A Celebratiom of Life

Monday was a beautiful spring day in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Crisp morning air followed by blue skies and sunshine. A gentle breeze to keep it cool and comfortable. A perfect day to celebrate a beautiful life.

When my grandfathers younger sister died in August of 2017, on the way home from her service, Mom told me that when Popaw died she wanted me to speak at his service. Little did I know what a task and challenge I would face.

Popaw took his breath last Tuesday. I had almost a full week to prepare. One would think a week would be enough time. Normally, it would. But this was not normal.

Stories and memories were swimming in my mind. I could barely finish one thought before another would interrupt. Not one story won. Each story held a specific and special meaning and not one more meaningful or important than the next.

How could I tell one story without telling ten? Honestly, I struggled. There’s no way to choose just one and we hadn’t the time for more.

So, instead, I chose to speak about the character man Popaw displayed because his character has had a profound impact on my life. So, I asked family members to send me three words that came to mind when they thought of him. Here’s the list.

Mom, Aunt Trisha, and Uncle Onald: kind, faithful, pleasant, Godly, easy going, trustworthy, loving

Kristi: giving, loyal, wise and intelligent

David: Hero, unconditional love, father.

Ryan: kind, wise, patient

Matthew: observant, loyal gentle

Alex: calm, wise, virtuous

Amy: generous, tender-hearted, earnest

Zach: Generous, loyal, caring

Terry: hero, wise, loving

Me: generous, wise, joyful

As I prayed and thought over these words, I realized they all had a commonality. They all speak to the character of the man behind them and his integrity. Popaw was man-marked by integrity. Integrity derives from the Latin word integer meaning whole or complete. Popaw was the whole package. But his full wholeness was not realized until April 23, 2019, when God called him home. At that moment Paul’s words in Philippians 1:6 became Popaw’s reality, ”For I am confident of this thing, that He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”

Popaw was a humble, gentle and kind man who exercised patience, generosity, and wisdom throughout the course of his life. He was a man marked by unconditional love, faithfulness, and complete joy.

I rarely remember a time I didn’t see him smile. His smile was infectious and kit up a room. In fact, at the very moment, he breathed his last breath Robert, a family friend, and I were standing over him talking about his sweet smile.

Popaw knew his strengths and weaknesses. He was not a perfect man but he was truly a blessed man. I am not speaking from a monetary perspective, although he always had enough. When I say blessed I am talking about the constant joy that welled up in him and spilled into those who knew him. This is not a common joy but one that comes from knowing the Lord.

Last week our Pastor, Bruce Frank, said, ”Until Jesus is enough for you, nothing will be enough for you.

I am here to tell you that Jesus was absolutely enough for Popaw. This is why his life was marked by integrity, wisdom, and kindness. He knew the joy of being content no matter what.

His life exemplified the following:

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward, you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. —Psalm 73:23–26

The Times I Saw Him Cry

I’ve known him my whole entire life and in this time, I have only seen or heard him cry three times. It’s not that he has no heart. In fact, he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know. Read here. He is the kindest, most gentle and humble man I know.

Oddly, I didn’t see him cry the day he got the call his Dad, my great-grandfather shot and killed himself. He was melancholy and I’m sure he cried. I just didn’t see him cry.

The first time I saw him cry was the day my grandmother, the love of his life died. He had stayed the night before with her and we all encouraged him to go home and get rest. He did. A few hours after his departure, Mamaw died. Kristi and I went to his house to tell him. I will never forget. We stood in his kitchen and told him the news. Tears welled up in his blue eyes and he said, ”I knew it. That was the exact time I awoke and I felt like a part of me was gone.” His words broke and tears flowed.

The second time I see him cry was the day we moved him from his house to The Bridge at Lake Point Landing. He knew it was time to go but leaving his home ripped his heart out. He.felt like the Israelites when God led them out of Egypt. How do I know this? He told me so. Read here

The third time I didn’t see him cry, I heard him cry. I called to let him know that Ned had died. As soon as the words left my lips, he asked, “How’s my little Annie?” I couldn’t answer. Then he began to weep and said, “Honey, thank you for calling but I just can’t talk to you right now.”

My tears turned to sobs and I told him, “It’s okay Popaw. I can’t talk to you either.”

