My 30-by-30 List: New Item #24

Before I turned 30, I made a 30 by 30 list—a list of thirty things I wanted to do before or during my 30th year of life. Some of those items included: buy my dream car, get out of debt, and get in shape. Those are a few of the big rocks, two of which I'm still working on. Pray for me.

The one I'm most excited about is taking my first international trip. I don't have to dream about that one anymore. It's on the books. I've got my ticket and I'm leaving on a jet plane in September for Paris, France. Check.

I don't think I know what I'm in for. On a good day, I'd say I'm a street smart, cultured, refined young woman. But I really don't have a clue.

Yesterday, I met with a guy in our church for coffee. He's a former Turkish Muslim turned Christian minister who has taken up residence in America.

How does that happen? That's what I wanted to know. So I decided to get his story and write it down.

His story is fascinating. What amazed me the most about him (he who is only a few months younger than me) is how vastly different his childhood was from mine. Of course it was. I knew it would be. But, during our 90-minute conversation, reality smacked me in the face. I really am a clueless small-town girl.

Let's be honest. I've always thought anyone from the Middle East secretly wanted to rid the world of all Christians or any Westerner, for that matter.

To heck with what the government says—my own Homeland Security Threat Advisory System level has always been at least two levels above what they've suggested. I mean, I specifically looked for a different route out of the country over Detroit when booking my trip because I'd always heard Michigan has the highest population of Muslims.

Are you kidding me? I'm embarrassed. But, hey, I'm just being honest here.

Apparently, "they" are as scared of us as we are of them because of how we've responded to most after 9/11. It makes my stomach queasy to think about how ignorant I've been when it comes to my Middle Eastern neighbors. That's definitely NOT how Jesus would've done it.

Some are radicals, for sure. But my new friend informed me about the grand number of "secular Muslims" rising up in that area of the world.

I shot him a blank stare and he smiled. With a thick Turkish accent, he said, "It's kind of like your Christians who only attend church at Christmas and Easter." Oh. OK. I get that. They're everywhere here. I'm related to some of them.

Most Easterners don't want to be like Westerners because of how they see us represented on television, in music, and through magazines. According to them, we're "unethical" and "immoral." They find it repulsive to see American teenage girls having sex with older men, people overdosing on drugs and drowning their sorrows in alcohol, and men leaving their wives and families for selfish reasons that no one can explain.

The culture we demonize is more moral than we are and find us sickening and grotesque. Go figure.

This has only peaked my interest. Now, I want to know so much more about my Middle Eastern neighbors. It's sparked a fire in me to reach out to those who live in my own apartment complex.

It's even affected my psyche in preparing for my trip to Paris. I'm excited about the architecture, history, and people, but I don't think I know what I'm in for. The world outside of Small-town, Texas and Mid-Size-Town, Tennessee is big. I mean BIG. Bigger than what I've ever known or can even handle. Big—HUGE.

I guess I'm not as "smart" as I thought I was. Hopefully, my upcoming adventure will educate me—you know, school me on a few more things about life, people, and God's role in it all.

And I've found a new item to add to my 30 by 30 list. Item #24: Befriend and reach out to a Middle Easterner in my community.

Finding my way

I'm pretty consistent about getting into the habit of blogging a good two times a year. It's a lot like the amount of times I start getting really serious about diet and exercise. And then, of course, I fall off the bandwagon every time. Here I am again...trying to make a new start.

My problem with blogging is that I don't know how big my filter should be. Who in the world wants to know every details of my life? That I go through my apartment every night before bed to make sure every appliance and piece of furniture is situated correctly? That I am a freakish creature of habit? That I talk to my parents at least three times a day and play a few games of mobile phone Solitaire every day just for fun? See? It's not very interesting at all.

This I do know. I love to write. I love telling stories. So I'm looking for my voice somewhere in the vicinity of that passion to tell stories. Not just any stories. Stories of life change that inspire us to be better, do better, and love God more. Be back real soon...promise.

Change is a comin', folks...

Life is changing and it makes me uncomfortable.

