Bless your heart?

A couple of weeks ago, I was praying for three friends who desire good things to happen in their lives: two dear friends want a husband; and one longs for a child. Each of these women know the Lord personally and love him. Praying for these women to be blessed in this way made me start to think about blessing, in general. Are these three women not receiving the Lord's blessing? That doesn't make any sense when we have a God who desires to bless us and to do so abundantly beyond our expectation. "If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:11. So what does "blessing" mean? Is it different than gift? Yes. I think. These are my thoughts.

It dawned on me that I have a myopic, rather than Biblical view, of blessing. I instantly thought of the times that "we" (those of us well-versed in Christianese) use (or misuse) the term and concept of blessed or blessing. I determined that it's often used in relation to getting what we want. I wanted that, I received it, therefore, I was blessed. "We got a great deal on our new car, what a blessing!" Or, we look at someone else's life and see that they have things that we desire and therefore, they must be "blessed." "You have a beautiful home, you must feel so blessed." Why? Because it's something that you want? "What a sweet boy, you've been very blessed." Why? Because you think he's perfectly behaved? That's not the litmus test for blessing.

Of course, all good things come for the Lord. So, it is a blessing to be able to work and make a living and afford a home. The Lord giveth and can taketh away. And blessings can definitely overlap with what we want. My marriage is a blessing. My child is a blessing. I wanted those things - doesn't make them less of a blessing. But just because we are not getting what we want surely cannot mean we are not being blessed. How self-centered of us, at least of me, to think of blessing in terms of "I asked for it and received it," me, myself and I. I shouldn't be surprised that we would take a God-centered concept and understand it in a totally self-centered way. Human beings are inherently selfish and self-centered. At least I am. How much bigger is God's framework of blessing?

I was instantly reminded of the beattitudes in Matthew 5, in which the word "Blessed are those..." is repeated over and over again. And not necessarily in the most desirable positions of life. Matthew 5:3-12:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

Blessed while mourning? Blessed when poor in spirit? Blessed when persecuted and insulted? Obviously the blessing is the comfort, the inheritance, the kingdom, the reward. And not the mourning, etc., itself. But it is the mourning, etc., that God uses to bring us the blessing. Not many of us have prayed for such opportunities to receive blessings. Not sure I will tonight or tomorrow, either. But my point is, the Lord ably blesses us in all sorts of circumstances and blessing is bigger than just getting that for which we prayed.

My favorite verse while a teenager was Psalm 37:4: "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." Memorialized not just in my Bible but on my wall. In my prayer journals, in my diaries. I clung to that verse as I waited for Matt Humber to profess his love and eventually marry me. I loved the Lord and Matt was the desire of my heart. So... That was my misunderstanding the verse, understandably so, at 16. And 17. And possibly 18 and 19, too. It was a long wait. :) But once, as an adult, and freed of the melodramatic teen years, I did actually grasp the fullness of the verse, it remained a favorite verse through a completely changed perspective.

When I was in high school. Or middle school. Or college. Or all three. I remember my mother honestly telling me, "Oh, Becky, I know you better than you know yourself." Guess what? Totally infuriating. In fact, it was spoken in the midst of angst over knowing that the exact opposite was true. I doubt there is anyone walking the earth that can tell you that and actually be correct. I am confident that I don't even know my toddler better than she knows herself. But the Lord does know me better than I know myself and it's totally not infuriating to hear it because it is absolutely true. He knows my rising and my laying down, he knows my requests before I speak them, he knows my thoughts before I think them and he knows how many premature gray hairs I have on this 32 year old head. And he knew I would have them even before I was born. Thanks for that, by the way. And His word is absolutely true.

He will give you the desires of your heart - it's just that he knows your heart better than you know it. You may not get what you want, but you will always get what you need. I bet the Stones had no idea they were spreading a Biblical thought when they wrote that lyric. God is so good, that he doesn't just give us what we want - he gives us what we need even in the midst of circumstances we don't want. Don't curse the trials that allow the Lord to uniquely bless you.