The first time he cried over my grandmother, I thought my heart was going to rip in a thousand pieces and I know Kristi felt the same way. If we could’ve shouldered his grief, we would have. The second time, I felt the sadness of him being removed from all that was familiar into the unfamiliar. But the third time, I wept with him because he hurt for his little girl. As a parent, there is nothing harder than not being an to take away their pain and I knew what he was feeling, not sorrow for his loss, but sorrow for her pain.

Now, we are embarking on the journey of saying, ”goodbye” to him. We don’t know the hour or the day but the time is coming. This time, he won’t cry but I will. But here’s what I know.

Jesus is tidying up and preparing his place and when it’s all complete, he will come and take him home. This is His promise and this is what fuels my hope.

New Living Translation
” When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. ” John 14:3

Was it worth it? …..Absolutely

I’ve been avoiding this post like the plaque. A few weeks ago when God began churning my heart, I told Him, “Not now”. Yes, like I’ve said before delayed obedience is disobedience and I disobeyed.

I think as I write you will see why I avoided writing. However, the urge is so great within me, I can no longer resist.

As you know my biological father died when I was 7. He died from Melanoma and you can read some of his story in my blog post, My sweetest sorrow.

Now, we are at another crossroads with cancer. My stepfather, Ned. He was diagnosed 18 months ago with Stage 4 Atypical Non-small cell adenocarcinoma lung cancer. It sucks. I’m just not going to sugar coat anything about it.

A few months back, well technically a few years ago God began to stir this thought and idea about these two men I have had to privilege of calling Dad.

First, you must understand the first to understand the second.

Mack, my dad, had a strong enduring faith in God. He hoped beyond all hope that one day a cure for Melanoma would be discovered. Knowing full well it would not be in his lifetime, he allowed the doctors at Baptist Hospital (Wake Forest) to try new treatments on him. He was their guinea pig. His philosophy and mindset was to aid in the research and help others in the future.

Another thing to understand about my dad is that he never shied away from sharing his faith. He firmly grasped and held tight to his belief in Jesus. He had strong convictions about sharing his faith and the above picture is a treasure straight out of his Bible. His desire was to see that no one would perish without knowing Jesus. His chief goal in life.

I believe that through his death his chief goal was reached and realized. When Jesus tells us in John 15:13 “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Bear with me while I explain.

When Mom and Ned began dating Ned wasn’t really living out a full life with Christ at the center. He had made a profession of faith but wasn’t really living a life totally reflective of Christ.

As their relationship began to grow so did his love for Jesus. Eventually leading up to his rededication. In perfect Ned style, it was not a haphazard decision, it was done with intent and passion. A decision he will tell you was the best choice he ever made aside from marrying my Mom.

The reality here is that without my dad having died, Ned may have never been able to experience the blessed life that only Jesus can give. If you ask Mack if it was worth dying for he would say, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—————–—————

That was the original post from September 11, 2017.

When I wrote these words, Ned was still with us and it would only be another six weeks until God would call him Home. Today marks 43 years since my Daddy has been in Heaven. In the past, this particular day has been such a painful hard day, but not today. What’s different?

My attitude. What I’ve realized with both Daddy and Ned was they were willing to embrace the process, to endure the pain to receive the victory. They both knew earth was their temporary dwelling and they both knew where they were going. Isn’t that exactly what Jesus did for us on the cross?

He soul agonized over having to endure the cross. He begged God for another way. When He knew there was no other way, He simply said, ”Not my will but yours” At this point, He embraced the process. He endured the cross. And when he spoke, ”It is finished” is His declaration of victory.

You will never get to the victory of the cross without enduring the pain and you’ll never be able to endure the pain without embracing the process.

I found this devotion in my Dad’s Bible. I wonder if it was something he had before his diagnosis or if he found it later. I don’t know the answer but what I know is that He bravely witnessed for the Lord and many lives were changed…….mine included.

That was my ”Today”

Brad Paisleys, Today, is probably one of the best songs ever written and sung. It’s such a great reminder that if we can hold on to special memories today, those memories are what will get us through tomorrow.

And I don’t know about tomorrow 
Right now the whole world feels right 
And the memory of a day like today 
Can get you through the rest of your life.

I’ll eventually get back to our Lexington trip but I keep mulling this post over and over again. I know from previous experience when these thoughts don’t go by the wayside, I am supposed to do something about it and so I’ll write.

