Here Comes the Sun

I don't know how you handle failure, but I stink at it. For me, feeling like I've failed someone can be likened to putting a toothpick in my eye. It hurts- and it always leaves splinters that I have to try and figure out.
The other day I had the opportunity to speak to a group of women. Now that I have made speaking my profession- there's nothing unusual about that. But what happened stung me like a bee. I didn't feel like I did a good job.

The last few months have been glorious as I finished an 8 week course I've been writing- gathering this material and beginning to write my second book from it. Other speaking events this year have been powerful and filled with a sense of purpose and awe. So what happened here? Why did I feel like a failure? And why do these fragments of splinters continue to beat me up?

As I've sorted through the facts I've realized some things: I didn't understand the purpose of the event clearly, I was coming off an intense time of writing and preparation and thought I could get by with less, and I misunderstood how they wanted the material packaged. With this clarity you'd think I could just move on...but that feeling of failure just keeps taking another swing at my already bandaged heart.

What do we do with failure? How can we let it go and chalk things up to "I'll do better next time?" This morning I woke up with an old tune floating through my head. I may not have the words exactly right , but you'll get the gist.

Little Darling-- It's been a long cold lonely winter. Little Darling-- It seems like years since you've been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun. It's alright..."

As I've hummed this tune to myself today, I thought about the line "Here comes the sun" and almost giggled when I thought about my love for another kind of sun. The SON. The SON never beats us when we've failed. As a matter of fact- He totally gets it, and invites us to feel comforted by His grace. The SON never heaps guilt on an already wounded heart, but instead holds the heart in His hands and says "Try again. Use me and my strength to get back up again." And most important, the SON is always cheering us on to greater meaning, purpose, and character in our lives.

So if today you are reflecting on a time you've failed-- let a boss down, yelled at your kids, ignored your husband or wife, didn't do your best at something, got a traffic ticket, forgot to do something important, overindulged, picked laziness instead of action-- know you're in good company. That's humanity. And remember the words to this song, with a little twist--
Here comes the SON. Here comes the SON... It's alright...

Blessings,
Gari

Peeking into Treasure

As my mom and I sat in a doctor's office- waiting for her biopsy of breast tissue which turned out to be cancer- she looked at me and said "Honey, I want to take you to France." My mind was more on cancer- but I uttered "I'd love to!" So after her surgery and treatment, off we went, like two teens on a trip after high school graduation.
We traveled on a small cruise boat that floated down a river through France- stopping at gorgeous villages from the 1300's, stunning churches, and landscape that looked like jewels had dazzled the ground instead of grass. But one day ended up being our favorite, and it completely took both of us by surprise.

Everyone disembarked the boat with the hope of climbing to the top of a large hill which housed the remains of an old castle. The climb was a bit difficult though- and although I am a thrill seeker extraordinaire- mom had some trouble with her back, and climbing seemed out of the question. We decided that we would meander around the quiet village that nestled against the hill with the remains of the castle.
As we wandered up and down the streets you could feel the calm pace of the villager's lives. Another man from our boat who suffered from a weak heart joined mom and I as we walked the cobbled stones past a bakery, church, and cafe. Each home that bordered the cobbled sidewalk seemed blocked off from the public eye. There were gates with thick ivy growing- it seemed to keep the people out and beauty in.

I had my face plastered against a fence, trying to see one house in particular- when a kind elderly French man passed me with a gentle greeting. I don't know a single word in French past croissant- so his greeting was especially warm. He literally grabbed my arm and asked if our small band of wanderers wanted to see his home, sequestered behind the ivy. We nodded yes, and off we went. The picture you see at the top of this blog is his home. Not only did he let us enjoy the beauty of the outside of his home- but he invited us in!
There we were, in this man's lovely home, not able to speak one word to each other, but completely understanding each other's language. He motioned us to his backyard where we viewed flowers, bushes, and trees literally bursting with color. Lilacs lined every inch of the fencing that protected this intense treasure. It was the essence of simplicity and beauty.
As we left his home we repeatedly embraced him- thanking him for inviting us into his privacy and retreat- but more importantly, into his beauty.
We stood on the sidewalk breathless and giddy. A man with a weak heart, a woman with a bad back, and a woman with a desire to press her face against people's fences to get a glimpse into their lives. We all three said that without a doubt, this was our favorite day.
The people that climbed the mountain had fun too- but I knew that we had experienced something of the authentic presence of God that day.
An invitation to see His beauty in a way that supersedes language. An invitation to simply enjoy His beauty- without fanfare or drama.

I am reminded of the words of David in one of the Psalms...
"One thing I have asked from the Lord,
That I shall seek;
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord." (Psalm 27)


May we not miss His beauty when He gives us a chance to peek in.

