Why Yes...It IS All About Me

My narcissism was a bit hungry, so I fed it a few random tidbits and it told me to share them. Oh come on, it's fun and you know it.

1. When I get a drink from a place like Starbucks, the following must occur in order for me to enjoy my caffeinated liquid lava:
a.) The logo on the coffee sleeve must line up with the logo on the cup.
b.) The opening of the lid must line up with the logo on the cup that is lined up with the logo on the sleeve.

2. Every morning I attempt to get an extremely annoying song (whether popular or one that I make up on the spot) stuck in my roomie’s head.

3. I could eat soup every single day and never get tired of it.

4. When I was 16 years old I was involved in a car accident that inadvertently caused a car accident with David Letterman. I thought for sure he would invite me on his show, but alas he didn’t think my human trick was stupid enough.

5. I obsess about relational issues. I can't stand miscommunication, lack of communication or passive/aggressive communication. It will bother me until the issue is resolved (even when it's not about me) and I'm not usually timid to ask the person(s) directly about it.

6. I would take a bullet for my family, friends and my faith.

7. I have a terrible memory. I blame it on a medicine therapy I was on years ago and that is one of the side effects. Because of my terrible memory, I always have one or more of the following items with me: a notepad, my day runner (circa 1996, yo), my cell phone, sticky notes or my hand (which I almost daily have something scribbled on).

8. I clench my jaw when people say: “ATM machine” and “PIN number” and interchange “your” and “you’re."

9. I belly laugh at least once a day.

10. I love being in my 30’s. I once dreaded the thought of crossing that line into ‘adulthood’ but I’m now enjoying every minute of it. I’ll take the self-awareness, confidence and wisdom that 30something brings over taut skin and dorm rooms any day. (Note the quotation marks on "adulthood"…yep, exactly.)

11. In conversation with a large group of people, I’ll usually let the extroverts take the lead but if introverts rein the crowd, I’ll become the MC for the evening.

12. My purpose in life is to inspire, bring hope, encourage, give insight and share laughter…and allow others to breathe those into my life as well.

13. I'm a terrible dater. I can't stand first dates (or second or third ones). My palms sweat when I think about blind dates. I get uneasy when people try really hard to impress me or if I feel the need to impress. Dating feels like playing dress-up. I like the comfy part of knowing someone.

14. I would absolutely break my exception of hating first dates to go on a date with Donald Miller.

15. I wish Jay-Z and Mary J. Blige were my friends in real life.

16. My right eye squeaks obnoxiously loud when I'm tired.

17. Soft rock makes me fidget. Easy listening is not ‘easy’ for me to listen to.

18. I adore camping but don’t do enough of it. I need some more camping buddies. It’s been too long since my hair has smelled like campfire.

19. I love picking at things. It's a gross obsession that I can't (read: don't want to) stop. I pick at scabs, bumps, zits and/or dead skin (especially to peel it after a bad sunburn). I obsess over it.

20. I don’t like ordering drinks at a bar or calling in food orders. I’m not sure why exactly but I get all nervous about it. I usually beg and plead someone else to do that for me.

21. I have an irrational fear of being videotaped wherever I am. Guilty much?

22. I have lost a total of 55lbs and am now at a size that I never thought I’d fit into.

23. I’m a hugger. I like to hug and I like to be hugged. I believe there is a lack of innocent physical touch amongst friends these days.

24. I love to laugh and it’s often during the most inappropriate of times. I’m incredibly goofy and a dork by nature.

25. I still wish on stars.


Enough about me...now tell me a little about you!

The Girl and the Green Jacket

Last week, I was heading to work on one of those cozy stay at home and watch a movie kind of days; gray, cold and rainy. I realized that my tank was thirsty, so I detoured to the gas station and turning on the main road, I saw a young woman standing at a bus stop with a stroller. She had her hand blocking the droplets from her hair and a thin blanket covering the stroller so the baby inside would be shielded from the cold and the wet. I did a double take up and down the street to see if the bus was on its way and then something inside told me to give her my jacket.

