What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times

I'm thinking of writing another book. This one could be entitled What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times. Yes, you read right. While other people's blogs (especially my fellow friends here on Mercy Ships) detail the ups and downs of missionary work, the plight of the poor, and the trials of the world, the simple side of my mind turns to randomness. Something must be done.

I really want to be one of those ultra-serious people. I don't want to have to convince people that I hold two master's degrees and have a couple of pennies of sense rattling around in my brain. I want people to just know it. I want to exude intelligence and maturity, but instead I often feel like my silliness makes me seem much younger than my forty years (and not in a good way). I'm sure Mother Teresa didn't get shocked looks once people found out she got the Nobel Prize. It simply made sense that she should get it.

But when I think about the person I would like to be--loving people like Mother Teresa, sacrificing like Esther, evangelizing people like Billy Graham, forgiving people like Nelson Mandela, inspiring people like Ghandi, charming people like Oprah, praying like Paul, and basically fully embodying Jesus--I can only think of silliness. I wonder if I'm thin enough, smart enough, educated enough...am I enough? All of my insecurities shine through and I wonder silly things like "what would it be like to be thin or if my head was on the body of someone like Gabrielle Union?"

No matter how many letters there are behind my name, what I haven't accomplished shines through. No matter how many times I've stepped out on faith, I consider the opportunities I may have missed when I was scared. No matter how many people I've showed love to, I worry about those who I fell short with. Even in the midst of serving God in this wonderful way on the mission field, I feel like I should always be doing or being more. Serious people do more, right? ...Or so I ask myself. I mean, why haven't I personally found the cure to the Ebola crisis in West Africa by now? Ludicrous, right? It's funny how no matter where you go, your stuff goes with you. Every insecurity and every ... I find myself wondering how it is that no matter how much you work on it, those things seem to surface at the most inopportune times.

But, at the end of the day, I was reminded that I am, indeed enough. A fellow minister was interviewing me and asked me about the book(s) that I felt every minister should read (beyond the Bible). I sat there stumped as I looked at him, and all those insecurities began to surface again as I drew a blank. I thought of how no one would ever believe that I graduated from seminary if I don't come up with acceptable answers to the question and begin quoting A.W. Tozier, D. Willard or the like. And then an overwhelming peace came over me as I realized that I was not them and that God didn't make a mistake. I really felt the reality of what Psalm 139 says when it talks about being 'fearfully and wonderfully made and having your soul know it well.' While serious things can be important, God has gifted me with a joy that simply flows over and may seem silly to most. So my soul kicked in and reminded me that I don't have to prove my intelligence or commitment to all things serious. My soul kicked in and reminded me that the greatest job that I have is to love and do so in my own skin with my own silliness and my own style.

Now this knowing won't stop the occasional return of the my-head-on-actress-body thoughts or wondering how I can do more to heal the world. It's those random thoughts that fuel the passion of great people to do great things. Perhaps I'll finally get healthier and have my body be a living reflection of God's deliverance from our vices (like chocolate) or maybe I'll even stumble across a cure for HIV/AIDS in my spare time. Who knows? But for now, all this silliness in these serious times is enough for God and so it's enough for me.

New Perspective...

I was thinking of the decision to leave my job the last few days. Well...it's something I think of often and piece my decision apart to ensure that I heard God and made the right move. Though it's difficult for me to understand in the midst of my circumstances, I usually end my thoughts reassured. So when I encounter someone along my path who I tell if this journey, I'm not completely clueless as to why they have a difficult time understanding my choice. And then recently, I got a new perspective on the decision.

If our nation were at war, and I had made a decision to drop everything and fight in that war. Even if there were little to no pay involved, people would not struggle to understand. If that very war was a threat to my life--putting me in harm's way and risking death--people would consider me valiant. Even if my family despised the decision, the support of my nation and comrades would carry me through and reinforce the decision on a daily basis.

And so it is in ministry. I believe that there is a war between what's righteous and evil going on in this world. The Bible tells us we war against "powers and principalities". I believe that people's lives are at stake if we don't do the work to fight for them; and I took drastic measures to join the fight full time. I expect that some friends and family may begrudge the choice I've made, but I'm girded up on every side by comrades in the Kingdom who know the struggle and understand the necessity. I have people I can call when I'm thrown of by a tactical move made by the enemy or when I'm awed by the protection of my God.

