I Made a Mistake

I made a mistake.

Yesterday I posted a blog about a young man I met at Starbucks.

The meeting was random, but not accidental.

I didn’t think anything of it, until I got scared.

I was scared because of everything I’ve seen on television and in the news.

What if someone saw me talking to him? Since I am Christian, and he is Muslim, I didn’t want to get hurt.

I was scared for his life and I was scared for mine.

This may sound crazy to you…but when you wake up at 5:30 a.m. in a panic, you aren’t in the most rational mindset.

So I took it down.

I forgot my faith, and instead, listened to fear.

Jesus wouldn’t have taken the blog down.

Jesus challenged social norms.

Jesus loved radically.

Jesus lived to make an impact.

Jesus calls His followers to live fearlessly.

Jesus calls His followers to not fear, because He has overcome fear.

And I made a mistake.

I forgot what it meant to be His follower.  

I have asked over and over for God to use me, and He did.

But then I fled.

I listened to the media and the world around me, and shrunk back.

Just like Peter denied Jesus, I denied Jesus.

I didn’t say that I didn’t know Him, rather, I acted like I didn’t know Him.

He calls us to be brave.

I was a coward.

This young man sent me a text message the next day that said, “thank you for being kind.”

And I wept.

How insensitive? How religious? How far from Christ could I have acted?

If I get scared over one blog, perhaps I should take back my question for God to use me.

I don’t know if I will ever see this young man again.

One thing I do know is this, he changed my life.

He challenged my faith in the best possible way.

He showed me what it means to just be, “kind.”

And I nailed it, until a simple, “delete” button.

For all the times I have and I will fail Christians and others, I am sorry.

I made a mistake.

I forgot Christ.

I’m like the parable of the soil in Luke 8: 15, “they believe, but in times of testing they fall away.”

I failed Jesus.

And I failed myself.

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t recount our failures and shortcomings to us.

Instead, He tells me to move on, and shine my light for all others to see.

“No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, he puts it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light.” Luke 8:16

He does tell me to not fear, because no matter what happens, He will never leave my side.

Through trials, through pain, through struggles, through doubt, through the storms, through the waves…

He will never leave me, or you.

“I could not help but think that somewhere along the way we had missed what was radical about our faith and replaced it with what is comfortable” David Platt

Let's Talk About Grace

Note cards were my saving grace during college finals.  

Grabbing the largest Diet Mountain Dew I could find, I would place myself in time out, silence my phone and study.

When it comes to tests, I am frantic and obsessive. In fact, one semester I had to take prescription migraine medicine because of the stress headaches I was giving myself.

In my mind, if you study a lot before a test, you receive a good grade.   

This formula, along with my note cards, never failed me.

My saving grace through Nashville’s half marathon last year was the treadmill.

I figured out that if I put the treadmill on an incline, and placed at a certain speed, I would be ready by the time the race came.

This worked like a gem.

The treadmill didn’t fail me.

I’ve always had the personality that if you want something to happen, you make it happen.

If I wanted a good grade, I studied hard.

If I wanted to run a half marathon, I trained hard.

This “do it yourself”, mindset works perfectly, except when it comes to grace.

Grace does not make sense to me.

I don’t understand life that doesn’t have strings attached.

But, that is GRACE.

Undeserved. Unearned. Unbelievable. Unremarkable.

I have been in Nashville 2 ½ years.

 I didn’t move to the city to pursue music,but rather, ministry.

God set up a connection at a Walmart in Gallatin, TN., which changed the course of my life.

I had forgotten about music, but God didn’t forget about me.

When I got the call that my song was cut by an up and coming country artist Monday night, I was shocked to say the least.

Like many people, I have had a lot more disappointment than acceptances in life.

I haven’t always been on the winning end.

I’ve gotten fairly comfortable with things not working out.

After the happy tears, I asked God, “Why? Why me? I don’t deserve this. There are so many talented writers in this town, why me? Do you remember when I stole money from my grandpa to buy food to feed my addiction? Do you remember when I crashed a car because of bulimia? Do you remember the times I lied to my mom and yelled at my dad? Do you remember?”

My past loves to remind my present how I am undeserving.

Here I was, having a dream happen right before my eyes, and a part of me was sad.

