Touching the Untouchable

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and I have a good excuse. Several, actually, but the youngest of these is only 4 weeks old, and requires every ounce of my extra time. (Wait… did I just say extra time? HA… HAHAHAHAHA) Yep - things have changed just a tad since I last wrote!

*Ehem*. However, it’s time to write something that’s been on my heart and stirring up in my spirit lately, despite the lack of sleep, the business, the exhaustion and everything else that typically prevents such things from happening.

Our precious little son was born a month ago and is absolutely beautiful. It’s always so amazing to me that I can love each of my children so much, and yet still have enough love left to brim over with it when the next bundle arrives. I guess that’s God. Real love can’t be divided up and evenly dispersed as if there is one set amount that we have to give. We cannot run out of it if we are connected to the source… it is immeasurable. I guess that makes sense when Christ is the source, because he IS love. And he describes himself as a well of living water that never runs dry.

After my son was born, we went through a bit of a ‘storm’. (See the last post re: lulls and labor pains… I knew it was coming but I didn’t count on the severity of this storm!) The birth was really good, but three days later I encountered a 3^rd degree uterine prolapse. If you are like I was and have no idea what that is, Google it. It’s not pretty. In the terms I gave to my 7 year old, my uterus fell down, and the surrounding organs (and my pelvic floor) followed it. I refrained from telling her how far down it actually fell. I’m not even 30 years old yet, very healthy, and always have extremely healthy pregnancies and great birth experiences. My recovery time is always fabulous with no complications, and this birth was no different – I had no tearing or soreness, felt great after the birth, plenty of energy, etc. So you can imagine my surprise when a regular trip to the bathroom a few days later led to an anatomy lesson as I got to see what my uterus looked like OUTSIDE of my body. Needless to say, this was a huge shock. After the initial first hour as I mentally calmed down after absolutely freaking out, and recovered from the panic of that moment, my husband and I began praying and believing the Lord for healing. In the area that we live, we were told that if I had gone to the hospital at that time with a severely prolapsed uterus, I would have been rushed in for an immediate surgery, and they likely would have performed a hysterectomy. I have my reservations about hospitals in general – that’s why I have my babies at home. But given this information, you can bet your boots I was not going anywhere NEAR that hospital unless otherwise forced.

The next day, as per the Biblical instructions, I asked my husband if he could call the church and have a few of the elders come and lay hands on me and agree with us in faith that the Lord would heal my body. He agreed and we had our pastor and another member of the church come over. While we were praying, my husband put his hand on my belly and I felt something move upward. After that, I believed God had healed me and that my body would continue to come back into order. After all, God is not a God of disorder or of chaos, but of order. And I belong to Him. Not only that, but according to the Bible, this body of mine is actually named a temple of His holy spirit. So I just figured that a God of perfect peace and order would rather not have a home that’s all messy, weak, and out of order… right? Therefore, coupled with the fact that I am His child and I know that despite all my weaknesses and failures, He loved me enough to send His son to die for me, make me whole, and call me His own, I assumed it must be His will for me to get better.

The following 4 weeks have been testy for me. I’ve been on semi-bed rest; with more physical restrictions put on me than I would put on my 3 year old child as far as daily activities go. That is extremely tough for me. Partly because there’s a lot to do in my house, partly because I feel bad for my husband who was doing everything for me after a long day at work, and partly because of my own pride. I like being able to accomplish things, and I like helping my husband, and I like being a fun, able bodied mom to my kids. I do not like being told that I can’t do things. But despite being stubborn and prideful, I’m not into self sabotage and I’m not a complete idiot, so I’ve been careful to stick to my orders as much as possible and take care of this temple of mine, because it is actually not mine – it was bought with a price. I know I need to respect that if I am to have enough nerve to expect the Lord to heal it, so I have tried hard to submit myself to the authority of both my medical practitioner and my loving husband, and take care of myself. So, here I was on bedrest and trying hard not to hate it. To take my own advice and seek the Lord during this time of waiting and resting. To quit feeling angry or sorry for myself and start being thankful for all my incredible blessings, including the tiny, brand new one in my arms – and fix my eyes back on the one who created him. Ironically, this period of bed rest has not been very restful for me. Along with the prolapse came a whole slew of other consequent issues – the most notable one being a blow to my endocrine system, which caused my milk supply to plummet drastically. My baby was not getting enough food, and was losing weight fast. I was determined to get my supply back up, but in order to do that I had to sacrifice many hours of sleep, the rigidity of my home school schedule with my older children, and the majority of my sanity as I dealt with him relentlessly crying out for food and frantically feeding from me, almost without cease. It is such a hard place to be in, knowing that your baby is always hungry, never really satisfied and never full. I tried supplementing him with formula and his reaction was violent. So, I bought all the special milk boosting herbs, I ate like a cow, I drank water like a fish, I pumped between feeds and did everything in my power. I kept on feeding him, but I noticed that despite constantly eating, he was getting so little at each feed that he would fall asleep from the exhaustion of sucking, still hungry and in need of calories. As his body began shrinking, his cries became weaker, and when he wasn’t attempting to eat, he was sleeping. He was tired, and so was I. I knew I had to go back to my source, and remind myself about this God I serve – the one inside me. This same God who made my body could not only heal my prolapse, but also replenish the milk supply he had given. In a time of very little rest for my weakened body, I needed to quiet my restless spirit enough to hear his voice and seek His face. 

Some days, after getting out of bed without being really sure if I’ve slept at all the whole night through, gripping on to a crying, hungry baby as I clumsily pour cheerios into 3 other bowls (for equally hungry -though much quieter - little mouths) with one hand, I feel a little dry. Ok, I sometimes feel REALLY dry. As in… ready to snap, dry. But then I remember who my source is, and I remember that this body I’m living in is a temple that holds a spirit flowing with living water. A very holy spirit. The source is already inside me! When I’m feeling dry and thirsty and I’m running on empty, the Lord is reminding me that I need to stop and refuel – not just on sleep, or on food (though I need those too!) but on Him. I need His word – and LOTS of it. When my spirit is replenished, it washes over every part of me, starting from the heart - and my whole body is strengthened. Without that pure milk of God’s word, I become one miserable, desperate woman in no time flat. Yet when He fills me, it’s incredible how fast things are put into perspective and how satisfied I am in Him.

After observing my hungry baby day and night for the past month or so, I began to see myself in his little face, and started to understand the Lord’s heart for me as my loving creator. Anyone who has ever nursed a newborn can probably relate with the emotions we feel as we witness them crying out to us in utter need, recognizing that we are the sole source of their comfort. I believe the Lord has been using this trial to remind me of a few key things regarding my need for Him and His Word.

1    
      His word is the purest, most nutritious source of spiritual ‘food’ I can get. Sure, I can supplement with other books, fellowship, sermons from Christian pastors and speakers, etc etc and get partially fed from that, but I need the pure milk of His infallible word to truly fill, satisfy and nourish my hungry soul. The ‘food’ we get from other sources is not what God means by pure milk (1 Peter 2:2). In many cases, this so-called 'food' can poison us and make us sick - preventing growth altogether. There are many other great 'manmade' sources that can inspire us, sharpen us, and encourage us in our walk, but these spiritual 'food sources' are at the very best only a poor replica of the real deal.  No matter how much they enrich such sources with Biblical truths, we have to know that it is still only manmade ‘formula’. We aren't going to grow the way we’re meant to if that’s all we eat.

2   When you’re hungry enough to recognize your lack, it hurts. You’re desperate, you feel abandoned and afraid, and you’ll cry persistently until you can be fed. You know you are dependent on your provider, and you know the only way to get what you need is to cry out in pursuit of that nourishment that you so desperately need. If you're a healthy child of God, you're going to keep crying out to Him until you are fed, because you realize you're His child, that He loves you, that He has what you need, and that He wants to fill you up.