I say all of this to say that if you don't have those type of comrades, you are fighting in the wrong unit. If you are floundering out there trying to justify your decision, I encourage you to start simply telling people you are a captain or general in battle for a secret operatives team. That will quiet them. In the end, you must follow after what GOD said and not what man fears.

Be encouraged and stay focused!
MinD

What's In A Name?

A few months ago, I had a life-changing moment/experience--I was ordained. While, I've been licensed for many years now, this was the next step in this water-walking experience. I remember when I got licensed, it was a difficult transition to hear your name called with title..."Minister So-And-So" just felt ominous so this newest transition to "Pastor" and "Prophet" really has thrown me for a loop... And one of the first questions that people ask me when they've seen me since my ordination is "What should I call you now?" And I it never fails that I don't usually know what they're talking about at first and then I remember..."OOOOhhh! You're talking about THAT!"

You see, I've never been one for titles. I have gotten fussed at by friends and family over the years because I didn't use the letters after my name that my degrees endow me with. It's just not me to get tripped up on whether you call me Minister or if you simply call my name. I'm me. I've been me for some time now and I'm going to keep being ME (titles or not). I suppose it's the same thought that women have when they get married. For years, you've just been who you are and now, by virtue of a new relationship, you are supposed to answer to Mrs NewLastName. It's a culture shock and one that some women embrace more readily than others.

For me, the titles of education and ministry have been much the same. I readily embrace them but have to admit that I still don't know what the big deal is most of the time. No...I take that back...I get it. I understand that titles help people know what to do with you. They help people categorize you. And, perhaps it's just me, but I don't often feel like my titles and alphabet soup at the end of my name really provide good guidance. They tell you what I can do for you professionally, spiritually, ministerially. They speak to the fact that someone has vetted me and that I've gone through some stuff to be able to help you. And they help me remember that I have a certain responsibility as an ambassador for Christ. But for all the stereotypes and assumptions that come with the titles Minister, Elder, Pastor, Prophet/Prophetess, I'm not sure any one of those titles would completely help you know that I am a down-to-earth person who is simply trying to live for God; who makes mistakes but tries my best not to; who loves to laugh and not always at the most appropriate things; who loves people but has bad moods sometimes and doesn't want to be bothered; who wants to hear your story and wants to tell you mine; who tries to be reliable but sometimes will drop the ball; who offers help but is sometimes the one who needs it; and who, most importantly, wants to simply be ME.

So what should you call me? Hmm...if I'm thinking of what's real, I'd say...call me Joy, Peace, Love, Prosperity, and Hope. Call me by my name. I promise I'll answer. The rest is just...well...names...

Blessings,
MinD

Nowhere Sea is Not for Punks!

It's been a while since I've posted and the reason was clear...I felt like I didn't have anything good to say. But today, I realized that I had allowed the enemy to silence me instead of celebrating whereever I am. So I figured I'd let you in on just where that is: just beyond the Bermuda Triangle in the Nowhere Sea.

Okay. Maybe I exaggerate a tad, but that's the feeling that I've had. What do you do when you feel like you were called to be one thing but life looks completely different. I am called to preach and I haven't been in a pulpit in months. I am called to publish books and I haven't finished the two that are "in progress" right now. I am called to travel the world evangelizing and my passport hasn't had a stamp almost two years. I believe I'm supposed to be married and I haven't had a serious relationship in over two years. I want to have kids and well...need to conquer that marriage thing first if at all possible. So yeah...here I am on the Nowhere Sea and it feel like this must be where people disappear to when they hit the Bermuda Triangle.

All I can say is, this water-walking deal is not for punks. Yes, I knew it would be hard, but I just couldn't imagine what it would feel like. It's one thing to be broke but to feel broken is whole other issue. It's one thing to be lost but to feel like a loser is a different story. It's one thing to fail but to feel like a failure takes a lot more energy. And speaking faith to yourself when those are the thoughts crossing your mind every hour is a full time job. Do you get it? If you could close your eyes and imagine yourself out in the middle of an ocean, standing on the water but not understanding how... That would be me. At times you look up and see ships passing by--friends and family on board living life--and you feel like you could just reach out and grab them but they are out of reach before you know it. That would be me. You hear God's voice but don't see Him and are trying to stay true to what He said. That would be me. You just don't know what is coming next or how life is going to work this week. That would definitely be me.

So I'm hanging in there and decided today that takes courage and that has got to be good enough...for now. Cuz I'M NO PUNK!

That is all.

MinD