 I was sad for the people who don’t get cuts. I was sad for the people who never have a dream fulfilled. I was sad because I didn’t think I was worthy enough.

It wasn’t until I was talking with a friend on the phone last night that it hit me.

No, I don’t deserve this, but, I am worthy.

It doesn’t matter if I have been in Nashville twenty years or two years, I am talented.

It doesn’t matter if I came here for ministry or music, God will be glorified in both.

And I was instantly reminded of a passage Matthew 20: 1-6:

 “A landowner went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the workers for the standard wage, he sent them into his vineyard.  When it was about nine o’clock in the morning, he went out again and saw others standing around in the market place without work. He said to them, “You go into the vineyard too and I will give you whatever is right.”  So they went. When he went out again about noon and three o’clock that afternoon, he did the same thing…

When it was evening, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, “Call the workers and give the pay starting with the last hired until the first.” When those hired about five o’clock came, each received a full day’s pay. And when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more. But each one also received the standard wage.  When they received it, they began to complain against the landowner, saying, “These last fellows worked one hour, and you have made them equal to us”

 And the landowner replied to one of them, “Friend, I am not treating you unfairly. Didn’t you agree with me to work for the standard wage?  Take what is yours and go. I want to give this last man the same as I gave to you. Am I not permitted to do what I want with what belongs to me?”

This is Grace.

This is Crazy Grace.

We aren’t to judge and we aren’t to question.

Even when it looks unfair, it is not in our place to tell God what He should do, and how He should do it.

I can’t expect God to bless me more than the person who accepted Christ one minute ago.

I can’t expect God to allow my friend, who has been trying to have a baby for 2 years, to get pregnant over my friend, who just started trying last week.

I can’t expect God to do anything, because, I am not God.  

God doesn’t look at us and keep tallies.

God doesn’t have stars next to our names.

God doesn’t favor.

And thank goodness for that.

I deserve hell, but He freely gives me Heaven.

I deserve the pit, but He calls me forgiven.

I deserve nothing, but in Him, I have everything.

Grace will never make sense to me. It can’t be bought, won, or worked for.

Ironically, it has been the hardest thing I have had to learn to accept.

But I must accept it, because without it, I am absolutely NOTHING.

“God is good and I am always loved”

-Ann Vskomp

Stop Fighting The Wind

I thought I was getting fired on Monday.  

The day started out pretty predictable. I worked on some closing books, pulled some credit, wrote some thank you cards and filled out a submission sheet.  It was smooth sailing until I worked on the copy machine.

I should first tell you that my two enemies at work are the copy machine and the printer.  I can’t tell you how many days I have thrown a fit over these two devices.

I was helping a fellow co-worker out by making copies of client’s paychecks. All of a sudden, the copy machine started beeping and flashing red lights.

“Did I just break it?” I thought to myself.  

“There is no way! I did not do anything different than I normally do. I am not even smart enough to break a machine if I tried. But, wait. What if I did?”

I broke out in a sweat.

My mind went to the worst case scenario. 

It was my fault. They were going to have to buy a whole new copy machine because of me.  Loans would not be processed, my bosses would not get paid, and clients would not be able to purchase homes.
I ruined everything.
I left for lunch carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I  begged, “Please God, you can take away the song from being cut, you can make them not pick me for the TV show, you can take away anything, just please let them be able to fix the copy machine.”

Desperation can make you say some pretty stupid stuff.

As I was writing all this in my journal over my break, the wind started to pick up. In fact, it was so strong that it knocked over my drink on the table outside. “Great. Not only did I break the copy machine, but now I have my drink all over my shirt.”

I was annoyed with the wind.

In the middle of writing about this no good, very bad day, I wrote, “BREATHE.”

Exactly like that.

It was as if God was telling me, “Breathe. “

I stopped writing and closed my eyes.

I did not expect what came next...

It’s as if my pen took a life of it’s own, finding it’s way to my journal, giving me a message that could only come from above: Stop Fighting The Wind.

I have a hard time dealing with life when it doesn’t go as planned. I don’t like when my schedule gets interrupted. I like when life goes from A, to B, to C. 

The irony over all this is that my life has never gone from A, to B, to C. It’s always been A to F, to C, to Z, to W, and then back to A.  

Despite this, there is something in me that craves stability and predictability.

