17
February

Who the hell am I?

Value. What a thing is worth.

My counselor assures me that normal people exist. Healthy people. He says there aren’t many and there are fewer by the day, but they do circulate among us. If you’re really out there, I’m sure you don’t read blogs of broken people, unless, of course, for kicks. And as an impetus for gratitude.

I guess the “normies” arrive at adulthood with their value firmly rooted in all the right things. The immovable things. The unchanging things. But my kind…we nail our value to the wind.

  • My mom whipped into the parking space and she and I ran into the hospital. As the oldest of her siblings, she was the second matriarch of the family, and her younger sister had been in a wreck. That’s all we knew. I perched in the scoop of a waiting room chair under the watchful eye of the security guard while my mom frantically dashed back to check on Aunt Shelby. At the height of the wiggly age, I was not a wiggly child. Ever. I sat and waited as I was told to do. Almost forty years later, I remember the security guard’s praise. I was a tiny woman-child who hung the coat of her value on the hook of pleasing others and obeying.
  • I was well aware as I scooted out of my desk and walked to the front of the classroom I was one of the last to complete the assignment. As I made my way up the aisle, several fellas in my class coughed in contagion and loudly whispered “Overkill” as I passed. I smiled at their customary mockery, quite undeterred in my overachieving. As a student I measured my value in terms of grades and awards and scholarships.
  • I anxiously rocked by Chris awaiting a nurse to appear and call my name. I had never undergone twilight anesthesia, never visited this wing of the hospital, never had a colonoscopy. Afterwards, as I wafted between dreamy places, you’ll be both delighted and disgusted to know the doctor reported everything was the picture of health and I had the cleanest colon they had ever seen. I beamed. This girl will welcome achievement in any dress it wants to wear.

That’s all fabulous while the colorful pinwheels are spinning rhythmically, but it can cause quite the  ride when the wind changes. When you’ve lost the approval of others. When the breeze of favor redirects. When you’ve lost your job. When your child rebels. When your love leaves. When your house is in foreclosure. When you gain forty pounds. When you feel called to ministry and no opportunity surfaces. When your colleague gets the promotion you sought. When your child fails. When your health tanks. When you feel ostracized. When the bottom falls out of the bucket hauling our value (AND IT WILL, I DOUBLE DOG PROMISE), we are left with one question – “Who the hell am I?”

Our falsehood has to disappoint us, so it can stop cheating us. It will only be at the collapse of our propped up pretties that we’ll discover our sole value – God’s child. And that makes our value constant. Immovable and unchanging. Regardless of weight gain, abandonment, sickness, accolades, promotions, rejections – you and I have never been more or less valuable than we are right this minute. Classic cars and diamond necklaces retain their value in a world of flux, fickleness, and bipolar markets, but the absolute of our value exceeds even those rarities.

Need further convincing? It’s Jesus. Willing to bear nails through his wrists and the tops of his feet, willing to suffocate to death, willing to have your jacked up errors and mine heaped on him. That’s what we’re worth. We’re that valuable. And the world is powerless to affect it.

My kind, hear me well; our battle isn’t in establishing our value. It’s believing it.

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11
February

What Makes A Woman Beautiful?

“ABIGAIL, GET OVER HERE THIS MINUTE! STOP RUNNING AROUND; I’VE TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME!” Loud-Talking Angry Dad (LTAD) bellowed over the Girls department.

“YOU ARE NOT LISTENING! GO TRY THIS DRESS ON RIGHT NOW!” he continued. Yelling across the room at his child, two or three levels above the volume that was necessary to be heard. I am confident the intensity of his rant was felt several departments over.

Well…as I mentioned in this post, shopping with the youngest offspring isn’t the most fabulous. On this occasion, we were on the hunt for a Father/Daughter Dance ensemble (as was the entire population of our city), and I meant to complete our mission and skedaddle pronto. We were still scouring picked-over racks for a dress for sister when the LTAD rolled up on the scene. After suffering through a half dozen of his barks, my nerves crackled like an electric fence. He made me so anxious that I bolted with dresses and my child flapping behind me. I sought sanctuary in the Juniors department at the front of the store. I parted the clothes on a circular rack, crawled inside, parked in its center, slid the clothes back together, drew a deep breath, hid from the world, and ate a peanut butter cookie.

Okay. Not really. But that would’ve been the best.

And do you have that friend who’s always critical?  Her address is in the negative space of life.  All the time. If it’s sunny, it’s too hot. If the kids are playing, they’re making too much of a mess. If she loses weight, it’s not where she wanted to lose it. GEEZ! I find that I refrain from noting anything positive…knowing it’ll be dashed to the ground like an overripe watermelon. And if I’m not really mindful…I’ll start to spin my own brand of negative in her presence.

