GREEN-LIGHT revolution

Hey ladies!

So excited to be writing to all of you again! This semester has just flown by for me… two and half weeks of classes left… when did that happen?! Haha. :)

We are definitely in springtime now! Springtime is one of the best seasons, but springtime is also code for “wedding season”. This is the season for invitations arriving in the mail, presents being bought, and the many showers to attend where you smile and say how happy you are for the bride, but secretly feel that unwanted sting of jealousy mixed with the happiness. “When will it be my turn?” is a question I have heard myself say countless times. It is a constant struggle with my flesh to be content and unselfish.

During this season of weddings I’ve been pondering the idea of the veil a bride wears. When I was a little girl the bottom drawer of my dresser was completely devoted to “dress-up” clothes. In this drawer was all things magical… a teal dress ten sizes too big for me, a silver piece of fabric called my “Esther dress”, costume jewelry, silk flowers, and a white lacey veil. The white veil was always one of my favorite things to play with. I would start at one end of my room, wearing the veil and carrying the silk flowers, and walk down the imaginary aisle to the imaginary prince who had recently rescued me from some peril, and was now waiting for me. This was my all time favorite story to imagine.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to wear a veil in a spiritual sense. Just like a veil is meant to cover a bride’s beauty until the proper moment, a spiritual veil also keeps something from being revealed. But through Christ we no longer have to veil the beauty; in Him it is the proper moment.

“But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”
– 2 Corinthians 3:16-18.

As women we are chosen to reflect God’s beauty. Through Jesus we are free to “unveil” His spirit within us. We don’t have to cover up or hide our beauty or joy. We are called to be radiant and alive. Even God says he will not be silent on our behalf, “…I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn…” (Isaiah 62:1). We are considered as royal jewels in God’s hand (Isaiah 62:3). God has given us each a new name, and even the names we are given reflect the inner desire God put in is for love and affection. “No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah; for the LORD will take delight in you, and your land will be married.” (Isaiah 62:4). Hephzibah literally means: my delight is in her, and Beulah literally means: married.

“No longer will you be called forgotten, or looked over. But you will be called MY delight, and your land married….”

The Lord knows our inner desire as women to be married. He has provided that special kind of love and affection we crave through Him. We are His treasures, and through His grace we no longer have to remain veiled!

Going green!
Miss

I was listening to the radio at work today and the country song "Hurry Home" by Jason Michael Carroll came on. In the song, a father leaves a message on his answering machine for his runaway daughter. The chorus sings, "It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you. It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home. So, honey, if it's you, we've got alot of making up to do; and I can't hug you on the phone, so hurry home."

I can't really describe the feeling I got. Call me sentimental, but I got goosebumps and all I heard was God singing those words to me. "It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you. It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home."

I am so grateful that we serve a God of second chances. When I screw up and run away, which seems like alot to me, I can always come home. I'm reminded again of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). He demanded his inheritance early, did alot of stupid stuff with it that he regretted, and in a last ditch effort, decided to try to go home. Instead of rage he expected, his father came running out to meet him before he could get to the door. He threw him a party!

What a God we serve! He loves us even when we are completely idiotic with the choices we make. We can start off so well, then totally screw it up... and He is waiting with a hug. "It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you. It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home." The Father takes us covered in our mess, stinking to high heaven, with a track record of a total screw-up... He looks past all the sh** and sees our hearts.

"The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look toward the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7)

Father, thank you that you are ready to take me at my worst, to accept me when I fail, to love me when I'm wrong, to forgive me when I'm stubborn or I forget. I love you. Amen.

Going green,
Jenny

The past few weeks have been a drag. You know those busy days that turn into weeks... then one day you wake up and you have no idea what's going on in the world? Ok, that may just be me but I have been so caught up in class work and my own little world at school, that I have completely missed out... on what's happening in the church, what's going on in my friends' lives, what's going on with Jesus... which explains a lot.

I don't know about you ladies, but when I get lost in my own world, problems get bigger and little things start to annoy the crap out of me. I have trouble focusing so my already overbearing workload seems to grow before my eyes. I have been unmotivated for... well, life in general. It seems all I wanna do is sleep and watch movies, singing "woe is me" and "if only".