Call Me Erma: A Potty Training Tale

For those of you who aren't familiar with old-school pop culture or do not have a mother who thought sarcastic domestic humor was hilarious in the 80's, then you may not be familiar with Erma Bombeck. But Erma was a mom of many, I forget the exact number, a homemaker and a humorist. All of her books were sarcastic and made fun of those moments in motherhood or wifedom where you either laugh or cry or call yourself fat and then laugh or cry.

I am in the throes of potty training my 2.5 year old. It's times like these that you understand the desire to have not one, but four nannies. Or a boarding school for potty training. Just a week wouldn't hurt, would it? So, it's day four and I finally tried a new strategy after three solid days of a 50/50 record. I couldn't find any rhyme or reason to her hits and misses and was using a lot of bribery. I'm not against it. Rewards still work in the adult world.

So today, I decided to tell my daughter that if she had dry pants all day, no pee-pee and no poo-poo in her underwear, no accidents (I tried to express it in any way I knew how to make sure it stuck, I would've spoke French if I thought it would help), that I would take her to an "ice cream restaurant" (Friendly's) for dinner. She has never been to Friendly's. I have been once; my now-husband and I stopped there while on a roadtrip through Connecticut. Following that stop, I vomitted on the side of the road until bile came out. Oh, the good ol' days. But this was a reward for my daughter, not me. And I thought the concept of an ice cream restaurant would be like reaching her Nirvana.

So that was the challenge of which I reminded her throughout the day. Ad nauseum. Even I was sick of hearing it. But it worked. Four pees and one poo, all on the potty. Dry underwear the whole day. One nap pull-up with pee, but that doesn't count. Then she "woke up" from playing in her room for two hours and her first words were "ice cream restnaut." We changed into underwear and waited for Dad to get home. Constantly, I asked her if she needed to go, for fear of her blowing the challenge right before we were to leave - she would be devastated. When she said she didn't need to go, I decided to trust her. We're off for our reward!

As soon as we get into Friendly's, I noticed the temperature being warm. Maybe it was the small dining room which is a stone's throw from the fryers and grills and ovens and boiling pots of goo. Or maybe it was inadequate air conditioning. Or maybe it was my elevated pregnant body temperature. Either way, it was hot. Why am I breaking a sweat in an ice cream restaurant?

I immediately had to go to the bathroom, at this crowded restaurant full of bad food and children of all ages. So I left dad and daughter at the table. I walk into the one-stall bathroom and was greeted with a bowl full of pee, poop and toilet paper. Just what I need in my life, to clean up after someone else's child. Flush.

Then I go back to our table. I forget why my child screamed at the top of her lungs. There was some unjustified reason. Off to the bathroom we go for a discussion and spanking threat. Problem solved. We sit back down, order our food. And I remind her to tell me if she needs to go pee or poo. A few minutes later, I see her reaching down and feeling the front of her underwear. I let my fingers do the walking, as well, to find... wetness. The booster seat is officially filled with urine. Thankfully, I came prepared with dishtowels, extra clothes, pull-ups, and disinfectant wipes. Off comes my child and in goes the towels and now we're going back to the bathroom. She is crying hysterically because she peed in her pants. We're in the stinky single-stall again. She's crying, not wanting to take off her underwear. I'm about to cry because half of my right leg is soaked with pee run-off. We get her cleaned up and in a pull-up. She's crying, telling me she got distracted (that was my excuse that I offered to her... she's bright but not bright enough to say, "I was distracted, mom" at two).

So we go back and eat our lackluster dinner. I'm nauseous from heat and my sub-par burger (the high point was ketchup), so I pass on ice cream, while I watch my daughter eat a hot fudge sundae, touching the chocolatey spoon to my right arm and shirt every time she moves. I try my husband's sundae that, in theory, sounds delicious, but in reality is a runny mess of sugary gruel.