3   Sometimes, our need for God is a subtle downhill slope that drains us very slowly. We grow tired and weary, or busy and distracted, and we don’t notice that we’re getting less and less nourishment from Him. The less we get, the weaker we become. Our cries are half-hearted, and our prayers are faint. We become tired and lazy, to a point of complacency. But we don’t recognize that we are slowly starving and in desperate need of Him.

Through this whole experience with my son, I have witnessed his struggle with great heartache and great hope. I’ve recognized his need for my milk and the strength that it gives to his body. And I’ve felt an intense, passionate desire to fill up his little tummy and keep him satisfied at all times, no matter how often he needs it. To show him that I love him, I’m here for him, and that I never want to see him hungry. And no matter how much it takes from me, I want him to keep pursuing, keep eating – day or night – I never want him growing weary and giving up… I want him to grow, and live, and be strong! And you know what? It makes me proud to know that he is growing and getting strong as a result of this milk that flows from my own bosom.

This is the way I’ve come to see the Lord.

He sacrificed much to meet our needs. He gave up everything for us, and as a result, we have life – and life abundant. After His sacrifice on the cross, He left behind his holy spirit to dwell inside us, making us brand new creations… born again, spiritually speaking. And this new creation cannot live on physical food alone. He left us His word – the Bible – pure, spiritual milk flowing from the very bosom of God - to feed us and make us strong. And He is glorified in that! He gets the glory for our strength, growth, and new life in Him. He loves to see us thriving on the nourishment he provides for us. He’s a proud dad, and he loves us immeasurably, sacrificially, and unconditionally. He knows how much we need Him, and His heart breaks when we become too tired, too lazy, too distracted or too weakened by this world to recognize our need. Or worse yet – when we recognize our need, but in our weakness give up, and stop asking.

He wants us to see that need for Him, and cry out to Him with all we’ve got. If we’ll get the guts to muster up that first, desperate cry, and pursue Him, He will fill us up, and makes us strong. Once we’re thriving in Him, we’ll be aware enough of our need to lay down our own pride, recognize our own weakness and dependency on Him, and go to Him as the constant source of our strength, our life, and our health.

So after all of these life lessons from the Lord, I found myself in church last week during worship time, praying for continued healing of my body and a touch from Him. I had been refueling with His word and was just basically crying out to Him to see me, hear me, and restore me. All of a sudden, while I was trying to focus on the Lord, the dude behind me began speaking out very loudly, which I found a little annoying. I was trying to hear God, not Him! First He addressed Jesus of Nazareth. For any who don’t know, Jesus was born a Jew. Lived in Israel. Spoke Hebrew. Ok, moving on. So over and over, he was proclaiming “Lord, thou art holy, and thy train fills the temple!” (Insert mental eye roll) Was he being overly Christianese or what?  Why, pray tell doth this modern man feel that he must speaketh in the Shakespearean tongue when addressing Jesus of Nazareth? My mind was quickly moving from worship mode to annoyed, borderline rude mode, and I knew it. Gosh, I felt like a jerk. So then I had to stop and repent for being overly critical and judgmental of this guy who likely was raised on the King James Bible and was simply worshiping the Lord in the way he felt was most appropriate and most respectful. I asked God to help me focus on Him and not brother KJ behind me. But there it came again, even louder. “LORD, THOU ART HOLY, AND THY TRAIN FILLS THE TEMPLE!” This time it seemed to stab me – right through the back and into the heart. Immediately I got this mental picture of the woman addressed in the gospels as having “an issue of blood”. If you’ve never read this account, or need a refresher, you can find it in Matthew 9:20-22; Mark 5:25-34; Luke 8:43-48

Basically, it’s about an unnamed woman who was known for her incurable illness (involving ongoing bleeding for 12 straight years).  I assume she was likely anemic, weak and sickly, depleted of all kinds of essential nutrients; but beyond that, based on the way things were at that time it is probable that she would have been labeled ‘unclean’, not permitted to live normally in the town the way other women would – she would probably have been rejected as an outcast due to her condition, and forced to live in a degree of isolation for fear of spreading disease or contamination. I’m sure that after that many years, she must have been beyond desperate. She had spent all of her money on doctors who could not help her – her body was wasting away, she had no money, and probably no support. Her only hope was this seemingly ordinary man from Nazareth, whom she believed to be the promised Messiah. She had determined that because of His great power, all she needed to do was touch the hem of his garment, and she’d be healed. She planned to do this without anyone else knowing; running up behind him and pushing through a mob of other people until she finally could reach out and touch that robe. And sure enough, the faith she had in reaching out to touch him was enough to make her completely whole and healed. Jesus, who was on his way to heal Jairus’ daughter at the time, felt the power flow out of himself and into her. He stopped what he was doing immediately and would not continue on until she had shown herself and confessed what she had done. Fearfully, she came to him and told him her story, confessing it to him in front of the crowd around them. She was afraid of him, and yet he was so pleased with her that he commended her for her great faith, called her ‘daughter’, commissioned her to go in health and in peace, and felt it necessary for her story to be included in the Bible for you and I to learn from.

All of a sudden as I pondered this story, things clicked into place as I thought back to the passage that this man behind me was referencing when he spoke of God’s train filling the temple. In Isaiah 6, the prophet Isaiah describes a very lofty, Kingly God who sits on a throne surrounded by angels and celestial beings. His presence is awe inspiring and fear-inducing. His holiness is astounding and untouchable. Simply being in his presence caused Isaiah to fall to his knees in fear and shame, proclaiming himself as a man of unclean lips – not worthy of even speaking His name. Historically, the length of a man’s robes would indicate his level of honor or importance. Only the most prominent, such as royalty, politically prestigious, high priests, pure brides (hence the long trains that brides wear on their wedding days), etc would have long trains attached to their garments – symbolizing their clout and the fact that they are too lofty to work like regular citizens – instead, they were to be esteemed and served. So when we imagine the Lord God with a train so big and so long that it fills up the entire temple, we see a picture of the most holy, most kingly, most highly esteemed being imaginable – one who would cause any man to fall on his face at the sight of him, with fear and trembling, with honor and with worship for his majesty.

Fast forward to the man who Isaiah would later prophesy about with those same trembling, ‘unclean lips’ he had cried out to His maker with in Isaiah 6. The man who would come as our redeemer, bringing salvation to the Lord. God Himself, in the flesh – our restorer, our savior, and our very humble, very unpredictable King of Kings. Yes, there’s quite the contrast between these two pictures – and yet both images refer to the same, unchanging God. This untouchable, Holy of holies, King above kings, unimaginably awesome God who made you, me, and all the Earth – came down to this world he had made, born into the body of a man, and walked the earth as a perfect, yet humble servant. He chose a body that was nothing special to look at, a family who had no worldly nobility, a life that was short and difficult, and a death that was lonely, horrifying and brutal. He wore normal clothes, with no train to tell of His true kingship and holiness. Yet here was this woman, who knew he was the Lord. He knew He was her only hope for healing and her last chance for salvation. In her heart, despite failure after failure from doctors and medical advisors, she knew that her body could be healed – if only she could reach out and touch the hem of his garment. She pursued him with all the faith and all the hope she could muster up, and when she grabbed hold of that robe, she was instantly healed.

You see, God has been teaching me since my modeling days (contrary to what we see demonstrated in that world) that this body I live in is to be respected and treated as something that belongs to God, created as a vessel that can honor Him. He has taught me that my body is a temple, bought with a price. And in this moment, He showed me that this body is the temple that my Lord – this Holy, incredible, perfect and sinless Lord – actually lives inside. And that train He wears, that this woman needed only to reach out and touch to receive complete restoration and healing? -That train fills the temple.

