"Fight, Fight, Fight"

The challenge was made, the time was set, two sides would meet and it would be settled. At first an hour seemed like an eternity, but as time wore on and the fog of anger cleared I realized what lay ahead. Confrontation. I began to pace, thoughts flooded my mind, “Maybe I just should have taken the insult and kept my mouth shut?” “What if I loose?” “Will it end in further humiliation?” My heart beat wildly as fear set in. I began contemplating a way out…an escape. Then I thought, maybe the other guy is afraid too. Maybe he was looking for a way out and wouldn’t even show up. I would be off the hook with bragging rights to boot. I smiled as I imagined retelling the story “…in the end he was too scared to face me.” I went outside my spirit light with new hope. I stood on the hill of my front yard, hands on my hips expecting victory to be laid at my feet without a fight. My brothers came up and stood beside me and then they turned and said something unexpected “It’s time.” Before I knew it they had strapped a pair of boxing gloves on my hands and it was then that I saw him coming up the hill. “He’s here” my mind reeled, looking from the gloves to my opponent, it sunk in, this is really going to happen. The last thing I thought of as I stood face to face with my enemy was my father’s words “Remember who you are.” We began to circle, sizing each other up. Finally, the tension was too much; I took one leap forward and swung as hard as I could with my right hand. It was a clean gut shot. My opponent was on the ground hugging his stomach. One clearly placed hit and the fight was over. Victory was mine.

My one and only fight as an 11 year-old girl left me with some very clear life lessons. I was not a scrapper as a kid, but I have learned to become one as an adult. Let me explain. You are in a fight. Your opponent is not only real, but he is guaranteed to show up every time. There are no free passes and victory will not be laid at your feet without confrontation. Although your brothers may be standing beside you cheering you on it is your fight to win.

What are you fighting for? Hardly a day goes by that we are not confronted with something; lies, fear, doubt, finances, health or worldly expectations. We fight for the very ground we stand on, the foundations of who and what we believe in. We fight for the purposes that have been placed in our hearts. We fight to remain on the path and not let distractions or discouragement knock us down. Make no mistake the enemy is circling and sizing us up. In the midst of this chaos, however, there is a simple truth that the enemy knows and secretly hopes you don’t.

The last thing I remember my father saying is the same thing your Father is saying today. “Remember who you are.” You are not called to be harassed. You are not called to live in fear. You are not called to lose. The word is full of stories wherein God went before people and delivered victory, but they still had to fight for it. You have everything you need to be successful…you have Christ. He is the right hand, which has already been wielded at the enemy and with one clearly placed hit has taken him out. Stand on the hill, look your enemy in the eye and fight, for victory is yours.

...there are always people watching

I am a people watcher…always have been and probably always will be. People will tell you so much about themselves if you will just watch. When I was in school there was a girl in my choir class. I couldn’t help to notice she was always happy. She was one of the “smart kids” and all the teachers liked her. You would never find her talking badly about anyone or hanging out with the wrong kids. She went to youth group and was popular with her friends. Most of the “cool” kids made fun of her because she was a “goodie-two-shoes”, but she was nice to everyone even those who made fun of her. I often wondered if she knew what people said about her and looking back I suspect she did. We couldn’t have been more opposite. I was not a teacher’s favorite, I was not popular in fact I pretty much blended in and was not really noticed. I am sure I said more about other people than I should have and was often in the wrong place at the wrong time on the weekends. In spite of our differences, there was a part of me that admired her and wished I could somehow get a little piece of her happiness. After a few years of being rebellious I was confronted with an opportunity. Sitting in my living room, smoking a Virginia Slims and defiant as ever, I was asked if I would put everything aside and pursue faith. The first thing I thought of was this girl from my choir class. My life was anything but peaceful at this point and I still wanted a little bit of the happiness she had. Isn’t it interesting that a person whom I never actually had a conversation with had such an impact on my life? She had something so noticeably different it radiated out of her and I wanted it. Actions speak louder than words and there are always people watching.

The "Pie Incident"

Mmm, chocolate crème pie. I remember going into Tippins restaurant and scanning the cases of freshly made pies. There were many to choose from, but the best was French Silk. As a young family, we could not always afford to purchase pie so one day I decided to make it from scratch. I gathered all the ingredients, put it together and set it in the refrigerator for dessert. Later that evening while making dinner, I noticed the refrigerator was minus one chocolate crème pie. I couldn’t imagine what had happened. Did my husband sneak in and help himself to an early snack? I went to investigate. After talking I realized he was not the culprit and this was quickly becoming a situation for a Father to sort out.

