Disqualified, Part 2

...here's a word for you!  

A few years ago I began blogging as an outlet during the heartbreak of our fertility issues. After I got pregnant and had Emmy I stopped blogging. Dumb. I know. I got busy with my new life as a stay-at-home-wife-mom-housekeeper-cook (all my friends just LOL-ed). But a few months ago I was at a leadership conference and God stirred my heart in an unmistakable way. I believe He was reconfirming His call on my life to write. So I got back to writing & blogging. 

So I'm going along blogging my heart out for two months when my news anchor friend contacts me to ask if I would consider becoming her family/faith/relationship contributor on her new lifestyle t.v. talk show. Umm, someone pinch me. Is this happening? Umm, someone pinch me again. I'm not qualified to do this...   

And just like that I began a downward spiral of self-doubt that needed no help from Satan to kick me and keep me down. I could do "kicking and keeping me down" all by my bad little self.  

At the bottom of my doubt, God began reminding me of His Truth, His Word. He whispered, "I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11). Yes. I believe that. Then as doubt and insecurity crept back up, He whispered again, "You are my workmanship, my masterpiece! You were created in my Son to do good works that I prepared in advance for you to do." (Ephesians 2:10).

I still don't feel qualified but I believe I am called. Christine Caine says "God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies the called." 

I don't feel qualified for the work and opportunities in front of me. I still feel like an awkward eight grade girl with braces, glasses and pubescent acne (I still have the acne). The opportunity to speak into people's lives about relationships (i.e. marriage, parenting). Wow. What a great opportunity. What a huge responsibility. 

Struggling to accept all this goodness, I decided I needed a mental break. Girl time was necessary. I called my sister and we took our girls for donuts, bought them new shoes and let them play at the mall's indoor playground. Leaving the mall, Jenni and I saw that Dillard's had a clearance on their children's clothes...score! We gazed and gathered quickly as our children began wilting.

I stood at the Dillard's children's counter with my two fabulous clearance items waiting patiently for the lady in front of me to finish her transaction. My child was not waiting patiently. She was holding my one free hand but moving away from me so that just our fingertips were touching. "Emery Noel, you have to hold Mama's hand." She looked at me, saw that I was stuck in line and her evil master plan would work...so she went for it! She took off running faster than a Kenyan at the Olympics. Can I say that? I just did. 

I stuffed the clearance items in my sister's hand and took off running, screaming to my sister, "Put the clothes back on the racks. I'm not buying her anything!" As I ran through the store I yelled at innocent bystanders, "Look out! Kid coming your way. Don't trip!" I noticed many people stop, look down just in time to see Emery race past them, and then look at me and laugh. They laughed. At me. The family/faith/relationship girl. When I finally caught up to her, I was out of breath and I had shin splints. I'm not kidding. Pathetic. Note to anyone reading this: next time you see me running through a store to capture my disobedient child, please help a sister out and trip that sweet child of mine. Good grief! 

We piled into my minivan and drove home. I promptly put Emmy down for a nap and then I cried. "I'm so not qualified to tell anyone how to do anything, most of all parenting." I felt disqualified. Like I just got caught taking the juice (is that the right sports terminology?). Except that my "juice", the disqualifying factor, was my lack of ability to maintain a pretend sense of control and calm in my life. Chasing my kid through the mall made me feel disqualified to talk about relationships and parenting.   

I told my friend, Di, about the incident a few days later and she roared with laughter. I was only at a point where I could politely chuckle about it. And then she spoke wisdom into my discouraged heart, "Jessica, that is exactly why Tatum wants you to be the family/faith/relationship person on her show. Because you'll tell that story. And the majority of moms will relate. And you'll offer them hope, unity, love. And, hey, if nothing else, you'll make 'em laugh...at your expense!" True that. 

God didn't call me to do any of this, writing/speaking, because I'm qualified. My sin has disqualified me from everything good. But His Son, on the cross, disqualifies my sin and calls me out as His daughter, thus qualifying me as royalty. How much more qualification do I need? 

He called me, I answered and now He will qualify me for the work He has planned for me to do. 

He'll qualify you, too. Listen, obey, answer His call. Today. Not when you've quit smoking or cussing or when you've lost 10 pounds or when you've fallen back in love with your husband or when you've served in your church for one year or when you've stopped sleeping with your boyfriend for three months. Stop trying to qualify yourself. Do what God's asked you to do and do it now. When you're not qualified, or when you feel disqualified. You can't qualify yourself - that's God's job. Your job is to answer His call with a "Yes." Get going and keep going!

Disqualified, Part 1

I was introduced to public speaking my first year of college. I was 18. The course was "Women's Speech" (I think a man just screamed "NNNNOOOOOO!" somewhere.) As though we women folk need help in the speaking department. Isn't that innate? Yes, maybe. But speaking and public speaking are two very different things. The class had only 12 people, just enough for it not to get the ax from the local community college I attended. All 12 of us were women. My BFF and I were the youngest in the class by about twenty years. It was community college - the majority of students were returning students or "later-in-life" students, my unsung heroes.  

