the strength of an honorable man

How easy it would be for a man of great physical strength to build his reputation upon physical prowess and his need to prove himself by always winning a fight… it is so much easier to build muscle than character.

I recently watched a movie called “The Eagle” in which a Roman soldier arrives at an arena to watch a battle. An innocent villager, Esca, is pushed into the arena to fight a gladiator twice his size. No one knows why he was arrested, but Esca is not favored to win. The situation seems hopeless and cruel. I watched with interest, waiting for Esca to take up his sword and prove that the “little guy” can win the physical battle in an impossible situation, but the movie doesn’t portray that scenario.

Esca looks about him at the frenzied crowd screaming for his blood and their entertainment and he throws down the weapons given to him.

Esca takes a painful and humiliating beating without lifting a finger to fight back and the Roman soldier in the audience shows admiration for Esca’s courage in the face of death (a brave character quality) and starts a chant to save his life. The crowd then realizes Esca’s strength of will as his courage in the face of death quietly and confidently speaks “I am innocent. I’ve done nothing, but kill me if you must, to simply prove your ‘strength’!” even in his silence.

Esca’s life is eventually spared… but what’s more, later in the movie we find he is a more than capable warrior who could’ve easily won the match against the gladiator in the arena. His earlier restraint and ability to discern when it was wisest to put his physical strength to the test makes him even more impressive and made it irresistible not to root for his success in the movie. He chooses the worthy battles.

“When restraint and courtesy are added to strength, the latter becomes irresistible.” Mahatma Gandhi

I was talking to a girl friend of mine recently and we were remarking on the strength of one of the men we know. He displayed a great deal of physical strength, protecting a girl friend of ours in a very scary situation. In complimenting his wisdom and knowledge in handling the problem -along with his physical ability to put his knowledge into action and protect our friend- our conversation quickly became a discussion of the many different ways strength is used.

A muscular build -although appreciated- is not what I typically refer to when I talk about a “man of strength.” Many times when I speak of the strength of the men, I refer to their courage of heart, desire for God – which leads them into spiritual battles on a daily basis – and their struggle to stand firm in their convictions against so much else vying for their affection and attention.

When I think of strength, I see see Christ... when I picture strength, I see the faces of the men in my life.

They are men of integrity. They do not pose and they do not pretend to be what they are not.

They are men and they allow their actions to speak for them. They strengthen each other in so many ways... they are warriors even when they fall. They face defeat and rise again... struggle with failure and continue to encourage each other in the difficulties they face.

In the same way, their selflessness speaks volumes to me and the women I know. I would be surprised to hear of a woman in my Home Church or close friends who hasn’t felt cherished by them. They are wise, caring, comforting and encouraging in so many ways. They sacrificially place themselves between us and any possibility of danger, open doors for us, buy us far too much coffee, walk us to our cars, cook for us and invite us into their homes, protect us when we are threatened and show an awareness of our daily needs and concerns that is astounding.

I believe their chivalry is worthy of knighthood at times.

I would venture to say that 90% of the men I know are aware of their strength, but choose their battles wisely. As I watch them fight battle after battle, both physical, spiritual and emotional, I am impressed by the absence of arrogance in them and humbly aware of the reason I stand in awe of their strength… because in its purest form, it comes from Christ.

In Him lies their true strength... so much greater than Goliath and so much brighter than the sun.

When man stands in awe of his accomplishments, they are worthless. When man falls to his knees in gratitude for strength to fight the battle, it is powerful.

“For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control.”2 Timothy 1:7

attitude of gratitude

I’m sitting on my couch all curled up in a blanket with a bowl of cap’n crunch berry cereal... Saprina is cooking in the kitchen singing “on top of spaghEEEETTIIII… all covered with CHEEEESE” at the top of her lungs while she cooks up something delectable for dinner.

Joy is laughing on her bed while talking on the phone and her happiness is floating down the hallway, making me want to go find out what’s so funny... oh, and there go Hannah and Lyndsey. They just ran squealing out the door, probably to some store where I’m sure they’ll end up spending at least $10 on something random and hilarious, per most trips they take together.

Danel left a few minutes ago after spending a couple hours laughing, talking, crying and praying with us about life and relationships and God and our desire for his best in our lives.

So, with all that said, I have this symptom that's come from my evaluation of my surroundings tonight…

Gratitude.