Or what about the tiny girl twirling and singing to herself, oblivious to all the world around her? Have you ever noticed how she makes you feel? How your face smiles without thought and your insides delight in her delight? How you really just want to join her?

Although it’s not something we usually think much about, we elicit a response in those around us. People feel something when they are with us. We can evoke anxiety in others like Loud-Talking Angry Dad, negativity like Critical Friend, joy like Twirling Girl, or any other feeling. And tucked away in that truth we find the residence of beauty:

A woman in her glory, a woman of beauty, is a woman who is not striving to become beautiful or worthy or enough…A woman of true beauty is a woman who in the depths of her soul is at rest…She exudes a sense of calm, a sense of rest, and invites those around her to rest as well….A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become. – Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge

A beautiful woman invites others to feel at peace around her. Beautiful is an easy smile. Nothing forced or fake about it. It’s a well-worn, favorite pair of jeans. It’s a drop your shoulders and breathe deeply kinda thing. It’s a woman who makes others more confident in her presence, especially her man. She is so at home in her own skin that others feel more comfortable in theirs around her. There is no striving in her that generates tension. There is no artifice that shames. In the presence of a beautiful woman our souls exhale and enjoy. This beauty looks like a tee shirt and shorts, flip flops, shades, sandy toes, and a genuine grin, whipped by wind-tossed hair. It has no weight limit and is timeless. Ageless. Beautiful is a tranquility that draws others and keeps them returning for the respite it extends. And when we allow the world to accost our rest, girls, we sacrifice the only authentic beauty we have to offer.

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7
February

7 Ways to Effectively Pursue Your Valentine

I was struggling, pounding it out about a mile and a half in. Sweat stinging my eyes and concrete blocks for feet. My short snatches of breath weren’t cutting it, and then the worst of the worst happened on a difficult run…a slow song came up on the playlist.  NOOOOOOOO! I love me some “Free” by Zac Brown, but just NOOOOOOOOOO! I had been meaning to edit the playlist but only remembered that tidbit in this very situation. Where was my Jerry Reed with some “East Bound and Down”? Or Ed with “Sing”? Though I hate to expend any energy on music wrangling while running, this was an emergent circumstance. When I looked down to scroll through the playlist, I had received a text from the hubs. And a big ‘ole ginormous smile broke out across my red splotchy face…he sent me flowers WHILE I was running. And, of course, I screenshot it because that was the coolest thing ever. And, of course, I went on to beast the rest of my run…maybe…

The past three years have been the most difficult of our sixteen year marriage; if you’re married long enough the hard years come. I know…I thought we were different too. But we aren’t. We spent most of last year in counseling, and you’ll never find greater advocates for marriage counseling than these two Cawthons right here. It may seem a little late in the game, but we learned how to love each other well. Primarily by loving Jesus more.

During this season, Chris and I have spent a lot of time studying how God loves, how he pursues, how he forgives, how he extends grace, and with his help we’re applying that to our relationship the best two jacked-up people know how to do. So, in the interest of saving you $100, some couch time, and a box of Kleenex, here’s what I’ve learned about how I (and I think it’s safe to generalize to most gals – single or married) want to be pursued.

A girl wants to be pursued…

1) With beauty. Think about how God dazzles by the ocean, with a sunset, in the mountains, through the warmth of sunshine. We are inherently wired to respond to beauty in a positive way, so intentionally add some beauty to the mix.

2) With purity. God never pursues our hearts because he wants anything from us. A woman has a sensitive radar for motives. If we ever feel “buttered up” as part of a goal – sex or any other ambition -your efforts are counterproductive. They make us feel cheap not cherished.

3) By a leader. God is the example of a strong, powerful, selfless “man” who leads with love. And, men, you need to know that a woman’s heart hungers to be led well. As John and Stasi Eldredge correctly assert in Captivating, even strong women don’t fear a man’s strength if she is confident he is a good man. According to little ole’ me, a man desiring to pursue as a leader must be pursuing Jesus at least as much or more than his lady is. I can get under that leadership all day long.

4) Personally. God doesn’t go after your heart in the same way he goes after mine. He knows me perfectly and he knows you perfectly, and he displays that by how he gets our attention. Driving the Jeep, with the top down and doors off, on a summer night, he woos me with a clear sky populated with stars aplenty and a big, bright moon. He may stir your affections for himself in a completely different way. Effective pursuit demonstrates how well you know your person, and we can just make peace with the fact…DETAILS MATTER.

