A heartfelt “hey”

Sometimes a baby speaks truth. Sometimes a teacher gets schooled. This is that kind of story.

Elizabeth is a beautiful artist who’s thoughtful and smart. And as of April 12, she’s a bona fide Christ follower. (Smiles here, people. She’s found purpose. She’s found hope!) So now begins those first exciting but wobbly steps of faith—growing time.

She asked me for help, to show her where to go grow from here. And so I met Elizabeth at the pinnacle of spiritual truth—Starbucks. Over a couple of Mocha Lattes, we started with the basics. Prayer came up pretty quickly. After all, doesn’t every daughter—especially a new child of Christ—want to chat with her Father?

“Have you been talking with God?” I asked between sips of creamy bliss. “Are you praying during the day?”

Now, I know prayer can be awkward for young believers. What a foreign concept, speaking to an invisible God about something He already knows. Strange, to say the least. (Strange but invigorating, rewarding and necessary.)

So I fully expected Elizabeth to answer, “No, it’s too weird right now. I’ll ease into it eventually.” But she didn’t. Instead, she smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m talking to God. He and I are friends, right? So every morning I make a point to say, ‘Hey.’”

I was stumped for a second. What a short little prayer! And this particular one intrigued me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, God. I’m here.

“Hey, you’re right here with me.”

“Hey.”

If you’re from the South like Elizabeth and me, you know the intimacy of  “Hey.” It’s a familiar, cozy greeting for someone you know. Someone you care about. “Hey” for us has two syllables, not one, and the longer it’s drawn out, the warmer the greeting. It’s friendly and comfortable and sweet.

“Hey.”

For Elizabeth, it’s the perfect prayer for now, because just one word says tons. She’s getting it, this spiritual baby, comprehending the need to acknowledge God. To begin a relationship. To feel Him in the room.

I left Starbucks full of caffeine and inspiration. Here was Elizabeth, new kid on the block, reminding me of prayer’s tender roots. It’s just that easy, isn’t it, to connect with Father God? To start with what you know, a simple hello for the One who simply loves you? And to understand that before long, spiritual babies grow into chatty toddlers who develop into praying giants?

I hope she never loses the sincerity of that prayer. I pray she always feels Him in the room. And for all of us, from newborns to mature believers, may we never forget the beauty of a heartfelt “Hey.”

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Whataburger wisdom

All I could think about was Whataburger. A number one combo, specifically: Hamburger no cheese, medium fries, real Coke. Oh, and two Whataburger ketchups (Why is theirs so much better than what’s in my fridge?)

But it was late, and I was home alone. PJ’s were on, make-up was off. Plus, I’m lazy. Very, very lazy. So, after pulling out a freezer-burned Lean Cuisine, I did what any normal slacker would do: Posted my woes on Facebook.

“I’ll pay you $50 to bring me a #1 Whataburger, real Coke. SO not kidding.”

Silly, right? Might as well joke about the craving. And it was a joke, I promise.  Now all I had to do was choke down that horrid Lean Cuisine and wait for witty replies. (My Facebook friends are f-u-n-n-y.)

You’ve probably guessed what happened next. Yep, the doorbell rang. And who/what I saw was completely unexpected, almost unbelievable.There, holding the coveted bag with orange stripes, stood Michelle. I could smell that burger before she said a word. I wanted to cry for joy, but there was no time—those fries are compromised at room temperature.

“Michelle!” I squealed. “You’ve GOT to be kidding! (Grabbing bag.) Who DOES this? (Munching fry.) “And I do not have fifty dollars.” (Slurping Coke.)

But Michelle didn’t want my money, not even five bucks for the meal. She just wanted to do something nice. To surprise me. To deliver, as my mom calls it, a “happy.” Then just like that, she waved goodbye, hopped into her car full of kiddies, and left me with my carbs.

