The Harvest IS Plentiful… You Got This!

 

Move God’s love.  You don’t need to fly across the world to make a difference. People right here, in your country, your state, your city, your hood need love and prayer and someone to really see them.

 

Looking forward to to hearing your stories on MONDAY about how God used YOU –yes YOU– to love someone this weekend!

 

Read this fantastic post by a fellow blogger…be inspired! Do something with your life!!!

The Harvest IS Plentiful

 

LG | LP

Tiff

That One Time We Sold EVERYTHING

“I think we should just get rid of it all.”

He looked at me and said, “I was thinking the same thing but was afraid to tell you.”

We were moving back to Texas, and had a house full of “stuff”. A 2800 square foot house full of “stuff”. Toys, clothes, shoes, things to dust. Boxes and boxes of stuff.

And we hauled it all into our front yard, posted the signs and sold it. Well actually, we gave most of it away…and the rest, we might as well have.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not just because it was me, but because I had to stand along side my kids while they learned the difficult lesson of materialism.

We loved our stuff. We attached ourselves to our stuff. Those are “my” dishes I bought in Mexico. Those are “my” legos. That’s “my” bag. Mine. Mine. Mine.

We kept a few things. I had a few pieces of furniture that have been in the family. I kept our memories, and school stuff from the kids. Those are still piled in my best friend’s garage in Florida. ( and I can’t wait to go back and dig through my boxes and get rid of more).

We came to Texas, all five of us, with just some clothes and shoes(and deodorant).

We call it “being in transition” but really we were technically homeless. So we shacked up with my bro and his fam for a few months until we could figure things out. Michael was waiting for his job transfer to come through from Florida to Texas, and I was figuring out how to organize the four of us in a few rooms, while feeling guilty for kicking my nephews out of their rooms.

We finally moved into our own space with still nothing but our clothes. We didn’t have a huge hunk of cash, so we financed mattresses, a fridge and a couch and dining room table (which we are still paying on a year later…smack me in the face).

My room has a bed. Yes just a mattress on metal slates. I have a broken tower fan in the corner by my side of the bed, just for the noise–it doesn’t stand on it’s own, it just leans in the corner.

We have the minimal of everything. And have now for a year.

And it’s absolutely freeing and amazing, and I love it!

Well, sometimes….

Sometimes I get caught up in the materialism of the city I live in, because believe it or not San Antonio, Texas is a town that likes stuff, likes to buy stuff, and wear new stuff, and spend a lot of money on stuff.

But most of the time I stay pretty grounded, because none of the “stuff” matters.

That one time we sold all of our stuff changed me forever. Not just on what I should own, or what I buy for my kids. No just about living minimally (Because ladies if you have to clean all the time, you need to get rid of it!) But about so many other things in the world.

I find myself sometimes sickened by the materialism in America. Not just because other countries are in poverty or need. Not because I’m on some high-horse, filled with pride about being able to simplify.

The reason I get sickened is this — people don’t even see what materialism, and wanting stuff, and taking things for granted is doing to them. People don’t see how it completely blocks a flow of the Holy Spirit into their lives. People fight for the wrong things, and work for stuff that doesn’t matter. People ROB THEMSELVES of joy and peace and love because of their Americanized perspectives.

I know, I know. Not you.

It’s just me.

This has been my soapbox lately. This idea of wastefulness and taking things for granted. This soapbox standings is probably why I got in a few heated discussions over the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS awareness and fundraising.

Maybe it will pass, this feeling of being disgusted by our world’s selfishness and willingness to just accept things as they are.

But I hope it doesn’t.

I FOUND YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE

At the beginning of the year I signed up for a Women's Bible Study at a local mega church located smack in the middle of the upper class of town. I wanted to go with a friend, I wanted to make more friends. It was the only thing I knew to do to make myself get off my growing-larger-butt at least once week. I deserved to wear clean clothes on Tuesdays.

I entered into the estrogen pep rally with as much postive-i-ty as I could squeeze out of my soul to find the kind smiles of women, garbed in Lilly Pulitzer carrying their Michael Kors bags. I found it comical when the leader announced that last sessions complaints were about worship and that there wasn't enough protein options on the snack table. I wasn't sure how I felt about either, honestly.