When the copy machine broke and the wind knocked over my drink, I started to crumble.

In fact, I was so stressed by it, that I ate a whole blueberry-yogurt muffin in practically two bites.

Good thing I didn’t have a tub of frozen yogurt or whip cream.

Stop Fighting the Wind.

On a Starbucks patio, during my lunch break, God spoke to me.

Life isn’t predictable.  Things happen that throw us for a curve ball. We get unexpected expenses and unplanned emergencies. And when the wind suddenly picks up, we panic and we run to worst case scenarios.

Instead of fighting every single interruption, and every inconvenience, it was as if God was drawing me out so He could draw me in.

Life will knock you back and forth with minor and major circumstances. 
Life will make you go crazy if you try and dodge every fork in the road.

Life isn’t perfect.

Everything from Mondays and broken copy machines, to Fridays and doctor’s visits.  

Stop Fighting the Wind.

After I wrote this to myself in my journal, I counted to ten, slowly.

I felt the sun on my face and watched as my hair danced in the shadows from the wind.

 I embraced my life and the mess that it is. I embraced my life and the mess that I am.  

And when I returned to work, the copy machine was fixed, and I did not receive a red slip. 

We can’t control life but we can choose to find peace in times of chaos.

Stop Fighting the Wind. 

"Who Told You That You Were Fat?"

“Amy, who told you that you were fat?”

I remember hearing this after I read Genesis 3:11 for the first time.  

In this passage, Adam and Eve are hiding from God.

They knew that they had messed up after eating the forbidden fruit, so they hid.

God says, “Where are you?”

Adam says, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”

God then answers, “Who told you that you were naked?”

No one told me I was fat.

I did hear, “big boned” and “chubby”, but never fat.

Somewhere at a tender young age, I heard a voice tell me I was fat.

And I believed it.

Where did this condemning, dark, demeaning and insulting voice come from?

Not God.

At a young age, I believed the voice of a traitor, the voice of a liar.

I continued believing this voice for much of my life.

In fact, this voice led me down a path that would destroy the majority of my life.

It wasn’t until I was near death that a different Voice, a stronger Voice, spoke through the depths of my disaster and downfall, shouting, “No. No more. She’s MINE.”

I have spent many years trying to forget the voice of the enemy.

Every day I decide, sometimes over and over, second by second, which voice I will follow.

Some days, I follow the wrong voice.

Some days, I allow the manipulative, screeching, piercing, often masked by glitter and eloquence, voice to dominate.

And then….

I believe that I will never get married.

I believe that I am not talented enough for music.

I believe that I am not thin enough, pretty enough, young enough.

Sometimes it’s easier to believe the lies over the truth.

And yet, without fail, every single time, before I get too far gone, another Voice emerges, beckoning me to stop, and reconsider what I have been considering.  

“Amy, who told you that were never going to get married?”

“Amy, who told you that you were not beautiful?”

“Amy, who told you that you were not talented enough?”

“Amy, who told you that you were not amazing?”

I don’t know what voices you are hearing right now.

I don’t know what voice you have been following.

Maybe it is the voice much like the one that I hear.

Maybe like me, everyday is a battle to turn your ear towards the right Voice.

Maybe like me, you sometimes follow the wrong voice.

Maybe like me, you need to stop, and go back to the very beginning.

Go back to Genesis.

Go back to the only One who knows you, created you, formed you, breathed life into you, and charted all the days of your life.

Go back to the One who loves you.

Go back to the One who knows the Truth.

Go back to the One who is the Truth.

“Who told you that you were ____?”

Instant Starbucks and Drive Thru Healing

If you are like me, you like things to happen NOW.

From instant oatmeal to instant coffee, I like things to happen at this moment.

But some things take time.  

Forgiving someone who hurt you very bad…

Getting over an ex…

Getting a song cut…

Waiting for acne medicine to kick in…

Waiting for bangs to grow out…

Waiting for healing….

Growing in faith…

I never can stick to Bible reading plans.

I have all the plans and every book to help me get through it, but nothing seems to work.

Here is a confession: I haven’t read the whole Bible through yet.

I remember telling this to my friend, who then went onto look at me like I had just committed the greatest sin ever.  

Apparently you can graduate with a Ministry degree without reading the whole Bible.

I decided last week that I was really going to attempt, yet again, to read through the entire Bible. 

