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Job Searching and Other Nonsense

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OK, for those just tuning in, I am on the prowl for a good job. Well, at this point, a job will do. It’s been a longer process than I thought it would be, but I’ve grown a lot in that time.

I actually had an interview with a company that would be a very good fit doing what I think would be a perfect fit for me. I think it went well. But I am generally not the best judge of those kind of things.

It can be nerve-wracking with the whole inner monologue going on in your head. That voice that says, “You will never find a job” or “You will have to settle for a job you dread going to every morning.”

If you manage to land an interview, the voice will say to you, “You won’t do well and you will say something to scare them off.” Even if you get the job offer, that voice will say, “You’re really not qualified for this job. You won’t last long before you screw up and get fired.”

For me, it was driving in my car on my way to a volleyball game that a sense of peace overwhelmed me. I knew in that moment that everything was going to be okay, whether I got the job or not.

God’s got a lot of practice giving His people the very best and working all things together for their good. A lot more than me, at any rate. He knows what’s best for me, often way better than I do, and He knows what job will be a good fit for me and what job will stress me out and make me miserable.

So all that to say, I’m in good hands. As I heard someone say, life is good and God is great. No matter what.

Ready for Fall

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I have had enough of summer weather. There. I’ve said it. No more 95 degree temps, please.

I want some crisp autumn breezes. I want to see leaves changing colors. I want hot apple cider and hot cocoa and bonfires and all those things that come with fall weather.

Not that I don’t like summer. Usually for about 2 weeks, then I start getting tired of being hot and sweaty all the time. And believe me, I do sweat a lot, so it’s not fun.

I think the reason I love fall so much is that it triggers so many good memories for me. I go back to all those marching band trips and high school football games and youth retreats of yore. I remember all those fun Halloweens when I was growing up. I recall Gatlinburg in October when it was cold enough to finally wear a jacket.

I won’t lie. If I could live in a place where the temperature was a steady 72 all year round, I could go for that. Especially someplace near the beach, like San Diego. That would be awesome.

But part of me likes the changing seasons. It’s probably the ADD in me that likes the change.

Most of all, autumn reminds me that after all the leaves have fallen and that winter’s on its way, there will be a spring and a rebirth of all things green. Just like one day there will be a new heaven and a new earth. I hope the new earth has leaves that change colors and fall every year.

I like fall because I am a fan of hope. And fall reminds me that my hope in God won’t be in vain. One day, God will set things right and everything in my life will make sense. One day I will finally be all that God created me to be.

Until then I make do with trusting God for today and enjoying the fall-ish weather we’re having in the Greater Nashville area. It’s lovely.

 

Another Monday, Come and Gone

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I’m better about my attitude toward Mondays, but I still think Monday is a terrible day to have to start your week off on. Even if you are among the ranks of the unemployed (like me), Mondays still stink.

Monday is the day after the great weekend is ended and life goes back to boring normal. At least for 98% of us.

For me, Monday was a day for taking those thoughts captive. Thoughts like, “Your friends have forgotten about you,” or “Your friends have moved on and left you behind.” I’m usually more susceptible to those kind of thoughts on Mondays for some reason.

But today, I’m calling them for what they are– lies from the father of lies. I know my friends and I know they haven’t forgotten me or left me behind. They’re probably having the typical insane, crazy, 90-mile an hour Monday and just trying not to spin off the proverbial merry-go-round.

I’m choosing to believe the absolute best about them because I’d want them to believe the best about me and give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m choosing to pray God’s best for them the same today as every other day.

So, how was your Monday?

Telling Stories

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I just finished watching The Descendants, a film I really liked. It got me thinking about why I love movies. It isn’t because they advance some social or even religious cause. It isn’t because they push boundaries and stir up controversy. It isn’t because of some elaborate CGI-driven special effects.

I love a good movie because at its heart it is all about a good story well told.

To me, a good story is one that I find my story in. I can relate to the characters and what they’re going through. Sometimes, I may wish my life were like that. Sometimes, I find myself empathizing with them because I’ve gone through similar circumstances.

There was no one better at telling stories than Jesus during His earthly ministry. He told stories, or parables, that each revealed a truth about God. The people who heard these stories could relate to them, because they could find their stories in them.

We are called to be witnesses for Christ. That doesn’t mean we argue for the validity of the faith or why Christianity is better than all the other religions out there. We don’t try to prove the Bible or creation or God. We simply tell our stories.