He is inside me, along with his holiness and his goodness, his great love, and his healing power that can, will, and already has restored me.

The end result?

My midwife has since declared my prolapse resolved, and my body back in proper order.

Not only that, but my baby who had lost almost a pound two weeks ago has gained it all back, and more – he is now over 9lb and gaining by the day.

My physician’s name?

Wonderful counselor.

Mighty God.

Everlasting Father.

Prince of Peace.

Emanuel – God with us.

Savior and Healer.

Redeemer and Restorer.

Risen King.

His name is Jesus Christ, and His name is above EVERY name.

...Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. - Deuteronomy 8:3

Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. - 1 Peter 2:2-3

Lulls before Labor Pains

A few days ago, I had a man approach me randomly and push my protruding belly button (which, like most large, lone buttons seems to stand out as an irresistible beacon to all mankind, screaming “PUSH ME!” -Regardless of the number of layers I am wearing over it…) --he kept his finger on it and held it in as he cheerfully exclaimed “Is it done yet??” – To which he followed with a very tactful “tick, tick, tick - DING!” :)

My husband was with me at the time, and I’m thankful for the humor he imparted as he flashed me a knowing smile, refraining from chuckling as I (as graciously as possible) blurted out one of my rehearsed ‘laugh it off’ responses that I reserve for instances such as these, and then basically ran away. I’m pretty used to these things and for the most part, have learned by now to find humor in it and not let it bother me. Though I must admit to you that after my first baby was born, I spotted a t-shirt once with a picture of the Pillsbury Dough Boy on the front, which stated underneath it in bold letters “Poke me, and die.” 
Since that day, I have been covetous of a maternity shirt like that for pretty much the entire duration of my subsequent pregnancies. It’s true… I’m not a touchy person by any means, and I find it somewhat strange that all of a sudden sharing my body with a second human being gives others the impression that I want to share it with them too. I saw another shirt a few months ago (this time maternity) that looked like it was probably created by a non-huggy mommy like me, which stated: “IF YOU DIDN’T PUT IT THERE, DON’T TOUCH IT.” Ohhh so tempting! However, as I’m trying to get over my personal space issues in an attempt to be more outwardly loving to others (appreciating other love languages that I may or may not share…) and less stand-offish, I decided that I probably shouldn’t buy that one. ;)

Anyway, regardless of whether or not I want strangers poking at the dough, it’s true that in pop-prenatal lingo terms, this bun is just about ready to come out of the oven. Yes, I’ve officially reached the illusive “full term”. At 37 weeks along, my body is technically ready to go into labor at any time… but only God knows when that time is. “Full term” is considered to be a fairly broad span of time at the end of the pregnancy, ranging from 37-42 weeks gestation. And so comes the waiting. Over the last few days, things have finally become very ‘real’ to me – I really am going to have a baby in my arms (rather than on my bladder) in only a little while. It could be a few weeks, or it could be tomorrow. But either way, this is happening. With this realization has come a flood of many multiple feelings ranging from blubbery, to ballistic, to just plain bored. I’ve been doing the typical “nesting” stuff… cleaning all those little things I don’t usually think to clean regularly, washing, organizing and reorganizing baby clothes, cleaning and installing the car seat, etc… I’ve also caught myself thinking and daydreaming about what the baby might look like (Of this much I’m certain: with the genetics he’s taking from my hubby and I he will most certainly have huge lips, a very prominent nose, and no chance of being short), rubbing my belly mindlessly, and telling him I love him. Other times I sort of feel like freaking out. (“4 babies? Can I do this?! Am I insane?”) I often think about how nice it will be to have the full capacity of my lungs back… not to mention my brain (I once could be depended on by my children to find all the random things that go missing in a household… and by my husband, to know where the keys are, etc… Well, gone are those days, along with my short term memory. Last week, after searching for my keys for about twenty minutes, I found myself looking aimlessly into the fridge (because that’s where I end up now when I can’t remember what I was doing before), and found my keys beside the jam. Sigh.) However, most of the time, I’m just really looking forward to officially welcoming him into our family and being able to see this little miracle that thus far I have only known internally.

 No matter how fast a pregnancy may or may not go by, the last few weeks of waiting always seem like an eternity. I’m not a patient person at the best of times, but waiting anxiously for a baby’s arrival is tough stuff. This is what I call the lull before the labor pains, or the calm before the storm. After months of growing – both in girth and in anticipation, everything is ready, and all I can do is wait. When I find myself in times of tested patience and waiting on the Lord for His promises to be fulfilled in my life, (for example in this case, tempted to Google “natural induction methods” in case 3 weeks pass by and baby has still not made his appearance…) I find myself gently reminded of the verse from Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
I think we need these lulls in life in order to force us to just stop, collect our thoughts, and focus back on the prize we are running toward. God knows we will need to keep that perspective when the break is over and the tribulations come. And this is what brings me to my next point – the part that always inevitably follows the “lull”.

 See, with all the waiting and anticipating, I often forget until very close to the time of labor about one quite horrifying little aspect of this whole ‘having a baby’ thing.

 Pain.

 Yeah… that thing we experience during labor… the absolute dread that strikes us after that first horrific contraction hits – realizing in sincere terror that there are more coming, like waves that will only build in intensity, and there’s no way out of it… that writhing, inconceivable pain that we could never possibly imagine or describe to anyone else, regardless of how many babies we’ve birthed… that pain that we endure with weeping and gnashing of teeth, swearing that if we survive it, we will never again be crazy enough to go through it again…

 At least, that’s how it was for me. During the labor of my first baby especially, I remember assuring myself over and over again that I would be able to get through the pain without dying – at least to the point of giving birth - hanging on to the fact that this baby was a gift and a blessing from God, and to the promises and confirmations that He had given me personally surrounding her birth. 

I had gone into what the doctors had told me was preterm labor at 33 weeks, got the steroid shot, and was told she would be born within 24 hours. I started reading my Bible and came to the verse in Malachi 3 where He promises “You will not cast your fruit before it’s time”. Anyone who knows Christ realizes that scripture is living and active, and at that moment, this verse just jumped out on the page for me to grab hold of. In context, it was speaking about how he had rebuked the devourer, and given a promise of completion and harvest to those who had been faithful to the Lord in their tithe and in offering him their ‘first fruits’. I believed I had done this with this child – knowing from the beginning that I was to lift this baby up to God as she belonged to Him, not me – and put the whole pregnancy and birth in His hands as well. Within a day or two, a couple from our church came to visit me in the hospital and shared that very same verse with me as a confirmation of this promise. Long story short, there was a lot of prayer involved and by the grace of God she stayed in there until her time. (And I therefore knew she had ‘a time’, that she would be my ‘harvest’ or my ‘fruit’ that was promised, and that God would be faithful to keep his promises. I had to stay hospitalized for another week and was then put on bedrest until she was full term, but the scripture He had given to me held true, and I knew I could rely on His word and His promises to bring this birth to completion. Being on bedrest was certainly one of those "lulls" in life that was hard to wait through, but it was a necessary lull that I was thankful to have as I waited for the proper time for this new baby to be born. When her time did come, I was very ready for the birth to happen, and far less ready for the pain - though of course, one cannot come without the other, and so I looked forward to the pain (through obvious, natural fear) with a strange joy, seeing it as a prerequisite to the promise that followed.