Then we were asked to do this exercise where we picked a word to focus on during the year. I actually had already been thinking of this, because it's big in the blogosphere of the Christian-girl. Some picked obedience (good luck), one lady picked humility (ha-ha!) and another patience (to which internally I screamed NOOOOO, trying to save her from the mistake she was making. All Christians KNOW to never ask God for patience)! Then it was my turn.

Mine was simply Love.

I am certain all the women were wondering what type of evil person I was that I had to focus on love. But I knew I had to learn to love again because, frankly, for the last few months, since we moved, I pretty much hated everything.

I hated church. (Yah, I said it!)

I hated this city.

I hated our circumstances.

All in all, I hated life.

True story. I hated it.

And my life wasn't all that bad. I lived in a nice house (still do). I have a husband who adores me (who in the world knows why, I'm not easy to love). I have kids who spend time with the family, don't use drugs, make good grades and love Jesus. (Seriously, though, I'm waiting to see how I've screwed them up).

But still, my heart was filled with this black, dark regret and unbelief. I figured if I learned to love God with a new passion and His people with a clear heart, then I would be okay once again. So I decorated my cute little heart stamped bookmark with the word — L.O.V.E. And with every intention to love once again.

Since then, I am simplifying my life, and God is flushing out my idea of purpose. And in the meantime, I still find it hard to get off the couch somedays, and I still cry to my husband, because I am, after all, a crybaby (Seriously, I am).

“Wah, Wah, I have no purpose.”

“Wah, Wah, I have no friends.”

“Wah, Wah, God has forgotten me.”

Wah.

Wah.

Wah.

My husband told me in so many words, to suck it up, put on my cape and get to saving people.

When my girlfriend asked me what I did all week, I told her, “Ohhh, just fighting the devil.”

Cuz sister, that is so what it is! When we want to love, the devil wants us to hate. When we want to be patient, the devil wants us to demand things. When we want to be humble, we have all the reason in the world to be boastful. And when we want more of Jesus, the devil tells us that it's the things of the world we need that really satisfy.

Lies. Lies and more lies. And I think I washed them away with all these tears I've cried over this last year.

So currently, I am ironing my cape, because there are people in this world, in my world, that need some Jesus-saving-love. This is my job (to love, not save) and the simplified version of yours:

Move God's Love into the lives of anyone and everyone within your reach.

The God's-Love Movement

#theglovemovement

 

Let's do this! Just look around you, and notice. God will do the rest. Comment and share your thoughts— you think you can be a way that God moves His love this week??

 

How To Live Recklessly: Lessons From A 3 Year Old

Anyone who knows me knows that I love me some kids. Adults can get on my nerves, with their well thought out opinions, thinking they know what they are talking about. Kids, most of the time, actually do know what they are talking about. Kids are so much better.

Yesterday I spent the day in the Fiesta Texas water park with my youngest and two nephews. For hours, me and this little were BFF’s.

Fearlessly, he ran through water, climbed up rope ladders and swam deeper and deeper. We walked into the pool, that gradually got deeper as you walked into it. With every step, his little heart raced, becoming more and more excited at the adventure that lied ahead. I wised up pretty quickly and rummaged through to find a small enough life vest. He moved his little arms and legs as fast as possible, not knowing that it was me who actually propelled him forward.

He was swimming.

Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. ”

As we reached the shallower areas, he would just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. I would say, “Blake, put your feet down.”

He realized he could touch the bottom.

He would jump, jump, jump, letting his vest bob him along the shoreline.

Then off he would swim.

When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

After three hours in this pool we trekked to the wave pool–and for anyone who has been at Fiesta Texas and pushed a stroller from the bucket play area to the wave pool know the trek I’m talking about. Oh, my friend, I’m thankful to not have to use a stroller any more.

The waves encouraged a whole entirely new level of courage in that little person. He bobbed along, jumping, allowing the waves to push him in and out, up and down. The waves would get the best of him, and he found himself under the water. I would say, “Blake, you have to hold my hands.”

