Headband Horror

I had a few awkward years when I was growing up (understatement? yes). Being genetically skinny can be both a blessing and a curse (which is probably true of every and any body type there is). And, of course, I had the wonderful blessings of things like bad haircuts and acne to compound the problem of my awkwardness. Sometimes I tried to pretend that I didn't care about those things. . . I remember wearing skintight leggings to school one day when I was a sophomore, refusing to acknowledge that my legs looks like toothpicks sticking out of a tootsie roll.

Then there was the day that I decided to wear a headband with my bangs pulled back. That might not seem like such a crazy idea to you, but if you understood the issue with my forehead you would have gasped in horror at the mere suggestion. . .

I guess in some ways I was lucky, because the issue with my forehead could have been a lot worse. It could have been all over my face. You see, I had a pretty bad acne problem underneath the bangs that I so desperately wanted to grow out (you can imagine the dilemma there, because the bangs covered the acne - which was good - but they also were most likely the cause of the acne - which was bad. . . oh, the stress). Anyway, it was nice having bangs to cover it up because most of my friends never noticed it was there.

If you really want a better picture of my complete ridiculousness send me a message and I'll tell you the nickname I gave the upper portion of my face. . . oh, words cannot describe. . .

Anyway, you can imagine the shock of my friends and classmates when I walked into school that fateful day with a big black headband holding back the curtains that so delicately concealed my imperfections. I think the worst moment of the day was definitely at lunch when a friend called out halfway across the lawn outside the cafeteria, "Erin! I didn't know you had freckles!!! . . . oh. . . sorry."

OUCH!

Ok, so why am I telling you such awful and embarrassing things about myself?

Because I think its important for you to know that I experienced those things. And I survived. In fact, I am grateful for experiences like those because they taught me a lot about what really matters in this life.

Maybe you're the kind of girl who never gets embarrassed. Things always seems to work out just right, and everyone seems to think you're pretty much perfect in every way. You never say things you wish you hadn't, wear things you now realize looked ridiculous, or look at yourself in the mirror and wish you had a giant magical eraser.

Oh, wait. No, that isn't possible. There is not one girl on the face of this planet that actually believes she has it all together. But you realize that we often think that about each other, don't we? If only I was like "____," then I wouldn't feel like this.

But the truth of the matter is we all face awkwardness of one kind or another. I can promise you that there is is not one girl on this earth who goes to sleep at night smugly thanking God that He finally created the perfect human. But Satan does a really good job of convincing us that this isn't true. He twists reality and successfully convinces us that we are alone in our awkwardness.

And let me ask you a question. What happens to our ability to love others when we see ourselves as imperfect, broken pots and them as perfect, flawless creatures?

Our love evaporates.

I cannot tell you how many girls I distanced myself from when I was younger because I saw them as something I could never be. I was angry that they had the privilege of waltzing through life without suffering from the annoyances of imperfections. Oh, but I was so wrong!

Those girls were hurting, too. And even if they didn't deserve my love, I was called to love them anyway. . . and show them the very grace and mercy they often refused to extend to me.

In Philippians 2 it says:

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

That verse is a pretty huge call for us to live out the love we've received in very real ways. But we have to be careful about how we read and understand verses like that one. When Paul (the guy who wrote those words) tells us to consider others better than ourselves that doesn't mean that we place them on a pedestal. The bible also tells us that "all men (and all girls) have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23)".

Jesus shows us what true love looks like. It doesn't ignore imperfections and deny sinfulness. . . It says to those in our midst, "I know you aren't perfect and that you don't deserve my love. But I'm going to love you anyway."

I think one of the first steps towards being able to show this kind of love to others is to recognize that we aren't so different from each other after all. You are a beautiful child of God, loved beyond measure. And so is the girl sitting across from you at youth group that you can't bring yourself to love because she is everything you wish you were. . . or she has everything you wish you had. . . or she acts like nothing in life bothers her when your life seems to fall apart daily. . .

Remind yourself in those difficult moments that she needs Jesus just as desperately as you do.

Remember who you are and Whose you are, and refuse to be selective when you distribute His love to those around you. . . no matter how much or how little they look like they need it. . .

Facing the M&Ms

Alright girlies, are you ready for me to get real? Its time to take a walk on the wild side and tell you some stories from my tweener years. I don't know why I do things like this; you will probably never look at me the same. . . but hopefully the end result will be worth the ridiculous revelations!

I went to a small (very small) private school all the way through 8th grade. When it became time to venture off to our enormous public high school I decided to get involved in a group (can't remember for the life of me what it was called. . . Peer something?) that would connect me to other students who were coming from smaller schools into this high school of a few thousand.

It was a good choice, because I was quickly connected to some girls who became good friends over the years of high school. There was an unfortunate event, though, that has soured the memories of that group for me. You see, we had this retreat a few weeks into the school year at a camp nearby. I was rooming with one of my new friends, and as we laid in our bunks trying to fall asleep I blabbered on and on about the beautiful boy that I was totally in love with.

Oh sheesh, this is already embarrassing. Ok, so anyway. I was going on and on about this boy and all of a sudden I felt something strange on my face. It was like little pieces of the ceiling were falling down and smacking me. I stopped talking and listened for a moment. . . and then my eyes focused through the dark to see a vent right above my head. I heard laughter, and then (if you can even believe it) the voice of the beautiful boy calling out in mockery. The little "pieces of ceiling" smacking me were actually M&Ms that they were throwing through the vent, right at my face.

Have you ever been so embarrassed you literally thought you were going to die? I'm not sure how I slept that night, or how I survived the rest of the weekend for that matter. It was seriously traumatic.