When I got up in front of the class to give my first speech my knees were literally knocking together. I was trembling from head to toe. I gave my half-hearted speech, which I am sure was utter torment for everyone, and then I cried. Yes. I said I cried. 

I think I actually cried while giving the speech. And my sweet BFF sat on the front row and cried with me/ for me. (That's a true friend.) I wasn't giving a personal story about my life that pulled some deeply rooted emotion out of me. I wasn't speaking about the time my dog Aimee Jo Johnson died. The speech was not hinged on anything that should incite tears.

I cried out of my utter fear of public speaking. I cried because I didn't want anyone to look at me and see the flaws I saw in myself. I cried because I felt exposed and vulnerable and out of control. So my response to not wanting to be exposed and vulnerable and out of control was to cry in front of my professor and my classmates. Great plan, Jes. Awesome. It was so bad that my professor took pity on me and said I could video my next speeches and show the tapes to the class. I did not give another speech in that class. I videotaped every assignment, created faux commercials, added theatrics using my friends (yes, the dork who cried during her first public speech had friends), and I earned an A. But I did not learn the art of public speaking. 

After that class, I did not give another public speech for five years. The next time I spoke to an audience was in 2003 when I taught the high school class my church. The group was large, about 75 kids, and I was terrified. But I knew that God had something to say and He wanted to say it through me. Why me? I dunno. I wasn't qualified. I was a total screw up. A total screw up who relied on Jesus more than anything else because I knew that if I didn't I might screw up again and the next time might be the last time. So I studied my heart out and I spoke. And I didn't cry. And you know what? People said I did a good job. The kids asked the student pastor if I could speak again, and he let me! And then other groups in the church heard that I was a decent communicator, so I got to speak at this thing or that shin-dig. And then I had the ultimate privilege of team-teaching with my pastor and the high school student pastor on "Student Day" on a Sunday morning in May 2005. A Sunday morning...in west Texas...and I'm a GIRL!!! And that went really well, so God began increasing the opportunities and the size of the audience. I still can't believe what God has let me do; where He's brought me. I feel alive when I'm in front of 1,000 people. I feel excited to offer them Jesus, a hope and a laugh. It feels like I'm operating in my calling but there are many times when I still struggle with not feeling qualified. 

Have you been there? Do you struggle with feeling qualified to do what is before you? God's got this thing He's offering you and you're sassing back saying, "Who me? I'm not just not qualified...my life, my choices make me disqualified."  

Keep going, sister. I'm right there with you. And do I have a word to share with you...

Season Premiere

It's here...Fall. It's my favorite season. I live in the west Texas panhandle, so I use the word "season" loosely.  

I love pumpkins. And pumpkin spice lattes (I think I just heard a baptist shout "AMEN!"). I love layers of clothing with cute boots, a sloppy side bun and a hat. I love pumpkin patches, cinnamon, caramel, and candy corn. It's a miracle that by January 1 I'm not a candidate for "The Biggest Loser". I love the crispness that arrives in the air. I enjoy waking up early to read my Bible while it's dark outside and there's a slight chill in the air in my cozy home. I love grabbing my slippers, my robe, my favorite mug and filling it with coffee and spending time with the Lord. Yummy, yummy Fall. Did I mention that I love it?

You know what else I love about the Fall? I love the season premiere of all my favorite t.v. shows. I drudge through the hot, episode-less summer to wake up in late September to the perfect combination of cooler weather and good t.v. (I think I just heard a baptist shout, "Good T.V.? That's an oxymoron.") Sorry to disappoint, but if you're looking for the t.v.-less spiritual giant, you're on the wrong blog. New episodes of my favorite shows is just another way the world reminds me that the season is changing. And usually after I've endured another summer of living-on-the-Texas-sun-hotness, I'm ready for a season change. 

My life is in a season change right now. It gives me goosebumps when I stop and think about all that God is doing, all that He is revealing to me. I've been through a season recently where I thought God forgot that He created me with a purpose and a hope and a future like Jeremiah 29:11 promises. I thought He had moved on to someone with more talent, a bigger heart, better time management, or a higher education. I felt like I was in a season of identity crisis...lost identity. 

But God never forgot me. He never left me. He was working all along to prepare me for this new season of life. A season when a sweet friend contacted me to tell me she was pursuing her dream and getting her own daytime lifestyle t.v. show...it premieres in my favorite Fall month of October...and she asked me to be her relationship/faith contributor. Wow. Overwhelmed. Undeserving. But prepared. Not because I know so much, but because I know nothing yet I'm learning so much. So a new season is birthed out of what I'm seeking to learn about God, life, marriage, parenting, aging parents, friendships. All the things that really matter - and now God is giving me an outlet to share His hope & truth through those life lessons.

I was in a season where I wanted to stop and give up. God whispered, "Keep Going!". 

I hope you'll hang on today and keep going! God might be on the verge of starting a new season in your life. Don't give up one day too early.  