BUT... there is hope on the horizon. I finally realized, with the help of an improptu email from my dad, that the reason I felt alone was because I wasn't asking for help. Duh! It seems like such a simple thing in hindsight... "I'm overwhelmed; I can't do this by myself... oh well." What?! No! If I can't do it alone... ASK for HELP!! Get a lighter load! Ugh... why are we sometimes so slow in realizing the simple things? *sigh*

So, I went to the Bible gathering dust on my windowsill. I came across the story of Gideon in Judges 6-8. Gideon defeats the Midianites by God's plan, and now the people want him to rule. In Judges 8:25, Gideon refuses kingship but agrees to a tribute of golden earrings.

"The weight of the gold rings he asked for came to seventeen hundred shekels,[h] not counting the ornaments, the pendants and the purple garments worn by the kings of Midian or the chains that were on their camels’ necks. 27 Gideon made the gold into an ephod, which he placed in Ophrah, his town. All Israel prostituted themselves by worshiping it there, and it became a snare to Gideon and his family.” Judges 8:26-27

The word "snare" caught my attention. I knew I was caught in something, but what? (Certainly not gold earrings! I don't even like jewelry.) I was then reminded of a verse about God searching your heart. I couldn't remember the reference, so I looked it up in the handy-dandy concordance. What I found was Psalms 26:2.

“Test me, LORD, and try me, examine my heart and my mind…”
Reading through Psalms 26 made my heart ache. Verse 3 says “for I have always been mindful of your unfailing love and have lived in reliance on your faithfulness.” Immediately, I knew I had forgotten who God was. I had forgotten his unfailing love, greater than any known, his unending faithfulness, for ALL things, even the small!

Right there I stopped and prayed "Search me, O God. Search my heart." Psalms 139:23-24 Now, for those who haven't prayed this, know that this is a dangerous thing to pray... because God will answer, and He will tell you what He sees. I was suddenly aware that I had let my to-do list, schoolwork, loneliness... pile up. I had accepted tribute from the world and it had become a snare, leaving me empty. It had tripped me up and I was lost in stuff, losing sight of Jesus.

The song "Search my heart" by Hillsong United tells of my newfound commitment to pray Psalms 139:23-24 daily. Ladies, help keep me accountable to this.

There is such a relief in knowing the Father, knowing Jesus, knowing He has your back, knowing He cares, knowing that no matter what comes, or what doesn't come, it's all in His hands... so I don't have to get weighted down.

Going green,
Jenny :)

Earlier this year I began writing in my personal blog about bitterness. I consider this post to be part 3 of an ongoing series.

Since my first two posts, God has pointed out where I'm still "the walking wounded" in areas of my heart. He has also pointed out that not all the bitterness and resentment I've been harboring is my own fault. "Yes, I take responsibility for my sins" (which are many); and at the same time "yes, I have been sinned against; I have been wounded" in the process.

As a single woman, I have found God to be a good God; a good Doctor, a good Healer... He pulls off my bandages gently, one at a time. He eases the burning and all my hot tears with His loving hands and steady eyes. He draws near to me when I lash out against Him and all His healing efforts. He does this mostly through the love of others.

Since I've come to repentance with Jesus and entered the healing process, there have been many painful times. Just when I think I've arrived, off comes another layer of the bandage. Lately the layers draw nearer and deeper into the core of my wounds. I find it difficult.

It seems easier to shut-down, tune-out, run away, hide, ignore, keep numb... to part from God. I have believed this at times in my life, times when I have not trusted Him.

It's true: I can choose not to have my wounds treated. Left alone they become infected, spreading disease throughout my entire body, sucking the life out of my soul until it ends me completely. Or, I allow God to treat them… the process is just as painful, but through it I find a hope for healing and life to be gained. God reminds me of this again and again, and reminds me that the choice is all mine.

As I grow to know Him, I choose Jesus more and more. I choose to go back to the beginning with God. Sometimes I have to make and re-make this choice daily; and yet every time I do so, He displays His love and mercy and faithfulness time and time again. I become whole.

This song captures the essence of what I'm trying to express better than my words ever could. Give it a listen. Think about it... which way do you choose?

Nobody said it was easy; but they did say it was worth it.

Going Green,
blogger bek

Somebody has a bad case of the Mondays ...and Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, and Thursdays ...how much longer 'til the weekend ALREADY?!?!

Have you ever been here? Have you ever had these thoughts? I sure have ...and quite recently too!

Last Monday rolled around, and I rolled out of bed, into my work clothes, down the stairs, into my car... only to come to a complete halt on the highway in the Monday morning traffic jam:

"Days like these I've got nothing to sing about. Days like these I don't know what I think about. Days like these, who would have known..."

It's true. I have days like these. In what can sometimes seem like a mundane, monotonous, over-scheduled, routine life, I allow this so subtle "living for the weekend; let me just get through the day" attitude to take-over my soul.