1. My roommate is getting married and moving out; therefore, my living situation is changing. As a matter of fact, several friends have announced they are either engaged or preggers in the last few months. Ugh. Happiness for them, indeed, but change nonetheless.
2. One of my recently established soul sisters moved out of the country. Sometimes you cross paths with people in life who were made to be insta-friends with you. It sucks when you both realize your kindred spirits only weeks before she obediently follows God's call to serve Him in Paris for a year. Happiness for her + Sadness for me = A hot mess of emotions all at one time.
3. At Christmas, I noticed for the first time that my grandmother is truly getting feeble and older—and actually looks and acts it now. My heart broke as she hobbled around the kitchen and shied away from any sort of extra-curricular activity for fear of breaking a bone.
4. I had strategically planned and mapped out my parents' future since I've lived here. My mom retires in May, my dad can move his ministry to Tennessee, and we'll all happily be together again. My mom recently informed me they probably aren't going to be taking that course of action. That means I get to live in a foreign land all by myself while my family gets to enjoy each other in Texas FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES! I know—maybe that's a little dramatic, but just let me get it all out and I'll be fine in five minutes.
5. My life still isn't where I planned it to be in the last year of my 20s. (Note: God has an unique way of smashing your plans into a trillion tiny pieces so His plans for you can continue to barrel like a steam roller through your life. Ahhh...the joy of surrender.)

I could go on and on.

I used to be the kind of girl that consistently lived with a mild case of cabin fever and thrived on new environments. I didn't like to stay still for too long. If you offered a new, exciting situation, then I could give you a girl who wanted in. I was the life of the party—always on the go and never missed a show. I think you get what I'm saying.

The older I've gotten, the more I've become a homebody, the more I like things to stay the way they are, the more I like stability and consistency. Oops! Does that mean I'm becoming set in my old maid ways? Not good for a single almost 30-something, folks. Not good at all.

Don't worry. I'm not in spinster training yet.

I've recently had an itch—an itch for an exciting adventure (beside the obvious: get married to the man of my dreams/prayers whose madly in love with Jesus and make babies with said man).

The whole idea of change and adventure makes me uncomfortable, but I don't dislike the feeling either. Deep down, the young, spontaneous, spunky Kaylan is trying to claw her way to the surface. I can feel it.

As I approach my 30th birthday, I've only had a few major breakdowns. Up to this point, the idea of turning 30 has equaled the end of youthful me, four-inch high heels, and the privilege of shopping at Forever 21. I've readied myself to usher in stray gray hairs, stuffy cardigans in every color, and a membership in the local quilting club.

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe my discomfort means a good thing is coming. Maybe God is prepping me for a thrilling new ride in this next phase of life. Maybe I should embrace a "thirty, flirty, and thriving" attitude and look forward to the days ahead. Maybe turning 30 IS the adventure I've been waiting for.

Ready or not, Thirty, here I come. Let the countdown to a new era begin.

Trust & Obey

Growing up the daughter of a small-town Baptist preacher, I soaked and marinated in that life for 18 years. I knew all the hymns by heart, became a professional at incorporating the right Christianese terms into conversation (when needed), mastered church traditionalism by age 7, and even became a closet fan of the Gaithers. I experienced and relished in everything that comes along with the proverbial PK territory.

Sure, I look back now and roll my eyes when I think of all the cheese that oozed out of the church I grew up in, but make no mistake, at home, my parents were Jesus lovers/followers to the core. When it came down to it, they believed and lived the transforming gospel of grace—and they still do. If it weren't for them, I may still be trapped in a "less God, more religion, please" mindset.

Since my childhood, my dad has repeated one age-old phrase from a timeless hymn over and over to me—"trust and obey"—so much so that it still makes me a little queasy every time I hear it. That is, until about a year ago when I started a spiritual trek up what seemed like a treacherous, impossible mountain of trying to understand why God hadn't seemingly "come through" in certain areas of my life and trying to be obedient to a sacrifice He called me to.

For over a year, I've wrestled with God. I don't mean a controlled verbal debate. I mean I've been acting like a spoiled 5-year-old child who isn't getting her way. In the beginning, he patiently tried to teach me to wait in faith, asking me to specifically follow his instructions, but I would always walk away from our conversations kicking and screaming, yelling, "I want it now! Why not now? Why don't you just bless me now! You're not a good daddy if you don't give me what I want."