Well, my carbs and something else. Michelle’s anything-but-random act of kindness stuck with me like a cheeseburger. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was shock (I’m not used to surprises). Or maybe there were lessons here—A little Whataburger wisdom, so to speak. It’s funny what the simplest things can reveal. In this case, they were quite the Biblical combo:

1. Open up about your needs. Okay, so maybe not through Facebook, but God wants us to share difficulties with trustworthy friends. No “perfect” masks, please. We need to be real, exposing needs and asking the body of Christ to encourage, counsel, and pray. (See Prov, 11:14 and Eccl. 4:10.)
2. Open the door to blessings. Beware of narrow focus—Doing nice things for a very small circle. Not a bad thing, but the circle can widen—or heck, even disappear. It might be out of your way or your comfort zone. It will take time. And it’s exactly what Jesus would do. (See Matt. 25:35-40 and Phil. 2:4.)
3. Open your heart to love. God just plain loves you, no strings attached. Sometimes (okay, often) He plunks down a gift, simply because. Enjoy it. Thank Him for it. And know that when the favor of God shines upon you, it’s free and pure and beautiful. (See Deut. 7:13 and 1 John 3:1.)

Quite the happy meal, huh? Thank you, Michelle, for a simple act of kindness. It was delicious. And thank you for the lessons. It’s always nice to savor–and share–the truth of God’s perfect plan, real purpose, and satisfying love.

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When love is nice

Lauren met me for lunch, just to check in. You know, the usual: College, jobs, family. Eventually, the inevitable came up (it always does). B-O-Y-S. She told me about a new guy. Hmm. He had to be better than the old one. (I didn’t say this out loud, but I thought it. You’d think so too, believe me.)

She promised I’d approve of Daniel: He loves the Lord, pursues Him even. Daniel is trustworthy, hardworking, respectful, and kind. He’s funny and athletic. And while looks aren’t everything, she showed me a picture—Gotta say, he’s pretty cute. The more we talked, the better he sounded. Finally I gushed, “Lauren! Daniel is perfect! Aren’t you excited?” Crickets.

Turns out, Lauren isn’t excited at all, even though Daniel fits every item on her list. In fact, I’ve joined her in prayer for a year—a YEAR—asking God that when the time comes, she’ll meet a guy whose passion for Jesus matches hers. (Oh, I forgot to mention that Daniel leads a Bible study in his dorm and is planning a mission trip to Mexico. He recently led two friends to the Lord. (Hello? Lauren? Not excited? Are you kidding me?)

Now, I know some of you are waiting for a Daniel in your own backyards. If so, praise God for high standards and patience! And you think Lauren is nuts. You’re also thinking about messaging me later for Daniel’s contact info. Don’t blame you a bit, but sorry, no can do.

Here is Lauren’s confusion: She’s mistaking low maintenance for boring. The other guy—the one she clung to while I rolled my eyes—caused tears, upset stomachs, shouting matches, betrayal. (Adrenaline rushes, for sure.) Then flowers and kisses made it better. Repeat three times a month, and you get the idea. Exciting? A perverted version, maybe. Healthy? Not even close.

With Daniel, though, there’s no drama. For example, he’s never jealous: “Why should I be jealous?” he asks. “I trust you completely.” Daniel’s not controlling: “You have a life, and I respect that.” And there’s almost no fighting. Almost. Once Lauren started an argument, for, well, no good reason. Daniel didn’t bite. Instead he said, “This isn’t right. Let’s talk it out tomorrow, when there’s not so much emotion. I don’t want to yell.”

Lauren is stumped. If there’s no yelling, where’s the passion? If there’s no drama, where’s the love?

I assure her that happily-ever-after is in the calm. It’s cozy and safe there, when someone loves you like Jesus. Relationships become relaxed, real, reliable. And passionate, too. There’s nothing like love fueled by God’s grace. Reminds me of a cozy, familiar passage:

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; Love does not brag and is not arrogant. It does not act unbecomingly. Love does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered. It does not rejoice in unrighteousness but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

For now, Lauren is sorting this out. Maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe mature, Godly love—the steady and respectful kind—is right in front of her nose. And maybe she’s ready. Come to think of it, Daniel sure is nice.