 During the labor, I focused on Christ. I thought ahead to the promise of this new life ready to be birthed, and I had what I can only really describe as “tunnel vision” – blocking everything and everyone else out of my mind and my sight, pushing through the pain and striving toward that promise. I remember acknowledging the intensity of the pain during all of this and feeling bewildered as to how my body was still in one piece, because it felt as if it were splitting in two – or would do so at any moment. I did say out loud at one point “Everyone says that women forget how much this hurts afterwards, so don’t any of you dare let me forget it, because I don’t want to do this again!!” But just when I cried out to God (out loud) thinking that I couldn’t make it any longer without some kind of drug or medication to ease the pain, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, and the flood of overwhelming joy and thanksgiving that filled up my heart was enough to eliminate all fear and all memory of that pain I felt just minutes before. As she was being birthed, I remember crying out so loudly with joy that I couldn’t even contain it, calling through tears “Thank you God! Thank you God!” like a siren horn, over and over. I don’t know what the practitioners assisting the birth thought of it at the time, but I didn’t care. In my mind, this was His victory, not mine. The promise I’d held on to, He had brought to completion. The miracle I’d known as just a secret pledge inside me was now visible, tangible, and touchable, and all the pain in the world would not have been enough to stop me from doing it all over again, knowing the fruit that had come of it with this new life I now treasured in my arms.

 

Some of us are blessed with children in this lifetime, and those who are know the joy I have just described – the joy of suffering what is arguably the greatest pain imaginable to the human brain in order to gain what is the greatest earthly gift we could ever fathom. It helped me during my previous labor experiences to remember that God had built my female body with the purpose of giving birth to children in mind… therefore, even if my logical mind couldn’t fathom getting through it, I knew deep within me that the workmanship behind my body could be trusted. Granted, thanks to the consequences of sin, the pain I must endure in order to see this new life birthed is now inexpressibly dreadful and difficult. If there were a way to give birth naturally with no pain, I’d take it. In fact, many who have given birth can probably attest to at some point crying out for someone to take away the pain – whether through medical intervention, or (in my case) through a desperate call to God to take this excruciating burden away.

 Does this sound familiar?

 Whether it sounds familiar to you or not, I know someone who can not only relate to these feelings, but bring me to my knees in humility as I contemplate the magnitude of His story in contrast to mine. His story is one of the greatest victory ever accomplished – a story of the most miraculous life ever given to mankind. His story is also my story, because He has brought this new life to me, and I am now alive because of it. But as with any new life born, there are birth pains. Pains that make me re-examine the wording I used in the previous paragraph when I described the burden of my labor pain as “excruciating”. Do I even realize the meaning behind that word? One thing I know – He certainly does. This word “excruciating” originates from the Latin excruciatus, past participle of excruciare, which literally means “to crucify”. The word cruc is from crux, which means “cross”. So excruciating pain describes a torturous, agonizing pain synonymous with the physical horrors that Christ would have undergone during his crucifixion as his wrists and ankles were literally nailed to a wooden cross, shattering bone and piercing through flesh, and then enduring on that cross as it was erected vertically – his body hanging from it as his limbs were stretched and pulled out of joint by the weight of it. Before he was crucified, Jesus was beaten and marred to the point where he was almost unrecognizable (Isaiah 52:13-15), with scars all over his body. He was stripped of all dignity, naked and taunted by his accusers as they spat on him, ridiculed him, and formed a wreath of sharp thorns into a crown for his head, which they cruelly pressed into his temples as they mocked the notion of his kingship and authority.

The night before all this happened, Jesus found himself in the garden of Gethsemane, praying on his knees to the Father for Him to take this burden away from Him. Although to his disciples, it appeared that this was a time of peace – a lull, if you will – Jesus was very aware of the pain he was about to undergo for the sake of his mission. No one could have anticipated what he was about to endure, but He, being the Spirit of God within the body of a man, knew exactly what He was in for. He was perfect – He was good. Truly good – unlike me, and unlike any person ever born – Having never sinned even once in his entire life – being just and gentle, honorable and kind, wise, forgiving, and blameless in every way – with love for humanity that is completely without merit, and surpasses all understanding… because we had made ourselves His enemies. Despite all this, this Lord of Heaven -whom angels worship and winds and waters obey - came humbly to this earth and became like one of His own weak creations, to take that curse we had laid upon ourselves and put it instead upon Himself. He came to die as a consequence for our sin in order to save us from our fate and bring us new life. He knew even before He came that because of the curse of this sin, the ‘labor pains’ he would endure for the sake of salvation and new birth would be humanly unfathomable. Yet despite all He knew as God in the flesh, all He had chosen to do, all He desired and looked forward to with joy, and all He was about to accomplish through the sacrifice He would willingly make, He still had a weak, human body just like you and I - and He was unquestionably afraid. More than afraid, really. The Bible says that He was filled with so much anxiety and dread of what was to come that He actually sweat blood, which is a phenomenon that only happens in the most extreme cases of physical stress known to humanity. (See this article for more info) Yes, Jesus had to undergo this pain for us as a man, not in the form of all-powerful, invincible God – but as a human vessel – to serve once and for all as a sacrifice for all mankind. He literally came to be crushed for our iniquities, in order to spare us from the fate that we, as people who live in (and are therefore slaves to) sin – were doomed to under the law of Moses (the ten commandments) – knowing that we no longer have the ability to save ourselves through works, because no one is ‘good’. We are all flawed, and we are all enemies of God, whether we know it or not, because of our hearts which are bent toward rebellion against Him. Jesus came to change all this. He is the Light of the world. Without Him, we are blind – we are dead in sin. This is why He tells us “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” He came humbly to the earth, not as a triumphant king but as a tiny miracle inside a young, scared, flawed woman’s virgin womb.
And He was born not like ‘Superbaby’, but just like all of us are born – naked, hungry, and dependent. In fact, even his birth showed the nature of his humility, born in a barn full of smelly animals, to two scared young parents who had no experience with even conceiving a baby yet – let alone delivering one – birthed on a bed made of hay. (How’s that for ‘unassisted?’ He didn’t even get a home-birth or a midwife!) Jesus had a body just like you and I do, and though this was his sole purpose in growing up as a human being and living on this earth as a man, in no way did he desire to undergo the pain and tribulation that was set before him. As he prayed for hours of intense anxiety in that garden, He even cried out to God “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me.” (Sound familiar?) But he followed it immediately with “Yet not my will, but your will be done.”

 In this lifetime, whether we are male or female, single or married, parents or not, we will experience lulls before labor pains – periods of time where life seems stagnant, and waiting on God feels like a torturous eternity of monotony. We can feel dry and discouraged if we lose our focus – which is Christ – and focus on ourselves, with such limited human vision. We can look at our lives with frustration at circumstances that seem unchanging, dreams conceived but still not born, and work that seems to be fruitless. This is the time that we are called to submit to His leadership and rest in Him… to be still, and know that HE is God.

 What inevitably follows these lulls in life tends to be something that no one wants to talk about – and that is pain. No one wants to wait, and no one wants to deal with hardships, but nowhere in the Bible does it tells us we can get through this life without those difficult trials if we want to grow and experience true life in Christ. In fact, He actually promises us that we will suffer trials and tribulations because of the curse of sin in this world we live in. 
But He also promises us that we will overcome, because He has overcome the world. 

 And so, in this ‘race’ we run here on this earth, we look to Christ as our prize and our victory. We already know the outcome of our labor – and that is life. Everlasting, abundant, beautiful, perfect life through Jesus who overcame sin and death for our sake. If He is your Lord and your Savior, you (though once dead because of sin) have died with Him in all His suffering. These trials and tribulations, this sin in our bodies that we struggle against, and these enemies we face in life have all been dealt with by Christ Himself, and with Him, we will come out victorious. Don’t forget that He not only died for us – He rose again, conquering death. We (not our physical bodies, which will pass away like everything else, but WE) have been resurrected with Him, given new life. The old has passed away, and we are new, pure, blameless creations in Christ! We are born again and living in freedom, grace, and amazing love – not because of anything we have achieved or endured, but because of the labor that HE endured to bring us to life in Him, bringing joy to our Father in Heaven.

