Stop Asking The World To Put It's Boobs Up.

It is not within my nature to disagree.

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. 

I choose the "ignore and let it blow over" method of handling things when I am upset. 

No, I don't think that's healthy, but we all have our shortcomings. 

So I'm already getting that stomach-in-knots feeling. 

Because I'm writing this post for the direct purpose of disagreeing. Outwardly. Publicly. 

I've been thinking on this for two days.

I've prayed about it. 

Questioned my motives. 

And now I'm just going to suck up my discomfort and write because I think at least one person can benefit from what I have to say. 

A few days ago, I started seeing a shared blog post pop up in my Facebook news feed called "My husband doesn't need to see your boobs". Yeah, the title caught my eye but I didn't immediately read it. I assumed it would be another wordy plea by a Christian woman for other women to cover up their bodies. But then it popped up in a private group I'm in, captioned with a sarcastically implied eye-roll, and my interest was piqued. I bit.

Lauren (the blogger) actually prefaces her feelings by saying that it is NOT another post asking girls to respect their bodies, because as she says, lots of people are already saying that. Instead, she appeals to the scantily clad in a woman-to-woman manner, explaining the effect of immodesty on marriages, the temptation for men and the insecurity in women like her, like me. 

Don't get me wrong, I get it.  What woman hasn't had feelings of inadequacy?  Our culture is not kind to real women. All it takes is a stroll past the window of Victoria's Secret to get a 14-foot-tall reminder of what I'm not. And that's just societal exposure. That doesn't even touch on the personal baggage, which everyone has.  When my husband and I first addressed the issue of porn and how it had no place in our marriage, I faced many nights like the one she described, wondering if he was picturing something better than me. I get it. Really.

But while reading this article, I had all kinds of red flags going up.
She is claiming to stand for God but has used her influence to call out the problem of immodesty, offering this simple fix.: "Keep your boobs out of my marriage. You can have your memories and we can have our sacred hearts."

This blogger's opinion is clear. As are the numerous concurring comments it has received. But I'm wondering how people are missing the most crucial part of having a Christian opinion. Christ. 

Where is Jesus in this?
I suppose He's with the blogger and her husband, since they are striving to keep their hearts pure and all. 
But what about the perky, tanned, coozie holding girls in the instagram photos? 
Doesn't Christ want them too?

The problem I have with this post is that this blogger is not standing apart from the world at all. She's just taking a different angle. Our worldly, sex-crazed culture tells women to take their clothes off because it makes men feel good. This blogger is telling women to put their clothes back on because their nakedness makes her feel self-conscious and serves as a stumbling block to her husband and other men striving for purity. While that may seem commendable, at the end of the day, it's still asking women to make choices because of what someone else needs rather than because of the sanctity Christ died for.
A long and wordy post explaining and guilting and shaming may serve the purpose of getting a woman to opt for the one-piece or put a t-shirt on. But if she doesn't know Jesus, does it matter?

What if you had a chance to speak into these women's lives and instead of telling them about how much God loves them, instead you chose to tell them to put their clothes on because their nice rack was distracting your spouse? Wouldn't that seem like a devastating waste?

Make no mistake, scripture is very clear about how to deal with immorality. Flee. Run. Don't waste any time. She's right to be concerned for her husband. In fact, I bet most people who take a stand against immodest dress have intentions rooted in concern for someone's purity (either their own or someone near to them). But even if every female on social media respected the Christians man's struggle for purity, even if everyone went swimming in dresses to their knees, what about the multi-billion dollar porn industry? What about the websites just selling the swimsuits? What about the Victorias Secret models in the window at the mall? The solution is never going to be altering the world. We cannot keep making pleas for people to change themselves so that we can have an easier time following Jesus. Because those pleas push people away from Him.  Our only solution is to anchor ourselves more tightly to Christ, so that we can face struggles with His strength and not our own. 

And let's not forget when faced with the argument of modesty, Jesus died for the seductress too.  If you look in the bible, you will see there is a definitive moment when the wayward woman is no longer just a trap that should be avoided. And that's when she meets Christ. We see it when He stops the mob from stoning the adulteress. We see it when He meets the Samaritan woman at the well. These women were the women this blog would have been written to. The good, godly wives said to these women "Put your boobs up." but Jesus said "I love you. And I'm enough."

And He is. 
He really is enough. 

