The story I've not yet told...

I have a story to tell. Some people have heard bits and pieces of it from me but I wanted to finally put it all down here while it's still fresh and amazing. So here goes...

Mine is your average American family. I have parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Nothing spectacular or unusual. We are great folks and all and I wouldn’t trade us for anything but there has never been anything particularly interesting that has made us stand out from the crowd of other great families.  Until now.

Well… I have been a member of Ancestry.com for several years. I love history and I love genealogy stuff so it’s been something I’ve dabbled with on and off for years and have filled in a lot of our family tree for many generations. But I had no idea how life-changing putting my family tree online would be for us.

Anyhow I get junk email on occasion- people wanting to sell me prescription drugs, trying to set me up with singles in my area or billionaires in Africa wanting to share their fortunes with me. (Apparently African billionaires are very generous and I’m quite popular there. Who knew?). So when I got a random email from Ancestry.com from a genealogist named Michael (yea right!) wanting to ask me some QUESTIONS (yea, probably like my social security number. I wasn’t born yesterday Mr. Genealogist) I didn’t even read the entire email. I just hit delete and moved on. I forgot about it probably ten minutes later. Then one day about a month later, my dad sends me a strange email. He said- I got this email from a genealogist saying he got my name from your family tree on Ancestry.com and he is asking me questions about our family. Do you think it’s legit? My immediate thought was to dismiss it until I read a little further, then my attention was caught. As I read on, it became apparent that this was no hoax or scam. I had not been on Ancestry.com in quite some time so I quickly logged in to see and sure enough, the same genealogist had messaged me there months ago. I hadn’t seen the message so I hadn’t answered him and after hitting that dead-end he somehow found my email and tried to reach me that way. When that didn’t work, Michael the genealogist’s colleague finally reached my dad and here is what we received:

This might come as a surprise to you, but our client, Paul ____, is related to you through either your father or one of his brothers. Paul was born in 1930 in Manhattan, to Elizabeth Frances___ and an unknown father. His entire life, he has known nothing about his father because he was taken into     foster care at a young age after his mother was hospitalized. DNA testing is what led us to your grandfather, but we cannot determine through DNA which of his three sons was Paul's father. I hope very much that you will be willing to talk about this with us further, whether you have any information about this or not... I realize that this may be surprising information so we would of course be happy to answer any and all questions you have for us about what led us to you. Thanks so much in advance.

After getting hit with this bombshell we got in touch with Michael to get more information…

Because Paul wasn’t familiar with his mother, he knew absolutely nothing about his father, and so he and his daughter asked us to help piece the puzzle together for him. Using DNA testing, we found that he was a (surname) by birth, connecting him with a whole line of (surname) men using his Y-chromosome.  In fact, we worked with someone who was previously in contact with Kayla some years ago about the (surname) DNA project.  We were subsequently able to narrow it down, generation by generation, to William Austin ___ and his sons by Martha ___.  His DNA results were tested through Ancestry as well as outside organizations to make sure that everything matched with what we had found… Our dilemma is that there is no way to tell from the DNA (as it sits now) which of the three brothers is Paul’s father.  He could potentially be your half-brother or a first cousin.

Whoa! So their research and the DNA evidence led them to my dad’s grandfather and his three sons. Well because of the dates, I knew this impregnation would have transpired before my Papaw married my Mamaw and before he knew the Lord (whew, that’s a relief). But one of these three brothers was this man Paul’s father. But how could this be? My grandfather and his brothers were from the piney woods of north Louisiana. I mean rural, southern America. Most people from their area had never left the state. And New York City? How would one of these three country boys have fathered a child in the Big Apple!? There HAD to be a mistake. But DNA doesn’t lie. Then it dawned on us—our papaw had been in the Navy! As the reality of this began to hit us, we realized that it was very very possible, my dad and Aunt Linda had a brother they never knew they had, and that Cathy and I had a new uncle and a whole new set of cousins. Could it be?

Uncle Paul. 