 In John 16:21-22, we see Jesus speaking to his disciples and foreshadowing the time of mourning they would experience during his death and burial, as they awaited his resurrection. He had just informed them that he would be leaving them, though they did not know all the details. He told them they would see him again, but they didn’t know where he was going, or for how long. They were greatly disturbed about losing Jesus and walking through life without Him. But He explains “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." Jesus knew the joy that was before Him, and He also knew the pain that was before Him. Yet, He was able to keep His perspective, just as He instructs us to do as we follow Him.

 Hebrews 12:1-3 says “Let us lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

 Labor pains will almost always come before the most incredible life-giving miracles and God-given transformations we will ever experience. But we can look ahead to Christ as the founder and perfecter of our faith, who gives us the power and ability to endure all things – because He endured all things for us. And so, whether you are in a lull, or walking through a time of tribulation and pain, or whether you have just experienced the joy of new birth in your life circumstances, I hope you will keep your eyes fixed on the one who is the way, the truth, and the life we all seek – He is the prize we are running for.

 So, I’ll share the mantra I’ll be repeating to myself in a matter of time when this lull ends and my labor pain begins: Keep breathing, keep pushing, and keep focused!

 Love and blessings! xo

Cravings

 I'm currently 35/40 weeks pregnant with baby #4, and this little guy was a big surprise to my husband and I, who were not planning to add any more 'arrows' to our quiver any time quite so soon, with so many other life changing events happening at this time. We found out that I was pregnant just before celebrating the new year (despite 'preventative measures'), and after the initial shock had set in, we lifted him up to the Lord as a very special New Years blessing indeed. After all, what gift could possibly be greater than new life? In hindsight, after discovering I'd been pregnant for several weeks before seeing that big pink + sign appear, I realized that there were a few signs I probably should have taken note of... for example, the chocolates sitting on the buffet table after Christmas dinner with family didn't seem to compare at all to the selection of meat on the table beside it... ("Can I just have more meat for dessert?") and later, at home, there was at least a week or two where my regular pb&j on toast or oatmeal breakfast staples seemed so unappetizing that I couldn't even entertain the option of eating that for breakfast... instead, I was drawn to the pantry where to my delight, I found a SAMs club case full of cans of my husband's beef pot roast stew.  Mmmm. Protein and sodium. Now that's a hearty breakfast!

Most women who are or have been pregnant can probably relate with me when I say that throughout my entire pregnancy thus far, I've pretty much had a one track mind. I don't have many cravings, but there is one that's been persistent since pretty much day one. And the object of my affections? The Hardees 1/3 lb. Mushroom & Swiss ThickBurger. Oh yeah. 800 calories of beef and cheesy bliss. It's probably a good thing that we are on a tight budget and very rarely eat out, or else I probably would have become an 800 lb thickburger myself by now. I've had two or three through the pregnancy, but I'm convinced that even if I ate one every day, I'd still wake up at 4am and realize I'd been dreaming about eating one. Last night I thought about how strange I must be  for literally having dreams about cheeseburgers. It was then that I remembered this classic Veggie Tales song that to me, pretty much captivates the ridiculousness of my pregnant state. Check it out for a good giggle!


I think it's pretty amusing to my husband that I've become so enthralled by this one item of food, and honestly if I wasn't so serious about that cheeseburger I'm sure I'd find it funny too. I find the whole 'science' between pregnancy cravings quite interesting, because there actually does seem to be SOME merit behind these sudden and seemingly random desires that our bodies have for certain foods. Obviously, my body (pregnant or not) does not actually need a mushroom and swiss burger... there are no internal signals built inside me that indicate I am in dire need of 1/3 pound of grilled meat topped with fat, grease, bread and 1/2 a pound of condiments. However, my body could very well be signalling my brain that I need to up my intake of iron and protein - known to be crucial nutrients during pregnancy, and nutrients which I probably wasn't getting quite enough of in my daily diet before conception. Another example would be the stereotypical "pickles and ice cream" craving. There is no way that anyone - and I mean ANYONE needs to be dipping baby dills into their Ben & Jerry's. But it's quite possible that any woman insane enough to desire such a thing (and pregnancy does make us slightly insane...) actually needs more calcium and sodium in her diet.

I've described my cravings for Mushroom Swiss Burgers to you in jest, and I promise I am not actually to the point of breaking out into a serenade by the Hardees window a-la Mr Lunt (yet). But I can admit that during pregnancy, I think a lot more about food than is typically normal for me. I go through phases where I'm not overly hungry at all, except maybe for beef (hello first trimester)... and then feeling a little queasy (and guilty for the lack of nutrients I've consumed) after eating nothing but beef all day, to phases where all I seem to do is eat all day long, wondering if I'm eating way too much, and then reaching a point of being hungry all the time but having no room to put it all because the baby is compressing my stomach to what feels about the size of a lima bean... causing belly upset and heart burn... so then I have to pick and choose wisely as I wonder about every food I eat and whether or not I have room for it, or whether it will cause indigestion if I eat it. Sigh. I guess that Hardees Burger would probably need to be attacked with a knife and fork over the course of 24 hrs at this point in my pregnancy.

This is all funny and cute for pregnant women, but there was a time in my life when thoughts of food felt like more of a dark plague to my mind than anything innocent or cute. When I was working as a model, part of my job was to scrutinize food and keep tabs on everything I ate. Every bite, every choice, every calorie. I literally was expected to measure up to a certain cookie-cutter standard of body type, which meant that real cookies were pretty much out of the picture, along with cheeseburgers or anything else that wasn't lettuce... yes, food became a sort of forbidden fruit. And we all know what happens to sinful human beings when it comes to forbidden fruit - temptation. Cravings. A sudden struggle between covetousness and self control. I watched these cycles many times with the other girls I worked with. In one way or another, food became some kind of an addiction - also known as an idol. Whether it was an addiction to binging on certain foods to succumb to the cravings (either to end up forfeiting their jobs as models or to delve into a second addiction to purging the food after eating) or a twisted game of control over their own bodies as they continually denied themselves these "forbidden fruits", starving themselves of essential calories and nutrients for the purpose of self glorification, one way or another, food was a source of bondage and slavery. Nearing the end of my career and well beyond in the time after I quit the modeling industry, I was very disturbed by the things I had seen in my time there and the way that this lifestyle corrupted the minds and the spirits of so many young women. I especially found it disturbing because I could see the affects it'd had on me, despite my efforts to shield myself from it and the fact that I was not blind to the idols surrounding the industry that so many cling to. It made me angry when long after I was finished with that line of work, I would still naturally find myself making note of the basic calories I was eating, or if stepping on the scale would produce a certain initial panic when I saw that I was a few pounds heavier than my model "standard" was supposed to be weeks or months or years before...  or when I would indulge in a yummy food choice only to feel guilty and shameful afterwards. I knew this was not normal.

I remember one time when I was in NYC for fashion week (and basically eating a steady diet of lettuce, tomatoes and boiled eggs for at least 3 weeks straight) I found myself thinking that if only I could eat a piece of chocolate fudge cheesecake or something delicious like that, I'd feel satisfied. After several days of allowing thoughts of chocolate fudge consume me, I broke down and went to starbucks, bought a brownie, and ate every single crumb. It was delicious, and it tasted especially good after eating such bland foods for so long. But somehow, when it was gone, I still felt the same. My belly was a little fuller, but I was still empty. My taste buds were more awake, but I still didn't feel very alive. It was a sad moment.