Not to say that these things aren’t important. We can defend the Bible and creation and God (although the last time I checked, He didn’t need our help defending Himself). But no one can argue with you about what God has done in your life and how you are different than you used to be. No one can refute a transformation or a new creation.

This blog is one way I choose to tell my story. Like yours, my story is a work-in-progress, an epic novel with the ending still unwritten. I happen to know the Author of the story and I’m convinced the ending is one you won’t want to miss.

The same goes for your story, too, if you let God write it.

 

I am Jacob

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I am Jacob. From the very first moment I took a breath, I’ve been a deceiver and a trickster. Even as I came from the womb, I was jockeying for position. My name means heel-grabber and that’s what I am.

I can con anyone. I can talk you out of your life savings for a bowl of chiken noodle soup. Just ask my brother. I am the used car salesman that makes used car salesmen look bad. I am the epitome of the snake oil peddler.

But here I am out in the desert, all by myself. I’ve disappointed my father and broken my mother’s heart. I’m sure my brother hates me and will probably try to kill me the next time he sees me. All my schemes have left me empty and broken inside and I have run out of plans.

Suddenly, I’m wrestling this Man. I can tell from the start that He’s much stronger and faster and smarter than I am. It’s all I can do to hold on. And that’s what I do– grip tight and hold on for all that I’m worth.

He barely touches my hip and it comes out of joint. I’ve never known such searing pain, but still I hold on. Even when he tells me to let go, I hold on.

“I won’t let go until you bless me. I won’t let go until you can see past my deceit and treachery and find the real me. I won’t let go until you tell me who I really am underneath my house of cards that’s falling down all around me.”

He says, “You are Israel. You are a prince and you are the one who has struggled with God and man and prevailed. You are no longer your deceitful past. You are now Mine.”

I see now that it’s good to lose every once in a while. It’s good to wrestle with a God that’s stronger than me, strong enough to take care of me, strong enough to carry me when I’m weak.

I’m learning that God has had a better plan for me than all my conniving and manipulation. I’m learning that love sometimes has to wound before it can heal, and sometimes it has to give you scars before it can make you whole.

My name is Israel, and I will probably never walk right again. My source of strength has become my weakness, but I’m finding out that’s where God’s power really shows up.

My name is Israel and I’m learning to dance with a limp.

My Last Day on Earth

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I was thinking about the shootings at the movie theatre in Colorado today. Not in a morbid way. I was thinking what if I was one of those 12 people who went into the theatre to see The Dark Knight Rises, never realizing that my life was about to end.

What if I knew that today was my last day? How would it change how I lived?

I know I’d be more forgiving and understanding of others, far less quick to pass judgments and far more eager to give grace and the benefit of the doubt. I’d be more forgiving of myself when I do and say stupid stuff.

I’d spend less time getting the to-do list checked off and much more time hanging out with the people who matter to me.

I’d be braver and take more chances. Probably not sky-diving or bull-riding, but I’d do at least one thing that I’d been scared of doing before.

I’d appreciate the people in my life who have really been my friends and family and who have loved me when I wasn’t too easy to love and supported and encouraged me when I needed it most.

I’d make every effort to let the people in my life know how much they meant to me and how grateful I was for them, because no tomorrow is guaranteed for me or for anyone else. I would never assume that people know how special and uniquely-created they are; I’d tell them.

I’d be a lot more thankful for the little things in my life like the sun rising every morning, the flowers that bloom every spring, the sweet scent of summer air that takes me back to my childhood. I’d say “Thank you, God,” a lot more and really mean it.

What if I lived every day of the rest of the life God gives me as if it were my last day?

 

The Hardest Person to Forgive

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despair
I  recently messed up with a friend and spent the whole day beating myself up. Believe it or not, that’s an improvement over what I would have done a year ago. My whole day wasn’t ruined, at least.

I got admonished and I deserved it. I won’t go into details or name names, but I certainly had it coming. In fact, it was much more kind and graceful than I really deserved.

I kept running lines from the note through my mind and wishing I could go back and undo what I had done. I couldn’t and I can’t.

All this is to say that the person who most needs to forgive me is me. I hope and pray my friend forgives me, but I know that unless I do, I’ll be stuck and unable to move forward.

Did I mention I am hard on myself? I am better than I was. I used to be extraordinarily hard on myself, but I’ve eased up a bit in my old age.

If you feel like you can’t forgive yourself, let me tell you you’re not alone. I’ve felt that way and I understand. You may think you never will come to that place, but I am living proof that you can and you will.