By this time, I'm sweating through my shirt. Perhaps a drink refill would've helped. Can we leave please?

There is redemption. When we came home, she sat on the potty and peed. So we're 5:1 today with the one accident being in a truly distracting restaurant. It is progress but I'm nauseous, exhausted, and will never return to Friendly's unless I one day fall prey to the decision of my child's sports team following a game. Next time, we'll go to Ben and Jerry's.

"If life is like a bowl of cherries, this must be the pits." - Erma Bombeck

Freedom of Jihad

When you're pregnant, one of the beauties of it is that you have vivid dreams that for me, at least, lead to deep sleep. For me, the dreams are all usually positive. For the past few days, I've been praying for that kind of sleep because I have been tossing and turning all night with thoughts of the mosque that is planned near Ground Zero. Not the structure itself but the ideology within it's walls as professed by Imam Rauf and what it means to not just be built at Ground Zero (although highly and obviously significant) but what it means to be built within our boarders.

Do we, as people, understand what it means that Imam Rauf advocates the acceptance and eventual cultural observance of Shariah law in this country? Shariah law calls for the blatent oppression and abuse of women and girls. Shariah law calls for midevil punishment for moral offenses under Islamic law. Women can't get divorced. Women can't be seen in the company of non-related males. Have you seen a woman in a theme park on a summer day covered in a black burqua with hardly an eye showing? Shariah law calls for Shariah compliance. Shariah calls for deception in order to further the cause of Islam. And persecution and cruel punishment for not following it. Oh, and the destruction of Israel and conversion by sword for non-believers. And honor killings for those who leave the faith. Ask the African countries who've experienced genocide at the hand of Shariah-following and Shariah-imposing Muslims. Ask the girl on the cover of liberal Time Magazine that is missing her nose and ears at the hands of this Islamic law.

This is the belief system of the man who is behind and will be the leader of the Ground Zero Mosque. He does not denounce Jihad. He calls America an equal accomplice in the 9/11 attacks. He will not call Hamas a terrorist organization. This is the ideology of the mosque. This is not what is being built but what is being preached, spread, spewed. But we should believe he is "moderate" because he tells us, in other sentences, that he is. No one's ever lied to further their agenda or manipulated people with words, right? So it must be true... But how can you attest that embracing a strategy to impose Shariah compliance is moderate? That is the definition of "not moderate." Scary not moderate.

Not all who call themselves Muslim hold these beliefs. I know that. But some do. He does. And while it is extreme I do not believe it to be as obscure a ideology as many want you to believe but it's become too taboo to challenge Islam. Terrorist attacks were not Islamic attacks... except for the fact all the attackers basically yelled "praise Allah" in arabic and made it very obvious that their actions were done in the name of Islam. Not all muslims are terrorists, but all the recent terrorists are Muslim and it's done in the name of Islam. Why can't we embrace this truth? Why are we so fearful if the religion is so peaceful. Because a Danish cartoonist has been killed for depicting Mohammed. Because a Dutch filmmaker had his throat slit for a documentary on the mistreatment of women.

What is more disturbing is the call for "religious freedom" in regards to this mosque. My issue is not the location of this mosque - although it's outrageous. It is an obvious statement of triumph and a slap in the face that should be appalling and alarming to all Americans, regardless of creed (unless, of course, you support its agenda). But I am more disturbed by how this is an anti-American ideology exploiting the very freedoms it hopes to dominate and destroy. And we are supposed to embrace, encourage and further it all. And at least a third of us are.

More disturbing still is that some Christians, or some who call themselves Christians - hard to tell who's who and who believes what anymore - are calling on Christians to support the building of the mosque under the guise of religous freedom. Some of the things being espoused: "Jesus said to love your neighbor," "bless those who persecute you," "we value religious freedom in America." Excuse me? Have you read the Bible? All of the aforementioned is true but let's get a little context.