See, I've had a green Army jacket in my trunk for over a year now. It was my dad’s jacket and one of the few things that I actually have of his. He wore it when he lived out on the streets and probably got it at Salvation Army or Goodwill because, well, he wasn’t in the Army. I was never all that attached to it because it reminded me of some of the worst years of his life. In fact, when I got the jacket along with other riff raffs of clothing, papers and photos, this green jacket had an empty pill bottle in the pocket. Just another painful reminder of how he became homeless.

I had high hopes for that green jacket. I kept it in my trunk because I was sure I would find just the right homeless man who was cold and miserable and I could graciously bestow it upon him. I would sometimes drive to where I knew some stragglers would hang out just to see if there was some soul shivering on a bench or under a bridge so that I could give them that jacket, a smile and maybe some hope.

But, that day I felt like I was supposed to give this manly Army jacket to a random skinny young woman waiting for a bus.

After filling my car up with gas, I waited for a moment or three just to make sure that I still felt the tug to hand over the green jacket. I did. So, I made a U-turn towards the woman in the rain and parked my car next to a shady trailer home, grabbed the green jacket from my trunk and jogged over to her. Out of breath, I called her “Ma’am” and with words caught in my throat, I held out the crumpled, green jacket. She looked at me wide-eyed and brow furrowed and feeling abruptly stupid, I blurted out that I wanted her to have the jacket so she could keep warm in the rain.

She stared at me while the rain dropped in slow motion. Drawn out seconds later, she took the jacket from my clutched grip and mumbled a ‘thanks.’

I wanted to say something profound. I wanted to tell her that Jesus loves her a whole bunch and I wanted to invite her over for dinner and maybe for Christmas, but I thought that would be even more strange than handing over the jacket. I fumbled out something about me feeling like God wanted her to have the jacket and that I hoped she had a good day. I jogged back to my car with a head rush and lumpy throat. It was exciting to do something spontaneously nice for a stranger and I smiled as I made my U-turn and headed towards work. But then I had two thoughts that really surprised me.

I wondered why she hadn’t seemed more grateful for my grand gesture. After all, I made a U-turn and everything. I played out the scenario in my head and in my version, her bottom lip quivered and eyes watered as she scooped the jacket up like a life vest and said something about how I saved her life and she’d change her baby’s name to mine.

Then like a sucker punch, I realized that I had just given away one of the few things that I owned of my dads. And it wasn’t even to some homeless guy who I thought should have it. It was a rail thin twenty-something girl with a baby who didn’t even act like she appreciated it. I wondered if she would keep it. I wondered if she would even wear it. I wondered if she thought I was a lunatic.

The more I thought (read: obsessed) about that jacket, the more I realized that it wasn’t for me to be in control of what the girl did with the jacket or what she thought about me. I have no idea what was going through her mind moments before I arrived. She could have been thinking no one cared about her, that she was alone or maybe that she was just sick and tired of standing in the rain, physically and metaphorically speaking.

Whatever it was…it wasn’t about me.

It was, however, about another human being seeing a need of another human being, feeling compelled to help meet that need and taking action on it.

I wondered about how many other times I withheld a gift, a word of encouragement, a helping hand or a lending ear because I was so focused on seeking out people that I deemed ‘needy’ instead of observing the common need. We’re all needy people. We all go through times when we feel alone, broken, helpless or, worse yet, hopeless. Whether we’re under a bridge, on a corner or seemingly content in our homes.

See, if I wrote the Bible, I would've added a clause somewhere in the verse "Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul and mind and love your neighbors {except the ones you don't think really deserve it or are totally not going to say 'thank you' or don't act like they need help} as yourself."  Yeah...we're all better off that I had no hand in writing the Scriptures.

I was reminded of this truth: When the acts of kindness are no longer attached to our self worth, it makes it much easier to give them away freely, with no strings attached.

My dad's green, Army jacket is now on an exciting journey and so am I. 

Dude, I'm Such a Burnout: How To Avoid Creative Burnout in Ministry

The shape and face of today’s church culture has evolved to a place where, by in large, we as Christians don’t appear to be trapped in the 90’s with WOW (Now that’s what I call) Worship CDs, big hair and dusty Microsoft Word clipart. We’re hip, we’re innovative, we’re skillful, we love Jesus and we’re dang talented.