He is enough for the husband, to strengthen him as he faces temptation (1 Cor. 10:13).  Once a man makes the decision to pursue Christ and strive to keep his heart pure, it doesn't really matter what temptations are presented. Really, a husband doesn't need his wife to warn him of the dangers lurking on Instagram. What he needs is a praying wife, because he absolutely will face overwhelming temptation. Every. Single. Day. He needs a loving wife, that doesn't lie I'm bed at night worrying about the imagery he may be holding into, but instead boldly takes her clothes off with the confidence that hers is the body God has given him to enjoy. He needs a forgiving wife, because there will always be stumbling blocks, and he won't always make it over them without falling. 

Thankfully, Jesus is enough for the wife, too. It's easy to get wrapped up in the mentality that women got the short end of the Christian stick. What with our society's disparaging tone towards woman, it's easy to forget how much God actually adores His daughters. But He does. He created the earth and everything in it and said that it was good. He created all the creatures on earth and in heaven, man included and said that it was good. But when he saw how lonely man was, for the first time he said it was "not good". And his solution? Woman. And when His fallen world needed a savior, He could have come in any fashion He wanted. He could have burst forth from a volcano riding a dinosaur. But instead, he came through a woman, to be nursed at her breast and raised to manhood by her hand. This is how much God loves us, how valuable he find us. Now are you really that concerned about your stretch marks? 

He is even enough for the immodest, for the girl who gets dressed in the morning, looking in the mirror and judging herself by a worldly standard. His affection is far greater than any admiration she could hope to gain by trying to appeal to men with her body. Her body was bought with a very high price, and has the potential to be a temple for the Holy Spirit. But she can't know that until she meets Him. And she can't meet Him until someone shows Him to her. And she won't make choices for Him until this happens. 

So, I wonder, what will you do? 

Will you argue against a broken world, begging it I show some discretion or will you set your eyes on Christ and be a light in the darkness, pointing to Jesus? 

He's really the only solution there is at all.

So, I choose the latter. 

The Cheerleader

I’ve never really been afraid of tornadoes. You see, I’m an Arkansas girl, born and raised. I remember the thrilling nights as a kid when my mother pulled us from our beds and we’d spend what seemed like all night giggling under a mattress in the hall with flashlights and teddy bears. It was fun. 

And I’ve seen the aftermath, the piles of rubble, the death counts on the news. But you see, I’m an optimist. And all these things I have seen from an emotional distance. So the prevailing theme to them all is the hope that humans are able to cling to, the stories of survival. So I’ve never really been afraid of tornadoes. 

So on Sunday, April 27, when the weather man said the forecast was a mix for disaster, we decided we’d go ahead with our move to Vilonia anyway. We already had the UHaul. The house was in boxes. The helping hands had signed up. Our new house has a concrete basement. We’ll be safe, we thought. 

We were. 

While 20 people ate hot dogs and potato salad in the basement, the wall cloud blew over our mountain to the valley beyond it. The TV showed the eye of the storm directly over Cody Ln. And I stood on the front porch and saw the sucking black sky twirl in the distance. And for the first time that day, a fear swelled up because I knew that street. Because I’d traveled over the mountain just days before to that street. I’d stood in a house with a red door with my precious friend April, while our sons played in the yard. I’d marveled at her garden patch and seedlings and thought how much I loved her when she’d showed me her Hobby Lobby project, letters that spelled “Smith” above the door jam. “I spaced them out,” she said, “because I didn’t want to copy you.” 

I couldn’t reach her. The storm had moved on but she wasn’t answering. We prayed for them as the minutes passed. Five, then ten, then the rain stopped and the sky stilled. But she didn’t answer my calls. “Call Daniel,” I told Miah. But he grabbed the keys instead. He and Jud got in the truck and left. I don’t know….I think he knew somehow. The way he was praying…it was different. He wasn’t asking for safety but for peace and I found it odd. I was afraid. 

Time passed. He should have been there but the phone kept reaching voicemail. She wasn’t answering and now he wasn’t either. The group of guys that had been unloading our Uhaul left to go help. My texts to him grew in desperation. 

Did it hit them? 

Are they ok? 

Honey, are they ok? 

Please tell me if it hit them. 

Please tell me they are ok. 

Are they hurt? 

Are they alive? 

Miah, please tell me they are alive. 

And then he responded.   I can't.  

A blur. Calls to our pastor’s wife. Praying. Crying. And then another message  

April and Daniel are alive right now but the boys are gone, honey. 

I don’t know what else happened for a while. My face was on the floor and my sister was there hugging me. Stephanie and I, both mothers, both friends of April, wailed. And only one prayer, a prayer more desperate than any I have ever prayed in my life, left my lips. “God, please, not this for her.” 