Dad was still a little unsure so he turned it over to me to talk to the genealogist and to contact Barb, Paul’s daughter who had spearheaded this whole thing. After talking back and forth with Michael the genealogist, I got up the courage to email Barb and to let her know we were open to talking to them. They were on vacation up in the mountains and didn’t have wifi so it took a while for me to hear back from her. I was a nervous wreck waiting for her reply! Later when we finally connected, I found out that Barb had begun this process years before, and after years of dead-ends had been about to throw in the towel and to give it up when she received an email from Michael telling her that he had finally found a relative of the three brothers in question who was open to talking to them. Once Barb and I finally got in contact and began emailing back and forth I found her to be a very gracious and down to earth woman (not an African billionare lol) and I began to piece together the fascinating and sad story of her father. After being put in foster care in New York City, his mother was in and out of his life, but never would allow him to be adopted. He would become close to potential families who wanted to keep him only to be snatched out of their homes by his mother. He never was adopted. He never had one person who he belonged to, or who he could call family, except for his mother who he hardly knew. He ended up joining the Navy and then going to college, earning his degree in electrical engineering and ultimately working for Grumman Aerospace on Long Island, NY. He designed the docking radar for the lunar module for NASA’s Apollo 13 mission (the now-famous "Houston, we have a problem" mission. The lunar module ultimately saved the astronauts lives!). He married and had three children Barb, John and Paul Jr, all successful, impressive and interesting people. Could this fascinating man really be my uncle? It didn’t seem possible. But the more we all talked and compared notes it seemed highly likely that my beloved grandfather (Papaw Doc to us) was indeed Paul’s father. But the only way to find out for sure was to do a DNA test. So dad and I submitted to one (I’d always wanted to anyway) and after a couple of weeks what we already knew in our hearts was confirmed by science. Yes, Paul was my Papaw’s son, my dad’s biological brother and mine and my sister’s uncle. Wow! (And I thought our family was boring!) 

As we all got acquainted through Facebook, (stalking each others pages lol ) and emailing each other, it became clear that we needed to meet. So September of last year, we met in Pensacola, halfway between their home in Orlando and ours in north Louisiana. Barb, Jackie, Uncle Paul and John met me, my sister Cathy, Dad and Kay and Aunt Linda there. I think none of us were quite sure what to expect. I’m not sure if they expected to find themselves related to the Swamp people or not ;). And they hailed from New York City, which is about as foreign from rural Louisiana as you can get! How would we relate? What would we talk about? But I guess there is something to sharing the same DNA with people. Although we’d been raised differently, on other ends of the country from each other, we all just ‘fit’. There were no awkward silences, no uncomfortable moments. We immediately felt as if we’d known each other all our lives. It was uncanny. It felt right. Observing Uncle Paul brought back memories of my grandfather. My Papaw was known for his sense of humor, his friendliness, his warmth and his way with people. Uncle Paul had all of that. My Papaw had been my hero. My heart was broken when he died in 1976. But meeting Uncle Paul brought him back.  I think in some ways he looks more like my grandfather than my dad does and his late brother did.

It was so surreal. Hard to wrap my head around honestly. Trying to process the changes in what I thought I knew about my family. Like: my father isn’t the oldest son like we thought. Like: Cathy and I have another uncle. Like: We have three new cousins. And like: my God-fearing grandfather had a past. Although he was always larger than life to me, he was still obviously very much human. That could have been unsettling to me, but instead, it made Papaw more relatable, more real. So many thoughts in my head- was it a drunken one night stand or did he date the young woman? Did he even know her name? Did she ever try to get in touch with him? Knowing my Papaw and his character, I have to think that had he known about Uncle Paul, he would have contacted him, he would have brought him home. He would have been a part of his life. I do not believe he knew. But I bet he knows now. 

Growing up with a decent sized extended family with grandparents, first and second cousins, aunts and uncles and such I can’t imagine what it was like for my cousins to miss out on that. Or how it was for Uncle Paul, who until he married and had children, had no group of people to call family at all. Until last year they had half of their family tree completely empty and now suddenly a whole lot of new people are in their lives and those blanks in the tree are finally getting filled in. And this week for the first time in his 86 years, my Uncle Paul is in Louisiana. He and Barb and Jackie are here in our hometown and on Monday they will journey to see and to stay in the tiny community where Paul would have grown up, had Papaw known. I think of the difference in Paul and his siblings’ childhoods. Dad raised in a loving home, in a small southern town, with the creeks and woods of north Louisiana as his playground. And I think of Uncle Paul growing up alone, with nobody to call his own and none to call him their own, in the gritty streets of New York City. 