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Love Him well

There I sat, an eight year old surrounded by girls with boyfriends. Boyfriends! Good grief, we weren’t even wearing bras yet! During math they passed notes to little men, sealing the deals with “Do you love me? Check yes or no.” And the little men wrote back.

I, Ava Hoomes, had no man. Don’t cry for me, ‘cause I didn’t care. Well, not until phase two began: Suddenly, a love-inspired graffiti campaign took root: CB+DW=love. MP+SG=love 4ever. Chalkboards, lunchboxes, and bathroom stalls were plastered with romance. Everyone’s name was there. Everyone’s but mine.

The solution to this crippling social crisis came easily: Jesus Christ would be my boyfriend. I know how irreverent this sounds, but for a third grader, it made perfect sense: He had first and last initials. Jesus loved me, this I knew. He’d written me a book of sweet nothings. And He’d be mine forever. (On second thought, make that 4ever.)

Oh, the thrill of being a couple! “AH+JC” was drawn on hands, written on homework.  “JC 4ever” covered  my bright blue Trapperkeeper (A super cool notebook, for all you readers under thirty). We had a good thing going, Jesus Christ and me. Who needed a stinkin’ boy when I’d found the King of Kings?

Soon, though, we hit a snag, a kid named John Curtis (Note the initials of doom). Good ole Johnny C., my first cousin, classmate, and soon-to-be source of persecution. Instigator Johnny, who suddenly preferred the nickname ”JC.” (How whack was that?) So before you could say “kissing cousins,” my boyfriend jig was up.

Fast forward thirty years, when Ava Hoomes Sturgeon visits a Houston church. The pastor prays, “Father God, you are love. Jesus Christ, you have proved it. Help us return the favor, to write your name on our hearts, our hands, to link with you forever. Help us love you well.”

This hits me like a third grade pop quiz: Do I love Him well? How can I be sure? As minutes pass and thoughts spin, I realize I’ve been doodling. A lot. The church program now sports a huge heart with Ava+JC=love4ever written inside. And the plus sign, the link between a girl and her Savior, looks just like a cross.

Maybe loving Him well is as easy as childlike faith: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” Maybe it’s the simple belief that nothing else–no stinkin’ boy, no earthly pressures–can separate me from the One who loves me. From the One I love.

Maybe loving Him well means growing up, maturing my faith. No longer the mystery man, He’s out in the open, front and center on my lips and in my actions. No mistaking whom I love or serve or admire: The name is Jesus Christ, and I’m happy to introduce Him. To live for Him. To honor Him.

I smile at the doodle, knowing that eight year old Ava would love this. She’d so appreciate the plus sign/cross thing, highlighting it with red crayon. Then I wonder how grown up Ava will highlight this same cross. And the Savior who gloriously conquered it. Father God, show her how to love Him well.

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“[Jesus said], As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” John 15:9-11

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The beauty of boring

"I've never desired to be anywhere else but in God’s arms. That’s the right place to be, no matter what.”—Amelia

Amelia’s story is pretty tame. Her grades are fine, her friends are good influences. Heck, her parents are even married. There’s no childhood trauma, no teen rebellion. She’s just Amelia, a young woman who loves Jesus. Boring, right?

Some might think so. I mean, in the arena of explosive youth group testimonies, she doesn’t draw a crowd. What’s there to say, really? “I met Jesus as a kid. We’ve been tight ever since. He directs my path, and boy, am I thankful.”

Yes! Tell it just like this. Oh, that the world were full of boring Amelias! We crave the sounds of their simple stories. Steady, sincere, soothing tales. And we don’t hear them nearly enough.

Not long ago, I sat in a circle of Simple Stories. One by one, they spoke of a faithful God and the blessings of obedience. They shared about peace, joy, and purpose. They brought out journals full of Jesus thoughts and answered prayers. Mature chat, no doubt, especially considering their braces and Hunger Games t-shirts.