It’s been a long couple of days. Little sleep. Lots of calls and messages. A group of men from the church went to the site and gathered what they could of the Smiths’ belongings. The house is completely gone.

Back in the fall, April and Daniel were still living in Sherwood. They received a 30 day notice that they needed to move so the owner of their home could sell it. She started to worry but in true April-fashion, she said “I know God will provide”. Just a week or so later she told me about the house they had found in Vilonia, about how perfect it was. The owners wanted to work with them to get them in it. It was just. so. perfect. It even had the red front door she had always wanted. 

So, you see, I was angry. Because I knew God put them in that house. And it was no act of violence or human mistake that took their sons’ lives. It was an EF4 tornado, a mile wide, and it sucked everything that seemed so perfect off the foundation that God had given. I was SO angry. 

I’ve always called her the cheerleader. Because she was one once, in a pom poms and pyramids sense, but because she still is now, in a bible and faith sense. She is who I call when my faith is stretched. And every time I hang up the phone, I’ve been reminded of how big and how good and how strong my God is. 

I spent these angry couple of days questioning why God would take those boys and why he would take the best cheerleader he had. Because who could still cheer for their God after this? 

The thing is though, my faith is not April’s faith. It never has been. 

Last night, we walked in the hospital room to see her. While Jeremiah and I held her hands and kissed her face, she wept. She had questions about that night. She had heard that Jeremiah found the boys and she told him she was comforted it was him because she knew he would have prayed over them. We all cried. A wise, young friend of ours sent us a message of encouragement yesterday that we were able to share with April. 

  

She shared the following scriptures: 

  

Isaiah 55: 8-11 

8 “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. 

9 For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. 

10 “The rain and snow come down from the heavensand stay on the ground to water the earth. They cause the grain to grow, producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry. 

11 It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it.

Jeremiah shared with her what a comfort it was for him to think that everyone is here for a purpose, for God’s purpose not for our own fulfillment. And when their purpose is reached, they GET to go home. He repeated Taylor’s words to her, “How incredible it was that Tyler and Cameron were able to serve their purpose in such a short time, when it takes some people 100 years”. I told her how angry I had been, grappling with the truth that this was allowed, arranged even. 

And my beautiful friend, my cheerleader, laid in the hospital bed with her broken body and battered, beautiful face and held my hands and told me not to be angry because her God is good. She knew that her sons had fulfilled their purpose in life and that they were with the father now. 

Tyler has always talked about heaven. About how he can’t wait to get there. She said she thought it was because he heard them saying how wonderful it would be…some day. But he looked at her Sunday afternoon, before the storm, and told her he was ready to go to heaven. “Will you miss me?” he asked her. “Well yes,” she said, “but let’s not talk like that now.” “How long will you miss me?” he persisted. And she just smiled and said, “I guess until I see you again.” 

“I have peace,” she told me last night through her tears, “I know I have more pain to go through that I probably can understand. But I have supernatural peace. I don’t know what God has for me and my husband that our boys couldn’t be here for, but I do know that He is good. His plan is good.” 

I don’t understand this kind of faith. Because I think every parent who has heard this story since Sunday has wondered, “How do you live through that?” 

For those of you who have been worried about April and Daniel, worried that they would not be the same, that they could not carry on past this loss, please don’t worry any more. I have seen her hope. It is anchored in eternity. It is the kind of hope that saves people. And that’s not just the optimist in me talking. 

For those of you wondering how a mother could serve a God that might allow this, understand that Tyler and Cameron knew Jesus. Just a couple of weeks ago, they led a friend to Christ. They aren’t over. Their story hasn’t reached the end. They aren’t even really gone. They’ve just moved for now. 

We will miss them. Like April told Tyler on his last day on earth, we will miss them until we see them again, April and Daniel more than any of us. While none of us understand it, we must take up her lead and know that even still, God is good. And we must understand that while we may love these boys, God loves them infinitely more. He loves them perfectly. And with his knowledge of the lives and futures of the Smiths, God took them home. 

But he left their mom and dad. Somehow, though every bit of that house was ripped from the foundation, April and Daniel will live. They will tell this story and honor Tyler and Cameron’s lives. Masses of people will know Jesus because of this story. Because we cannot fathom this strength. 

When I left the hospital last night, I just cried and thought “She is so strong. She is so faithful. She is so selfless. She is so beautiful”. And it hit me. April is all of these things because she allows herself, even in the midst of this tragedy, to be a reflection of our strong, faithful, selfless, beautiful Savior. 