5) Creatively. God employs an endless repertoire of creative pursuit.  He’s not the God of rut and routine, just look at the variety in everything he ever created. We can all feel challenged by his lead to love more creatively.

6) With security. Dudes, you can never overestimate the importance of emotional and physical safety to a woman. Throughout Scripture, God clearly identifies himself as our safe place. A woman looks for security in a relationship and assurance that she can let her guard down and not be intentionally hurt.

7) Extravagantly. God is clearly the master of grand gestures. So when I think of extravagant pursuit, I’m not at all talking about dollars. I’m talking about throwing the tried and trues out the window and going with a risky BIG idea. For instance, a picnic on the beach at sunset is extravagant to me…while costing less than dinner and a movie.

So, with Valentine’s Day about a week out, ladies in the house, agree or disagree? And, fellas, what should we know about how to be “caught” and how to love our guys well? I can’t wait to hear your perspective!

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3
February

Passing the Baton…

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Hey there! I’m super excited to have an article about grace on the NewSpring blog today, so I’m gonna pass the baton to you. Run over there (Two Ways We Mishandle Grace), check it out, and then pass it along to everybody under the sun. 🙂 Thanks for reading, and have the best day!

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31
January

How would you rate God’s customer service?

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As I lounged in my comfy clothes, ordering groceries online, legs outstretched on the coffee table, my frustration mounted.  Many of the items 0n my master list were no longer available – replaced by inferior brands or completely unavailable.”What is this injustice? What do you mean you don’t have Gevalia Colombia K-cups?” I queried and shook my fists in the air. Still quite satisfied with the fact that grocery shopping did not require me to be presentable, I triple-checked my cart and reserved my timeslot for pick-up. Once I retrieved and began to unpack my groceries, I wasn’t particularly jazzed with the selection of produce or meats. “What is this injustice?” I queried and shook my fists in the air. This was not my normal experience. I had used this service at my favorite grocery store for years. And then…a few days later a customer survey landed in my inbox.

I’m not the customer-service-survey type. I don’t send my food back when it’s not good; I don’t complain about bad service; that’s just not my bag. And it’s not because I’m conflict-averse; I’m actually a proponent of necessary difficult conversations.  My beef with giving feedback is that people ask for it but rarely want it. The passive aggressiveness of that annoys me to no end, but that’s a rant for another post…

But on this occasion – and because I genuinely love buying my groceries online and wanted to improve the service – I completed the survey. I mentioned the two areas of my dissatisfaction, sent it off to the mythical grocery store chain headquarters in the sky, quite pleased with myself for speaking into the process. Until I walked into the store the next time and the manager, who also lives in my neighborhood, graciously thanked me for my input.

Gah. Awkward.

The only other times I can remember giving customer feedback was at Chick-Fil-A because I was guaranteed a free sandwich and at the gym. A few years back, I emailed the head honcho gym guy to request that E! not be a channel option on the TVs. I’m not an E! hater or anything, but I didn’t think any of us needed to be subjected to blurred out Kardashian body parts while working out. And that’s my feedback resume. Over the course of all my years, I have made my voice heard in the service sector only three times.

Whether we frequently give feedback or rarely, we are conditioned to assess experiences in those terms – even if just internally: How long did we have to wait? How was the service? Were we blown away by the product? Did anything diminish our experience? How were we treated by the staff?

There’s nothing inherently wrong with that line of thought. Unless we allow it to leak in and saturate our relationship with God. We can be assured that He always wants our honesty, so we can pray about anything. But when we begin to approach him from a consumer’s paradigm. When we begin to score Him on how long we’ve been waiting.  When we begin to complain about the “service” we’re receiving or how our difficult circumstances are diminishing our enjoyment of him, we are operating out of an entitled heart. And it’s a sure sign we’ve gotten way too big for our britches…

We are not God’s patrons; he does not owe us because we are faithful subscribers. He is not threatened that we’ll go elsewhere if we aren’t satisfied.  He is the Creator of the whole stinkin’ universe, and we are wise to humble ourselves as we see in Jeremiah 18:1-6. We are not his customers; we are his creation. And sometimes – at least personally, I can stand to go a lot bigger on worship and at a lot less on whiny.

So, when I find myself asking with scrunched face, “What is this injustice?” as I shake my fists in the air, he faithfully reminds me he’s no short order cook who fulfills my demands. He is the one who placed the mole above the right corner of my lip. He’s the one who chose thick brown hair and short stubby toes for me, long before I drew air into my lungs and expelled it with a wail. With his very own Father hands, he made me. Knew me and loved me. And then He gently whispers, “Let’s be clear. I am your Father, the Creator of all your eyes can see. I am not your service provider, dear one. Now let’s proceed accordingly.”

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