It’s consuming me.

in 2011...

i asked God a question. drank a lot of coffee. whined my way through a cold winter. was thankful for a "good" snow scraper. lived at the hospital. ran away from people i needed. ran back to their arms that waited. gained two new sisters. wrote a song. felt like i lost my mind. lost a bet with God. said goodbye to a blonde texan. took a walk with a fox. saved a man. worried about my family. loved a hundred people. fought for what i believed in. amazed myself. learned a lesson in self control. walked by a river a midnight. walked beside a hero. stayed up all night. hiked a waterfall and thought i'd die. arrived at the waterfall and realized i'd never truly lived. appreciated strength and cherished grace. felt the pain of a broken heart. took four thousand photos. felt valued. walked the hospital halls a second time. sat in my car until i could tame my tongue. loved my family. talked to a prophet. found rest under the stars. drank a whole beer. ran two miles. loved my brother. gave it to God. grieved a loss. hoped for the future. found my voice. rejoiced with my sister. needed a friend. shut down. was swept off my feet. learned from a child. was wounded. chose to forgive. remembered people are worth the risk. woke up with my bible stuck to my face. spent a day in prayer. knew that God was judge. wanted a man. needed perspective. was humbled by honor. comforted a friend. set boundaries. broke boundaries. set boundaries again. walked hospital halls a third time. felt like an adult. wanted to quit. was cared for. had a purpose. died inside and somehow lived. watched friends grow up overnight. was danced around my kitchen. delighted in a secret. knew i wasn’t alone. was given a family of my own. knew God was faithful.

my whisper was a shout in His ears. my pain hurt Him too. i asked Him a question and it took me a year to hear his voice answering “...because you’re mine.”

Proverbs 4:23 Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

everyone longs to be valued

A while back I hung out with a zillion people at a friend’s house and I spent a majority of the evening people watching and allowing my mind to wander as I went from conversation to conversation with friends, both new and old.

I love people.

I love watching the timidity of first introductions, the covert second glances fueled by attraction, other people abandoning themselves to bursts of joyous laughter and the look of triumph on someone’s face as their joke is understood and reveled in.

There are always quiet people in corners listening to loud people telling stories, best friends in deep conversations acknowledging their familiarity in a touch on the shoulder or a pat on the back. It’s a jumble when it’s all happening at one time, but when you pay attention to the details it’ll teach you a lot about the people you’re around and it’s better than any reality show in the world.

If we pay attention, it’s like watching scenes from a real-life performance on desire, trust and intimacy being acted out right in front of us. Who has earned it? Who is seeking it? Who is terrified?

Every person desires that intimate connection with another person… even if they don’t know how to ask for it, what to do if they get it, or if it even exists…

We all want that person we can wave at from across the room and go sit by and just let out a deep breath because they KNOW us. Our true selves can be at rest around them.

It takes time to establish that familiarity with another person. Time invested in communication… a desire to know that person, and in turn, to be known by that person as well. After all... to know and be known... that's the definition of intimacy, right?

“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.”
-Rollo May

Value the people in your life. Value them to the extent that no encouraging word goes unsaid, no insecurity is left to grow in silence and no one you love is left to wonder if you truly SEE them for who they are.

Let's value one another...

the price of our tears

we studied Luke 7 tuesday night at my home church.

the whole night i was so filled with emotion i couldnt talk. its so hard reading the story of Mary, the harlot who visited Jesus and in the middle of a crowd of people who loathed her for her lifestyle, knelt at his feet and covered them with her tears. her vulnerability is inspiring.

it's so important to remember that this story is meant to help us realize that WE were once the harlot running to His feet, washing them with our tears... his kindness, mercy and patience led US to repentance (Romans 2:4).

we don't know the cost of the oil in someone else's alabaster box, but we know what was in OURS... what our past and our sin and those "treasures" we stored up, were...
we know what we accumulated, only to willingly pour it out at Jesus's feet when we realized HE was the only treasure worth keeping.

what sadness he must feel as he watches us -even now- fill our lives with so much pointless gargabe, not focusing on eternity and his Glory. what abundant joy he must feel when we see our sinful state and run to his merciful arms...

it's so beautiful to think of how Mary poured out the oil and spices once used for her trade... once used to allure and seduce... upon his feet.

perhaps she was given them as a gift from a customer or purchased it with money earned in her prostitution... and Jesus isn't revolted. how beautiful. all of her past and all the things that gave her meaning before are why she was compelled by his patient mercy and love to lay herself at his feet and worship him for who he was to her. her saviour. the one who showed her what her worth TRULY was.

he gave her back her beauty in front of those who saw her as filth.

we may not understand the way someone worships God, but that's because it's only for Him. he's the only one that counts... and if we don't understand why that is, we need to go wash his feet with our tears again so we remember what if felt like when he was all we needed.

a mattress flipped me off... into the river

my alarm went off at 7am this morning and i genuinely wanted to wake up. truly, i did. my roommate saprina and our friend mike were running in a 70s themed 5k at 8am and i had every intention of going and watching them compete in their neon 70s outfits... until my alarm clock went off.

then i decided sleep sounded better.

upon deciding to sleep more, i realized i technically committed to going tubing down the truckee river with friends at 12pm so i set my alarm for 11. when it went off again, i decided i didn't want to go tubing. sleep just sounded better than anything else today. after all, i hadnt really PROMISED to go tubing... or had i? my phone buzzed and a friend was asking details about the trip. dangit.