However, as with any job, burnout can easily fizzle our imaginative spark leaving us with yesterday’s ash to work with. In ministry, this can be even more hazardous to our health because our occupation is to be both creative and evangelistic. Our passion should first and foremost be to serve Christ and serve others and when our energies get zapped it’s hard to fulfill that mission.

I have arm wrestled with creative burnout many times. Sometimes the scorch is from other people’s expectations, deadlines and pressures that are heaped on my shoulders and other times, I’m the one holding the match. Either way, it’s easy to become innovatively singed.

Here are FIVE ways that I have staved away burnout or revitalized after burnout… 

REST. We sometimes pride ourselves on our lack of sleep and high caffeine intake, however, rest is vitally important to us in all facets of our lives. When we aren’t getting enough sleep, our bodies are more susceptible to diseases, viruses, annoying grumpiness and general zombie-like behavior. Attempt to get 8 hours of rest each night if possible. After all, God didn’t rest on the 7^th day because He needed it, but because He knew we needed a reminder of its importance.

UNPLUG. There is such a thing as technological stress. We’re plugged in all day long, answering phones, sending texts, writing emails, sending Tweets, updating blogs, researching, networking and racking up some serious hours in Cyberland. These plugs can zap our energy quicker and longer than most other culprits. Take an exit off the communication freeway every once in awhile. Take time each day to go outside, engage with someone face to face, read a book or simply sit and just be. 

CREATE COMMUNITY. It’s easy to fall into the pitfall of wanting to be the master innovator of whatever it is you’re working on. However, inviting others to be a part of your creative process can take some of the unnecessary stress off your shoulders. There are amazing people and resources right at your fingertips that can be of great service to you and your ministry. No need to struggle and sweat over something when others have their hand out to help. 

SAY NO. If you’re like me, you enjoy taking on heaps of projects and responsibilities and may even do so with a smile. After all, it’s your passion and your gift. However, an overload of good intentions can often lead to a creative landmine. When we say yes to everything we risk the craftsmanship of making one or two things really spectacular only to spit out a bunch of things that are mediocre. Saying ‘no’ to someone today may be saying ‘yes’ to something life-changing tomorrow. 

NOURISH YOUR SOUL. We need to maintain close communication with the very Creator of creativity. God’s Word feeds our very soul and causes our heart to breathe deep and soak in why it is we do what we do and whom we are doing it for. If we produce innovative designs, breathtaking sermons and clever blogs but miss the mission of Christ, we’re not only depriving ourselves, but we’re selling others around us short.

We, as Christians, are called to be excellent in what we do, the way we do it and how we live it out. Keeping this in mind with every project, creative meeting and To Do list we receive will change our perspective, impact our work and hopefully change our world.

This blog was written as a guest blogger piece on Shawn Wood's website.

Shawn is the Experience Pastor at Seacoast Church in Charleston, SC and the author of "200 Pomegranates and an Audience of One" and "Wasabi Gospel."

Adam and His Tree

Recently, I was talking to my pastor and I asked him to pick one thing that creative people in ministry have to deal with the most.  He said, “We need to make sure that creativity leads to the Tree of Life, not just the Tree of Creativity and Innovation.  As in the garden, when the pursuit of Knowledge surpassed the pursuit of Life, it led to the expulsion ‘from creativity’, not the propagation of it.”

Let’s take it back to the Garden.  Adam and Eve were blissfully happy and intoxicatingly aware of God all around them. They were created and then were given the God-esque assignment to be creative; to imitate the Master of Creativity. God brought Adam all of the animals, birds, fish and all the other squirmy, scaly, furry things in-between and gave him the first noted creative assignment to name them all.

I’m fairly certain that Adam never attended a “How to Maximize Your Creative Naming Portfolio” seminar or read the book, “Powerful and Effective Names to Attract Powerful and Effective People.” He simply tapped into the inner God-breathed creativity within his soul because after all, he was walking and talking with the very God that created him every day.