You see, since I was five years old, I've had my life mapped out—centered around a dream that first developed when I began playing with Barbie and her Ken. In my plan, I would graduate college, put a successful career in my pocket, marry the man of my dreams by 26, have my first child by 28, and own a home by 30.

Milestones have come and gone. Currently, I'm a 29-year-old woman (soon to be 30) with no husband and therefore no kids, a career in ministry (which wasn't in my plan, but one that I DO actually love), and overpriced apartment rent. In my mind, God hasn't come through on his part of our plan. And, as a result, I've lived the last few years as an frustrated woman, shaking my fist at the Almighty and questioning his goodness.

Nearly a year ago, God finally submitted his rebuttal, "When did I ever agree to this plan?" And then he asked me to lay my precious, lifelong plan on the altar and stick a knife in it (so to speak)—a similar command he gave to Abraham.

I've read Genesis 22 over and over again—slow, fast, in various translations. My favorite is in the New Living Translation:

Some time later, God tested Abraham’s faith. “Abraham!” God called.

"Yes," he replied. "Here I am."

“Take your son, your only son—yes, Isaac, whom you love so much—and go to the land of Moriah. Go and sacrifice him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains, which I will show you.”

The next morning Abraham got up early. He saddled his donkey and took two of his servants with him, along with his son, Isaac. Then he chopped wood for a fire for a burnt offering and set out for the place God had told him about.

On the third day of their journey, Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. “Stay here with the donkey,” Abraham told the servants. “The boy and I will travel a little farther. We will worship there, and then we will come right back.”

So Abraham placed the wood for the burnt offering on Isaac’s shoulders, while he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them walked on together, Isaac turned to Abraham and said, “Father?”

“Yes, my son?” Abraham replied.

“We have the fire and the wood,” the boy said, “but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”

“God will provide a sheep for the burnt offering, my son,” Abraham answered. And they both walked on together.

When they arrived at the place where God had told him to go, Abraham built an altar and arranged the wood on it. Then he tied his son, Isaac, and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. And Abraham picked up the knife to kill his son as a sacrifice.

At that moment the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!”

“Yes,” Abraham replied. “Here I am!”

“Don’t lay a hand on the boy!” the angel said. “Do not hurt him in any way, for now I know that you truly fear God. You have not withheld from me even your son, your only son.”

Then Abraham looked up and saw a ram caught by its horns in a thicket. So he took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering in place of his son. Abraham named the place Yahweh-Yireh (which means “the Lord will provide”). To this day, people still use that name as a proverb: “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”

Then the angel of the Lord called again to Abraham from heaven. “This is what the Lord says: Because you have obeyed me and have not withheld even your son, your only son, I swear by my own name that I will certainly bless you. I will multiply your descendants beyond number, like the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will conquer the cities of their enemies. And through your descendants all the nations of the earth will be blessed—all because you have obeyed me."

Can you imagine what Abraham thought when God asked him to sacrifice Isaac—his "son whom he loved so much?" Why wouldn't God have asked him to sacrifice something easy like a ram, a sheep, or even some nomadic luxuries in life?

I can relate. I begged God over and over to take something else instead of my dream. I even went so far as to offer up myself as a lifelong foreign missionary, never to enjoy Tex-Mex, cable television, or shoe shopping again, just so I could keep it—the dream I loved so much.

It took me nearly a year to make it up the mountain and I knew he wanted it all—every piece of it. So, I slowly sauntered up the side of the mountain for a long while, hesitating all along the way, clutching it tight in my arms, and wondering if I shouldn't just turn around and sprint back to the bottom.

Along the way, I laid down some heavy items—insecurities, issues that weren't yet resolved, things from my past—and I worshipped. In my pain, I worshipped. In my joy, I worshipped. Every time I got discouraged, he reminded me to "trust and obey." God was more concerned with my obedience than my sacrifice (see 1 Samuel 15:22).

At the top, I hesitantly laid it all before him, then flinched, waiting for him to lick it up with fire or provide a substitute. He didn't do either. I learned that sometimes God sacrifices our happiness and plans simply for His glory and our holiness.

One precious mentor even told me on the journey, "Kaylan, if you'll just lay it down, then it will free up your hands for the next thing God has."