They are greatly broken. But they will mend. They haven’t fulfilled what God has for them yet. But they will. Because while she could be angry, and she may be at some point, she is holding tight to the only thing she has left: 

The truth that GOD IS GOOD. ALL THE TIME. 

  

I asked her if I could take her photo, so she could have it later when she told her story. 

She told me to show you all now. And to tell you… her God can overcome even this.  

My friend. Who remains the most beautiful woman I know. 

April, the cheerleader. 

About a year ago, our home church (Thatchurch.com) in Sherwood, AR, told April's life story. This post has gone absolutely viral. Millions have heard the testimony of April's faith. She is showing hundred's of thousands to Christ. Watch the video of her story, and you will understand a little of the plan she is so sure God has. 

Added May 9, 2014- Also, if you would like to watch the funeral services for Tyler and Cameron Smith, please go here. 

To donate to the Smith family, go here.

One Thousand Words.

What would you do if you woke up tomorrow to the booming voice of God saying, “You have 1,000 words left and then your life is over”?

I guess you might question your sanity but we'll overlook that path of thinking. In this scenario, you know it to be true. You have a thousand words of life left. And then that’s it.

James 3:2 says this: "Indeed, we all make many mistakes. For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way."

I don’t see anyone making those cute little verse graphics to share of that one on instagram.
It’s not a pretty or feel-good verse but it needs to be addressed. This is a real struggle and in a lot of ways, it’s the thing that is diluting the effectiveness of the church today. And know, please, I’m not preaching at you here. I can only write this because God’s been hitting me over the head with it for a solid year now. My study on the subject has reached the point that I have to write about it to sort my own thoughts.  

I've thought about it a lot, and I've come to this solution. I want to start every day as if I only had a thousand words left.
A thousand words is not very many. Already, I've typed 283 words on this page. We have entire conversations, spending hundreds of words, about gas prices and the weather and Miley Cyrus twerking. We make plans and then we talk those plans to death. We treat our language like an infinite currency, thus cheapening it's face value. We are utterly wasteful with our words. 

It might not be such a big deal to just talk a lot about meaningless nonsense if I wasn’t a professed Christ follower. The thing is, deliberation is key for a Christian. We have been commissioned with the task of spreading what is, hands down, the most amazing and unbelievable story known to mankind. We believe that the God of the universe, the creator of everything…EVERYTHING (grasp that, it’s huge), made the choice to pull on skin, be born as a baby to a virgin, live about 33 sinless years then be nailed to a tree and die a horrible death all because he loves us individually and wants a relationship with us. Take a moment to view this from someone’s point of view who doesn’t know Christ. Or remember from your own point of view if you have lived part of your life as a non-believer. 
So, how do we do it? How can we be most effective at sharing this incredible gospel? Well… I think we have to take our one thousand words and use every last one of them in a very calculated way, with complete awareness of the weight we bear as a witness for Christ. We have to be a credible source. We have to establish relationships that reflect that love that sent Him here so that our actions do not contradict our words. Most importantly, we have to consistently LIVE our faith.

I think a person’s first response to finding out they only have a thousand words left would be to immediately lavish their family and friends with loving sentiment.
Seems legit.
I’m a mom. I have babies I’d give my life for. I’m a wife with a husband who I am completely in love with. It seems noble and romantic that if I only had a thousand words left, I’d want to give them all to them. I would be wrong though. Satan has a way of mixing people up here, especially mothers. Because we live with this overwhelming mom-guilt and somehow, if we could SAY we love our kids enough, maybe it would atone for the feeling we have when we fail them. 

Ladies, listen to me here. You are going to fail your kids. You are a human. You are going to fail your marriage. You are going to screw up and let your family down. The only thing you will EVER do that is fail-proof is to reflect Christ to your family so that they might come to know Him. Because He does not disappoint. He never forgets. He never gets too stressed. He never raises His voice in a moment of tension. We could save a lot of words if we would employ our actions. Think of the Proverbs 31 woman. The only mention of her speaking in all 21 verses is that “She speaks with wisdom and faithful instruction is on her tongue.”
I don’t know about you, but I want to be that woman. I want to be the kind of woman who pours her heart and soul into serving her family for 20 verses and only speaks for one.