Life was good on the ranch especially after Eve came around. They could do anything they wanted to, had an amazing relationship with God and each other, were allowed to walk around naked and could have their fill of the Eden buffet. They pleased God by doing what He asked them to do and they all delighted in that.

Until they didn’t.

Instead of focusing their creativity on all that God bestowed on them and harnessing it with the wisdom and incredibly freeing restraint that God provided, they began to listen to the sultry whisper of more. They moved to a place where God held the secondary position on the agenda of their weekly creative meetings and the thirst for BIGGER and BETTER held the floor.

The whisper of more is what can get us.

It lays thick on our ears and tickles our lips as we, in ministry, look for ways to be bigger, trendier and become giddy when people follow our Tweets, attend our seminars and read our blogs.

It’s not that any of those things are bad in and of themselves.  In fact, they can be incredibly insightful and resourceful. I firmly believe in tapping into other creative’s resources and utilizing them to fit my ministry. However, the whisper of more can bite me in the neck when I become too involved in promoting a creation rather than the Creator.

I don’t believe that Adam and Eve were tired of their Eden nirvana and intentionally wanted to shove God aside, but, perhaps it was a slow digression. It could have been a shift here or there from the beloved gaze of their Maker which turned into an insatiable thirst for more.

When we slice and dice up the fruit of knowledge and eat it up foregoing the Tree of Life, we cheat ourselves and others out of that Eden experience with the One who created the very essence of creativity. We cheat them out of The One who is not only at the core of, but IS the core of innovativeness.

Light shows are fantastic, seminars can be life-changing, leadership books can be resourceful and indie rock worship can energize and refresh the soul. However, we need to make sure that we are seeking the source of creativity and that our plans and ideas are to ultimately point others to Christ, not just our church, our ministry or our own creativity.

This week, pick wisely from the trees that God has put in front of you and remember the ultimate mission, to point others to the Creator through our ministry, our creativity and our life.

This blog was written as a guest blogger piece on Shawn Wood's website. 

Shawn is the Experience Pastor at Seacoast Church in Charleston, SC and the author of "200 Pomegranates and an Audience of One" and "Wasabi Gospel." 

My Boyfriend, Fall

Autumn is by far my most favorite time of the year. It’s nearly perfect, really.

I love it with all of my heart. I love everything about it.

There’s something romantic and sweet in the air in the fall. It’s the one season when all my senses want to come out and play together. The smell of fiery cinnamon, the taste of dripping brown sugar, the sound of a crackling fire, the touch of a warm knit scarf, the sight of deep crimson, burnt orange and chocolate brown. It’s lovely. 

Don’t get me wrong, I do very much love all things Christmas too and I’ll more than likely write an Ode to Christmas in a couple of months. I’m fickle like that. It’s just that Christmas can get so bogged down with the tension haze of lists, parties and crazed shoppers. 

Fall is so mellow. It takes its time to enjoy itself. There are no deadlines and if there are parties, they’re fun and inviting and everyone seems welcomed and no one expects gifts.

Fall is my perfect boyfriend and I’m totally wearing his letter jacket right now.

Here are a few of my favorite fall things…

Caramel Apples

Pumpkin Spice Lattes

Mums
Candy Corn

Halloween Costumes

Trick o’ Treaters

Hot Apple Cider

Cinnamon Brooms

Pumpkin Soup

“The Wizard of Oz”

Crunchy, Crinkly Leaves
Scented Candles

 Carving Pumpkins

Pot Roast

Fall Festivals

Scarves

Funnel Cakes

Hoodies

Molasses Spice Cakes & Cookies

Fire Pits

Roasting Pumpkin Seeds

Thanksgiving

Roasting Marshmallows

Homemade Soups

Camping

Baking Sweet Treats

Sweet Potatoes

The Smell of Burning Leaves
 "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"
 

So, tell me...what are a few of your favorite fall things?

Photo by Connie Carpenter


 

RHS Symptom: Definition Admission

While working on a chapter of my infant of a book the other day, I was writing about how tragically easy it is to define someone by their worst mistake.