Along the way, I removed an idol from our relationship which freed up space in my hands for God to give me several blessings: an authentic awareness that he's enough and he's for me; victory over the enemy despite his attempts to spiritually pummel every day; belief in the fact that God is genuinely good, faithful, and trustworthy in this life; and a new understanding of "trust and obey."

Beautiful

My prayer today:

Here, before your altar, I am letting go of all I've held—of every motive, every burden, every thing that's of myself. I just want to wait on you, my God. I just want to dwell on who you are.

Beautiful, beautiful—I am lost for more to say. Beautiful, beautiful—Lord, you're beautiful to me.

Here, in your presence, I am not afraid of brokenness, to wash your feet with humble tears. I would be poured out until nothing is left. I just want to wait on you, my God. I just want to dwell on who you are.

Beautiful, beautiful—I am lost for more to say. Beautiful, beautiful—Lord, you're beautiful to me.

Holy, holy, holy—you are, you are. Holy, holy, holy—you are, you are. Holy, holy, holy—you are, you are.

(Kari Jobe, "Beautiful")

Jesus is 1st, 2nd, 3rd...

Jesus said, "That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?"
—Matthew 6:25-27

A small excerpt from my daily reading of Oswald Chambers. Such good stuff:

"Jesus did teach that His disciple must make his relationship with God the dominating focus of his life, and to be cautiously carefree about everything else in comparison to that. In essence, Jesus was saying, 'Don’t make food and drink the controlling factor of your life, but be focused absolutely on God.' Some people are careless about what they eat and drink, and they suffer for it; they are careless about what they wear, having no business looking the way they do; they are careless with their earthly matters, and God holds them responsible. Jesus is saying that the greatest concern of life is to place our relationship with God first, and everything else second. It is one of the most difficult, yet critical, disciplines of the Christian life to allow the Holy Spirit to bring us into absolute harmony with the teaching of Jesus in these verses."

I will never leave you...

Ever since I was little, I’ve always had a fear of being alone. I think it all stems from one particular experience I had as a child. You see, I was a sneaky kid. My mom had to literally put extra bolts on the doors and watch me like a hawk because I would figure out ways to unlock them and get out of the house and into the streets.

Once, when I was five, I woke up in the middle of the night to discover that the house was empty and I was left all alone. To this day, I'm not sure how I came to that conclusion. Maybe I was sleepwalking and dreamed it.

Nonetheless, I got scared. I put my little coat on over my nightgown, finagled my way through unbolting the locks on the front door, and set out to find someone—anyone—who could explain what was going on. I walked down our road (we lived in a very small town, so we were somewhat in the country) to find the first house I could get to.

It was scary enough that it was at midnight when I decided to take off on this little jaunt, but even scarier was the fact that our neighbors were extremely sketchy. And the first house I came to was full of sketchiness. I really don’t know how to explain it to you except that they were extreme hillbillies with very few teeth, they smelled bad, and they were all sitting in rocking chairs around the furnace in their living room when I knocked on the door. I’m not kidding. This is what I remember as a child.

I remember sitting on one lady’s lap for quite a while as she rocked me. It wasn’t long before my sweet daddy came frantically banging on the door looking for his little girl. I was never so glad to run into my dad’s arms and just stay there. He carried me safely home, squeezing me close.

Now, lying in bed some nights or randomly hanging out by myself, my mind rolls through a billion thoughts—a few of which choke me up sometimes: The fear of being left alone on this earth. The thought of losing my parents one day. The thought of dying alone in a nursing home somewhere.

When I let fear overwhelm me as a child growing up, I’d always run straight into my daddy’s and mama's arms and cry through the fear. As a child, my dad would always say, “Kaylan, the Bible says God will never leave you or forsake you,” “Sis, you won’t be left alone. God is always with you,” or “God won’t abandon you, Sis. The Bible promises you He won’t.”

Last night was no different. I started thinking about how fast time is passing. That led to me thinking about how precious time with my family is. Then that led to me thinking my parents time left on earth is limited and I live so far away from them. And that led to me thinking I might be left all alone one day.