At no point in scripture will you find Jesus advocating for an evil agenda or offering support for those that do. At no point in the entire Bible will you find God, whether speaking through Old Testament Biblical heros, prophets, or Christ himself, uring people to not speak out against evil. God told Jonah to go preach in Ninevah to warn the people of their wickedness. God speaks out and acts against evil historically and God has never changed and cannot change, the God of Abraham and Moses is still the God of the univers. "Loving the sinner" does not mean promoting his/her agenda. When Christ met with the prostitute, he approached her though she was "unclean," showed her love and told her to go and sin no more. He showed her love and treated her with dignity and respect but he did not advocate the act of prostitution. He didn't rally behind her without acknowledging the evil and requiring correction.

To support the construction of this mosque or any mosque which espouses the views that this Imam holds, is supporting abusive oppression, murder, the destruction of Israel, conversion by sword for non-believers. We are not called to to advocate for these things; in fact, we are called to speak out against evil.

Still, we are also called to bless those who persecute us and love our neighbors. But again, to use a trite "Christianese" phrase, "loving the sinner" never is to be translated into advocating the sin, whatever that sin is - whether in our own lives or in the lives of others. How then do we bless and love? Be a friend to your muslim neighbor. Pray tirelessly that those blinded by Islam will be freed in Christ. Don't hate the people but do speak out against evil. That's what Jesus did, just as his Father called him to do.

Friends, don't be blinded by the deception of a world turned upside-down.

(photo by Jodi Bieber/INSTITUTE for TIME)

Blessing, not burden

I've been thinking a lot about children lately. Probably because I have one that keeps me busy and stirs my compulsive snuggling reflex, and one that I feel like I am already not giving enough attention to in my womb... at least that's what I'll blame it on if he/she rebels later in life.

We also had a sermon on children and infertility and family planning. Sounds odd and agenda-ish, but it was actually good and Biblical. Everything in the Bible discusses children as being a blessing from the Lord, a reward, etc. Be fruitful and multiply. And I don't know when we, even as Christians, somehow took the view that children are burden rather than blessing. Is this our secular culture creeping into our churches? It's another example of buying a comfortable lie rather than being blessed by the truth.

I have actually fretted over having more than two kids because we like to travel and hotel rooms are much easier with four rather than five. Though, I grew up in a family of five who traveled often and I was the one on the rollaway... and I have no ill memories of cramped hotel rooms. And I was the person who wanted the house before I brought a baby home. And I think, generally, everyone is so concerned with the ability to afford a child that we forget who truly provides and that children are a blessing rather than burden! Our needs are out of whack. So concerned with paying full tuition for an ivy league school before your child is born. Needing a bedroom for every child that you might want to have plus a playroom, guest room, and office, because no one can share a room and you can't give up the office for that book you intend to write one day.

This furthers my thoughts, not unspoken entirely but unspoken on this blog, that we, Christ's church in America, have been so consumed with furthering our own kingdoms rather than the kingdom of Christ. We have sold out to what is temporary rather than what is eternal. That is so foolish. Children are not temporary. God says children are good. A blessing. A reward. They grow up to do (prayerfully) good works. He never says the same about a comfortable hotel room. I'm not advocating irresponsibility - don't have unlimited children if you can't care for them. But if you can, go for it. And care doesn't require designer jeans.

I am very happy to be pregnant with number two but was planning to stop there. Now I'm not so sure. I might go for one more, unless we agree that we're too old to start anew. Which is an unselfish reason, I believe, to put on the breaks. Which has now given me a new appreciation for younger marriage. Either way, my tubes will remain unfettered! (TMI?) Do you see who I'm turning into? Soon I'll be wearing long skirts and churning butter. If my hair starts looking like Michelle Duggar's, please stage an intervention!

Thanks for your donation

After vacation, our mail got delivered in a bundle. This morning, I noticed a receipt in the bundle on our dining room table, telling me that I missed delivery of certified mail and it was waiting for me at the post office. Certified mail? A letter? From mysterious source "Victory." I instantly got nervous. Who is Victory and why are they suing me?