He called our children in to his workroom one at a time and asked if they knew anything about the missing pie. The first three had convinced him of their innocence and that left only one, our five-year-old daughter Karlie Jo. “Karlie, do you know what happened to mom’s chocolate pie?” “No daddy” wide-eyed and innocently she replied. “Are you sure Karlie?” He asked again. “I don’t know anything about the pie.” she stated. My husband then reminded Karlie of one very basic principle in our home. If you do something wrong and confess there is mercy, but if you lie about it there is a greater consequence. He asked one last time. “Is there anything you want to tell me Karlie?” She looked down at the ground for a long while intently considering her answer. Then she looked him right in the eyes and said “no”. My husband scooped Karlie Jo up, held her before the mirror and showed her what he had been looking at all along. A beautiful little face covered in chocolate crème pie.

Karlie’s father would have preferred to use the “pie incident” as a teaching moment with little consequence. If Karlie had the right heart she would have put her father in a position to show mercy. He would have set her upon His knee, wiped the pie clean from her face, wrapped His arms around her and taught out of love.

How many times have I let fear, embarrassment or just plain pride get in the way of mercy? How many times have I put off lessons, endured additional consequences only to find my self back in the same place again? It’s somewhat like trying to run away on a merry-go-round. And, from someone who already knows the things I am so desperately trying to hide. There is no use denying it, He can see the pie all over my face. That only leaves one thing to do, humble my heart (become teachable), trust in His love (daddy to daughter) and crawl on up. There is mercy to be found sitting upon our Father’s knee.

Do It!

Ah, summer vacation. I remember as a kid sitting in a stuffy classroom, gazing out the window and counting down the days until freedom! Every year my family and I would pack up our green station wagon (with wood on the sides) and drive to our cousin’s farm in Wisconsin. The nine-hour drive was awful, but it was so much fun visiting we endured it year after year. The farm was filled with cows, pigs, horses, dogs and a new litter of cats each summer.

While there, I would jump out of bed every morning anticipating the daily activities. I could choose to ride the dirt bike, shoot cans with the BB gun, swing in a barn full of hay or fish in the creek. When I wasn’t doing that, I would often help my cousin with the chores. We would feed and water the animals, clean out the horse barn, pick vegetables in the garden and snap beans for dinner. I was having a blast because basically I was too young to know these things weren’t supposed to be fun.

My absolute favorite thing to do however was ride the horses. I would beg my cousin to saddle them up and take us out in the pasture. They had a sweet little mare named Sheba. She was white as snow and always behaved. I loved riding her. In the beginning, we would go slowly, but by the middle of our vacation I had become confident enough to take the horse from a trot (which truthfully is not comfortable) to a full run.

One particularly cool August evening we decided to ride a little farther so we crossed the road into a neighboring pasture. The plan was to allow the horses enough distance to give them their head and let them RUN! Now this was real freedom – exactly what I had been waiting for. When we got to the far end of the pasture my cousin started out first and I quickly followed. Before I knew it we were in a full run, everything was perfect, the horse had a nice smooth gate, I was laughing into the wind, in complete control of this 1000lb animal, when my world came to a crashing halt, literally. The horse ducked as I went flying over its head into a corn patch. I hit the ground rolling to a stop and as I looked up trying to make sense of what just happened I swear I saw a smirk on that horses’ face.

As the horse happily munched on fresh field corn, my cousin came around to collect me. I was trying to get my legs back, wobbling to a stance when she informed me I had to get back on the horse. What? No way! My confidence had just taken a flying leap and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Unfortunately, it was either that or limp the full three miles back home. I reluctantly chose the horse. I think I finally stopped shaking by the time we reached home.

Have you ever taken a serious detour into a corn patch? A time when you felt in complete control when BAM your feet were pulled right out from underneath you. These unplanned and often unavoidable bumps in the road are something we all have to deal with. Here are a few things I have held onto that have gotten me through. The first, God is Sovereign, He sits on the throne and nothing misses His gaze. In other words, He sees me, He knows exactly what is going on in my life and the affect it is having on my heart. The second, nothing surprises Him. I may be floored, but He has a plan, I just need to ask. I hope to come to a place where I start asking as I am flying through the air and not wait until I hit the ground. Lastly, real freedom lies in our choices. Every detour is an opportunity to make a choice. Will I let it pull me off my path or will I ask what to do and then DO IT! I choose, no matter how much my legs are wobbling, to get back on that horse and RUN toward home. Who’s with me?