I begin living for the end of the work-day. I begin living for the end of the work-week. Wait, let me re-phrase: I stop living and start dying.

"You can lose your soul in the concrete river bed, rolling with the flow of the current of the walking dead. Five O'clock comes and you're a rolling stone..."

With this attitude, with this perspective on life, I send my soul into a coma... and I've found I don't need a 9-5 for this to happen. I become like the walking dead.

I am reminded of the truth: Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.

Monday morning traffic jam: I could use Christ's light right about now. So I speak truth to my soul... as a matter of fact, I YELL truth to my soul: WAKE UP SOUL. WHAT ARE YOU LIVING FOR? WHERE HAS YOUR HEART GONE? FOR GOD'S SAKE AND YOUR VERY OWN, WAKE UP REBEKAH!

Christ's light jolts me to life: like a much-needed defibrillator, truth reminds me of His love, and I am reminded of His mission.

Look carefully how you walk [soul], not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of [your] time [soul], because the days are evil -Ephesians 5:15
Going Green,
blogger bek

OK, Green-Lighters, this one is long so please bear with me! I should have divided it into two posts, but this is the last day of my posting week and I don’t want to leave you hanging. Picking up where I left off, I had just learned that my adorable little dream house would not be my adorable little dream house after all. I was ready to give up on the house hunt altogether and continue renting apartments. Before this house, I’d been looking at listings online and driving by houses for sale daily. Now every house l saw looked ugly and stupid compared to the one that got away. I would never like another house as much as I liked that one. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to settle for something decent and stop holding out for something delightful. It wouldn’t be wonderful, it wouldn’t be beautiful, it wouldn’t seem like it was designed just for me. I would have to be content with a decent, average house...even if it wasn’t my dream house.

Mentally and emotionally, I tried to sort through my disappointment and put it in it’s proper place, to move on and stiffen the ol’ upper lip. This was especially difficult because in the back of my mind, a voice kept repeating, It’s always going to be like this. Not just with houses, but with men. What you have to offer will never measure up and what you want will be given to someone else. This is the story of your life. You won’t understand why, and you’ll never be enough. I wanted to ignore those thoughts, but given my recent experience, they seemed to ring true. The fear that this record playing in the background of my consciousness might actually be the refrain of my life pained me. I was suffering.

God did not let me stay in that place. I disclosed my hurts and confessed my fears to a dear friend, who accurately identified them as lies from the devil. She exhorted me to stop letting Satan play with my emotions and mess with my head. In hindsight, it's clear that my thoughts were lies in disguise, but at the time...it just felt so true. My friend and I prayed together, and my heart was calmed and quieted. God comforted me, and soon I began to hear another voice, a different refrain, a sweet melody that was not from the pit of hell but from the throne of heaven. I heard God say to me, Don’t interpret your story until you know the end. Don’t decide what everything means until you’ve seen how it all turns out.

This was huge for me. I have an English degree and I’ve been a reader and writer for most of my life. I’m constantly looking for themes, foreshadowing, and symbolism in literature, and that perspective has seeped into the way I look at life. I saw the house I didn’t get as a symbol of the husband I wouldn’t get. The Lord was telling me to take off my literary glasses, look with eyes of faith, and wait for His plan to unfold.

I began looking at listings for houses again. Jotting down addresses, mapping out a route, driving around after work--I picked up my old routine. One of the streets I had spotted early in my house hunt was Oak Ridge Drive. I loved the tree-lined sidewalks, the charming, Crafstman-style houses, the smiling coupes walking their shaggy dogs. When I noticed a couple houses for sale while driving through the neighborhood one day, I looked them up online. They were so far out of my price range I winced. Well, maybe my second house could be on Oak Ridge Drive. Or so I thought...

One day after I had started browsing real estate sites again, I saw a listing for a brick house with blue shutters...located on Oak Ridge Drive. My heart jumped. Priced slightly outside my range, it had been on the market for several months. Hmmm...if the owners were getting anxious, I might have room to negotiate the price. I clicked the link to see more pictures and read the detailed listing. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a partial basement, a fireplace (!), a sun room (!), a large yard with a patio (!), and in the photographs I could see built-in bookshelves on either side of the fireplace and french doors between the living and dining room. Could it be!? ANOTHER dream house?! I dialed my realtor and scheduled a viewing.