So, before I went out to spend money at Bed Bath & Beyond, I decided to first trudge to the post office to pick up what I was sure was a weird summons & complaint. I can go without curtain rods if I'm going to have to pay legal fees. Or I thought it could be some Christian organization ("Victory") sending me an offer to come write for them. Or something pregnancy-related. But that made too much sense, so I was sure it was a lawsuit or an ideal work-from-home-and-do- exactly-what-you-want offer. Because that's the way I roll... illogically at times.

So I hauled myself and toddler into the post office, handed the mailman the receipt, and basically snarled as soon as I saw what he handed me. A letter, sent certified mail, from the Republican National Convention. The mailman then received an unsolicited "Can you believe this?" and subsequent lecture on wastefulness. Luckily, he was in agreement. I then proceeded to Starbucks to practice my own brand of wastefulness. To each their own.

A few months ago I donated $100 to the RNC. Actually, just writing that, I'm not even sure it was that much. It may have only been $50. It was an online donation. Regardless, not over $100. Since that time, I receive mailers every week. The cost of printing and postage on all that has been sent to me has far exceeded my donation amount. Then they send an ordinary request for donation via certified mail? Are you kidding me? The worst part, is that it was a form letter, with the ploy that "it is so important that we sent this certified mail, guaranteeing you received it." So, basically, the RNC spent the money for every Tom, Dick, Harry and Marge who's ever given ten bucks to receive this standard form letter via certified mail.

Get a smart platform. Put out a good ad. Pay a bevy of political and legal researchers. You could've saved hundreds of dollars by not sending me stuff for which I neither asked nor wanted. Don't waste the money on mailers and that stupid "certificate of partnership" or whatever you sent me as my "free gift" a few weeks back. That ended up in the garbage... where this country will be if the RNC doesn't get its head out of its can.

You're cut-off, RNC! No more donations until the presidential primary. And then you can have fifty more dollars.

Blessing and a Curse

Before church this morning, I ran out to the grocery store to get milk so that my husband could have his morning coffee. Go ahead and tell me what a great wife I am, but the truth is that he cleaned our tornado-struck family room last night while I slept; so really, it was the least I could do. I also decided to pick up some bagels and cream cheese so I could continue my pregnancy diet of bread and cheese - in any combination. (Pizza, for example, totally counts.) Did I mention this is also a great weight-gaining diet? I digress...

Anyway, while strolling from bakery to dairy to produce and back, I heard something familiar in my ear and finally realized it was Petra's "You are not Alone." I was flooded with nostalgia. Petra, for me at least, is a beyond-classic remnant of the contemporary Christian music scene. Petra at the Fox Theater in Atlanta was my first concert - ever. Of any type of music. (Because I wasn't allowed to go see A-Ha in the fourth grade. I'm still full of regrets.)

Not only was I flooded with nostalgia but it completely lifted my mood and brought joy to my heart to realize that the entire music track was contemporary christian music - most more current than my beloved Petra. How wonderful! Now, it would be more wonderful if everyone in that store was in a Biblically-sound church on Sunday mornings, but for someone like me, running in for milk and "necessities," it was glorious. I am proud of the store owner, manager, whomever makes the decision to play that music on Sunday mornings. Seems like a minor thing but it really is an action in faith to be a light in a dark world. I may even send a note.

It was also a joyful reminder of how big God is in a world that seems to be upside down, backward and sideways. It's always been a depraved world. People have always been sinful. It's just more obvious to me the older I get - about the world and myself. So that was the blessing.

