I Want Candy

I was a sneaky child.

Or at least I tried to be.

I had my own ways of getting around doing things I never wanted to do.

Don't want to take a shower when the babysitter is watching you?

Turn on the shower, leave it on for an appropriate amount of time, sit in the bathroom reading your newest edition of Babysitter's Club, and then stick your head underneath the sink as you hear the babysitter coming up the stairs.

The wet hair always did the trick.

Don't want to finish running the dreaded mile run in PE?

Pretend that your total lack of ability to breathe isn't because you haven't left the couch in a few weeks, but it actually is the symptoms of an asthma attack.

That got them every time.

But my greatest feat by far didn't come from trying to get out of something

In came from trying to get in something

More specifically, trying to get into the cabinet that held all of the cookies, left over halloween candy and various sugary goodness that resided in our kitchen.

I never asked for a snack.

Then my Mom might have said no.

And I didn't want to hear that answer.

My mother always had close watch over this stash.

But I had my ways around that.

I would wait for the phone to ring.

Or for my brother to call.

And sometimes, I would even ask for her help looking for a "missing book" ( that I had stashed underneath my bed prior to said request) to keep her occupied.

Then, when her back was turned, I would make my run for it.

Down the stairs,

Into the kitchen,

Grab the chair,

Jump on top of said chair,

Open the cabinet,

Grab whatever morsel of junk food that I could get my hand on,

Stuff said morsel underneath my shirt,

Jump off the chair,

Run back up the stairs,

And into my room, door closed and locked.

But that wasn't the end of the mission.

The real question then arose- what do I do with the evidence?

What do I do with the wrapper?

I couldn't throw it away- she'd see it when she took out the trash.

I couldn't flush it down the toilet- then I'd have stopped up toilet. And that is never good.

And then an idea struck me- I could throw the trash behind my huge dresser in my room.

Then no one would ever find it.

This scheming lasted for a few good years.

And I thought I would be successful.

Until my Mom decided she wanted to redo my room.

And wanted to rearrange the furniture.

And when she moved the dresser, hundreds upon thousands of wrappers came flowing out, revealing my scheming, revealing my plans, revealing my shame.

Sometimes, I think I try to treat my relationship with God the way I treated those candy bars.

I try to hide parts of my life from Him,

Keep them to myself,

Sure, they're a part of my life.

But that doesn't mean that I need to share it with you.

I try to keep them to myself.

I try to keep them secret.

I think " If God doesn't see the evidence, it'll be OK"

I like the way my friendships are going- I don't have to offer that up.

I like the way I'm doing school- I don't have to offer that up.

If I offer up my dating life, he might tell me I'm going to be forever single.

And I'm not sure I'm ready to hear that.

And I think, if I don't pray about this part of my life,

If I don't talk about it with my small group,

Then those parts of my life will be in my control.

God doesn't need to see that evidence.

But that's not the way God wants it- He wants all of us.

Even our schemes.

Even our shame.

He wants every single part of our life in use for his service.

It tells us in Romans 6:12

"...Offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness"

We are called to offer every part of ourselves.

Not just the parts we feel like we need his help in

Not just the parts that are going wrong

Every part of our lives

No hiding

No scheming

No wet, stuck underneath the sink heads.

Every

Single

Part

Even those candy wrappers you hide underneath your dressers

Panic Attack on The Lazy River

I used to hate going to White Water.

White Water, for all of those non-southerners that might stumble across this blog, is a middle schooler's dream- or, in my case, a middle schooler's nightmare.

White Water is a water park, where you can go (usually unsupervised) full of hundreds of other unsupervised middle schoolers in bathing suits.

They had a lazy river.

And water slides.

And a wave pool.

And they had funnel cakes- which in my mind was the only plus.

White Water was a prepubiscent's heaven.

Unless you were a fat, awkward middle schooler with glasses.

Like me.

Then, all of a sudden, you're stuck at a place for hours at a time where you're forced to walk around in your bathing suit, and you can't wear your glasses, so you hide them in a planter next to your beach chair and you have to walk around blind the entire day.

Like I said, White Water was not my favorite place.

But there was one part of White Water that I hated the most.

Worse then being the only girl in a one piece.

Worse then being the only girl in a one piece  that you got in the grandma section because it had a skirt attached ( and who doesn't want to be the 13 year old wearing the grandma skirted swim suit?)

Worse then getting into a raft with another girl that you thought was your friend because you are so blind that you start to identify people by their general blurred shape and hair color.

This was so much worse.

The  Cliffhanger.

A high rise free fall slide that sends you rushing nine stories down, into a dark,shallow watery grave.

Or at least that's how I saw it.

All of my friends would race up the stairs, practically pushing each other over to allow themselves to be thrown down this very large, very scary slide and I would stand at the bottom, urging my legs to move.

Trying to convince myself that it wasn't scary.

Trying to convince myself that it wasn't that high.

Trying to convince myself that it was safe.

But still, I remained, frozen at the bottom.

Sometimes, I think our life looks like that to us.

Especially when you're in your mid-twenties.

Everything looks big.

Everything looks scary.

Everything looks like more then we can handle.

Nothing seems safe.

And all of these changes come rushing towards us, sending us to a very dark and scary place- the unknown.

Sometimes, all I can look at is how big and scary the future seems.

And when my legs are frozen, and I can't seem to move, I have to remind myself that even though the future is big and scary, my God is that much bigger.