I thought about this after Ted Kennedy died. Hours after he passed, I listened while smug mugs threw around the ‘Chappaquiddick Incident’ like kids playing catch. Don’t get me wrong, it was a terrible and gross tragedy. It was reckless and filled with scandal. It was a time that I’m certain he never forgot and was always reminded of. To some, he's remembered as the "Lion of the Senate" and to others, he's simply defined by the tragedy of July 19, 1969. But while I thought about Mr. Kennedy, I was reminded about a tragedy that hit my family some time ago that changed it forever.

See, my dad was a man who allowed his past to define his present and determine his future.

One night, after partying with friends and downing an obscene amount of alcohol, snorting cocaine and popping pills, my dad made the incoherent decision to drive home. He never made it home that night and neither did the old man riding his bicycle on the road they momentarily shared. My mom was notified of the accident, the death of this man and the incarceration of her husband by watching the evening news.

That’s not just a mistake, that’s devastation. That’s not just a bad decision, that’s story changing.

My dad served time in prison, did community service and plead for forgiveness to God and his family. After that, I never heard him speak of it again. I knew he carried it around with him. I knew his guts ached about it and I knew that he was trying desperately to fill that gaping wound with anything that would numb the pain. He refused to talk about it. He was paralyzed with the fear that someone would hear it and only see him for what he had done, just like he did. It wasn’t until I found a notebook that he used as a journal that I saw proof of what I had always known.

My dad was quite the fickle AA attendee, but, when he would decide (once again) to engage in sobriety, he would attempt to tackle the 12 Steps. However, there was always one step that he couldn’t seem to get past. It was Step 8 which requires the alcoholic to make a list of all the people they have harmed and be willing to make amends with them all if possible.

In a coffee stained spiral-bound notebook were crinkly, wrinkled pages upon pages of lists of all the people my father had harmed either emotionally or physically. I was listed many times throughout the scattered thoughts as well as my mom and other past loves. But one name stood out from among the rest. It was the name of that old man. It wasn’t until that moment that I even knew his name. Every single page had this man’s name on it…every single page. Every page was filled with the regret of that night, the decision to take all those drugs and wash them down with liquor. Regret of getting in the car and even anger towards those who let him drive home. It wasn’t hinted with regret and apology, it was saturated with it.

For years, my dad would march up to Step 8 with all intent and purpose to put these mistakes, tragedies and hurts to rest. To address them, ask for forgiveness, forgive himself and move forward. Not forgetting, but no longer defining himself by them. And like clockwork, that’s when the drinking would flow again and the pills would swim again. The pain was too much and the fear of what others would think was too heavy. He couldn’t forgive himself and couldn't believe anyone else could either. He had written a definition of who he was and swallowed it whole.

He took the life of someone else and in turn it took his.

We do this on a daily basis to ourselves and to other people. We take someone’s whispered impropriety, moral atrocity or thoughtless tragedy and put a period after it; defining them by that and that alone. Or, perhaps we are the author, penning the definition of who we are with permanent marker on our hearts, never allowing ourselves to become anything more than what we’ve written.

My heart becomes restless when people define me by my worse indiscretion, and I've had many. My heart needs to become restless when I do the same to someone else. See, I've been one of those smug mugs myself.

It’s time we gave each other the freedom to change, move and grow. It’s time we allowed ourselves to become the person not defined by our past, but who steps forward with humility, strength, honesty and confidence in the full knowledge that we are no longer held captive to someone else’s definition (or our own) of who we are or who we can become.

I think Jesus says it best here...

John 8:3-11
"The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in (the very act of) adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?" They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there.

Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, sir," she said. "Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."


Go now and live...and give others the opportunity to do the same.

For more information on Restless Heart Syndrome (RHS), see my post called "Help, I have RHS!"

RHS Symptom: Sweethearts Sugar Stomach

Confession: I’m a sucker for those candy hearts with cute little phrases printed on them that come around every February. They’re called Sweethearts. I must have at least one box during Cupid’s reign or my year is not complete. If I don’t have a corn syrup bellyache and a Red Dye #40 headache, I just feel all empty inside.