On to the curse. Just before I arrived at the store, I was listening to some boring weekend-programming on my usual conservative talk station featuring an interview with our state's Comptroller. Snooze. (And P.S.: do a better job, guy.) Anyway, just before I pulled into the store's parking lot, they teased the next topic of conversation - the mosque that is going to built at Ground Zero - with the question, "what message does this send?" My instant, audible response was "that we've conquered you." There it is: an overt, tactile, symbol of victory. We tore down your "power" and replaced it with ours. Could there be anything more disgusting? No. A big, fat, sky-scraping, modern, shining mosque is going to be built where the old Burlington Coat Factory used to stand before it was condemned from 9/11 fallout. It is terribly sad. And if you want to be politcally-correct and say this is fine and that's not what it means, that it's just a convenient location for a mosque or a peaceful showing of "multiculturalism," then you might also try purchasing a unicorn with monopoly money. The truth is the truth whether it's acknowledged or not.

The other sad thing is that this mosque will probably be erected and functioning long before the 9/11 Memorial. It's been nine years with little to no progress. Well, at least Jihadists the world-over will have their monument.

Fortunately, the God of Moses and David and Paul and little old me is bigger than any of the nonsense in the world today. And none of it escapes Him. So turn up that Petra and breathe.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

Caillou

All of a sudden, out of no where, we are big Caillou fans around here. We have a couple of Caillou books and now we get to watch Caillou via PBS's Sprout on demand. I think she just likes saying his name. I do. Caillooouuuu! It becomes more wolf-howl the more tired I get.

Yesterday, riding her tricycle, she kept saying "bike like Caillou," "bike helmet like Caillou," and then simply, "like Caillou," over and over again. Today, she put a bucket on her head, which is very common, and instead of saying she was a robot, she was suddenly, "like Caillou!"

I got her Aristocats from the library, in my search of non-scary (relatively) Disney movies. She was excited about it and then suddenly, "watch Caillou!"

When she needed to take her nap, I was trying to coax her with all my motherly tactics up the stairs and into her room. I am near my wit's end having to pick her up and drag her places. Can't she just obey me? So she made it halfway up the stairs, into our living room (our LR is on it's own floor, halfway up the stairs - like a split) and started running around shrieking and saying, "like Caillou!" I then pulled the Caillou-card myself and told her how Caillou always obeys his mommy, so be like Caillou and go all the way up to your bedroom.

Suddenly, not so into Caillou.

Lollipop with a side of cookies

Embarrassing? Being fat and bringing your two-year-old daughter to your doctor's appointment with a lollipop and cookies so she'll be still in her stroller while you're sprawled on the table. And of course she's talking about both the entire time. "Green lollipop. Cookies!" I felt like the poster-child for promoting childhood obesity. Next time I'll teach her to say "low-fat Nilla wafers!"

What did they expect by scheduling an appointment for 2:30 PM, right at nap time? Making it a triple obesity threat, I also had a DVD player ready to go at a moment's notice.

And my next appointment is scheduled for 12:30 PM, immediately following MOPS, so I'll be bringing my daughter with her lunch. Great.

(For the record, this is not my kid... just a pic off the Internet.)

It's my mother's world...

... and I'm still living in it.

My mom is visiting us this week. She is a cleaner, organizer, subtle criticizer, helper, theoretically well-meaning work-horse. Yesterday, I was asked if my oven was self-cleaning, when the next load of laundry was going to be ready, and whether we needed to empty the Diaper Genie, all within two minutes. After taking a breath, she mentioned the garbage can needed cleaning and mumbled something about mold.

I recently cleaned my house, believe it or not. And everyone accounted-for has clean underwear and towels. And the Genie takes two seconds. And aren't garbage cans supposed to be dirty?

Today she was scrubbing the trays for the toaster oven (that incidentally, I scrubbed and put in the dishwasher probably the day before she arrived). She was also scrubbing the inside of the microwave. And the outside of the toaster oven... the glass door that has English muffin wrapper melted onto it. You can see the writing. It's not dirt, it's permanently melted-on plastic. I think a razor blade is required for extraction. I should go look to see if the scrubbing worked...

Today we are also switching from an over-priced cable to a lower-yet-probably-still-over-priced fiber optic provider. It is now 4:00 PM and he has been here since 9:00 AM, minus a lunch break.