What about the things we allow to dilute our witness? What about gossip, lies, and arguing? Those things may not seem so destructive, but what if you only had a thousand words? Think about how many you would be willing to waste talking about an irritating friend or co-worker. If that five minute conversation represented a large portion of what you had left, you’d be a lot more likely to just let offenses go. And regarding lying, if you only had a thousand words left, would you want to risk losing someone's trust and causing everything you say to be questionable? Lies can cost a lot of words in the long run and cheapen the potency of the ones you use. Remember, you are living your life to tell a story that’s already hard for some people to comprehend. Don’t you want your words to be as believable as possible?
Oh, and lets touch on arguing and being hateful. You’d think this would be something Christians would accept as truth, considering Christ had so much to say about love, but sadly it isn’t. It may feel like you are doing the work of God when you choose to argue laws and politics and take a stand against things like homosexuality and abortion. The problem is that when you choose to pick a fight like that, often the people get forgotten. Christ wasn’t in the business of laws. He was in the business of souls. And He didn’t die only for “the good Christians”. In fact, scripture makes it clear that we pretty much all suck as people and all fall short of God’s glory. So if you have to make a choice between arguing against abortion or telling a mother who has aborted multiple pregnancies that Jesus found her worth dying for, please, choose the latter. It’s a better way to spend your words because after all, legislation doesn’t change hearts. Jesus does.

About gossip and idle chat, about being untruthful, about being hateful, it all comes down to James 3:11- Does a spring of water bubble out with both fresh water and bitter water? Imagine a man who has been wandering through the wilderness for months. This guy is worn down. He’s tired. He is skin and bones and dehydrated. You have a water bottle of fresh, clean water and a bottle of poisoned water. Clearly he needs something to drink. His life depends on it. You know that and you want to help him. Which bottle do you give him? It’s a no brainer. Well, what if you just mixed the two, and give him that? Have you just given him some mostly fresh water, only a little poisoned, so it will mostly help him?
No, it doesn’t work like that. If you only have a thousand words, don’t dilute them with poison. Keep your water pure. Lives could depend on it.

What about your trials and troubles? You’ve got concerns and fears. Sometimes, you just need to vent.
James 1:19 says “Be quick to listen and slow to speak.” I’ve always thought of this scripture in terms of dealing with people. Sure, it helps in your earthly relationships to open your ears and shut your mouth, but this applies to our relationship with God as well.

Here’s a lesson that I’ve learned well over the past six months. I recently started a project on Facebook where I post daily photos of life in our home. Someone noted to me that there are a lot more photos of my younger sons than my older ones. Yes. That is true. I am currently going through a custody trial with my older sons’ dad, and they are currently only at my house half of the time. The first few weeks of this, when I was first dealing with them being gone, I talked. A lot. I talked to anyone who would listen. I retold the same story over and over and over. Until I just…ran out of words. And then, finally, I really prayed. And amazingly, miraculously, God answered. Over and over, through scripture and well-timed Christian songs, and even perfectly worded Church signs, He answered. And only because I finally shut up did I hear Him. My faith grew. I learned to appreciate my boys in a way I never had before. I learned to trust God even when I am not in control of their lives. And I finally reached a point that I could be thankful for what I’d learned and that my creator loved me enough to walk with me through it. Sometimes, we can focus so much on our problems and being slighted that we don’t even see God working behind it all.
I wish I could say I’m the kind of strong Christian that immediately goes to prayer and my bible when things get tough.  God’s not finished with me yet, but I’ve learned a lot this year. I’ve learned that if I only had a thousand words, I’d spend a whole lot more time in a quiet room with God working through my troubles instead of calling my best friend and venting. Actually, thinking about it from this perspective, there are lost of places I waste words where I should just be praying. There are afternoons where I go put a load of towels away to come back in the bedroom and find my toddler has emptied my entire dresser on the floor. There are times when my husband has hurt my feelings and I feel the need to tell him, in that moment, just how mad I am and why he’s wrong and I’m right. There are instances where customer service is mind-blowingly bad and I lay my Christian face down for a few minutes to let the minimum-wage-worker on the other end of the line know exactly how frustrated I am. If I would just immediately turn my heart to God in these situations and keep my mouth shut, I’d have a lot less regret I’m sure and likely a lot more peace.

I’ve thought about this a lot lately and I’ve come to this.
I want to love my family and friends with not only my words but with my life, efforts and actions (Proverbs 31). I want my mouth to be a spring of fresh water to those who are trying to follow Christ around me as well as those who don’t know Him yet (James 3:11). I want to be quick to listen and slow to speak (James 1:19).
I want to live my life like I only have a thousand words left.
Or a hundred even.
Or ten.

And I want every one of them to point to Christ.