Several days later, in my prayer time I found myself crying out to God for help. I felt like I was running on a hamster wheel instead of running the race He had set before me. I didn't know why I was there and I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be home with my baby and my family, and I didn't see any fruit from working in this field that would benefit them in any way. Beyond that, I felt lost. It was such a dark world, and I could only take so much of it on my own. I wanted to be a light there, but it seemed like the dark was beginning to snuff me out. I felt like I was in a slimy pit that I couldn't seem to get out of, and I could feel my mind becoming cloudy and dark as I battled with lies that attacked me. I cried out to God for light, direction, and truth, knowing that He is the only one that can give it, because He IS the Light, the truth... the way... the life.

By His grace, God has continued to teach me more and more about Himself, breaking chains of deception, corruption, sin, condemnation and other such burdens that I picked up through subjecting myself to that lifestyle I worked within. He has taught me so many things, but the one I want to really focus on today is the concept of food. When you read this, I pray you will not look at all of this literally as simply food, but think about it in terms of what you allow yourself to feed on. One of my favourite quotes is by CS Lewis, who once said "You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." We are spiritual beings, and though we have physical bodies that feed on physical foods, we must understand that we also 'feed' on intangible or spiritual things - and, just like with physical foods, sometimes the things we find ourselves craving or feeding on are not healthy for us. I'm sure you can think of someone who clearly feeds on gossip. Or perhaps someone who feeds on the attention of others, or the approval of man, or "good feelings" she can find wherever she can get them - constantly chasing the satisfaction those warm fuzzies can bring. Perhaps you know someone who feeds on bitterness and anger, and it consumes them. Perhaps it's success, or perhaps it's carnal lust, or perhaps it's an addiction to alcohol, drugs, sugar, shopping, or cheeseburgers. Whatever it is that we chase after and feed ourselves with - whatever we are consumed by - that becomes an object of worship in our minds and spirits. We will reap it and sow it. We will grow in it... one way or the other.

You know, food is a good thing. (If you don't believe me, go to Hardees, and take a bite of their Swiss Mushroom ThickBurger.) It is a gift from God, made to bring nourishment to our flesh and to sustain physical life on this earth. He gave us a variety of foods to choose from and gave us taste buds in order to enjoy foods as a small source of pleasure. In moderation and in it's proper place, food is certainly something good and worthy of thankfulness to our Father who gives it to us. And no food that God has given is meant to be subjected to worthless, 'religious' rules (separate from what the Bible teaches) that we set for ourselves as we deny them as if it's sinful to eat them, or raise them up like idols as if any particular food will bring us real richness of life or true satisfaction. When we were without Christ, many things seemed wise as far as what we should seek, what we should achieve, what we should eat, what we should not eat, what we should look like and aspire to, and so on. We have a common mindset in this world that self control is something that measures a person's strength and gives them personal power. I believe we all want that control, whether it's over food, over our own feelings, over our lives and circumstances, over other people, etc. But we who know Christ must realize that we will always lose the power struggle if we choose to do things on our own, and by our own 'wisdom' (which to God is mere foolishness) - we must realize that we are actually NEVER in control of ourselves. We either allow God to have the authority, or we submit ourselves to the control of our own flesh, which may at first feel like we've got the reigns, but will quickly prove to be a snare for us as we realize that we are more than just our bodies, and we as spiritual beings have become captive to our flesh. The things we choose for ourselves as methods of control over our own minds and bodies have an appearance of wisdom but have absolutely no power over our flesh, which always fights to be in control of us, and can only be overcome when we submit ourselves under the authority of Christ, whose Holy Spirit now dwells in us and gives us power and wisdom over all these things. Colossians 2:20-23 describes it well.
"If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—“Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch”(referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh."

 So, we can't stop the indulgence of the flesh. We have no actual power over it. As Christians, according to the above passage, we have died to the elemental spirits of the world. We are not 'alive in the world' but have been born again, so that we are now alive in Christ. This means that we have achieved life through the Spirit of Christ... our sin was crucified with him at the cross, and our old selves were buried with Him in the grave. He left behind his grave clothes on the 3rd day and walked out of that tomb robed in white, with victory over death and everlasting life as the King and ultimate authority over all things. In the same way, so we were raised with Him, and are called to leave our old grave clothes behind, walking with the same holiness and the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. It's easy to look behind at that dark grave where we were once dead in our wounds, poisoned by sin, bound by grave clothes and laying in defeat. But yet, here we are, alive, cleansed, new, and walking in the Light. We need to stop looking back at our old selves and our old way of living, realizing that we really weren't alive at all when we lived for our own flesh. We are called to lay those things aside, and fix our eyes on Christ.

 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." - Hebrews 12:1-2

 Jesus, before he was crucified, raised a lot of eyebrows and freaked a lot of (blind) people out when he made this statement about 'real food', found in John 6. I encourage you to read the whole chapter to grasp the full context, but I will summarize with this passage from verses 53-58 :
"Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread that your forefathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.”

Obviously, despite the offense of many of his hearers, Jesus was not suggesting that his disciples model themselves after Hanibal Lecter and begin gnawing on His toes. Jesus was referring to us as Spiritual beings who are in great need of nourishment by the body of Christ. In order to feed this new spirit inside us, we need to be feasting daily on Christ - who is the word of God who became flesh. ("In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:1-5) We need constant communion with Him by reading His word and engaging with Him in prayer. He is the life within us, and this is what must be nourished above all else. This is especially true when we find ourselves tempted by the "cravings" of anything other than Him. When Jesus was tempted in the desert, He attacked Satan with the words "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God" (Matthew 4:4). Likewise, we are commanded not to obsess about these earthly things or to worry about them. One more verse:

 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." - Matthew 6:25-33

 God is the one who gives us all these earthly things in the first place, and He will continue to provide for our needs, and to direct our path as far as the steps we should take as we operate in the flesh and do His will on this earth. It's all about Him, not us! Fixing our eyes on those things will only bring trouble. Let's beware of idols in our lives, and continue to fix our eyes on Christ alone.

 So, today as I opened the fridge and stared at the tupperware container full of cold, leftover brown beans, trying my best to push thoughts of hot beef, mushrooms, and swiss cheese out of my head and at the same time repenting for covetousness over things I don't really need, God has reminded me of something very important. Sometimes, just like in pregnancy, we crave specific man made things with perceived wisdom or urgency, thinking that this is what we really need to satisfy us. But in the end, these cravings can often be masking an actual god-given need for real, true, life bringing nutrients. Sometimes we feel an emptiness or a craving within us that indicates a need for spiritual meat, and instead of looking to Christ as the provider and sustainer of spiritual life, we stay in our flesh and look at physical solutions and substitutes that we can attempt to stuff ourselves with instead.

In other words, when I feel overwhelmed by toys left all over the floor, a big pile of laundry, bottomless kids whining for more food when they've just cleaned out the fridge, bills weighing on our family, an unfinished house or whatever else is going on in my day, and find myself daydreaming of money, cuddle time with my husband, more friends, a shopping excursion or a big cheeseburger to make all my cares melt away, I am to recognize that all those earthly things - though they can be great things and do bring temporary pleasure, are not 'real food'. I am to take all those thoughts captive and reject them as false wisdom - fixing my eyes on Christ and running to His word, and not the things of this world, to fill myself up. We must continue feeding ourselves with spiritual food in order to grow and increase our strength in Him. And as we do this, He will draw us nearer and nearer to Him, bringing light, truth, and direction to our path, and increasing our joy and our faith as we live out this life craving (and indulging in!) more and more of Him.