In the book of Job, we get the amazing opportunity to hear God tell us just how big He really is, and we begin to realize just how small we, and in turn, our problems, really are.

This whole chapter is amazing, so I'm going to just have to pick out a few of my favorite verses- but please, if you have a chance, go back and read Job 38.

Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
    Tell me, if you understand.
 Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
    Who stretched a measuring line across it?                                                         On what were its footings set,

    or who laid its cornerstone

Who shut up the sea behind doors

    when it burst forth from the womb when I made the clouds its garment
    and wrapped it in thick darkness,
 when I fixed limits for it
    and set its doors and bars in place,
 when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther;
    here is where your proud waves halt’?

 Have you ever given orders to the morning,
    or shown the dawn its place

Can you bind the chains^[b] of the Pleiades?
    Can you loosen Orion’s belt?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons   

 or lead out the Bear^[d] with its cubs? 

Do you know the laws of the heavens?

If I serve a God that is so big that he measured the Earth and set it's foundations,

If I serve a God that is so big that he can shut up the oceans behind doors,

If I serve a God that can loosen Orion's belt in the sky,

then how can I be scared about finding a job?

Or finding a husband?

Or moving to a different state?

How big is my God?

And how small am I?

And if He can arrange the constellations, then surely my life isn't nearly as difficult to set up.

Miracle In Gatlinburg Tennessee

There were few things I was sure of as a ten year old.

1. Zebra cakes were God's gift to the world.

2. My brothers were always wrong. And in turn, I was always right.

And the thing I knew, down to the very pit of my soul-

3. Santa Claus was real. And he could, if you were good enough, bring any present to your house, no matter how difficult it was to make.

Limited Too sparkly pink phone?

Done. The elves could do that with their eyes closed.

A desk that had little mailbox compartments that I could sit at and pretend I was a real grown up writer?

Not a problem. That was child's play.

All of these gifts could get down my chimney, and Santa Claus would still have enough time to enjoy some sugar cookies and milk, and Rudolph could turn off his nose for a few minutes and gnaw on a carrot.

I believed.

My faith was great.

I even got in a fist fight in fifth grade with a boy who sat next to me in class because he tried to convince me that I didn't hear reindeer hooves on my roof.

You better believe I did.

And sure, I know now that 10 years old was still a little old to believe in Santa Claus.

But how could you not, when all the evidence made it so clear that he existed?

One year, right before Christmas, my family and I went to Gatlinburg Tennessee ( home of Dolly Parton y'all) and in true Johnson family style, could not leave this tourist paradise without partaking in the local craft fair.

Now as an adult, I don't believe in love at first sight, but I think that day, in the Gatlinburg conference center, I got as close as I'll ever come.

As soon as I laid eyes on this doll, I knew she had to be mine.

She had chunky cheeks ( just like me!)

She had brown eyes (just like me!)

She had dimples ( just like me!)

She had angel wings...well, close enough.

She was perfect in every way. But there was only one problem.

Christmas was 3 days away.

And I had already sent my list into Santa.

And my parents would not buy the doll.

I was distraught.

I cried.

I pouted.

I ate my feelings in Little Debbies.

But as I wiped the crumbs of the Zebra Cake off my tear streaked cheeks, I came to a sudden realization.

Santa can do anything.

Even get the elves to make a doll that I just fell in love with only 72 hours before Christmas.

He sees me when I'm sleeping.

He knows when I'm awake.

So he must also have his eyes on local craft fairs too.

And when I woke up on Christmas morning, and found that perfect doll all wrapped under the Christmas tree, I was sure of something else.

If anyone ever tried to tell me there wasn't a Santa Claus ever again, I would give him a bloody lip, and then show him this doll.

Because that doll was proof.

Sometimes, I think our relationship with God is like that.

We see situations that are completely impossible, but somehow we still manage to hold on to faith that God can give us our greatest desires.

Take Abraham for example.

He was over 100 years old.

So was his wife Sarah.

Her womb was barren.

They had no children.

But when God promised him that he was going to be the "father of many nations" he still had faith, even though, looking at the situation, it seemed highly unlikely.

And although Abraham and Sarah had probably had a ton of problems getting pregnant before, and all of his friends were probably already great great great grandfathers at this point, he held firm to his belief.

¹⁹ Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead.²⁰ Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God,²¹ being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. (Romans 4:19-21)

Even in the most unlikely of situations, Abraham held firm in his faith, and because of that faith, was given what God promised him.

But it didn't come right away.

He had to wait a little bit.

But this time of waiting was used for something more important.

This time of waiting was used to grow his faith.

This heartbreak and shame was used to grow his faith.

How often do we lose faith because something isn't going the way we want it?

Because we're not happy in our job?

Or because that perfect man is taking too long to come along?

How often do we allow our faith to waver, even though we know God has the best laid plans in store for us.

How much better would our walks be, if instead of looking at these trials as something to grit our teeth and bear through, we looked at it as a chance to allow our faith to grow?

A chance to let God truly do amazing work that only He could do?

How much stronger would our faith be if instead of complaining, we held firm to the promises given to us by a God that is incapable of breaking promises?

How much stronger would our faith be if we knew that if we are patient enough, we will get through that trial, not only with what has been promised to us, but a faith that much stronger because of it

Sometimes, you don't get that perfect doll wrapped under the Christmas tree right away.

But the promises of the Almighty God are completely worth the wait.