God has blessed me with a GREAT dad who loves me unconditionally, who I know has given me a small glimpse of just how much my heavenly Father adores and loves me. So, I called my daddy, the pastor, and asked him to pray for me about this for the fifteen millioneth time. My dad prayed that God would comfort me once again before I went to sleep.

I decided I would just read one section before going to sleep since I hadn’t finished all of chapter three from our book a few weeks ago. So I opened to pages 34-35 and read the section titled, “Watch God.” At the end of the section, Kay said, “Instead they hear His promise: ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you, so that you can boldly say, ‘The Lord is my helper, I will not fear.’”

Revolutionary! It’s so sweet to hear God speak loud and clear when you need it most. This section of chapter three spoke to so many areas of my life—my desire for a husband and family one day, my need to trust in His ways always (even when I don’t understand them), and my assurance that He will always be with me. I was finally able to go to sleep last night—in peace—praising God for these reminders.

Each girl in my small group is taking one verse a week and memorizing it. So the verse I’ll be memorizing in full this week? “God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’ So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid’” (Hebrews 13:5-6).

Give me my daily bread

As a kid, I used to think Jesus' prayer for daily bread in Matthew 6:11 literally referred to three square meals a day. And it does. But I've come to realize that it goes beyond that.

I've been learning a lot about what my daily bread looks like. It crosses lines of activities in my life—training for the 1/2 marathon in 2009, waiting for what God has in store, dieting, relationships, etc.

And I've been trying to make a habit of getting up every morning and letting the first words out of my mouth be, "Give me what I need from You for today. I'm not going to dwell on yesterday or worry about tomorrow. I'm only focused on living for You today and understanding your grace is sufficient for right now."

I think we get so caught up in the "what's to come" that we waste time not living fully right now. It's reassuring to know that he is enough for each day. He gives me what I need to live for him in this moment. I can trust that he is truly in control and my past, present, and future is in his hands.

Growing older and, hopefully, wiser

I love where I'm at in life. I love my friends. I love where God has me right now. But lately, I've really been evaluating my life.

It's really been a combination of things: Will I ever get married? Are my decisions the smartest I can make for a healthy lifestyle? I'm 28 and single...why not just leave where I'm at and go live in Italy for a year? Where will I be in 10 years? How should I prepare for that?

I guess this all came about when I got a recent invitation to my 10-year high school reunion. It made me think about how far I've come...and ironically, what I've accomplished during that time. I wasted so many years on being the most popular and fitting into the A-crowd that I missed out on serving God completely...with my entire life. And now, I obsess sometimes with making sure I'm always on track with Him.

Today, my number one desire is to serve Him--wherever, whenever, and however He calls me to. But life reflection always causes me to take a hard look at where I'm at and what I'm doing. It causes me to ask myself: Am I doing everything I can to glorify the Lord with my life? Am I being too lazy to connect people to Jesus every day? What more could I be doing to impact the kingdom?

All good questions, but sometimes I don't have a clear answer...right now, today.

The biggest questions I've been pondering (probably like every other single girl my age) are: Am I ever going to get married? Or am I going to stay single for the rest of my life? If I'm going to remain single, how should I be stepping out and taking risks? If God is going to bring someone into my life, how do I need to be preparing to be the best wife and ministry partner to that person?

I go through periods where I ask these same questions over and over. This time, I've been doing some serious research in Scripture lately and lots of praying...seeking out answers (because that's what I do).

I decided to get some wise counsel from a few trusted spiritual mentors on this issue. I explained my situation and my desire to know clear answers as to which way I should be preparing myself to one person in particular. He gave me the best advice.

He said, "Kaylan, it doesn't matter which way you go. At all times, you should be serving God and pursuing Him...that's all that matters. That means you asking Him every day for your daily bread--not tomorrow's, not yesterday's--just today's and He'll supply. You're not promised tomorrow, so seek His kingdom first (meaning seek Him first) today, and all these things shall be added to your life."

I realized in that moment that I had lost sight of the most important thing...pursuing God...with everything I am and all that I do. I get so wrapped up in doing "things/activites" to please God that I forget to daily seek Him, spend time with Him, and give Him the praise He deserves. I forget that He just wants me, my time, and my devotion. And I forget to heed the advice of my Daddy: "Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus..."