“So,” I asked them, “Outside this circle, who knows the deal? Where else can you tell these sweet, sweet stories?”

“There’s not enough drama,” answered a cutie with braided pigtails. “Don’t take it wrong, Mrs. Ava, but unless you’ve got a Lifetime movie in your past, no one’s interested.”

Maybe she had a point. I thought about testimonies from church pulpits and Christian radio, extreme before and after encounters with Christ. These are the stories we gush about, cry over, “like” on Facebook. And who doesn’t rejoice when a tortured life finds hope? Praise the Lord! But isn’t there room for everyone? Could a circle of Jesus-loving girls get some airtime? Shouldn’t they?

I asked Amelia, a high school junior, about her boring inspiring faith walk. Here’s some of our conversation:

Me: Why is your relationship with God consistent?

Amelia: Consistency pleases Him. Straying doesn’t.

Me: Why pursue God now instead of waiting ‘til you’re older?

Amelia: He protects me from mistakes that cause regret, secrets, and consequences. He gives me direction. This comes in handy as a teen.

Me: How does God use your steady walk to help others?

Amelia: Hopefully, my friends see how to fight the battles of life and not stray. The secret is staying close to Him.

Me: Are you a goodie-goodie? The perfect little Christian girl?

Amelia: Not even close! Jesus saved me from sin like everyone else. My walk has fluctuated from hot to cold, but I’ve never desired to be anywhere else but in God’s arms. That’s the right place to be, no matter what.

You’re so right, Amelia. The right place to be, the right story to tell. No matter who you are.

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How can a young man [woman] keep his [her] way pure? By keeping it according to Your Word. With all my heart I have sought You. Do not let me wander from Your commandments. Your Word I have treasured in my heart, that I might not sin against You. With my lips I have told of all the ordinances of Your mouth. I have rejoiced in the way of Your testimonies…. Psalm 119:9-14

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Karaoke sisters

My mom and I celebrate Aunt Agnes' 93rd birthday at the nursing home.

I crashed a Karaoke party today. Didn’t plan to and sure didn’t expect to join in. But around 11:00 a pitiful rendition of “My Girl” was sadly mine, performing (a loose term) for excited fans (another loose term). They were kind, I’ll say that much. Nursing home residents usually are.

It was supposed to be a quick visit, a pick-me-up for lonely Aunt Agnes. We found her at activity hour, a “Happy Birthday” balloon tied to the wheelchair. She pointed toward the lyric screen, waving blue-thin hands in the air. We made eye contact. She grinned and pointed. What (gulp) choice did I have?

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day.
When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.
I guess you’d say, “What can make me feel this way?”
My girl (My girl, My girl),

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl….

A lady in front, literally under my nose, supplied the chorus ooh’s. She had perfect pitch—really beautiful—but when offered the microphone she waved me off. Maybe she wasn’t all there. You know, out of it. Seconds later, I flubbed a line. “You got that wrong!” she yelled with an eye roll. I stand corrected.

One worker—a nursing home saint with cross earrings—sat close to a turban wearing grandma. Neither had a worry in the world. They distracted me in a this-is-too-good-to-be-real kinda way: Holding hands, whispering secrets, smiling sweetly. Grandma Turban closed her eyes when she chuckled. She closed her eyes a lot.

I’ve got so much honey that the bees envy me.
I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees.
I guess you’d say, “What can make me feel this way?”
My girl (My girl, My girl)

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl….

I wish you could see this next part. Picture the cafeteria ladies arriving with food carts. They stop and listen, just for a minute. Then there’s a finger snap. And a little step and sing action. And suddenly they’re part of the show, dancing between wheelchairs with moves existing only in my dreams. They take over the song (Whew!), getting stronger, feeding off shaky high fives and toothless grins. They ARE the Temptations (Well, Temptations with hair nets). We clap and cheer as pure glee unites us. And here is the truth, ‘cause I feel it: In this moment, everyone in the room has everything she needs.

