Tongue Tied In Target Science

For being a fat kid, I always had a lot of confidence.

Need someone to make up a song about selling Girl Scout Cookies and sing it in front of the local Target?

I was your girl.

Skit night at Wednesday night bible study?

You better believe I was the first hand raised.

Elvis impersonation contest in the elementary school program on the cruise you went on with your family?

I took home that trophy and slept with it next to my bed every night.

But when it came to true confidence,

True freedom to talk to the one person I wanted to talk to the most,

I froze.

He sat next to me in middle school Target Social Studies.

He wore soccer shorts to school.

He could eat 10 corn dogs in a single sitting.

And I thought that the sun rose and set on this boys buzz cut head.

We had tons of things in common.

He liked soccer.

I had seen a soccer ball.

He was athletic.

I admired his athleticism.

He liked to listen to Eminem.

I had once listened to one song of Eminem before my Mom caught me and grounded me for a week.

We were clearly made for each other.

And to make matters even better, we had been paired to sit next to each other for the entire semester.

All I had to do was flip my bowl cut hair ( if that was even possible), bat my clear mascared, blue eyeshadow eyes and say something witty like-

" Cool trapper keeper. Want to borrow one of my Lisa Frank stickers?"

Or

"Did you see American Idol last night? Are you rooting for Justin or Kelly?"

Or even something simple as-

"Hey- I know we've been sitting next to each other all semester, and I've never spoken a word to you, but my name's Katie."

But no.

I said nothing.

Everyday I sat in silence, when I knew all I had to do was open my mouth, and say that one word-

Hello.

I think a lot of times, we act this way about talking to God.

This God is so big,

So mystical,

So unseeable,

That we get tongue tied.

We don't know what to say,

Or how to say it,

So we just say nothing at all.

And if this God is really as great,

And powerful,

And loving,

As everyone says He is, why should someone as small and worthless as me get to talk to Him?

And why would He even care about my small problems?

But Paul paints an amazing picture of the freedom that we have when we go to talk to The Lord.

"In him, and through faith in him, we may approach God with freedom and confidence" - Ephesians 3:12

Because of Jesus, we don't have to tiptoe to talk to God.

We don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing,

Or make sure that we look alright on the outside,

Or wonder if our problems are too small.

Because of Jesus, and his death on the cross, and the salvation we're offered through that, we can come to God with freedom,

And confidence.

Just as we are.

With all our flaws,

And small problems,

And blue eyeshadow,

And sit in the presence of the King.

And even if we've sat silent,

Waiting for the right time to talk to him,

When we finally decide to muster up the confidence,

And say that one small word-

Hello,

Even if we're not sure He'll even hear,

We can go to Him with the utmost confidence and freedom,

To say whatever is on our hearts.

Even if we think its something He may not want to hear,

That freedom is still allowed.

And to me, that is so precious,

And worth making that step.

Even if its been five years,

Or five weeks,

Or five minutes since I've taken that gift,

I have to wonder

Why sit in silence,

When the God of the Universe has given me the freedom to talk to Him?

And not only that, but I can do so with confidence that I am deeply and dearly loved?

Slide of Faith

I remember it so well.

The moment I loved, and dreaded, that combination of feelings that would leave knots in your stomach and butterflies in your chest.

My mom wanted to go to the mall.

And when Mom when to the mall, I went to Playland.

I'm sure you've all seen Playlands just like this one.

A place in the mall where Mom's and Dad's can check in their kids in hopes of having a few hours of uninterrupted time, full of sales, shopping bags, and the smell of cinnamon pretzels.

And honestly, I loved Playland.

I loved to hang out with other kids.

I loved to play in the ball pit.

And I loved to sneak other kids' snacks while they were in said ballpit.

Life was good at Playland.

Except for one thing.

The one element of Playland that haunted my dreams, and caused me to stare my six year old failure and inadequacy in the face.

The slide.

This was no ordinary slide.

This slide was a massive, pastel painted, waterfall motif slope of death-

That I wanted to go on desperately.

And every time I would step foot into Playland.

I would pull up my stirrup pants,

Push my bowlcut out of my eyes,

And take my Keds off to begin the long and treacherous walk up the stairs to get to the top of the slide.

As each foot was placed in front of the other, I would try to amp up my courage.

"You can do this Katie".

"All the little kids are doing it".

"If you do this, I bet Mom will buy you a Zebra Cake".

And every time I would get to the top of the slide, I would stop.

And look down at the plunge that was before me.

And freeze.

I couldn't go.

I wanted to try.

It was the thing I wanted most in the world.

I tried to force my legs to sit down,

And force my arms to give myself a push.

But I just couldn't move.

And no amount of coaxing, or promise of Zebra Cakes ,could get me to move from that spot.

Sometimes, I feel like that with my faith.

I look around, and I see these amazing people with this unwavering faith.

People that can follow wherever the Lord leads without looking back,

Without any kind of coaxing.

I see this faith,

The kind of faith that gives you knots in your stomach and butterflies in your chest because of the sheer beauty of what the Lord is doing in your life,

And it's what I want most in the world.

And sometimes, I don't feel like my faith is that strong.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm standing at the top of that slide,

Wanting to take the leap,

But not be able to.

And then I feel embarrassed.

And ashamed.

And no amount of Zebra Cakes can solve this question that lingers in the back of my mind-

Why can't I make my faith stronger?

Why am I so scared to take that plunge?

But this morning, I felt this sense of peace and encouragement when I read this verse from Ephesians.

⁸ For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God

The glorious and amazing thing I discovered is that my faith doesn't come from myself.

My faith is a gift of God.

A gift that can be asked for.

And a gift that can be received.

No amount of willing,

Or coaxing, 

Or stressing,

Can cause my strength to grow stronger.

Only God, the provider of all blessings, and all things good,

Can help me to do that.

Only God can give me the courage to pull up my stirrup pants,

Push my bowl cut out of my eyes,

Walk my Keds up that long flight of stairs,

Sit down,

And give me the push I need to have that unwavering, slide into the great unknown kind of faith.

And somehow, I find such freedom in that.

That this is not a journey I'm going on alone.

The same person who I desire to have greater faith in,

Has been standing beside me, ready to offer the gift that whole time.

And all I have to do is sit down and take it.