Tonight, over slices of pizza, Uncle Paul and Barb and Jackie got acquainted with my husband, my twins Hannah and Joseph, Hannah’s fiancé Shane, Cathy's two girls Callie and Cate for the first time. Dad and Kay were there and we all filled up the biggest table in the joint. It was loud and crowded and chaotic and absolutely wonderful!  As we were trying to explain who belonged to who, and they tried to remember everyone’s names, Barb said something that gripped my heart. She looked around at this big table of people who a year ago had been strangers and with a big smile on her face said- “I’m related to all of these people. I’ve finally got cousins! This is my family!”

Family! We really are! And at 85 years old Paul finally found his family. And that family includes me. I feel so honored and privileged to be part of what he always longed for.  We are now all included in each others’ ‘us’ and ‘we’. Although we were raised in different worlds, it doesn’t matter. We now belong to each other. What a feeling! When we fill out Hannah’s wedding invitations, they will be listed in the ‘family’ column. And it feels natural for them to be included there. God is so good and I am so thankful.

A year ago, nobody could have convinced me this could happen to our family! But it did! And ours just got a whole lot bigger and a lot more interesting!

Uncle Paul finally meeting his Daddy.

 Family at last! Sept. 2015. Uncle Paul meeting his brother and sister for the first time. Front row L-R: Linda, Paul, Dad (Glynn), Kay. Back row L-R: John, Cathy (my sis), Barb, me and Jackie.

Uncle Paul and the cousins meeting some more of the family June 2016

Martha, Martha...

"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, He came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to Him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what He said.

But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to Him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"

"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things,

but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:38-42

There are some Bible stories that I've heard since childhood and I find myself not really reading them because I know them so well. Been there. Seen that. Nothing new. (Yawn) Well, I've been praying to look at the word of God as if I have never seen it before. To let go of my preconceived notions and assumptions and to see it with fresh eyes.

Well we had a good discussion about this passage of scripture about Mary and Martha yesterday and it got me looking at it again. Most of us have read this numerous times but I took another look at this old story and saw some stuff I'd never seen before. So here goes...

I always assumed in this story that Jesus was ticked at Martha. It sure would have been understandable. After all, she was pretty dang brazen to chastise the Son of God in front of everyone like that. I pictured Jesus schooling her in front of everyone. I could see the approving crowd, nodding and agreeing, “Mmmhmm, you sure told her Jesus!”.

But at the same time, although she obviously needed an attitude adjustment, to me it still didn’t seem completely fair to Martha. Anyone who’s had to fix a meal for a large group of people will understand me here. I mean, they had to eat. This is Bible times and they didn’t have microwaves or take-out. Martha’s household obviously wasn’t wealthy and they didn’t have cooks and servants, so the responsibility naturally fell to her and Mary. I always felt that it was reasonable for Martha to need some help. Despite her rude interruption, the practical side of me gets Martha’s frustration. But at the same time, the worshipper side of me also gets Mary.  My word! To have Jesus in the flesh, in my house, speaking the very words of God, I’d be like “Hold up Martha! Wait a dang minute! I can’t miss a second of this!”

Keith pointed something out that I’d never thought about with this story. Its not like Jesus went out of His way to point out that her choices were inferior to her sisters. Actually there's no indication that Jesus would have mentioned that fact at all had she not had her little outburst. But her embarrassing public tirade of, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” (Awkward!) simply begged for a response.  She asked for it, and she got it! “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”  Perhaps He didn't mind at all that she was in the kitchen. I personally don't think He did. Maybe He planned for her and Mary to switch places later. Who knows. But what IS clear is that she started it. And He finished it. 