Mark seemed like a good place to start. 

Why not Matthew? I don't know. 
I was never one for coloring in the lines. 

While going through Mark the other night, I found something pretty awesome.

In Mark 8: 22-25, we see how Jesus heals a blind man with his spit.

“He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”

He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.”

As I've mentioned before, my healing has been a process, and continues to be a process.

Some people are instantly healed from addictions, I was not.

Some people receive instant miracles, I did not.

I have asked Jesus over and over again, why I still struggle with food and my insecurities.

I have pleaded to Him for healing and freedom.

I have begged Him for complete restoration.

For whatever reason, I used to believe that healing should be instant.

I assumed that my faith was not strong enough, and this was the reason I was still dealing with image issues.

Even now, I know that there are still issues at hand that I need more healing with.

And then I read this passage in Mark.

 Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”

He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.”

Some.

Things.

Take.

Time.

For whatever reason, this man needed Jesus to touch his eye’s not once, but two times.

Just because the answer hasn’t come, doesn’t mean it never will.

Just because you still struggle with stuff, doesn’t mean you don’t have enough faith.

Jesus offers complete, not half, not partial, but complete restoration.

Just because I still need healing does not mean I give up on Him.

Rather, I continue returning to Him, every second, every minute, and every day.

Don’t give up on yourself because you still doubt.

Don’t give up on yourself because you still struggle.

Don’t give up on yourself because you still hurt.

Looking back, my struggle and years of healing have shown me more about Jesus and myself than I would have ever learned from an instant recovery.

While I still have a long ways to go, I see amazing grace in every step I have made thus far.

Don’t give up on yourself.

And don’t give up on your faith.

Some.

Things.

Take.

Time. 

Do My Arms Look Chubby?

I have a love-hate relationship with the camera.

Even though I have taken countless selfies, I still cringe when someone says, "smile".  

In fact, my Facebook profile is set up so if someone tags me in a picture, I get to review the picture first, before allowing it on my timeline.

Thank goodness for privacy settings.  

Friday night I took a picture with two of my friends.

I actually thought it turned out ok.

And then I looked closer…

These were the exact thoughts running through my head, "Oh my goodness, my arms look so chubby. I know I've gained weight, but seriously, this is ridiculous. Are people going to think I look chubby? Should I go on a diet? Should I take it off Instagram? Do I look fat? Maybe I look fat….maybe it's all in my head? Ok, Amy, stop. You know this is a lie. You are not fat. You've gone through this countless times before. It's a test. Start speaking the truth over yourself… But, I mean, I could not eat tomorrow. I have been eating really poorly lately. Maybe I should go back on a diet…I need to look at the picture again."

Ridiculous.

All it took was one picture to ruin my night.

Now, I don't think I need to rush off into treatment again because I had these thoughts. I think if we are all honest, there are times we look at ourselves in pictures and find something to criticize.

Size 2,4,12 or 14, we can always find something wrong.

We our are own worst enemy.  

I am so vain, my ego so prideful, and my perception so insecure, that I even asked some close friends if the picture made my arms look chubby.

You can guess their answer.

Fast forward to Sunday.

I was catching up with a friend who I hadn't seen in awhile.

I was telling her about the "chubby arm" picture incident on Friday night.

I wasn't telling her the story to ask for her opinion on the status of my arms. I was telling her how it was completely ridiculous that I let a picture ruin my night. I was recounting to her how I had let old, yet all too familiar feelings of shame and ugliness resurface for an evening.

I was explaining to her how sometimes I still struggle with my identity.

I was confessing to her that I still need healing from past wounds.

Immediately, after I told her about the picture, she said, "and what's going on with the music?"

I then explained how I had recently become a member of the Irish International Songwriters Guild, and had a possible cut on a country singers upcoming album. And before I could even go any further she said, "Hold up. Your dreams are coming true and you are more worried about how your arms look? God is answering your prayer, and you are worried about if your arms look chubby?"

She didn't have to say anything else.

She didn't need to say anything else.

I got the point.

The longings in my heart have started to come to life, and I am more consumed with my image.

The desires that have been impossible or now becoming possible, and I am stuck on a size.

The "What if's?" are turning into, "Now", and I am stuck on the superficial.

Maybe your dream was to meet the, "one".