Rich blessings!
Gari

Get in the Pool

When I was in college, each summer I would return home to work at a local health club. One of my duties was to teach all kinds of aerobics classes. I know I'm dating myself here- think big hair, leggings over tights, and disco music while we jumped around on a hard wood floor!
One day my boss informed me that he wanted me to teach water aerobics in the pool. "How hard can it be?" I thought, as I stood on the edge and shouted instructions to all my ladies immersed in the pool. When the class was over my boss called me aside and told me that to be an effective teacher I needed to get in the water with the ladies and actually do the class with them.
I have never forgotten that lesson- and boy was he right. Class attendance tripled, and so did my compassion for those I was teaching.

One of the things I respect most about Jesus is the way He fully understands what it's like to be human. Every heartache, temptation, desire and pull is completely familiar to Him. He is the essence of authenticity when it comes to being human.

"For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted." Hebrews 2:18


If Jesus merely taught from the side of the pool- barking out instructions about how we should live but not getting into the water Himself- I would have a hard time following Him. I'd constantly be wondering how He could truly understand what it feels like to be afraid, to lose something you love, to feel betrayed or abandoned- or to grasp the pain and beauty of being fully alive.
If He hadn't gotten in the pool and become human I couldn't trust Him- much less give my life to Him.

The truth is He did more than get in the water. He actually is the "lifeguard"- not only lapping around us with ropes and lifesaving rings, but putting us in a sidestroke- His arms over our limp bodies, protecting us from the depths, carrying us towards safety.

So even if you can't see the bottom of your pool right now, know that your lifeguard sees you. He knows the depths of your life- and He's been in the pool.

Blessings-
Gari

Blues and Blahs

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This morning I woke up to gray skies. The sky really seemed to imitate my mood. A bit chilly, drizzly, and an overall dull outlook towards the new day before me.
What happened? The weekend was great. Good friends, good food, good rest, and clear focus. The truth is- the blues and blahs can settle like whispers or screams- but they definitely settle- like unwelcome house guests that don't understand it's time to leave.

My good friend Leanne spoke about this very encounter yesterday in our Sunday school class. I love how the bible explains all the messy details of being human. Being stuck in a rut of despair is certainly one of them.

Elijah was a prophet that was unequaled in power and performance. Think Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Babe Ruth. Then add the fact that he had the power of the living God working in him as he called down fire to prove the false gods of his day a farce. After a huge display of God's power by his hands- word spread to Queen Jezebel that this prophet had destroyed the false prophets that she heartily endorsed. "I'll kill him" she snapped. You'd think that Elijah would laugh in the face of that threat- but instead he ran away, and crumbled under a Juniper tree.

Filled with despair, fear, and exhaustion- Elijah moaned and muttered to the gray skies above him. He fell into a pit of despair. But like my friend says "It's really not a pit, it's a tunnel." The great thing about tunnels is that there is light at the end of them.

We can learn a few things from Elijah as he sunk into his tunnel:
1. When we are worn out, we don't think soundly (like running from a woman's threat when you've just called rain and fire down from heaven...)

2. When we isolate ourselves everything seems worse

3. Self-pity exaggerates and lies

4. When we forget what God has done in our lives, we have no true compass

So as this day turns to dusk, the gray color that has tinted the sky is now turning black- but I truly feel better knowing that tomorrow will dawn with a new color to the sky. And even if it's gray, my heart doesn't need to process it that way.

Blessings!
Gari

P.S.- For my Texas reading friends, join us on Sundays at 9:30, Second Baptist Church in Katy, the Life Application Class- for some great learning, teaching, and fun...

Giving More Presence

A few weeks ago Bobby and I attended a conference called Pro Athletes Outreach. It was a powerful time for athletes and their wives to refuel and refocus who we are and what we do.

One of the featured speakers was a pastor from St. Louis. He was one of those guys that you love to listen to. Hip but not trite. Authentic without being pushy. On the last day of the conference he shared something that has blown across the nation like a storm. He called it The Advent Conspiracy. It's wildly simple in its tenants- yet considered a "conspiracy" because it's so counter to the direction our culture swims. Even Whoopi Goldberg is talking about it- and that's huge...

*Spend less on yourself
*What you don't spend on yourself try to give to someone or something
*Give your loved ones more presence than presents

That last one really got me. What does it mean to give people my presence? Presents are easy. You buy them, wrap them, and give them away... But presence is different. Presence means that I will really listen to what my kids/husband/ and friends are saying. Instead of token nods and hurried listening- I will truly engage in what they are saying. I will think about their concerns and pray for them sincerely after our conversations are through.