Actually, despite her disrespectful outburst, (I mean, she REALLY had a lot of nerve!) He didn't seem upset with her at all. His “Martha, Martha” (said twice) was indicative of endearment. Another version had Him saying, “My dear Martha”. That doesn’t sound like someone who is annoyed.  I mean, there were definitely times recorded in the Bible where Jesus WAS annoyed, where He  didn't mince words with His disciples, and rebuked them. But this isn’t one of those times. His response to her interruption of His message (just imagine interrupting Jesus!), to her frustrated complaint (how humiliating for Mary!), to her doubt about His care (that was particularly rude) and to her exasperated demand (to the Son of God no less) was gentle and understanding. Yes, He corrected her. But instead of being motivated by offense (How dare you interrupt ME, question ME, command ME), it was motivated by a love for her. She definitely needed an adjustment- but unlike how we often deliver it, Jesus didn’t adjust her to make a stand, to defend Himself, to shame her or to make His point at her expense. He adjusted her for her good. Because He loved her. 

Here's some observations I never saw before with how Jesus handled Martha.

-First He acknowledged her, speaking her name lovingly (Martha, Martha / dear Martha).

This communicated to her: I know you. I see you. I love you and you are very valuable to Me.

-Then He identified her issue (You are worried and upset/ distracted with many things).

     She was worried. Her worry pointed to a struggle with fear, a difficulty with trusting. It’s really hard to worry and to trust at the same time. (Believe me, I know!).

    She was also upset. Her accusatory “Don’t you care?”, indicated hurt and bitterness and a misunderstanding of Jesus’ actions (or inaction) on her behalf. Perhaps some pain from her past caused her to default to offense, assuming the worst about Him. We don't know. But Jesus looked past the rudeness, saw the wounded heart and dealt gently with her.

    She was distracted. So she wasn’t focused. She was overwhelmed with many things. They weren’t evil, sinful things. They were actually necessary things. But all the things consumed her focus and caused her to lose sight of Him.

-Then in one phrase, He narrowed down for her (and us) what mattered most to Him.  (But only one thing is needed). This is huge people. If we’re honest we’ll admit that there’s a whole lot in the Bible that makes us scratch our heads; things that aren’t that clear, that are interpreted a million different ways by a million different people. There are so many facets to God and so many different aspects to His word that it’s often hard to know where to start, what to focus on first or what to emphasize most. It frankly can be overwhelming. But despite this, there ARE those times when He is clear, when He doesn’t speak in parables or mysteries, where He’s obvious and to the point and it cannot be left up to interpretation. And right here, with Martha, is one of those times. He revealed to her, the most important thing to Him. Just ONE THING is needed. And what was that? It wasn’t another chore to do, another law to keep, another sin to repent of.  So what matters most to Him? Simply put, He wants to have a relationship with us. That’s all He wanted from Martha. He was fine with her cooking and preparing. That wasn’t the point. She had opened her home to Him and was trying to honor Him in her own way and I know He appreciated that. But the point of her hard work had been lost somewhere in the preparations. She’d lost sight of the purpose of her labor- to be with Him. It wasn’t even about what she and Mary were doing, it was about their heart’s focus.

-Despite His love and appreciation for Martha’s hard work, He wasn’t going to do to Mary as her sister requested. (And Mary chose what is better. And it will not be taken away from her). Mary was locked in on Him, connecting to Him and He wasn’t going to allow her to be pulled her away from Him. He wouldn't agree to prioritizing work over worship. Although He wasn’t offended at Martha’s rudeness to Him, He still didn’t totally let her off the hook concerning her treatment of her sister. His acknowledgment and elevation of Mary and her superior choice restored her honor after she’d been rudely humiliated by her sister in front of all the guests. Yes, He loved Martha and was gentle with her in His correction. But He also loved Mary. Mistreating God’s other children does not go unnoticed or undealt with. He is just, after all.

There’s a lot more that can be learned from this story and I may revisit this at some point with more thoughts on the matter. But for now I’ll leave you with this simple summary of what I learned.