His little fingers would grasp tightly around mine, rebuilding his trust in himself, knowing I would not let him go.

The water would come crashing, forcing out giggles and wonder.

One little hand would surrender.

Then the other.

Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, ‘tell me to come to you on the water.”

He would bob along, and closely I stood, as he was determined to master the pool himself. The water would come crashing…and again I would gently remind him, “Blake, You have to hold my hands.”

Come,” he said.

Then he would see “the Guys” splashing and playing several feet away.

“Guys! Guys!” he would yell, quickly letting go of me, his safety, and “swimming” as fast as he could toward the big guys, ignoring the crashing of the waves that threatened to fall upon him.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.

Oh I want to be like Blake, like the child Jesus wants me to remain.

I want to move my arms and legs as fast as I can, knowing Jesus is guiding me forward, closer to him, closer to fulfilling all he has for me.

I want to run as fast as I can, not even knowing I can put my feet down to walk.

I want to jump out of the boat when I hear the voice of Jesus, letting go of all I know that I know is safe, ignoring the crashing of the waves, recklessly ignoring what my mind would see as treacherous.

Everyday, I want to pursue Him so fiercely that I am completely exhausted from the joy of being in his presence.

Kids are so much better. Live Reckless. -Tiff

Why I Send My Kids to Public School (Unforgettable Adults)

Creating Unforgettable Adults is one of my main goals as a mom. To our family, an Unforgettable Adult is one who is a strong, Christ-follower who is rooted in an identity that is unshakeable and is willing to trail-blaze for Jesus.

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. (Ephesians 2:10 NLT)

Recently our school district received anonymous threats from a crazy who claimed he planned to shoot up a random school on a Thursday morning. On Tuesday, with my heart racing, my kids went off to school. The night before, Michael and I laid in bed talking about the terror that scurried through my veins and prayed and prayed and prayed. Some of my homeschool friends used it as an opportunity to sell the “homeschool business”. But we just prayed and so did our kids.

Throughout the last twelve years of school, we have dealt with bullying–by kids AND teachers. We have endured hatefulness from small children, and loneliness when our kids didn't feel as if they belonged. My son has struggled to learn to read, and we have had to do stupid “busy-work” homework on many nights. We've stressed through the STAAR or FCAT or LMNOP or whatever standardized test my kids have been pressured to take that means absolutely nothing at the end of the day.

In all of the struggle, we believe, with our whole hearts, that it is preparing and growing them for the realities of this harsh world. We would much rather them struggle through these experiences while they are under our care.We believe, with our whole hearts, that God can use them NOW. As Christians, if we keep taking our kids out of public school then certainly there will be no God there. They are called to make disciples, they are called to be Salt, they are called to be Light. Not later, but now.

Through every child, we have taught them how to reflect Christ. Public school and all of it's crap wonder has taught them empathy–how do you know that kid who was mean to you today didn't watch his mom get beat up, or go without a meal? They have learned that God is working in every single person's life at every single moment, and they can choose to be a part of that work.

Public school has taught them that sometimes the system isn't perfect, and sometimes it flat out sucks, but we must follow rules and laws, as long as they don't conflict with the Gospel. My kids have been exposed to the ridiculous theory of evolution, and we've had the privilege of challenging our beliefs and digging deeper in the truth of God our Creator.

Sending them to school teaches them perseverance and diversity. It teaches them that not everyone is the same, but everyone needs the same thing–JESUS. They have learned to stand up for themselves and their beliefs, even at the risk of persecution or rejection. It has been a painful and tough road–for them and me.

Public school has been the perfect chance for my kids to learn to lean into Jesus more and less into me. They are learning that Jesus rescues, not mom. Without the wind from me hovering, they've been free to spread their wings just enough to test out this new life in Christ they've been given.

It's not the best situation, but Jesus nor the Apostles were ever in the best situations–actually they were in the worst. But because of God showing His power in those horrible situations, they finished well, and became Unforgettable Adults that changed the world. And that's the goal, my friend, that's the goal!

What are your kids learning from Public School? Comment and share with me how your kids are becoming Unforgettable Adults.