It was the most gut-wrenching day of my adult life. The moment when the Hospice Doctor tells me, you need to call the family in. ”Ned’s time is short. I don’t know if he’ll be here more than 3-4 days.”

Just to clarify, I asked, ”So, you’re telling me that I need to call my sister to come back and I need to try to get my brother here from Oregon and any of the grandchildren that can come?”

”Yes, and I wouldn’t linger.”

I graciously thanked him and called Kristi. Call one. Check.

Knowing full well that David would unlikely be up a little before 6 his time, I called anyway. I held firm and didn’t get shakey with my words. ”You need to make arrangements to get here ASAP! And please call Zach and let him know.” Call two. Done.

Breathe. Focus. Breathe……reality set in. I had to call my children. All of a sudden, like a tidal wave, I collapsed screaming and crying into Terry’s lap. ”I can’t do this. This is too hard. I can’t call the kids and tell them their Papaw is dying. I can’t. I just can’t.” The weight of it all finally took its toll.

Gently rubbing my back, he said, ”It’s ok. I’ll call them.” I cried harder. I ugly cried. Every ounce of what I’d been holding back was now gaining momentum and no matter how I tried, it wouldn’t stop until it all filtered out. When it was over, I dried my tear-stained eyes, blew my nose and announced with all the confidence I could muster, ”No, it’s something I need to do. I’ll call them.”

The first call was to Ryan. I knew he was working and I wasn’t about to leave a message of such magnitude. I just left a message asking him to return my call.

Next up was Alex. Keep in mind. Matthew was deployed. I would later have to contact him through the Red Cross. Alex had just seen Ned a few days before. He wasn’t shocked or surprised but he was quiet. Knowing he had classes, I tried hard to keep things as upbeat as possible. He would be home tomorrow and that was good enough.

In between, calls, Ryan called me back. He knew. I didn’t have to tell him. I did anyway. Sometimes, its just good to give reality a voice. Hard. But good. Immediately, he asked, ”Mom, are you okay? I know all of this has been hard on you.”

Tears fell as I assured him I was okay. Truthfully, I was okay. His sensitivity made me cry a little.

Finally, I called Amy. There’s never a good time or a good way to do these things. I knew her schedule and she was finishing up classes and would be heading to track practice. With every ounce of strength, I could round up, I said, ”Amy, they’ve only given your Papaw a few days to live. You’re gonna need to come home.” Silence. Dead Silence.

Sniffling she said, ”Mom, I’m crying and everyone is seeing me cry cause I’m walking in the courtyard. I’ll have to call you back. I can’t talk right now.”

It wasn’t long until she called me back and I could tell she’d still been crying, ”Mom, when I told Cale (her coach), he told me to skip practice and come home.”

I pleaded with her to be careful.

An hour and a half later, she arrived. Safe and sound.

It’s what transpires within the next hour or so that touches my heart in ways I cannot even begin to describe.

Amy’s main focus was to attend to her Papaw. He was still coherent but wasn’t talking much. A few words here and there. A nod of the head. Maybe a smile or two. She asked him if he wanted some ice cream. He nodded and she took the spoon and began feeding him. She would ask, “Papaw, do you want another bite and he would nod.” After a little while, he threw his hand up for her to stop and clamped his lips together, indicating that he was done. No more.

Sweetly she leaned close to him and said, ”See Papaw, I can feed you just like you fed me when I was little.”

So, if I’d had a lot of tears left in me at that point, I would’ve been balling like a baby. What a tender and precious moment my baby girl had just experienced with her Papaw.

As it would turn out, Amy fed her Papaw the last meal he ate. It would be a memory etched in our minds forever. A precious memory.

It makes me so grateful for the early morning hard because, at the end of the day, God gave us such a great gift. The gift of His perfect timing and placing us at the right time and place. I think today, that’s what He wants me to remember and He wants me to tell you, His ways are always perfect. He is always on time and His goodness abounds in rich mercy and grace.

Field Trips with Terry, Part 4

Here’s a little video of us after leaving Watson Pavilion. As you can see, it was a dreary, wet and cold day but I am so glad we decided not to allow the conditions of the day to stop us from adventuring together.