• ·      God values every person. Even the rude, embittered Marthas in the world. He usually doesn’t respond to people like we probably would (thank heavens!) because He sees the whole story. And despite a persons behavior, sometimes kindness is really what they need.
• ·      When He deals with us He cuts through what we think the issue is and gets to the heart of the matter.  Martha thought her sister was the problem. Jesus knew better.
• ·      Jesus doesn’t get offended when we voice our frustration to Him. He knows it anyway so we might as well be honest.
• ·      However, He isn’t pleased with us letting off steam at another’s expense. He will not let us get away with that. No more than I would have let one of my kids when they were little mistreat their brother or sister. I loved them all the same, but when that happened, it wasn’t tolerated.
• ·      The end game of all ministry, is simply- Jesus. To know Him and to make Him known. But sometimes, that focus can be lost in all of the activity of what needs to get done. When I led worship, there were many necessary preparations- from rehearsal to sound checks- before the worship service. And I admit there were times that I got so busy and overwhelmed with the preparations that I forgot to worship. Jesus still anointed and used me. He wasn’t mad at me during those times. But I am the one who missed out. It'd be like when my out-of-town kids come to visit. If I was too busy cooking and cleaning for them (to bless them no less), to spend any quality time with them, I’d have a lot of regrets once they were gone and I'd be pretty sad. When they are home for a visit, we’ll order pizza if necessary. Because all of our attention is on them. And that’s all Jesus wants too. 

   
      So there. That’s what I got out of the tired old story of Mary and Martha Martha ;). What’s true for them is true for us. One thing only is needed: Relationship. Period. Amen

Hungry

Hunger is a sign of health. If you’ve ever been sick, you know what it feels like to not be able to stand the sight of food. One of the first things a doctor asks us when we are sick is, “How’s your appetite?”.  And when our health begins to return, a sure sign we are getting better is the return of our desire to eat.

Now I read my Bible every day and I go to church every Sunday (hard to skip when your husband is the pastor lol) and I’m generally receptive and interested in spiritual things as a rule. But not too long ago I noticed that my spiritual growth had pretty much tanked. And the scary thing is it didn’t really bother me all that much. I was kind of content. Well, kind of… When you’ve tasted and you’ve seen, there’s always that gnawing thing in the back of your mind whispering to you, “you’re settling for less. You know there is more than this.” But sometimes life just gets heavy and its all you can do to keep afloat, much less do any long distance swimming.

But God is good, and He is gentle. Those nudges and reminders that ‘there is more’ are most definitely from Him. And it is because, even though I may be content with the status quo, He’s not. He wants a deeper intimacy with me. He is always the initiator in this relationship. Initially when this thing with me and God started, I didn’t ‘find God’ as if He was hiding and I was searching under every rock and bush. The truth is, He found me. And then I responded to Him. Even when I ran from Him, He patiently pursued. And that hasn’t stopped. He still pursues and I respond. Or sometimes I don't. But that’s how it works even though it may seem like I’m the one after Him. Even when I do pursue Him, He still was the one who stirred my heart in the first place, to come after Him.

At first, the gentle reminder that, 'this isn’t all there is but there is more’, passed through my consciousness, pausing there briefly. Then as I responded- a little, and then a little more- it gained a footing. And then as it built, the thought began to gain momentum in my heart. And now it has taken hold of me to where I sat in front of the computer screen yesterday for 15 hours straight, transfixed, watching the Azusa Now conference in Los Angeles on the 110 year anniversary of the Azusa Street Revival, worshipping and interceding for God to do it again in our time. Not saying that those who didn't watch aren't hungry, but I just know where I was. And I know that I wouldn’t have been interested in sitting and watching that for 30 minutes a few months ago. So something has taken root in me. And it's up to me to fan the flame and to not let the fire die down again.

I think most of us at some point in our childhood were told, “Don’t eat that now, it’ll ruin your appetite. Supper is almost ready.” How is our appetite ruined? In the natural it is simply from filling our bellies with other things to where there is no room or desire for anything more. I’m not implying that everything in this life, other than reading your Bible or praying or worshipping, is evil. Rather, I think it is a matter of the heart. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”. (Luke 12:34) When our heart is running after things that are of lesser value, it spoils our appetite for that which is greater. It doesn’t have to be running after something bad, but is it running after the best? It's about seeking treasure. What is our greatest treasure? What is our heart running the hardest after?

One of my very favorite scriptures that I have gone back to so many times in my life, because it anchors me and kind of boils it all down for me is: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. And ALL THESE THINGS shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33). My KJV (Kayla Johnson version) ;) paraphrase is this: “Make God your greatest priority, your greatest love and desire and from there, everything else will fall into it’s rightful place of importance.” Or to say it another way, “Instead of focusing on finding the answer to life’s problems, find God. And when you find Him, you find your answer; Your problem wont really matter that much anymore.” Like the lyrics to that old song,

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus.