Jesus was the master of presence. Everything about Him oozed authentic engagement. He fed people that were hungry. He healed people that were hurting. He laughed and cried with His friends. He pleaded with His Father for the hearts of people.

Have you ever noticed that Jesus never gave a present that was bought and wrapped? You don't read about Him popping into the Jerusalem Target to pick up a few gifts. He simply gave His presence- and that was big enough to alter the world.

I still have wrapped gifts under the tree, and I can't wait for our family to enjoy them, but this year I'm more concerned with presence...a gift that no price tag can define.

Blessings...
Gari

Life is Like a Sticky Note

I am addicted to sticky notes. I've been known to walk around for a full hour with a sticky note attached to my forehead. The fluorescent colors make me wild, and don't even get me started on the sticky notes that come in the shape of a heart or flower...
I use stickies for a myriad of purposes: to remind me of something I need to do, someone I need to talk to, or something I need to pray about. To mark a powerful part of something I'm reading, something I need to use in my writing, or something I want to use when I teach.

When I was in Uganda this summer working with kids and teachers at an orphanage, it was fascinating to see their reaction to sticky notes. Just the colors and fact they stuck on everything, including skin, was enough to hold the kids spell bound- regardless of the purposes we were trying to introduce for their use. Let's face it- sticky notes are one of the great inventions of the last few decades. If I could personally thank the creator of the colorful little square paper with a glue-like tab at the top I would.

As I ponder the wonders of sticky notes I'm reminded of the picture you see at the top of my blog. I snapped this photo at the end of a gathering I led. We all had piles of sticky notes in front of us, and we silently wrote out sticky after sticky reflecting on what we feared- the voices that plagued our minds reminding us of how we fall short or somehow seem to disappoint God- or the ways we constantly seem to boomerang back to old patterns of behavior we hate.

When we were done writing on the stickies, I asked the group to gather around a table where we quietly stuck them, one by one, on the cross.

At first it seemed a little contrived and weird. Sticky notes on a cross? But when we were done, and the tears were falling, it was actually quite beautiful. Like a Christmas tree that is adorned with lights and sparkles, the cross was now adorned with pain, conflict, and a kind of fluorescent hope.

To be able to put our fears on the cross is the ultimate sticky note. You can write them out, then get rid of them- not needing to keep them attached to your forehead as a reminder of past failures. They now stick to the cross- where Jesus bears their print.

"For it was the Father's good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him, and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His Cross..." (Colossians)

If you need a little sticky note therapy this week, I encourage you to get a pack and write like crazy. But don't keep the sticky notes around you or on you, put them on a cross.

Blessings-
Gari

Does God Like You?

As I sit at a table in my office (Panera Bread) and write, I am struck with how many holy encounters seem to take place in this restaurant. Behind me I hear a woman sharing her broken heart over a failed relationship. Next to me a team of teachers meet to discuss the problems they encounter with a certain troubled teen. Across from them sits an elderly man, alone, while he brings his hot chicken noodle soup to his lips.

Christmas is nearing, and as I look at the cookies and bread displayed on the counter, and the "huddles" of people gathering to talk or share a problem- a question stirs in me... "Does God like us?" I mean it. Does He like us?

We hear the litany of religious phrases that say God loves us. He has a plan for our lives, and so on. But does He like us?

The last few days one line of scripture has circulated and percolated in my mind. It's from the gospel of Luke in a scene that is utterly unexpected and wild.

After Mary gave birth to Jesus in a stable filled with animals and manure, she may have been questioning whether she had missed God's best. Was this really the way that God planned for His son to enter the scene? At the very least maybe she could have expected a bed with sheets rather than straw and animal sounds. But here's where the story comes full circle.

In that same region some shepards were on a hill. We tend to romanticize shepards now days because when you really think about it- how many shepards do you know? But during Mary's day, the shepards were the blue-collar workers who did the hard work with little pay or glory. Think of them as modern day truckers... So on a cold winter's night all of the sudden heaven ripped open and thousands and thousands of angels are singing and partying, the likes of which we can only imagine- and do you know what they said?
" Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to mankind
with whom He is pleased."

In the midst of the Christmas story, and the pain or busyness of life, we tend to overlook these words. God is pleased with us.

It's not because we have behaved well. It's not because we are the most attractive religiously. The shepards certainly weren't the most attractive, influential people of their day. As a matter of fact they were somewhat snubbed and looked down on. Yet isn't it mind blowing that they were the first to hear this life changing news?

God likes you. He is pleased with you. And He has sent a gift beyond compare in His son Jesus. A baby born into the manure of a stable- much like the manure of our life.

From that event rings the cry of God to the world... I like you. I am thrilled with you. Let the angels party and sing with abandon because this is still His love song over our lives.

Blessings-
Gari