Beauty for Ashes - A story of upside-down worldviews

Yesterday, my husband asked me to return a wood-stove installment kit to Home Depot for him while he was at work. As a homeschooling mom of (almost) 4, my children and I are currently enjoying a lovely summer break here in the southwest USA, just like the rest of the kids in the country are doing. With no school schedule in the way, I’m able to run these types of errands for my husband while he’s at work without any disruption to our day and still complete the rest of my household work (more or less) before he gets home. I try to get everything done before 6 these days so we can have family time together each evening, so we can work roughly the same hours and then enjoy each other the rest of the night. My hubby is a homebody, and I’m a social butterfly, so we meet in the middle by spending most evenings together as a family but keeping a few nights a week open for social time. However, because I like to be out and about, I must confess that now that we’re living in the country, having an excuse to load all the kids up into the van and take a trip into town can be kind of a fun adventure. Yes, I know the thoughts that many people could have in response to those first few sentences. Stay at home mom? Running errands “for” your husband? Taking a trip into town is a fun adventure? 4 children? You poor, sheltered woman! 
My career-minded acquaintances often look at me with such pity when I say these kinds of things. Somehow, many women today seem to view a professional career as freedom, where as working from home seems sexist and demeaning toward women. They find power and identity in their roles in the workplace, but a stay at home mom is often viewed as a weak minded woman or wasted potential – as if submitting herself to the authority of a loving husband is slavery – showing her to be some kind of a doormat, where as submitting herself under the authority of an emotionally disinterested man in an office setting makes her independent and worthy of respect.

In my pride, I often get angry about those pitiful glances or ignorant tongue in cheek (or sometimes just flat out blatant) comments from people. I say that my anger comes from pride, because usually I’m not operating in “righteous anger” which would be justified… but out of haughtiness, because I like to feel respected and strong, and I don’t like people patronizing me or incorrectly judging my role. There have been a few rare times when I believe I’ve had some glimpses of ”righteous anger” in this area because I know that this is the role God has called me to, and has blessed me with. It is not something to be pitied, and I know it. I know that my role as a wife and a mom is not easy, and that laying myself down daily for others is not something that comes naturally to me – it’s tough work! It does take quite a bit of strength, and I believe that according to the Bible, my ‘title’ is worthy of respect – though I should not demand or expect it from people.  

So, with all that being said and a little more insight into who I am (or at least what I do and what I think about it), I’ll return to my little excursion to Home Depot yesterday.

It was a typical outing. At 1:30, after we’d all finished eating our beans and grilled cheese sandwiches, I told the kids it was time to go. By 2:15, they had all finally finished cleaning up their places at the lunch table, washed their faces, brushed their teeth, gone potty once or twice, put their shoes on, put their shoes on again – this time on the correct feet, hemmed and hawed about which toy they should each bring along for the car ride, and eventually piled into the van. My husband had already loaded the (very large) box into the van for me, not wanting me to lift it as I am pregnant. But when I arrived at Home Depot there were no workers available to help me lift it out (much to my frustration, as I’d told my hubby I would ask someone to help me). In fact, there were hardly any workers on staff at all, other than the tiny woman at the customer service desk and the elderly gentleman at one of the checkout isles that looked about the same height as the box in my van due to his diminishing posture. So, I grabbed a cart, grabbed my 3 kids, and back out we went to the van with each child holding on to the cart as we all walked very awkwardly across the parking lot, with me trying to push the cart at an adult’s speed and all my kids with various-lengthed legs shuffling along with it and stepping on each others’ feet, like a big demented caterpillar. 

 (Yes, we are pretty much always a spectacle now whenever we go out.) I was happy to find that the box was actually not very heavy – just very large and cumbersome… so sliding it into the cart was not concerning to me as much as it was… well, awkward. As I slid it inch by inch, slowly and gently in a way that I knew would be most honoring to my husband’s wishes (when I wanted to just pick the thing up and chuck it in the cart), I felt like a whale attempting to get my arms around it with my big belly in the way, instructing my little helpers (who were all now more interested in using the cart as an object of tug-o-war rather than in helping me) to hold the cart in place for me as I balanced the box on top of it. My youngest daughter then tugged on my shirt and pointed hesitantly to the left of us. I looked up to see two men in a truck right beside us, grinning ear to ear at us from the open window and chuckling as if we were grand entertainment. It was all I could do to smile back at them rather than waddle over there and smack them both.

Now at 34 weeks pregnant, I feel a little like a really fat Clint-Eastwood… moseying around with that signature frozen-hipped swagger, with wincing eyes and tight lips due to the bowling ball between my legs and the excess hormones in my blood. Good thing I don’t own a gun.

So here I was rolling the cart in and around the store, huffing and waddling with my little symbiotic entourage gripping on to the sides. When I arrived at the customer service desk, my children began chiming in unison their pleas to be set free from the cart and allowed to play beside me. I gave my consent, but reminded them of the rules, and they nodded vigorously as they happily began engaging in a lively game of princesses and superheroes. Once it was finally my turn to speak to the woman at the counter, I had to interrupt our (very long) conversation once or twice to remind my children of the rules again (“inside voices guys”, “hands off the display case guys” and later “You JUST went to the bathroom… You can hold it!”) Around this time, a smug looking lady strolled by and shook her head at me. “I sure don’t envy you!” She chortled. Enter the Clint Eastwood eyes and the pregnancy hormone charged blood beginning to boil a little.

I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me as I saw my own pride creeping at the doorway of offense. I looked down at my children, who had all heard what she said, and gave them each a little smile. Then I looked up at her and answered loudly “It’s all worth it.” When we got back into the van and began driving home, I thought about what the woman had said, and about how far the Lord has brought me over the course of the last 10 years. God has changed my life radically in this time period, and is continuing to teach me so much about worldly ‘treasure’ VS true and lasting treasure in Him. He has shown me that the wisdom of the world is completely upside down – that the things we chase after in our flesh are meaningless – promising satisfaction and richness of life, but leading only to destruction. But the things of the Spirit – the treasure that only He can offer us – that is what brings truth, victory, fullness of joy and peace… this is where we find life. I know this, because I have been on both ends of the spectrum. I have experienced earthly “success”, and the death and decay that it brings, and I have experienced true freedom, life and victory through the knowledge of Jesus Christ and the relationship I now have with Him – something I would not trade for all the riches of the world.

Not long ago, I was living a much different life than I am now here in the Bible Belt of good ol’ USA. I wasn’t known to outsiders as that awkward, scatterbrained mom of a multitude waddling through Home Depot with a beach ball between her legs and a Clint Eastwood glint in her eye. In fact, I was viewed as much the opposite. Graceful. Glamorous. Successful. Powerful. My profession put me on a sort of pedestal to those who were gullible enough to be disillusioned by it – after all, the whole aim of my job was to convince the women around me that I was exactly who they should aspire to be. I was a professional model, working internationally between Toronto and New York – walking runways, posing for magazines, shooting commercials, you name it. A little different than the woman described in the first few paragraphs.

One day, while working in Toronto I was walking down the street when I was approached by two very enthusiastic college students who were enthralled by the work of one of the young and very successful photographers that I worked with regularly. He had attended the same college as these two students and had risen to fame very quickly, shooting for very prestigious magazines and becoming well known in the industry and the fashion world. By the time he was 19, he had it all by the world’s standards, and became somewhat of an idol to many of the other photography students at the college he graduated from. This photographer (who I had a soft spot for and loved dearly, but who was secretly a very sad individual who eventually ended up committing suicide – shortly after this encounter) worked with me often during the beginning of his career, and many of the photo shoots we did together contributed to his rising fame. He favored my particular look and had referred to me as “his muse” in an interview he had done with the college, and the girl and guy that approached me seemed to view me in the same way. They ran up to me excitedly, calling me by name, though I had never met either of them. I was surprised, because models are not normally known by their names. We are usually just faceless, nameless, voiceless mannequins used by the media to be whatever they want us to be. They both began to explain that they were photography students who basically idolized the work of this photographer, and that they both thought I was “amazing”. They asked to take a cell phone picture with me, and then before hurrying off in typical Torontonian fashion, one of them said “I totally envy you.” 