Look full in His wonderful face.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim.

In the light of His glory and grace.”

So all that to say this: I’m hungry again. And I’m praying to be MORE hungry. Because you will pursue what you are hungry for. I don’t want to find Him and then to stop pursuing. In a healthy marriage relationship, you keep pursuing intimacy. You don't say, "that's enough" and let it stagnate. I don’t want to go back to boredom and disinterest or casual Christianity. When I read church history about men and women of God like- DL Moody, Smith Wigglesworth, William J Seymour and Maria Woodworth-Etter (to name a few) who God used to spark revival in their generation; men and women just like us, who really knew God, who encountered Him, who were changed, and in the process touched nations and made history for the kingdom of God- I get hungry. Why not again? Why not today? Why not this generation? Why not me? Why not you? 

So examine yourself. Are you spiritually healthy? How's your appetite?

Let us not be satisfied with where we are. We can never have too much of God. There is always more to discover about Him, more to experience in Him, more of me for Him to fill. If you are finding yourself, like I did, content with where you are, not hungry for more, ask Him to increase your hunger for Him. He will certainly do it. Actually it’s His idea in the first place.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled”. Matt. 5:6

Let’s not ruin our appetite. Supper is almost ready.

There. Is. More!

Post Away!

In case you've read my blog before and this seems vaguely familiar, some of this is excerpted from an old post, but the majority of it is new. So with that confession and disclosure, read away! :D

I was raised in a different era. It was a time when, for the most part, certain things weren’t talked about and often things that should have been discussed were swept under the rug. But as with most things, when something swings to one extreme we can over-compensate by swinging too far to the opposite extreme.  Either way it remains out of balance. And today, conversely this generation is being raised in an uncensored culture where nothing much is left to the imagination. Today’s social media, reality entertainment and the information age are shaping this generation in such a way that discretion, boundaries and privacy are becoming a thing of the past.

So let’s talk a minute particularly about social media. Before I am branded a hypocrite (since I'm obviously using it to post this) let me say right now that I'm not of the opinion that social media is bad. I use it and as with anything, when handled with wisdom and self-control, it can be a very useful and enjoyable tool. But I'm finding that all too often, the easy access to being heard by an opinionated audience can prove to be too big a temptation for many. Any random thought or opinion that occurs to us can be instantly shared seconds after it arrives in our brain. We can get immediate feedback and be encouraged or discouraged, branded a heretic or a hero, persuaded and influenced, and heading down a particular path before we’ve fully processed, tested or filtered the original thought. Before social media, when we got annoyed or had a strong opposing opinion, we had time to think about it, to process it and to settle our emotions before we had the opportunity to speak about it. And often, with time to cool off, to get more information and to think it through, we might then conclude it wasn't something that needed to be shared at that time, or maybe at all. But we live in a different world now. On social media, our unfiltered, unrestrained sharing requires no discipline or forethought and tender hearts and uncensored thoughts are exposed to the temperamental masses for immediate approval or rejection. Not to mention, when the day comes (and trust me, it will) that we regret the opinion, the tirade or escapade we posted on social media, it will be forever on the internet to be viewed by our future employers, co-workers, congregations, friends, spouses and children. All I can say is that God was VERY merciful to delay the advent of social media until the days when I was a responsible adult. (Let all of us pause for a moment and picture our youthful shenanigans scrolling down a Facebook newsfeed and send up a heartfelt "thank you" to heaven... Whew!). Enough said. But suffice it to say, the ship of anonymity has long since sailed.

I’ve seen things posted on social media that really touched me, inspired me, made me laugh, or was exactly what I needed at that moment. But I have never, EVER responded positively, felt convicted or changed my opinion by an insulting, shaming, angry post or judgmental rant. Have you? Honestly? 

I admit that I too have succumbed to this culture of over-exposure and have shared things that I shouldn't have. I too have been guilty of sharing strong opinions in a way that didn't respect the individuals who believed differently. We all have done it. And to be fair, there IS a time to speak. There's a time to testify and to proclaim. But when we are angry or frustrated, or when our hearts are in that fragile in-between place, before our emotions have settled and our heart has found its way home, there first needs to be a journey into the secret place where God’s perspective and heart are sought. It's wisdom to process our thoughts through His word and Spirit and to get His perspective before we unveil them raw to the world. It's wisdom to get His heart for the individuals we disagree with before we blast them with our sweeping, impersonal judgments.