Lesson learned in August 2008: Pursue God passionately, ask Him to supply my needs in this moment, and know that He'll give me what I need today (and maybe some of those answers in His time).

Seeking God, Part 4

In 2006, God broke me—but I asked for it. I lost my job. I was poor—in spirit and my pockets. My grandfather died. I began to slip again spiritually. And God told me to leave my family and friends in Dallas—my comfort zone—and go to serve him at a suburban church just southwest of Houston. All within the first six months!

I remember my second interview with the south Texas church very well. I was resentful toward God for even asking me to show up. And afterward, in my hotel room, most of the rest of my evening was filled with wailing, weeping, rending of clothes, gnashing of teeth, and my frantic pleas, begging God not to make me go.

In my spiritual growth journey, one thing I have learned is: trust and obey. Yes, that’s the title to an old hymn you might recognize and words that I continue to live by today. So I did just that. In July 2006, I left my homeland and ventured, by faith, to a land unknown.

If you’re waiting for me to share a land-flowing-with-milk-and-honey kind of ending here, you won’t get it. That’s not exactly what happened over the next year. Without my dependencies, I was alone like never before, so the only person I had to turn to was God.

I thought: A-ha! I knew this was going to happen. He fooled me. He did all of this just so He could get me alone with Him?! Wait. He wants me all to Himself? He doesn’t want me to focus on anything or anyone other than Him?

This realization didn’t immediately cure my loneliness. I spent much of that year in the same position I was in at the hotel during my second interview. Countless nights, I lay facedown on the living room floor of my apartment and cried myself to sleep. But I soon realized that my sessions of sorrow had turned into intense times of praise and prayer. I still wept in a fierce way—but I never felt God’s closeness in a more real way than I did then.

I spent that year searching for Him, and I found Him. He didn’t shout out the answers. There were no clouds that parted or lighting bolts that struck me. There was no burning bush. But He was definitely present. I talked. He listened. He talked. I listened. The distractions in my life had masked His presence in my life.

After that year, God said, “OK. You’re time is over here. Let’s move you on to the next place.” That’s where I am today. I can’t say that I still don’t get frustrated in my walk or confused by what He’s trying to tell me. I do all the time. And I’m still seeking His kingdom and righteousness, but, over time, our relationship has grown into something spectacular.

My dad once said to me, “God is weaving the experiences of your life together into a tapestry. But you’re looking at the canvas on the backside. You can’t understand how it could make any sense when it looks like a mess. Just turn it around, and you’ll see that He’s working behind the scenes to create a beautiful work of art. Keep seeking Him, following Him, trusting and obeying Him—and, as time goes on, you’ll begin to see the big picture come together as He intended.”

Seeking God, Part 3

In my mother’s womb, my parents dedicated me to God. At six-years-old, I realized I was a sinner, begged for His forgiveness, received His grace, and committed my life to Him. At 15, even when I didn’t understand His call, I surrendered to serve Him in ministry with my life. With our history together, He wasn’t going to let me forget these things and His purpose for me.

When my world came crashing down around me at age 20 and I was left at the merciful hands of the Father, I made a decision to change. Not the kind of change you make and then turn your back on three days later—like when you change your eating habits, start a strict, new diet, and out of nowhere, just a few days later, a piece of chocolate cake walks right into your mouth before you can say anything. It was a change that involved total surrender.

My decision to finally wave the white flag and surrender changed my world. I knew that to truly seek Him, I had to literally move away from the environment that had entrapped me. I had to emotionally pull out my scissors and cut the ties that bound me to that destructive lifestyle. And as I entered the unknown—feeling bruised, beaten, even bludgeoned—I trusted Him again for the first time in a long time.

In 2001, I left my home in Texas and transferred to Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas as a sophomore looking for a new start. Almost immediately upon entering school there, I met and bonded with a small group of girls who embraced me in genuine biblical community. Aware of my tattered state, they prayed for me, picked me up when I fell, and sometimes carried me over four semesters until I graduated in 2002. They became my sisters and remain so today.

It all sounds so dramatic, I know, but it’s not far from how intense things really were. At OBU, I re-discovered a deep love relationship with God and He began a long healing process that lasted the next few years. He was preparing me. So, after my college graduation, when I entered Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and began working at a church in Dallas, I was ready to actually do what God had called me to.