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens..."       Ecclesiastes 3:1

Please tune in on Monday, October 21st to Studio 7 on CBS 7 at 4:30pm. It will be the season premiere - the very first show! Visit us on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/studio7cbs7 

Walk Like An Egyptian

I bought Emery her first pair of heel shoes. They are clear plastic Cinderella glass slippers and they are precious. "Totes presh" as the cool kids say. She loves the way they "click-clack" against the tile in our hallway. The only problem is that they are a bit too big. Her narrow foot slips out of them if she walks faster than her tiny toes can grip down and hold them on. So far she hadn't fallen out of the shoes and busted...until Friday. 

She was running down our hallway looking at herself in the full-length mirror and as she approached the mirror she smiled and giggled. She must have loosened up her toe-death-grip because in an instant her right foot slipped out of the shoe, she stumbled as it rolled under her foot tripping her and causing the left shoe to fall off. I watched as her left ankle rolled. She grasped for something, anything. There was nothing to grab hold of and I couldn't reach her fast enough. I ran down the hall, a mere four large steps for me, and grabbed her as both her knees and hands hit the tile. SPLAT! That is the sound a two year old's tiny body makes as it is catapulted onto hard cold tile. Splat. 

I picked her up. She was stunned and a little confused as she watched Mama hold her, kiss her, cry, check her body for scrapes, scratches, bones sticking through skin (not a one). Then she saw her crazed mother grab up the homicidal slippers and put them away. She's lucky I didn't throw those stupid shoes away.  

And guess what she did? Two stinking seconds later she screamed, "I WANT MY SLIPPERS!". Are you kidding me? Those slippers almost maimed you, mauled you, killed you, or worse, and you want them back? You stubborn child. No ma'am! 

Then God spoke loud and clear in my heart, "You're just like her. Always wanting those things that knocked you down, hurt you, almost killed you. The ones that I reached down, picked you up and saved you from. Yet two seconds later you put aside the hurt and you ask for the very thing that caused you pain. You stubborn child."

OMG. Only My God would choose this moment to get my attention, rebuke me and remind me of His relentless pursuit of my heart. O.nly M.y G.od.  Wanting what we had that hurt us because it's what we know, what we're comfortable with and what we think we deserve. I've worn those shoes. 

I love the Israelites in the Old Testament. They are so "me". They had been slaves in Egypt for four hundred years but God saw their despair and sent Moses to lead them out of Egypt. God took them out of slavery, gave them an incredible leader, protected them and provided manna from heaven for them to gather and eat each day. But over time, they grew tired of the manna. They grew tired of the daily provision of God.

Here's what happened in Numbers 11:4-6 (NIV):

4The rabble (foreigners traveling) with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! 5We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. 6But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!”

Looking back is a dangerous game. We tend to look back and romanticize what we were rescued from. The Israelites looked back at their time in Egypt, remembered the delicious food they had but forgot the harsh slavery they were under. We do the same thing. We remember "that" time in our life and how we felt special, beautiful, valued. But we forget the unhealth of our heart, our mind. We forget the fact that we were actually enslaved. I decide that the good ole days were my glory days and I begin to walk like an Egyptian (come on, do the move with me). I trade the glory of God for my glory days which were really more gory than glory, but I forget all that. I begin to digress into a past that is fiction in my head. I cry out to God that where He's brought me and what He's offering me today is subpar compared to what I had in...Egypt. I continue to walk like an Egyptian right into enslaving myself again and again. 

But God's offer is manna. Manna is translated, "What is it?". God's daily offer is, "What is it? What is it you need? What is the desire of your heart?".  Ask Him. He'll offer you what you need. He'll give you the manna that you need. But He'll only give you what you need for today. It's enough. His grace in this moment is enough for what you're facing today. He will always provide the amount of grace for what you right now.

I need to remember that. I'm beginning a workout challenge tomorrow that is going to kick my butt, literally. I might be so sore that I can't type for a month. I'm already worried about what I'm going to eat. How I'm going to probably starve to death on day one. I'm worried what I'm going to have to give up (mostly giving up my pride). 

My tendency will be to start, realize it's difficult, then look back and think, "It wasn't so bad back there. It wasn't totally awful when I hated going shopping b/c nothing fit well. It wasn't so bad getting winded just putting Emery in the car seat. It really wasn't so bad. And I got to eat anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. Remember the food? Remember the meat? It was SSSSSOOOOO good!". But that is all a lie. I can't walk like an Egyptian into freedom.  
I need manna, not meat. I need grace, not slavery. I need the Promised Land, not Egypt. 

So what is it that you need? What's your manna request? Ask Him. He'll give you what you need for today. He will give you what it is that you desperately need so that you can keep going. He's the God who wants to see us keep going until we reach the Promised Land. 

I'm praying that when you read this, you'll have a renewed sense of God's power and grace. And pray for me, that I don't walk like an Egyptian into Krispy Kreme and ruin everything! I'm a weak, weak woman!!