In a later blog, I will continue about our trip and add another video or two.

https://vimeo.com/32702971

Sometimes in life, we allow the circumstances or conditions of the day to keep us at a standstill. We allow our emotions to dictate what we do or even how we react. The reality is the choice us ours. We can live as a victim or we can live as a victor. Sometimes, it is just putting ”one foot in front of the other” and walking out the door. Our hope rests not on what is but on what is yet to come!

”But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord, Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:57

Field Trips with Terry, Part 3

Our next stop, Watson Pavilion, which houses more ceramics, a Japanese Tea Room and portraits of the Washington-Custis-Lee Collection. They were working on a new exhibit so we found ourselves in the portrait gallery. I was reading about the people in the portraits while Terry was looking.

One of the stories the guide had shared previously was about Martha Dandridge, who would later become Martha Custis, and then Martha Washington. Apparently, Daniel Parke Custis struggled to find a suitable wife or at least one his father would approve for him to marry. That is until he fell in love with Martha Dandridge. Considering he was one of the wealthiest men in Colonial Virginia, Martha was lucky to receive the approval of Daniels father, John.

Daniel and Martha had four children in their seven years of marriage but only two of the four survived into adulthood. In 1757, Daniel died. He died without a will, Martha and the two surviving children were granted one third each. Daniel’s death made Martha one of the wealthiest women in Virginia.

It is believed that George knew both Daniel and Martha prior to his death. George and Martha were married a little over a year after Daniel’s death. Although they never had children of their own, George and Martha raised her two children and would later raise their grandchildren as well.

Anyway, as we were gawking at the paintings, I said to Terry, ”Look, Daniel was quite a plumpy little man. Maybe Martha just married him for his money. He’s not a looker.

Terry’s response to me, ”Well, he must’ve married Martha because of her big boobs!. Just look how big they look in the portrait. I mean, you can’t help but notice. Maybe that’s what ole George was thinking too.”

Honestly, it’s a wonder we didn’t get kicked out because I swear, I howled. Up until that point it was so quiet a mouse could be running the floors, you know, library quiet, and it was a dang good thing they weren’t hosting a Japenese Tea party. Oh, my, we had to get out. We were disturbing the peace and I really don’t think it was appreciated 😂

Y’all this is the crazy live with day after day and I tell you, it’s like a very fine wine and gets better and better with time.

Field Trips with Terry, Part 2

Before exiting the Lee Chapel, we were told about two other buildings on campus we should visit, The Reeves Center and Watson Pavilion.

In the Reeves Center, you will.find the Reeves Collection. The collection is a vast array of ceramics made in Asia, Europe and the Amercias. Some.pieces date back to the 1500s.

In their collection are pieces of this china used by George and Martha Washington. This particular collection was only used during his Presidency.

Also in the collection is this bowl This punch bowl was made in China. Its painting tells the story of trade during the 1800s. It’s truly a magnificently detailed piece.

That’s not exactly what caught my attention as much as what our guide said. ”Do you know that many hands made and painted this bowl? It was not made or painted by one set of hands.”

I just have to stop and say, I’ve considered and mulled over that statement for almost a month now. It had quite a profound impact on me.

My initial thoughts, ”Wow! How awesome that many hands made such an exquisite piece of artwork. It’s so intricately designed.” I pondered on that formed while.

Then the lightbulb switched off and on again. This time I wasn’t thinking about the many hands that made the punch bowl. I found myself thinking about the same hands that made the folks who made the punch bowl are the same hands that fashioned me.

Stay with me on this.

God is the creator of all humankind. “Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Genesis 2:7

The very same God who formed Adam formed me and you. I don’t know about you but that makes me feel special, exquisite, unique.

God could have used his angels to make us. He could have used many hands, just like they did with the pottery. That’s not what he did. No, no no. He used the same hands to form and make us all.

His hands.

The beauty is that we are all different. We are all unique. There are no two humans on the earth that are exactly the same, not even identical twins. And yet, we are all made by the same pair of hands.

The Divine hands of the Father.

Field Trips with Terry, Part 1

A few weeks ago, Terry and I made another trip to Lexington, VA. While we didn’t have quite the adventure of driving in circles Read here like we did last year, it’s never without adventure. In fact, life with Terry is an adventure. It’s just how we roll.