He knocks, my mom says "Come in!" before I can even open my mouth. He goes in the basement to finagle things and my mom asks if he needs help moving things. He is standing in the foyer and my mom asks if he needs a glass of water or anything.

These series of exchanges made me realize: where my mother is, there lies her home. I guess on Saturday I resume ownership again.

Question: If I whimper "Mommy, I'm thirsty, so thirsty!" in the middle of the night, will she bring me a glass of water? (Or will I just annoy my husband?)

And yes, she did ask me why we need so many channels.

Coming Out

Today on Facebook, I noticed that someone was a fan of Derek Webb. As a fan (or at least a nostalgic fan) of Caedmon's Call, I considered myself a fan of Derek, since he was a big part of the group and now a solo-artist. Christian band. Christian artist. So I clicked on his fan page. There, I find that he recently added Jennifer Knapp to his current tour. Another Christian artist, Knapp's "Kansas" goes down as one of my favorite Christian albums of all-time, competing with Jars of Clay's first album. I digress...

Recently, Jennifer Knapp came out as a lesbian. After that, Derek adds her to his tour. Also, from his fan page, I learn that he gave a concert for a "Christian LGBT" event and he at one point said that if it came down to it and he had to choose, he would choose to attend a gay-affirming church. That, right there, is why I am blogging.

A "gay-affirming church" is a Bible-denouncing church. Period. Not because it involves homosexuality but because it involves something God calls sin. You can't have a sin affirming church and call it part of The Church. It becomes something else worshipping someone else. Just as you can't have a "liar-affirming church," "infidelity-affirming church," or one that might suit me nicely, a "gluttony-affirming church." You can't affirm a sin in a church and worship the Lord. Can you struggle with sin and welcome the struggling sinner? Of course. You have to - that is the gospel. The mark of a Christian isn't that you're sinless. Please, it's that you have the struggle. That you have the struggle between your flesh and your redeemed spirit.

Living in an unchurched area, for the most part, has made me see things in very black and white terms. But you know what? The Bible is black and white. There is no part of sin that is okay. There is no part of sin that can be affirmed. There is no part of the gospel that needs adding-to or tweaking. It is perfect and if you want to change it to suit you, you should read about Eve reaching for the apple because she wanted to know what God knew, causing sin to first enter the world. Sin is entering churches that "mean well." Don't mean well, teach the Bible. Love the sinner but acknowledge the sin, whatever it may be. Enlightenment of sin is what brings you to your knees before a holy God. That is much better than being "affirmed."

I gossip. I eat too much. I can be quite lazy. I'm not as loving and kind as I should be. I can be very prideful. I often find mean humor funny. I can go on and on and on and on of sins with which I struggle regularly. According to the Bible, they are no more or less sinful than homosexuality. They are all sins and I'm as guilty as the next. I do not want a church that affirms these things. Maybe it would make me feel fuzzy and high on myself, but I don't think so because it would prevent me from going to the cross, from asking forgiveness, from the hope and peace that comes from repentance and a contrite heart.

I want a church that is a Biblical gospel-based church. One that welcomes my mean, fat, gossipy self and points me to a Holy God who wants more for me.

So I'm coming out as a Christian who is sick of the church being pushed and prodded, molding to a sinful world, rather than being the beacon of light that Jesus calls it to be. The truth may hurt but it will ultimately set you free.

Mothervision

So Mothervision sounds a little odd. Half-granola-ish, half-futuristic? A little vulgar. Mysterious. Or, really, it was because I was watching "Max & Ruby" (again) when trying to find available blog names. Truth is, most of the clever names I came up with, for example, "Momumental" and even "Mommyvision" were taken. It's the worst - coming up with a great blog name to see that it's taken by someone who wrote one post in 2005... about gardening, no less.

So this is my new blog that will have less celebrity gossip and more mommy stories and concerns - that includes the state of both Christianity and the Union. As I see it. Which is a flawed perspective but real. This may not be for everyone!