Each heart must be read, analyzed and given the proper salute before hitting my tongue. Sometimes, I even organize them in chalky formation as if they were my own little love army. After topping off the box, crashing from my sugar high and rambling incoherently about being single, I swear off those candies forever. I do this every year.

To me, eating conversation hearts is like making small talk. It’s good every once in awhile, fun to munch on and to share tidbits of insight like “I Luv U”, “Hot Stuff” or directives like “E-Mail Me” or “Chill Out,” but too much of it really adds no real nutritional value to my day.

Personally, I’m not very good at small talk. I’m not someone who can come up with interesting questions or bits of trivia to keep a conversation afloat with someone I don’t know very well. I get awkward and squirmy and usually make jokes that I find hilarious but no one else does. Which usually makes me laugh more and my pits sweat.

True story of me attempting small talk with a visitor at my church:

Me: “Hi. How are you?”
New Guy: “Hi. Um…good.”
Me: “Is this your first time here at Crosstowne?”
NG: “Yeah. I’m new to the area and am looking for a church.”
[NOTE: I was going to ask this youngster if he was in college to invite him to our College and Career Small Group. But what came out was…]
Me: “Are you single?”
NG: (blink, blink, blink)
Me: (nervous laughter) “I’m NOT hitting on you….I’m old enough to be your…I was just…”
NG: (looking over my shoulder for help or the nearest exit)
Me: “Nice meeting you.”
NG: “Yuh.”

Needless to say, New Guy never returned. Small talk gives me hives.

There are people that are really good at it. They dole out small talk like it’s February and I’m the one with the sweet tooth. And in and of itself, it’s not a bad thing. It’s necessary to get to know people, share common interests…I get that. But, when the talk starts getting smaller and the questions are just filler, that’s when I start to get sugar stomach.

When someone does a Sweethearts Drive-By and verbally throws a “How R U” heart my way and I know they aren’t asking the actual question, but only acknowledging my existence, I usually throw a candied “Good. U?” back to them despite how I really am. Although, I’m always tempted to ninja block the fast pitch and tell them, in detail, how I’m really doing, my innermost thoughts and divulge everything that I’ve eaten that day in alphabetical order. That’ll show ‘em.

However, when I think about it, sometimes I do that to God too. Not all the time. But, there are days that I catch myself tossing candy hearts to God. Little tidbits of truths broken down so much that they hold little or no resemblance to an actual conversation. It’s quicker than soul searching and more convenient than listening. Divine sugary shout outs, if you will.

I could blame it on the sugar, but the palpitation in my chest is my restless heart needing more than audible high fructose corn syrup. If I’m just chucking tidbits of prefabricated verbiage at people and my God and only catching the same, I’m sure to be a lonely, relational diabetic.

A person can’t live on bread (or Sweethearts) alone and neither can our relationships, whether with God or another person. Try to cultivate more than your sugar high the next time you talk to another person. Look them in the eyes, ask them how they are in a way that they know you actually care. When you pray, really talk to God like you are in a relationship with Him and stop to hear what He has to say.

That kind of depth can’t be inked on a chalky bit of hardened sugar and it’s sure to satisfy more than just your sweet tooth.

*Delicious Sweethearts Trivia:*

*Check out the flavors for Sweethearts. I had no idea. They all sort of taste the same to me.

Pink = Cherry
Yellow = Banana
Orange = Orange
Green = Lemon
Purple = Grape
White = Wintergreen
Brown = Chocolate

*Sweethearts stay fresh for at least FIVE years.
*NECCO must produce about 100,000 pounds of the candy hearts every day in order to meet the Valentine demand, when about 8 billion hearts are sold in six weeks.
*Conversation hearts were invented in the 1860s by the brother of NECCO's founder. These first hearts had printed paper notes tucked inside. The lengthy, old-fashioned sayings included such wistful thoughts as "Please send a lock of your hair by return mail." (creepy!)

For more information on Restless Heart Syndrome (RHS), see my post called "Help, I have RHS!"