well, i got up and stood in the middle of my room deciding what to do. to go, or not to go... that was the question. how many events today could i get away with NOT going on when people wanted me to?

i decided that if i didn't like how i looked in my bathing suit, i wasn't going. that would be it. i hadn't had my coffee yet, so i wasn't in a good mood and so chances are, i'd hate what i looked like and it would be my excuse and all my friends would have to understand. i'd just pull the "i didn't look good in anything i tried on" card and no one would be able to question me... girls are allowed to pull that card every now and then. ;o)

i changed andi checked myself out in the mirror, and decided i looked good. damn.

okay, plan b: if i didn't have sufficient river gear, i wouldnt be able to go. wouldn't you know, i found all the river gear i needed and after a few more failed excuses, i was headed with everyone to the river. awesome.

of all the mornings for me to get myself together in a half hour, it had to be today... the one day i've wanted to just sleep the day away?! freakin geez. whatever. i made the best of it.



we got to the river and had a few laughs since i'd decided to carry on my tradition of floating the river on an air mattress. it looks comical, but when the river goes from 7ft deep in parts to 8 inches deep (if that) in other shallow parts, riding it on tubes is quite an ab workout. i prefer to relax and float rather than hike my butt up and go straight as a board to avoid getting bruised from rocks on my butt or tailbone. it can be quite brutal.

today, my brother who is 6'7 took his scuba flippers with him because he had the genius idea for he and i to sit on opposite ends of the double inflated camping mattress and power down the river at great speed. with him propelling us through the rapids and shallows with his flippers, we laughed at everyone else exhausting themselves by hiking their butts up out of the water every time they saw a rock ahead.

it was great fun... until i "pulled a hope" and fell off the mattress backwards in some rapids, slamming my head on a rock. the cracking sound your head makes underwater when slamming into a rock is almost worse than the pain.

the next time my friends saw me, i'd flung myself dramatically over my end of the mattress and my brother was propelling us as fast as he could into shallow water where i could get out safely and situate myself before we through any OTHER rapids. it was quite the drama, especially when my contacts started falling out and i had to get them back in while floating down a river! i'm awesome. not accident proned at all.

i fell off the mattress a couple more times throughout the day, but none as bad as the first and thankfully, no more rocks connecting with my skull.

i am now a deep shade of tannish red and quite enjoying the thought of cruising the river again even though it may mean death. knowing me, next time i'll get strangled in some kind of fishing line or something... it would just figure.

much thanks to nathan for keeping me alive and making surfing the truckee on an air mattress a heck of a lot of fun!

a fight with skinny jeans

By some form of magic that I can only describe as divine intervention, I am currently wearing a pair of skinny jeans.

That's right, they are now fastened to my body and hugging me in a way that –at times- has made me feel downright scandalous today.

It all started with Lindsey Lohan and her freaking leggings… and then the wear-pants-so-tight-you-just-look-naked trend migrated to tiny little hipster girls and emo boys until somehow it freakishly got to us adult women, too.

They’re on… and they’re staying on. Literally. I doubt they'd move an inch.

It was not easy to get into these jeans, though… no, no. It was not.

I’m pretty sure now that I got them on, I’m just going to live in them. Even the thought of having to peel them off is enough to make me work up a sweat.

I’m not a morning person, as you all well know… so when I picked up the skinny jeans this morning in an only half awake state and dozingly pulled them on, imagine my surprise when I stood up and they were still only halfway up my shins.

I not-so-amusedly bent down and pulled again, but the fabric was fastened there like grappling hooks. It’s really a wonder that my feet even fit through the tapered legs of what can only be described as pantyhose, fashioned out of jean material.

There’s really nothing quite as visually comical as imagining what we girls look like as we hook our thumbs through the belt loops of a pair of jeans and jump in the air, all the while, perfectly timing erratic kicks that look like a mid-air combat routine... and all of this, simply to pull a pair of jeans over our hips so they fit right!

Nothing feels better than winning that mid-air judo match when you’re able to button those jeans and zip em up!

I looked at myself in the mirror and approvingly smiled. I grabbed my toothbrush and took a step to head to the bathroom… and almost tripped. I could barely bend my knees.

I set my toothbrush down, grabbed the belt loops again and threw myself into a good five minutes of pulling, stretching, cinching and lunging, to stretch the fabric in all the right places. My aerobic workout produced a very successful end result and I was thrilled.

On my way into work today, I felt like a runway model. Ironically, I had no makeup on because half my morning routine was used on getting into my amazing jeans, but who needs mascara when you’re wearing hott heels and a pair of jeans that you LITERALLY paid to get into with your blood, sweat and tears?

The End.