And then you did.

Instead of thanking God for answering your prayer, you are now consumed with your job. You are dissatisfied with your position and constantly obsess over how you can climb up the ladder. 

Maybe your dream was to have a child.

And then you did.

But now you find yourself wishing you had a different life, specifically, a different husband. 

Maybe your dream was for your prodigal son or daughter to come back home. Maybe your dream was for them to find faith.

And then they did.

But now you are too overwhelmed with wondering if they will ever find a "good" job. You forgot that at one time, your dream was for them to return, alive.

Why is it so easy for us to forget about the prayers that God does answer?

Why is it so easy to be swayed by our feelings and wants?

Why are we never satisfied?

I honestly think the Old Testament had it right.

I think we all should set up altars of remembrance for the Lord.

I used to want to get a tattoo every time God did something major in my life.

But tattoos hurt, and are expensive.

So my journals will have to do.

We must remember the times God has made our dreams come to pass.

We must record the times that God has listened to our heart cries and desires.

We must reflect on His faithfulness in our lives. 

I needed my friend to remind me of the miracle that God is doing in my life. I needed her to bring me back to reality, and slap some sense into me, figuratively speaking.

I didn't eat only lettuce and rice cakes the next day. I didn't run on the treadmill for 12 hours. I didn't look at the picture again.

What I did do was fall to my knees, ask for forgiveness, and thank Him for what He is doing in my life.  

I thanked Him for making a way where there seemed to be no way.

I thanked Him for opening doors that only He could have opened.

All it takes is a simple, "Thank You Jesus".

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."

 Isaiah 43:18-19

The Other Woman

Last night, I watched the movie, The Other Woman.

It was a bizarre love triangle between a woman, her husband, and his two lovers.
In the end, the three women become allies and friends, working together to bring down the cheating husband.  

There was one part in the movie that caught me off guard, causing chills up and down my body.

The wife's character is on the beach, looking at the sunset, and coming to terms with her life.

She had been holding on to the hope that he would change. 
Unfortunately, he never did. 

She finally has a, "bright light " awakening moment, and in an act of brevity, throws her wedding ring in the ocean.

She finally realizes she needs to move on.
She realizes she deserves better.

While watching this, I realized how many times I was, in fact, the other woman.

Except, I have been the one cheating on myself.

How many times have I pretended to be someone I'm not?

How many times have I neglected my talents, my feelings, my desires, in order to fit inside a box?
How many times have I played a role I was never meant to play?
How many times have I been what people want, not what I need?

I want so badly to be accepted by others that I forfeit my opinion.

I want so desperately to not fall, so I don't try.
I want so much to be an inspiration and success story that I sometimes have a hard time admitting when I fail.
I want Facebook "likes", so I photoshop the crows feet around my eyes. 
I never want to go back to being called "big boned", so I eat a lot of salads and use a treadmill regularly.

Someday, I get it right.

Most days, I get it wrong.

It doesn't matter how many scriptures I quote, how much money I give to a non-profit, how many Elevation Church sermons I listen to, how many filters I use, how many dates I have, how much money I make, how many songs I sing or blogs I write….

None of that matters if I am not who God created me to be.

I have settled for far less than what I am capable of.
I know it and God knows it.

Why?
Fear.

I'm scared of success as much as failure.

I'm scared because I know I have more potential than I even realize.
I'm scared because I know I am worth it.

Have you ever felt like, the other woman?

Have you ever felt like you were playing a part in the play of life?
Have you ever hid behind a job, degree, man, or woman, microphone, ministry or even your children because you didn't think who you were, by yourself, was good enough?

I am learning what it means to be genuine and transparent through my writing.

What started out as a form of therapy and release has taught me more about myself than anything else.

I understand the importance of self-care.  
I am realizing how much courage it takes to just be, "me".

I have even started taking myself out on dates.

Not because I am vain and narcissistic. 
But because I need to fall in love with myself..over and over...every single day. 

The world needs you to be you, no strings attached.

The world needs you to follow your desires and reach your potential.
The world needs you to unbutton the multiple coats, and untie the numerous masks you have on.
The world needs you to fall in love with who God created you to be.

The world is waiting for you.

Not, "the other woman," but you.

“If you knew how capable you are, you’d stop worrying and start amazing yourself”