"It's All About Us?"

"Well Shannon, if you'd pull your nose out of your navel and get your focus back on the Lord, you wouldn't be struggling so much," my friend said rather matter-of-factly.

"Ouch! I resemble that remark," I joked back. Yet, I knew it was true and pinpointed my problem. I was young in the Lord and used to doing whatever it took to fulfill my will and satisfy my flesh. So the Lord sent me a godly older woman from Queens, NY, that wouldn't hold back any punches and called it like she saw it. She was a strong, sharp, but deeply loving mentor that helped me grow by being merciless with my flesh.

As I stood in Border's bookstore yesterday, perusing the books under the Christian label, her words came back to my mind while I read the bindings on the shelves.

• "New Day, New You"
• "100 Ways to Simplify Your Life"
• "How to Succeed at Being Yourself"
• "It's Your Time"
• "Your Best Life Now"
• "Managing Your Emotions"

The Lord has brought me a long way from where I was 20 something years ago, but the root of my discontent and frustration is still (most often) ME and my flesh. These are Christian books? I could go on and on with the titles that do nothing more than reflect another "self-help" book with a few verses thrown in.

We have to be careful what we read and who we listen to. Is the book we are soaking in teaching us how to improve ourselves or how to cry out in prayer to the One Who can change us? Is it causing us to crave more of Jesus or crave more of what He does for us? Are we being pulled more towards making a name for ourselves or are we learning what John 3:30 says, "He must become greater; I must become less."

Learning to live a life that denies your flesh is only possible through the power of the Holy Spirit. But our Jesus has promised in 2 Peter 1:3, "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness." Sometimes, He sends a friend...or a husband...or a child, that reveals to you how loud your flesh is and how strong your will is. And when you find yourself wanting to scream in frustration, don't buy a Christian "self-help/success" book, pull your nose out of your navel and fix your eyes on Jesus. Matthew 16:24-25 (NLT) "Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it."


Now THAT is success...

Night to Remember...Again

This blog was originally posted in March 2009. But it's one of the most read and requested. Since we just had our 11th anniversary and I have a gift card for dinner waiting to be used in my purse, I thought I'd re-post this for a smile. Life has slowed down a bit and I'll be blogging again soon. I do hope our next dinner out will be a bit different than this one. :)

Special nights call for special preparation. Scott and I received a gift certificate to a posh restaurant (one we'd never be able to set foot in otherwise) and I winced while gazing at a "too-tight-at-this-age" black dress. The next outfit in the closet was as frumpy as Grandma from the Walton's and the third option displayed abstract art from Gerber on the shoulder. Actually, the majority of my clothes could be used for Rorschach inkblot tests nowadays. I settled on a mustard yellow outfit stuck way in the back. Without a tan, it makes me look "ill" in full sunlight, but I reasoned it would be dark soon and the remaining selections weren't even negotiable. I tiptoed past the nursery into the bathroom to call all cosmetic promises to the task.

Looking up into the mirror, I remembered a sermon I'd heard years ago about vanity. The essence of it compared the length of time we take to prepare ourselves outwardly versus how long we prepare our hearts inwardly before coming to church. I heard it years before I discovered that "crow's feet" did not refer to poultry, "laugh lines" weren't from a comedy skit, and "baggage" is what fits right underneath my eyes nowadays. What I actually needed was duct tape and Spackle rather than CoverGirl and MaryKay.

I plopped the magnification mirror up on the counter and scared myself. There was my eye, 12 times its normal size, with the surrounding wrinkles making me look more like my friend's Chinese Sharpei. I wish makeup was a paint-by-number set...I don't do well with freelance. But there I was, pulling feverishly at skin folds, contemplating the pros and cons of botulism injections. Maybe I should use tape along my forehead like one of my friends do for her wrinkles. I mean...packing tape came in tremendously handy as a substitute belt when I was pregnant. The small strips I had attached from my pants to my tummy held up great during one morning's church service. If it didn't crunch so loudly when I walked and hugged people, I would've used it a lot more often.

Time was running short. I realized I was bordering on obsession and quickly prayed, "Lord, I just wanna look nice for my honey. Could you help Scott see past my newly painted clown face and exaggerate his color-blindness for my apparel? Could you blur his vision from seeing my very tired, aging eyes?"

I'm here to say, once again, that God answers prayer. The restaurant's lights were so dim, the whole meal was spent conversing with his silhouette. He would often lean forward and ask me to repeat myself as his hearing is going bad and he couldn't read my lips in the dark. Afterward, we'd stopped for coffee in a well-lit place, but within minutes, his allergies erupted and he could barely open his watering eyes. We quickly had to make our way home. As soon as we walked in the door, the smell from a candle I'd forgotten about hit us like a caramel tsunami and Scott began to wheeze asthmatically. We thanked our gracious babysitters and apologized a thousand times over for the obnoxious smell...which was now making me nauseous.

As I watched my handsome husband make a beeline towards the bedroom, his eyes were closed, swollen, watering, and his breathing was labored. Within minutes, the lights were out, his head covered and he'd drifted off to sleep. It was 9:15.

God answered prayer. Not exactly the way I thought He would...but He always answers prayer.