But you want to know something awesome? I'm giggling right now. I think its really kind of hilarious that that happened. I don't even remember that boy's name (let alone the name of the group I was in), and this painfully humiliating experience is now nothing but a memory.

A story to tell.

A few months ago I was at a church service where Andy Stanley (a big preacher guy) gave a message about the stories of our lives. He talked about the fact that everything - everything - we go through, no matter how tragic or embarrassing or awful, will eventually become no more than a story we tell.

Have you ever been in a situation similar to mine? So embarrassed you were beside yourself? Or have you ever been so hurt by a guy, or a friend that you felt like you had nothing good in your life at all? Or have you ever been so frustrated with the consequences of a choice that you made that the guilt threatens to consume you?

Tell you what, girls. I can almost guarantee that we've all experienced each one of those feelings. As a friend who is a few miles (just a few, right?) further down the road, I can promise you that those feelings, and the stories behind them - don't have to define your future. You can choose to let those negative stories consume you, or you can cling to the truth that God's word speaks. . . You can refuse to be defined by the hurtful actions of others, or even your own poor choices.

So next time you are in a situation that threatens to unravel you, make this your mantra:

One day, this will be nothing more than a story I tell.

And then open your bible and remind yourself of who you are in Christ. Remember that nothing you can ever experience here on earth is confusing or unknown to your Savior. He walked through it all, and He promises to walk through it again - holding your hand and lifting you up.

You might be in the middle of something right now that makes my "beautiful boy/M&M" story seem like nothing. . . and the truth of the matter is that you might never look back at this particular bump in your road and giggle. . . But you have all the power in the world through Christ to turn this story, this difficult bump, into one that sets you on a better course; one that defines you as a child of God and a faithful daughter.

Don't let the world write your story for you, my friends. Let Jesus walk you through the story He wrote for you before time began. . .

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.

Psalm 139:13-16, the message

A Brand New Day

I finally figured it out. I am completely convinced, and in this new sense of understanding I am finding an immense amount of joy and peace. I finally get what is going on. You see, ever since we moved this summer I have been struggling to write anything on this blog. You've probably noticed.

And I keep making these other excuses; saying its the new morning routine, or the adjustment period from moving and starting life all over. Those things might have a small part - a very small part - in creating this inability (and honestly total lack of motivation) to write. But there is something much bigger going on here, and now that I understand, I think its time to make a change.

Are you ready for it?

Here it goes. . . The last 2 years have been a whirlwind in my faith. I have been growing and learning and stretching like no other time in my life. I have come face to face with my Savior, and in moments of total surrender and abandon I have finally begun to learn what it truly means to walk with Him. To walk for Him. To walk like Him.

And in the midst of that crazy growth there were a lot of rough places challenging my new convictions and denying my heart's understanding. I was in a place where I felt finally freed, and I wanted desperately for others around me to see and taste what I was learning. But it was difficult, and I felt like a lone disciple standing on top of a hill crying out for someone - anyone - to listen, and understand. There were friends standing beside me crying out with the same voice; the same passion. Together we formed an incredible bond because we were experiencing the same friction from rubbing up against these rough places with the convictions filling our hearts.

It was wild.

And when I started this blog my original intentions to encourage young girls in my life were quickly abandoned. This place became an unloading dock for my passionate cries to those in my midst and the rough places I faced. This was where I came to voice what I felt Jesus was calling me to do. This was a place where I could confront the beliefs and actions of good-hearted people who had forgotten what it really looked like to follow Jesus.

This blog was my bullhorn, and the life of Christ was my battle cry.

But this funny thing happened when we picked up our little family and drove 4 and 1/2 hours away. I laid down my bullhorn, and my battle cry became a quiet conviction. You see, I'm not in a rough spot anymore. I don't feel like that lone disciple crying out on the hilltop. I am standing among a band of brothers whose voices are rising in unison, calling out to those in our midst together.

As a huge wave of peace has washed over me, I have lost the urgency in communicating the message that Jesus laid so heavily on my heart over the recent years and months and weeks.

I am so grateful to be in a place of like mindedness. But this, in many ways, has proven to empty my fingers of passionate words to type.

So where do I go from here? As I laid in bed last night processing this whole revelation, I thought maybe it was time to simply lay the Hill for Girls to rest. It was a fabulous experience; one that I will be forever grateful for. . . But I am tired of sitting at the computer trying to force something meaningful and passionate to appear on the screen. I can't force the Spirit to inspire me whenever I feel like I should post a blog.

But then I was praying this morning. Praying for 2 girls who have entered my life in the last few months that I love dearly already. . . girls who I worry about. I was praying and begging God to fill their hearts with a sincere desire to follow Jesus. And in that quiet moment with my Father I suddenly realized what I was supposed to do.

I'm picking up my bullhorn again. And the life of Christ is still my battle cry.

But it isn't about me anymore. It isn't about the rough places (or rough hearts) that are inspiring and challenging me to cry out. Its about the girls that God has placed right in front of me. It is time to start all over again; to remember why I started this blog in the first place.

So you'll probably notice a change in tone as I write in the coming days and weeks. I'm not promising that I'll write with any great frequency, just that when I do it will be out of a longing for these young treasures in my life to know and love Jesus. . . to understand what it actually means to live for Him. . . and to hopefully come to believe that the life He offers is worth sacrificing everything else.

Thank you to all of you who have read faithfully over the last year and a half, allowing me to put words to the emotions, struggles, joys, and lessons that have filled my life. I pray that God will continue to be at work in all of us, and that when we enter new seasons of life and lose the luster for the battle we've been fighting, that we would not lay down our bullhorn in surrender - but that we would open our hearts to the battle God has given us today.

One thing we know for sure; until the day Jesus returns this battle is not done.