I remember feeling bewildered and disappointed as I watched these two (clearly blind) people run off so full of energy, knowing that they were running in vain, on a wheel that would not satisfy. After all, that was how I felt. I knew Christ, and I knew that this world I worked in was a stark contrast to the life and the fullness I could only have in Him. It was sad, scary and discouraging at times to be so immersed in a world full of darkness that so obviously idolized the flesh… always chasing the wind – fashions that change daily, body types that are not naturally attainable (even to the models that flaunt them), foods or pills or products that make empty claims and promises, success, money, fame – all these things used as bait by our enemy, only to enslave minds and bodies in an endless cycle of chasing and never reaching, of bowing down to worthless gods that end up disappointing or betraying them, and constantly filling and filling their aching stomachs with empty ash that never satisfies. And I as someone who professed Christ – the Light of the world - was supposed to be a tool to promote all this. This was my job. I was the unattainable object for women to aspire to be, or the voice in the ad convincing them of the next product they must covet, or the body that showcased the style of fashion that they should pour out their money for, and replicate as soon as possible. At this time, I had begun to feel convicted about my role in all of this and to ask God for a purpose in all of it, which would somehow bring Glory to Him rather than glorifying my flesh or the power of the industry. I did find opportunities to share my faith with photographers, makeup artists and other models, but it was easy to grow weary without seeing any fruit from it. Eventually, God did use this dark time in my life and turn it into something good, leading me into authoring a blog about modeling the truth of real, lasting, spiritual beauty to our culture, as a contrast to the lies of the modeling industry that I knew so well. I had a speaking ministry that followed the blog, and was able to minister to women of all ages about real truth, real beauty, and the gospel of Christ. But at this time, this was only a mere seed in my mind, and as the opportunity left me I was left on the sidewalk speechless, sad and frustrated, having offered no words of truth to these people as they blindly assumed that my job (for that’s all they saw when they saw me) was something worth envying.

Thinking about the distinction between this picture from the past and this scenario from yesterday, I am both grateful and saddened to be able to see the way that the world has skewed what true success and value mean. The kids on the sidewalk envied me because of their perception of my lifestyle – they assumed because I was a model that I possessed fame, success, and a glamorous lifestyle that they had grown to think was something of great value. They assumed that because I was called a “muse”, my particular look must be regarded as more beautiful than another, and therefore I must be worth more than someone of a different look or body type. But these are all such lies. In the same way, the woman who told me yesterday that she did not envy me, said so because of her perception of my lifestyle as a stay-at-home mother of 3 (soon to be 4). I am often subtly criticized by strangers and well meaning friends/family members for the choices I have made in my role as a homeschooling mom – especially when they know that I gave up my “career” in modeling in order to commit myself to my husband and my children, and to my Lord, Jesus Christ – who I feel was calling me out of that lifestyle and convicting me of several aspects of that job that were not glorifying (nor able to glorify) Him. This world is all about glorifying ourselves. When we live lives that seem to suggest that we are “not living up to our own personal potential” as far as careers, success, personal glory or happiness, etc., people will view us as a sort of failure – or at least, they will find us somewhat bewildering. That is because the things that God tells us are good are not seen that way to the world. In fact, the world’s ways are completely opposite – making those who follow God seem like the ones who are deluded. And indeed, I’ve experienced that too. We’re often viewed as radicals or lunatics – and even more unsettling, we are becoming increasingly viewed as evil. Therefore, the treasure we seek as Christians – to those who have not found it themselves, is not seen for what it is and cannot be viewed as good or valuable to them. Yet the things that the world chases are so absolutely meaningless. Not only that – they are deceptive, devoid of light – and lives lived apart from the light can only bring darkness, despair and death to us in the end. They promise sweetness, but only bring bitterness. They promise happiness, but in the end deliver woe. Isaiah 5:20 says "Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight!" 
Living for earthly gain is like chasing after the wind, only to end up tired and empty handed, or filling our stomachs with ash in an attempt to find fullness. But without the truth of Christ, we are all deluded. We look to idols of the world to find a satisfaction that will never come. 

Isaiah 44 speaks about the futile cycle of a person who has created an idol for himself, believing a lie that he should put his trust and invest his life in something man-made, rather than in the one who gave him life in the first place, and the only one who can ever give life to those who are spiritually dead, empty and hungry for something that will truly fill them. In verse 20 it describes his hopeless state, for he is so deluded by the darkness of this world that he can’t even see that the idol he clings to is nothing but a lie. Isaiah writes: He feeds on ashes; a deluded heart has led him astray, and he cannot deliver himself or say, “Is there not a lie in my right hand?” I remember the first time that God brought those haunting words to life in my heart when I read Jesus’ words in Mark 8:36… “For what does it profit a man, if he gains the whole world, but in doing so, forfeits his soul?” Yesterday, in my devotional time I went back to Matthew and read the parable Jesus told, illustrating the kingdom of Heaven. He said “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” (Matthew 13:44-46) In other words, before finding the truth of Christ, we’re all like these merchants searching and hunting for something of true value that we can hang on to. Merchants are constantly buying, selling and trading – looking for the next great find in order to increase their wealth. But once we find the truth – which is the gospel of Christ – we recognize that it is of matchless value. It is different from anything we can find or attain in this world… no earthly treasures can compare. Once we find this one pearl (for we know that there is only ONE truth – ONE way… ONE promise that delivers life, and life abundant), we sell everything else for it. We get rid of all those other things we once treasured and prized and chased after – recognizing that the value we placed on them was false… they were worthless in comparison... we see the idol in our hand, and we recognize it for what it is. A lie. One we are more than willing to cast aside for the sake of this precious pearl.

It's been a long journey – one that I haven’t even begun to describe. I have many more things I want to share, and I will seek the Lord’s direction as to how to go about it, because I hope to use this blog for His purposes rather than my own. I was reluctant to begin a blog again after closing the last chapter of my life and the blog I was maintaining at that time, and beginning this new chapter of life in a new country, with a restored family, a baby on the way and so many other things on my mind. But my very wise and wonderful husband has been catching me bored at night after all is done, playing “words with friends” or some other pointless time-killer… and encouraged me to start again. I do have a sincere desire to serve as a mentor for women and girls, and I believe God put that in my heart while I was modeling. But now I am a foreigner in a new land, I’ve started from scratch, I have no real peer group, and I have left behind my career as a model and all that went along with that. I started my first blog after seeing a very real demand for truth and after being approached multiple times by young girls who were in awe of me for all the wrong reasons. Somehow, these days as the disheveled beached whale with the ketchup stain on my big protruding belly & the brood of little kids around me needing to go to the bathroom in Home Depot, I don’t get approached much by star-struck teenagers looking for an autograph. So when my husband suggested I start blogging again, I was at first very skeptical that I could have any positive impact on anyone, or that I’d have any readers at all. After all, since I chose to give up that “glamorous” lifestyle that women were so drawn to me for, I am a nobody as far as the world is concerned now. What would anyone be drawn to my blog for? Why would they be interested in my life, or anything I have to say? Well, after that incident with Ms Non-Envious yesterday which you would think would only reinforce my previous assumptions, I was instead reminded that God likes to use nobodies to show his glory – often more so than he does “somebodies”. And so, I will willingly and thankfully count myself a nobody in order to proclaim His greatness. And the impact I make, if there is an impact, will certainly not be mine, but God’s. I’ll start here, by sharing that this woman I am now is far more beautiful in the eyes of God and in my own eyes than I ever was as a fashion model or anything else. And that is because my old self was dead – a whitewashed tomb… a painted corpse. The spirit inside me is a pearl of matchless worth and of great beauty, and I have learned to count all those things I once had as loss. They have been turned to ash, along with the rest of my former life. And through God’s mercy, He has given me beauty in their place.