Lessons on a basketball court

lessons on a basketball courtEvery sound in the place echoed off the maple floors createing a doubling or tripling effect.

We were in an old church gym. Ready to watch Sonic (10 years old) play basketball.

Basketball is our boy’s passion right now.

We hear about his games… other friend’s games… games of teams he cares about… games of teams he doesn’t care about.

But that day, He was ready. Excitement was oozing off of him. He knew the rules, but whether he knew it or not his job was to listen to the coach.

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Self-righteousness vs. Self-abhorrence

Self-righteousness vs self-abhorrence

I am struggling with who I want to be when I grow up.

I know it’s probably a self-righteous thing. It usually is. I just want to get it “right.”

I hate that it often comes back to that for me. I hate that fear of failure holds me back. I hate that self-righteousness always lacks a faith that is required to please God.

I want desperately to serve Jesus, but many times I would rather follow correctly than actually follow.

GOD FORGIVE ME.

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Being in the back of the line was better

Being at the back of the line was better-fearing leadership

Tiny feet met each other on each step. A shaky hard grip on the rail. She wasn’t like the other kids. Stairs weren’t hard for them.

She knew she didn’t do it right. She heard the words around her.

Words fell from the discouraging crowd– Come on! Move Faster! What’s wrong?

Words whispered from those trying to help– You’re OK. Don’t be scared. Leave her alone.

She wasn’t scared. She was broken. Unable to work any harder, She was imprisoned.

Something in her body did not allow it to do what her brain told it. With all of her effort, it did not get better. The pressure to get it right and not hold up everyone behind her was it’s own handicap.

And when she heard the instruction, she waited for the back of the line.

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When words are not enough

Divorce, suicide, depression, & illness are words that shoot through the air and into my heart.

They are heavy words, words that are crushing the hearts and lives of the people who are carrying them.

My heart has hurt for them and yet I cannot possibly imagine what it must be like to walk their path.

I struggle for the words.  Then I realized, “my words were not enough.”

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Bless at all times?

As the wife of someone who helps lead others in praise and worship, You won’t hear me bashing corporate worship. I love meeting with God’s people and hearing His praises lifted high. There is something magnetic in singing praise with other followers of Christ.

I love seeing people raise their hands high.

I love hearing (even off-key) voices lifted to our Father. It reminds me of memories of singing in my uncle’s church on a visit one year. I almost wept at the beauty in the untrained worship of a man whose life circumstances were not always worth singing praises about.

There is also a strength felt when worshiping next to people who are walking through hard things.

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