Some things are private and just not appropriate to be shared. Some things are not safe to be shared except with certain trustworthy people. Some things are just not ready to be shared until they've had the time to marinate and to be tested. Some things aren’t respectful to be shared with an audience of people of differing opinions and beliefs, who have those opinions for reasons we don’t know or may not understand.

So let us all grow up in this. (Preaching to the choir here). Before we pull the trigger and post a strong opinion or gripe or our personal stuff on social media, can we stop, take a deep breath and look within for a minute, and do these things first:

1. Ask ourselves WHY we want to post in the first place. 
What do we really hope to accomplish? What is our real motive? Let's be real honest with ourselves here. Is it possibly to get a pat on the back by those who agree with us? To get recognition and approval for our bold, articulate stand? Or is it possibly a passive/aggressive attempt at taking a jab at those we disagree with? I admit, I've been guilty on both counts. Or could it just be that we are ticked off and want to vent? (Been there, done that too) The truth is, it doesn't take much courage to be confrontational when we are in control of the argument, reclining with our laptop in front of us,  formulating and editing our thoughts with our finger on the delete button if we dislike a rebuttal, than in person where we might have to think on our feet. Honestly, some of the things I see posted, if said to the face, would probably invite a punch to the jaw. BUT, if the motives are clear , then let's post away.

2. And let us ask ourselves WHO we are posting to. 
Who actually WILL see our stuff? Remember there will be people of all ages (are there children in our friends' list?), people of different opinions, beliefs, political leanings and walks of life. Could what we post possibly be perceived as judgmental, be hurtful, be misunderstood or considered disrespectful by them? If the answer is no, then let's post away.

3. And finally, let us ask ourselves WHAT's the point.
Is it beneficial?  Is it helpful? Is it really that important? Will it unite instead of dividing?  Is it even necessary?  If the answer is yes. Then please let's post away.

To sum these all up: Is our motive love?  If the answer is YES then please, post away!

After all Love is really what it’s all about isn’t it?

Recently, I heard a big name pastor of a large church asked to make a statement about a controversial issue. His response really riled up some people in the church and there may be more to the story than I know, but to be honest, I didn't hate what he said. I don’t have the exact quote so I’m winging it here, but when pressured to make a statement on the issue he refused to be pigeon holed and he basically said that he did not want to make a broad, sweeping, impersonal, public statement but rather he preferred to have personal conversations about it with individuals. And I have to respect that. Making a statement is easy and it's impersonal. It's saying- I've planted my flag here and that's that. This is my stand. I'm not open to hearing yours. Now deal with it.
But investing in relationships, listening to hearts, even those we disagree with, asking and answering questions, respecting others perspectives and lovingly explaining ours, takes time and is costly. But people are kind of a big deal to God and way more valuable to Him than any 'stand' we may take. I'm not saying we should never take a stand. But if love isn't involved, we'd best shut our mouths, (or in this case, sit on our hands).

People vs Our Stance. I think I know which one matters the most to God.

Now...please post away  :D.

The Impact of One (updated repost)

Keith and I with Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Herb (Andy)

I wrote this about three years ago and I felt the need to repost it today. With a few updates and minor edits, it remains true to the original. So here it is once again. Enjoy! :)

Approximately thirty(ish) years ago, Keith and I, newly married and backslidden as can be, landed in Hawaii to begin his three year tour of duty with the Navy. For this immature girl who had hardly ever been out of the South, it was a dream come true. I had always wanted to travel and Hawaii was definitely on my bucket list.

So here we were, on the other side of the world from home. But as God would have it, He had a divine connection planned for us. As it turned out, Keith’s uncle, Andrew Herbert Johnson (Uncle Herb to us), who was a Navy chaplain, Commander and former fighter pilot and his wife, Aunt Bobbie, were also stationed there the exact same time as we were. And this ‘coincidence’ changed the course of our lives forever.