Considering the weather was quite the norm we’ve been accustomed to this winter, cold, rainy, and yucky., we didn’t want to stay cooped up in our hotel until Amy’s track meet began. So, we decided to make a visit to the Lee Chapel https://www.wlu.edu/lee-chapel-and-museum. Terry is very fond of Robert E Lee and wanted to learn more and I love history.

Interestingly, it was Robert E Lee, as President of Washington University, who saw the need and had a vision for this chapel. As the number of students began to grow at what was then called, he saw and increased the need for a building to house the student body in one location for worship and assembly. The construction completed in 1868, and the same day it was inaugurated, commencement services were also held in Lee Chapel.

They held chapel on a daily basis and it is said that Lee attended every day and sat here.

A

After chapel, Lee would then retire to his office in the lower section of the building. According to our guide, this is precisely how Lee left his office. She said the only thing different is the carpet and the tablecloth, everything is just as he left it before his death in 1870.

We were not allowed to use the flash inside the building and this is about the best I could do with my phone. My favorite piece in his office is this one.

As I was commenting on the details of this exquisite piece of furniture, talking with my hands and I often do, I apparently got too close to the alarm. Set the darn thing off and the sweet lady I was talking with said, ”You’re a little too close. You’ll have to back up.” Never thought my talking arms could cause such a raucous. Terry snickered and acted as if nothing happened, Didn’t matter much anyway because we were the only ones there.

Upon Lee’s death on October 12, 1970, he was buried in the basement of the Lee Chapel.

There are many other pieces of history we discovered in just a few hours timeframe, and I will be sharing more along with pictures and maybe, just maybe, I’ll throw in a Terry video.

The Rebel in Me – Part 2

I normally don’t write on my blog daily. I figure we’re all busy humans and have plenty to read on a daily basis without adding another thing in the mix. However, I felt very compelled to share this today. Maybe I just need to get it out there or maybe someone really needs to know how I struggle and how I have learned and continue to learn to walk through the process of a struggling rebel.

Picking up on the topic of rebellion from yesterday’s blog, Read Here I hope it leads you into an understanding that I struggle. It’s hard for me to make wise decisions, at times, because I want to go against the grain.

The reality is that for so many I years, I did just that. I most often did the exact opposite of what my parents wanted me to do. It took me down some very shameful and destructive roads. Roads that I am not.proud of and sometimes cringe when I have to admit, ”Yes, I did that.”

The truth is, for those who knew me then, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Airing dirty laundry here is neither necessary or fitting. However, if you’re an inquiring mind, make your own assumptions chances are you’ll be right. Even if you’re not, its probably something I thought about doing. Just keeping it real. However, don’t ever think I’ve forgotten who I was or what I did. I have NOT. Again, these are the things things that God has used and continues to use to mold me and shape me into who I am!

Obviously, I don’t sit and dwell on the past and ”what ifs”. I can’t. Life is about moving forward. It’s about pushing through the pain of our past and seeing what a glorious future we have to look forward to.

This life.is temporary and will.be full of.hurt.and pain. We.must look beyond.the now and see.the glorious hope.of Heaven.

However, there are times my past still comes face to face with raw pain. When those things come to mind, I no longer run away from them. I no longer stuff them away and tidy them up the box. Although, my rebel self.wants.desparately to do this! The truth is, when raw pain is there, I need to go in search of the root cause. There is a reason it remains raw. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like pain when its raw. I want it to go away.

Here’s how I’ve learned to cope when that pain of my past wants to haunt me or stop me in my tracks or make me feel shameful.

First of all, I pray and ask God if there’s something in me that still needs to he healed. Is there an area of my heart that still has unresolved hurt and pain? Why do I go to God first?

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:13-16‬ ‭MSG‬‬

I figure since He knows me best, He my best resource. The main issue is that sometimes the rebel in.me kicks back, like Romney, and I don’t really want to hear what He has to say. Or the rebel part of me doesn’t want to be broken down to be made whole. You see the fight I have with this spirit of rebellion? It’s real and it’s an ongoing fight.

Sometimes, I use the resources of godly and wise friends to help.me navigate through getting to.the root of my pain. There is nothing more beautiful than having people you can be real with. You know the ones who aren’t afraid of your mess but they’re not afraid to tell you when you’re wrong. They aren’t there to.judge or glean information to share about you with the next person. They’re there because they want to see you break-free and be whole again.