I can honestly say that my time during seminary was challenging. I knew God had called me there to continue my education, but I also spiritually felt a little like someone who had lost the use of his or her legs and was learning how to walk again. However, I had a fresh new perspective on my relationship with God—I was raw, humble, and surrendered to whatever He had planned for me.

During seminary and shortly after I graduated in 2005, I grew spiritually in leaps and bounds. I couldn’t believe I’d never known His love and grace like this before. So I decided I was ready to go deeper with Him and I made the bold decision to ask for brokenness on January 1, 2006. Big mistake? Or even bigger blessing? I asked myself this over and over for the next 10 months. God broke me every way but loose that year.

Just one more to go. Keep looking out for the final part of “Seeking God."

In my mother’s womb, my parents dedicated me to God. At six-years-old, I realized I was a sinner, begged for His forgiveness, received His grace, and committed my life to Him. At 15, even when I didn’t understand His call, I surrendered to serve Him in ministry with my life. With our history together, He wasn’t going to let me forget these things and His purpose for me.

When my world came crashing down around me at age 20 and I was left at the merciful hands of the Father, I made a decision to change. Not the kind of change you make and then turn your back on three days later—like when you change your eating habits, start a strict, new diet, and out of nowhere, just a few days later, a piece of chocolate cake walks right into your mouth before you can say anything. It was a change that involved total surrender.

My decision to finally wave the white flag and surrender changed my world. I knew that to truly seek Him, I had to literally move away from the environment that had entrapped me. I had to emotionally pull out my scissors and cut the ties that bound me to that destructive lifestyle. And as I entered the unknown—feeling bruised, beaten, even bludgeoned—I trusted Him again for the first time in a long time.

In 2001, I left my home in Texas and transferred to Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas as a sophomore looking for a new start. Almost immediately upon entering school there, I met and bonded with a small group of girls who embraced me in genuine biblical community. Aware of my tattered state, they prayed for me, picked me up when I fell, and sometimes carried me over four semesters until I graduated in 2002. They became my sisters and remain so today.

It all sounds so dramatic, I know, but it’s not far from how intense things really were. At OBU, I re-discovered a deep love relationship with God and He began a long healing process that lasted the next few years. He was preparing me. So, after my college graduation, when I entered Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and began working at a church in Dallas, I was ready to actually do what God had called me to.

I can honestly say that my time during seminary was challenging. I knew God had called me there to continue my education, but I also spiritually felt a little like someone who had lost the use of his or her legs and was learning how to walk again. However, I had a fresh new perspective on my relationship with God—I was raw, humble, and surrendered to whatever He had planned for me.

During seminary and shortly after I graduated in 2005, I grew spiritually in leaps and bounds. I couldn’t believe I’d never known His love and grace like this before. So I decided I was ready to go deeper with Him and I made the bold decision to ask for brokenness on January 1, 2006. Big mistake? Or even bigger blessing? I asked myself this over and over for the next 10 months. God broke me every way but loose that year. Just one more to go. Keep looking out for the final part of “Seeking God” to see what happened.

Seeking God, Part 2

When I left my adolescence and graduated to middle school and the first two years of high school, I was more than made fun of for my faith. Consistently, I was called “God’s daughter” and “Prude” and “Jesus freak” to my embarrassment. (Actually, I proudly wore the last label since that particular DC Talk song was popular at the time.)

I was left out of most secular social activities. I was mocked behind my back and to my face—in the youth group and at school. And even got plenty of criticism from church members.

I was one hurt little girl—not understanding how my Protector could not protect me. So I waned in spending any time with God—feeling as though He had nearly abandoned me and was even allowing the torture to take place.

In my heart, I loved Him like I loved my family. But, in my flesh, my resentment grew and bubbled up inside of me until it erupted my sophomore year of high school. My parents didn’t know it at the time and neither did I, but I began slowly spiraling downward and out of control.

I was sick of being a Christian. I was sick of the mockery. I was sick of the judgment. I was tired of being the rug others wiped their feet on. The church and God both became my enemies. I thought he could give me popularity, peace, and happiness in my situation, but He hadn’t. I was angry.