Keith and I had been raised in church and when we were young we had both made a ‘profession of faith’. But as adults, we weren’t living it. Actually most of the Christians we had known hadn’t seemed to be very happy and there wasn’t a whole lot of ‘Life’ in their Christianity to attract us. So we had sort of unconsciously resolved to have as much fun as we could while we were young and we figured that we’d settle down and act responsibly when we were older.

Then we met Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Herb. There was something different about them. At the time, I was 21 years old and Aunt Bobbie was 50-something yet I looked for every opportunity to be around her. I know I must have gotten on her nerves sometimes tagging along but if I did she never once showed it. She just loved me, with my short skirts and all. She just accepted me as I was. She spent time with me. She invited me along shopping with her. She welcomed us into her home every Sunday and any time in between. She cooked delicious meals for us. (Her rolls themselves were reason enough to keep coming back!) But she spent hours of time with me. Just letting me hang out with her. She and Uncle Herb were there for us. They made us feel like we mattered.

It wasn’t so much of what she said, yes she would answer my many questions, but it was mostly just what she lived. She and Uncle Herb just lived love. They reached out to some of the most unlovable people on the base and invited them into their home. I would sometimes feel jealous at not having them all to myself. But it just flowed out of them. And when Aunt Bobbie or Uncle Herb prayed, we felt something we’d never felt before. We couldn’t quite put our finger on it at the time, but for some reason we were drawn to them. We just felt Good when we were with them. A hunger began growing in my heart. I had seen LIFE, and I wanted it too. They weren’t just Christians in word, they had someONE living in them. I knew this because I felt Him every time I was with them. And I wanted what they had. For the first time in my life I realized, there was more. Christianity as I’d experienced it wasn’t all there was. Jesus was really real. He was current. He wasn’t boring. He was fun. But nobody TOLD me this, I just KNEW it, because I knew Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Herb.

Now Aunt Bobbie wasn’t perfect. But she was real. And what a sense of humor she had! She would sometimes get tickled in church and couldn’t stop giggling. This was my kind of lady! She had fun and joy just bubbled out of her. Almost more than anything, this intrigued me. I guess I had thought Christians were dour, boring old sourpusses. But Aunt Bobbie was a hoot! That, I could relate to!

She and Uncle Herb invested in me and Keith. They didn’t preach at us, they just loved us and lived an authentic life, full of LIFE in front of us. We didn’t change right away. A lot of what was sown into our lives at that time didn't  bear fruit for years. Actually it was so gradual that I don’t know if they were even aware of the impact they were making then. But something was definitely taking root in us. And it literally changed the course of our lives.

Now years later, we have raised four children and our family has grown to include a son-in-law, daughter-in-law and two grandsons. I am very proud of my family. I look at my husband and children and I am so grateful. Actually that doesn’t even come close to expressing how I feel. I am BEYOND grateful if there is such a thing. We’ve had people say how much they admire our family and they ask us what we’ve done. And I find that astounding. I really do. I’m not bragging, it’s just one of those things that happens repeatedly and I’m always left, like Mary, amazed and pondering these things in my heart. Because I honestly didn’t have a clue what I was doing 27 years ago when I became a mom. And 27 years later its still a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants operation. I guess all I had was an intense desire- stronger than anything I’d ever felt before holding my firstborn in my arms- to do this thing right. And a revelation that I didn’t have what it took to do it. But I did have a God who did. There are no formulas and I don’t understand it, but God has blessed our family.

But one thing I do know- the blessing on our family today can be traced back approximately 30 years ago to a little speck of an island in the vast Pacific Ocean. The fact that my children are serving God today and impacting the Kingdom can be traced back to the influence of one simple couple, who saw value in two disillusioned, immature twenty-somethings and who chose to sow time, love and life into us. I will be forever grateful to them for the harvest we now enjoy. As I look into the faces of my precious grandsons, knowing how their parents will raise them to know the Lord, all because THEY know the Lord, I just want to weep with gratitude and to somehow repay them for what they gave us. But I know one day, that their reward will be handed to them by the Lord Himself and it will be eternal.

So never under-estimate the value of investing into one person's life. You may not see the fruit immediately. But it could have eternal and generational impact. Our family is proof of that. My children can thank Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Herb (and God of course ;) that they know Jesus. One life impacting generations and the Kingdom of God.
Blessed be the name of the Lord!