Other times, I must.go and seek the counsel of.a Pastor or.other biblically trained professional. I need the Truth of Gods word.pouring into me. The reality is that its only the Truth that will set me free.

And ye shall know.the.truth and the truth shall.make you free. John 8:32 KJV

When I am aware of the root of.my pain, I can then apply the Truth of Gods word to my hurt and pain. Once the hurt and pain has been appropriately dealt with and the root.has been discovered. The Truth of Gods word then acts a soothing balm of.healing. Also, when dealt with appropriately, it rarely effects me again. I’ve taken care of the ”real” issue. I haven’t given it a bandaid fix.

A bandaid may stop the bleeding and cover the wound, but a bandaid will never cure the wound.

Sometimes, this whole process is daunting. So much so, that I want to give up and give in and just.go back to being my rebel self. Then the Truth floods my soul and I am reminded of ALL that God has brought me through. I see his mighty works and I marvel that in spite of who I am, He loves me! He died for me! (John 3:16) He calls.me the ”apple of his eye”.(Psalm 17:8) He sings over me. (Zeph 3:17)

I Am One Of Those

“Oh, you’re one of those!” my friend exclaimed as she watched me withdraw my hand from hovering over her cooktop. Cackles from the other women in the room with us told me, they too, understood what my friend was saying.

Let me give the full context of what happened. We were at our friend’s lake house for a weekend with about fifteen other couples. Several, at least seven of us women, were in the kitchen preparing the meal. I noticed the light remained on the cooktop after my friend turned it off. In fact, I kept watching for it to go off. At the time, I wasn’t familiar with smooth top cooktops. Anyway, I questioned my friend about the light that seemingly had no end. She explained that it was the cooktops way of telling her that the one or more of the burners were still warm and the indicator light would go off when the surface was cool.

Well, that darn thing intrigued me. I knew not to touch an electric burner and I also knew that a gas burner doesn’t remain hot for long once the heat is gone but this little indicator light says, “Don’t touch. The surface is hot” has now been on at least five minutes and I just really need to feel it. I mean at least get close enough to feel see if it’s still warm. As my hand inched closer and closer to the surface, I could begin to feel the heat rising. To be honest, it didn’t feel that hot until I almost touched it. I came close but I backed off at the last minute.

By this time, my friend was watching intently and made her observation.

To her and the other cackling chicks, I replied, “You’re right, I am one of those that have to learn the hard way. I doubt the warnings and most often proceed full steam ahead without caution. I do get burned a lot.”

That incident happened the better part of 15 years ago. I have to say, for the most part, I now heed warnings. I don’t go near things when there are indications I might get burned. However, it’s because for the first, more than half of my life, I had to learn the hard way.

Sometimes I wonder if my life would be more carefree if I had been the rule-follower instead of the rebel. I seriously doubt it. Life comes with complications. It’s not easy. Let’s face it, life can be downright hard. It can be hard because I am not in control. I don’t get to choose which way the wind blows. It can blow in my face with uncertainties pummeling like sand being thrust in my face. It can blow at my back pushing me in a direction I don’t want to go. It can also be hard because of my poor choices, that rebellious spirit in me.

The truth is, at heart, I am still rebellious. It’s ingrained into my very being. It’s part of what makes me, me. I’ve just learned (and still learning) to temper my rebellious nature with more thoughtful consideration or how my choices will affect me as well as others. The truth is, the decisions we make will have an impact on others. Yes, they’re our choices but be aware others will feel the effects, good or bad. Therefore, I try to consider the ultimate outcome before I plow ahead of the indicators and warnings to touch something that may burn me.

But in truth, if I really find myself intrigued by something, it’s impossible for me not to be drawn in closer and closer. That is why I have to stay firmly rooted and grounded in God’s word. It is life-saving and has proven to be life-altering.

Maybe my rebellious spirit is the very thing that God uses to remind me of my humanity and that I am only one poor choice away from destruction.

What I want to remind you today is that we’re all in the same boat. It doesn’t matter if we’re rule-following people pleasers or if we’re wild, rebellious, footloose and fancy-free, we are all one choice away from destruction or disaster. And this is why it’s so important to know the truth of God’s word. To claim the truth of God’s word and to set free by the truth of God’s word.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free.” Luke 4:16