It was clear that this house had not been taken care of in a long time. Walking through the rooms, I was careful not to touch anything. It was covered in a thick layer of grease and dirt, and the smell of cigarette butts and...other kinds of butts...hung in the air. The yard hadn’t been mowed nor the leaves raked in years. Still, everywhere I looked, I saw potential. I could paint everything, clean this, repair that. It needed a lot of work, but I felt like the house was designed for me. It had so many features I loved: glass doors on kitchen cabinets, built-in book shelves, tiled counter tops, hardwood floors, windows with shutters, an open floor plan. In the yard, I found peonies, a cherry blossom tree, a magnolia tree, and a lily pond. More of my favorite things!

My parents came to visit and looked at the house with me. Our consensus was that it would take some hard work, but that this was the house for me. I made an offer, negotiated fiercely, and signed the contract on my sweet little house on September 30, 2010.

Six months later, along with the irises and lilies poking their shoots through the ground in my yard, several lessons are making their way to the surface. There has been disappointment along the way while I wait for a husband. More than once, I’ve thought, This one is so perfect! It’s just the right time, he has all the qualities I’m looking for, and surely I can offer what he wants. This just has to be God’s will! Then it wasn’t, and I was crushed. A period always followed where no other guy measured up. They were all inferior compared to the one that got away. I would then think, I'll just have to settle for an average guy. Obviously, the really great ones are out of reach. He doesn’t have to make my heart go pitter-patter. He doesn’t possess the qualities I admire. He doesn't have to be wonderful, he can just be...okay.

However, I have been encouraged through the story of how I found my house to wait on God and trust him. As well as he knew all that I would need and love in a house, he knows all the things I will need and love in a husband. He will comfort me through however many disappointments are ahead, and I’ll wait for Him to bring him. Won't it be a delightful discovering how well God knows me when I finally meet His choice for me?

Going green!

Lynn

Part 2 of House Hunting/Spouse Hunting will be on it's way to you very soon, friends! In the meantime, I stumbled across this video and thought it was great and certainly share-worthy. If you've got five minutes, take a break, watch this video, and post your favorite line(s) below! :)

Going green!

Lynn

This time last year, I was on the hunt for a house. Looking up listing in my spare time, driving by houses every day after work, cruising through neighborhoods to get a feel for where I might want to live. During this period of time, I noticed some parallels between spouse hunting (if you’ll pardon the term) and house hunting, and during a particularly disappointing phase, I sensed God speaking to me through the one about the other.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Would you like to hear the story?

Well, okay then, here goes.

Last April, I saw a listing for an adorable brick house. It had wood floors, a fireplace, 3 bedrooms, a garage, and a partial basement. And because it was a foreclosure, the price was smackdab in the middle of my price range--an incredible, unbelievable bargain! All the things I was looking for in a house at the right price at the right time in the right neighborhood. Surely this was God’s will for me. It was too perfect NOT to be from him.

My dad drove to Joplin to look at the house with me. As we ate dinner together after the walk-through, we discussed all the things I liked about the house and I tried to think of something I didn’t like about it. I couldn’t. I called my realtor that night and made an offer. I knew this was the house for me, so I offered the listing price. If you’ve never bought a house before, you might not know that buyers hardly ever offer the list price on a home--you’re supposed to bid low and negotiate. I, however, wanted to make an offer the seller couldn’t refuse. By the end of the week I’d be a homeowner, my realtor and loan officer assured me. It was practically a given.

But it wasn’t. I waited and waited to hear back from the realtor. Finally, I learned that there were two other offers being considered. One was off the table, and now mine and the other offer were being discussed. I waited and prayed. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I drove by the house every day and thought about what it would be like to live there. On the other side of the backyard fence there was an alley, and on the other side of the alley, there was a Mexican restaurant. I remember thinking, “Wow, this is great! I love the smell of Mexican food! When this house is mine, I’ll smell tortilla chips every day.” Oddly enough, I even liked things about this house that weren’t all that likable and that might be annoying someday.

Finally, the news came. I was at a wedding rehearsal dinner and noticed that there was a voicemail on my phone. I hopped out of my chair and quickly made my way out of the nosy dining area to the coat room, anxious for news about my house. The message was from my realtor! But her tone gave away the news before her words did. The house had been sold to the other buyer. It wasn’t going to be mine. Someone else would make it their home. My heart sank. I found an empty restroom, shut the bathroom stall door, and cried quietly for a while. Then I wiped my eyes and prayed, “Lord, I still trust you.” I was heart-broken, but I meant that prayer.

To be continued....

Going green!

Lynn Fleshman

puffy eyes & s'more from Amie Fox on Vimeo.

Going green!

Amie