way."