Just let the Word of Truth wash over you. Let Jesus speak healing over you. Remember that you are still His beloved, no matter what. He at least will never give up on you or quit wanting to be around you.

Anyway, that’s my confession session for the day. I pray it will speak to someone and bring deliverance where it is most needed.

Why I Love Underdogs

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I’ll be honest. Until this year, the College World Series was barely a blip on my radar screen. I didn’t keep up with it and I couldn’t tell you who won last year or the year before or even tell you any of the teams that made it.

Until this year. Little Stony Brook made it to the CWS. They were probably the longest of all the long-shots to make it in, but they did.

The main reason that I love underdogs in any sport is because I really and truly believe that God does.

God is a fan of the underdog. The Bible says so. Just look at all those passages about the poor, the orphan, and the widow. All those forgotten and abandoned by society.

The Bible says in James 1:27 that true religion is taking care of these. In other words, pulling for the underdogs of the world.

But not only that, I read that I was once an underdog, too. I was lost, dead in my sins, alienated from God, and without a hope in the world. I think the odds on me at Vegas would have been fairly astronomical.

But God in Jesus found me and made me alive and reconciled me to Himself and gave me a hope that nothing or no one can ever take away. Not only did I not go down to a crushing defeat, but I came out on the winning side. In Christ, I am more than a conqueror.

So I know that the underdog can win. I’m proof. And I bet some of you out there are, too. We are daily reminders to the world what the awesome power of the love of God can do if given even the tiniest bit of room to work.

So, yeah, I’ll be pulling for Stony Brook. But more than that, I’m pulling and rooting for you. Best of all, so is God. He’s your biggest fan.

Random Saturday Night Ponderings

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I had a really good night. I ended up playing volleyball and partaking in some high quality oreo cheesecake. The fact that such a thing as oreo cheesecake even exists makes the world a better place to live in, don’t you think?

One of the discussions was about who we would want to play us in a movie about our lives. I picked John Cusack (with Mark Ruffalo a close second). My friend picked Jennifer Aniston. Friend, you have chosen wisely.

I love those kinds of nights where the conversation is good and not too serious. Where I am not always paranoid about saying something wrong or stupid or just plain lame. Where not everything has to be ultra-spiritual religious talk, but can still be edifying.

I think even in those times we can still mutually bless and encourage and challenge one another. We can still walk away better people, more compassionate and more understanding and more like Jesus.

If you’re like me, then you know how blessed you are to have good friends who bring out the best in you, who bring out the God-colors in your world and remind you that you really are the Beloved and Favored of God.

And yeah, I recommend the oreo cheesecake if you ever find it on the menu. It’s that stinkin’ awesome. In fact, it should have its own federal holiday. A National Oreo Cheesecake Day. I declare that June 8 is that day.

May you have a blessed night and remember once more that your Abba Father is fond of you and will be singing over you all night until you wake up in the morning.

Baggage Part III: Trials Turned to Gold

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I’ll admit that I am addicted to comfort too much of the time. I don’t want to step outside my comfort zone too often.

But I keep thinking about the believers in Thessalonica. They only had Paul and Silas for a few short weeks. They were new converts, yet they still managed to turn their world upside down.

The big takeaway for me was how they endured persecution and ridcule, but how that endurance and trial turned into perserverance. That perserverance turned into character, which led to a hope that nothing and no one and nothing could quench.

What you’re going through will end, but your story won’t. Who better to talk to someone struggling with alcoholism than a recovering alcoholic? Who better to help someone cope with the loss of a child than someone who has walked the same road and cried the same tears? Who better to help someone deal with doubt and discouragement than you after you’ve been through a dark night of the soul when you felt hopeless and alone, but finally saw daylight at the end of your trial?

I love the quote from a movie I saw that said that only those who have lost can truly lead. Only those who have been hurt can help bring healing. Only those who know how they have messed up their lives and what Jesus save them from can truly love well and lead well.

It’s all about loving well. It’s not how religious you can talk or how well you keep the rules. It’s not about how convincingly you can point a finger at people and expose their faults. It’s about how you can be a vessel of God’s love and love people right where they are for who they are.

I’m not really good at loving well, but I’m getting better. Those rare moments when I did love well were moments when I forgot about me and let Jesus take over.

My prayer is that you learn to embrace your story, even the painful parts, and help others to find the good in their stories, too.

Above all, may we all learn to love well.