I don’t need no money, no fortune, or fame.
I’ve got all the riches, Baby, one man can claim.
I guess you’d say, “What can make me feel this way?”
My girl (My girl, My girl)

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl….

Then just like that, the moment passes. Working ladies return to their carts. Karaoke is unplugged, and Mrs. Eye Roll loses her spunk. Grandma Turban opens her eyes. But something lingers—something special—and it’s sticking to me.

I felt God in that room. Sounds strange I know, but right in the middle of “My Girl” He was there. (He always is.) But maybe it’s not so unlikely, considering a couple of things: One, He helps us help each other. Two, this morning I prayed, “Lord, surprise me. Use me however you want, and let me see the joy in it.” Well, joy showed up in buckets. So did love–big, authentic, breathtaking. God willing, tomorrow will be the same.

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“The LORD your God is living among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With His love, He will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”

Zephaniah 3:17

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When prayers don’t work (or so it seems)

Nadia asked for prayer. She needed it. A huge obstacle stood between her and a dream, so we did what any believing sister would do: Knees to the floor, voices raised for Nadia. We prayed for victory over her struggle. We asked for peace, strength and wisdom. We thanked God for guidance and praised Him for defeating this challenge—we simply knew He would.

Three days later, I got a text from Nadia. Her dream was crushed. The obstacle won.

Tough times come when our prayers seem ignored. Or even worse, deliberately rejected. It’s risky to trust God for a particular thing, only to feel crushed and confused when results come up short. Or when we get the text saying, “Did not pass” or “The deal fell through” or “It’s malignant.”

Nadia’s disillusioned words still ring in my ears: “I love the Lord with all my heart. So why did He let me down?”

Oh, precious Nadia (and every sister struggling with God’s “no”), I’ve felt the same, especially when prayers were desperate and heartache was fresh. But please, through the tears, hear some sweet Biblical truth: God has not let you down. He is not ignoring you, and He is not cruel. Rather, He is actively up to something good. Very good, in fact. And it may have nothing to do with the issue at hand.

Try, just for a bit, to think bigger than your life. Consider Almighty God with His timeless, flawless, ultimate plan. It’s a huge, intricate network of crisscrossing people, paths, and purposes. You’re part of it, for sure, but the trouble is, you can’t see His Big Picture. So you pray, asking for things—good things, mostly, things He’d surely approve. Your viewpoint, though, is limited. And sometimes, as disappointed as you might be, the requests don’t fit the plan. It’s then, worthy daughter, that you must trust the Father’s wisdom, as well as His “no.”

The Bible doesn’t say it’s easy. But it’s a necessary journey to warrior-like faith. It’s the secret to joy. And as strange as it seems, the seasons of “no” can actually be sweet. Here’s why:

• We see that God wants the best for us. Once you go all in, trusting Him with every breath–even through the “no’s”–you’ll start to comprehend: God blesses and protects through prayer. (Sometimes He reveals why “no” was the best thing to come your way.)

• We learn that God can handle our ickiness. If you’re feeling let down, tell Him. If your heart is angry, He wants to know that, too. Through raw emotion God becomes personal, comforting, real. (He knows our hearts anyway—Why not just let it all out?)

• We understand that God’s in charge. There’s nothing like a disappointing answer to switch the focus from us to Him. God is Sovereign. We are not. (Sometimes we get things out of whack—Like He’s supposed to “okay” what we think is a good idea.)

If you’re in a season of “no,” then I’m begging you: Run straight toward Jesus. Be ready to listen, learn, grow, heal. Do not, for one second, let the seeds of bitterness root in your heart. Just keep praying, processing, believing. You’ll come out on the other side, I promise, and you’ll be STRONG. You’ll know—KNOW—that God’s love guides your life. It’s a beautiful purpose, by the way, one that’s designed to share His love and give Him glory. That’s the reason we’re here. And I’m praying, day and night, that all goes according to plan.

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“We know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

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“This is the confidence we have toward Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know He hears us in whatever we ask, we know we have the requests we have asked of Him.”  (1 John 5:14-15)

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