Sometime during the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, I snapped. My parents didn’t know what happened to me—and I couldn’t explain it either. I think it was a combination of things—a broken heart (brought on by a bad breakup with my first boyfriend), critical Christians, my weakened faith, and my desire to finally fit in for once in my life.

I began running with the wrong crowd, attending all the hottest parties, doing things I said I never would, breaking curfew, lying to my parents, acting out in public—you name it and I did it. Needless to say, my desire to have a deeper relationship and understanding of God wilted altogether and my popularity flourished, as did the sin in my life.

For the next two years, involved in a dangerous relationship with a guy, living the life I chose, and feeling miserable and empty inside, I ran as fast and as hard as I could from God and anything holy. It was the darkest time in my life.

The popularity I’d desired for so long was extremely short-lived and came at a devastatingly high price. I had turned my back on God and embraced the way of the world, and it was time to pay up. My actions came with severe consequences—ones that caused me crash and burn, and finally left me on my face before him begging for mercy.

Stay tuned for Part 3 …

Jesus is Lord of my life when...

My dad sent this to me this morning. He’s had it written on the inside cover of his Bible forever. I think he got it from one of Charles Stanley’s sermons a long time ago.

Every once in a while, he brings it out and e-mails it to my brother and me. It’s incredibly powerful. I hope I live my life every day just like this.

Jesus is Lord of my life when...

• I obey the initial promptings of the Holy Spirit without argument.
  
  
• I’m committed to do His will and I don’t even know His will.
  
  
• I’m available to serve Him without regard to time, place, or requirements.
  
  
• Pleasing Him takes priority over pleasing others and myself.
  
  
• I acknowledge and recognize Him as the source for all my needs and desires.
  
  
• I submit to His ownership and sovereign possession of all I am and all that I have.
  
  
• I turn my failures and difficulties into times of opportunities for spiritual growth.
  
  
• To know Him intimately becomes the ultimate obsession of my life.

Seeking God, Part 1

I’ve decided to break up the story of my journey in search of God into a few parts. Being a writer, it seems like the right thing to do since my life has worked itself into some semblance of a novel—broken up chapter-by-chapter.

Hopefully, mine will inspire you to seek God and know that not all stories are perfect—but are pieced together like a patchwork quilt with various God experiences, wrong moves, right moves, hits and misses, and incredible blessings spotted all along the way.

I grew up in a solid Christian home, the daughter of a Southern Baptist preacher, but I often think my religious perception was a little one-sided as I began my spiritual journey. I was sheltered from much of the world’s evils yet fully aware that I lived under a magnifying glass—under the watchful eagle eye of church congregants 24/7 just waiting for me to make a wrong move so they could snatch me up and swallow me whole.

Because I developed this perception growing up, I viewed the church that way as a whole. And because I viewed the church that way, I viewed God that way for a long time.

Back then, in my heart and head, God had two personalities: 1) He was a caring, loving Father some of the time who wanted to forgive, protect, and love me unconditionally, and 2) the rest of the time he was an old grandfather-looking man sitting in his heavenly rocking chair with a wooden paddle in his right hand (with my name stamped on one side) who constantly gave me “the look” and was ready to punish me when I even neared the appearance of sin.

You know “the look”—the one your mother gave you when you started to act up in church. My mother would look me square in the eyes like she was giving me the spanking of my life in her mind. And when “the look” didn’t work, she would either grab the tender flesh on the back of my arm and pinch it until I cried out or growl at me through gritted teeth, “Stop. It. Right. Now.”

From the time I came into a personal relationship with God when I was six years old to the time I entered high school, seeking God was a difficult task for me. I wrongly misjudged him for many years because of my skewed perception.

Still, I knew that I could find the Father that I loved in people, the Bible, and through prayer—even if it was full of too many “thees” and “thous.”

There were the moments when I saw him in my parents love for me and each other and through the biblical lessons they taught me, in the small ways He comforted me amidst friends who were ruthless in their mockery against my faith, and the few church members who surrounded my family and supported them faithfully.

My spiritual journey during childhood and adolescence was rocky and full of discovery, but let's not stop here. It continued after this point down a different path.

The post above and others to follow are a part of a collective piece written for JosiahRoad.com.