I took a test today. It was one of those silly little tests you see on Facebook. When I read the results, I laughed. It didn't really seem like it matched me. But it got me thinking. Seems like every time I take some test that is supposed to determine what kind of personality I have, what I would like based on my personality, etc., they usually say pretty much the same thing. They say I'm witty, outgoing, the life of the party, confident, down to earth, well liked, and more. Funny, I don't see myself that way at all. In fact, I tend to think the opposite of myself.  I think I'm more of a wall flower who is shy and insecure about my abilities. I have a few close friends. Around them I may be more inclined to be witty and outgoing. They build me up, encourage me and help me be a better me. But in general I'm not that outgoing. All of the things these tests say about me, I'd love to be. Maybe it's trying to tell me something. Hmm...

The other day I was watching a show where they had to put down a horse. Tears were welling up in my eyes. I love horses and it was a sad scene. When I was a kid we had horses (that was before my Daddy left home). One horse had a colt that died in our front yard. It still stands out in my memories as being one of the saddest moments in my childhood. Daddy leaving us topped that, of course. Anyway, the horse scene got me thinking about Daddy. And I thought back to the day I stood in the emergency room and had to make a decision about what to do regarding his treatment. Everyone else in the family had left and I was alone when the doctors came in and told me he was actively dying. Even though it had been discussed a little bit between the family, I had to be the one to actually say that I didn't want them to take any extraordinary means to save him. I knew it was what he wanted. I knew the family would be in agreement. But to have to say the words was difficult. I think the doctors knew how hard it was for me. They stayed with me quite a while after they gave me the news.

It's funny how movies, music, places we go, smells, etc. bring back those moments in time that had some kind of special meaning or touched us in a way we will never be able to forget. I think it can be God's way of keeping the memory of the person alive. In some cases a specific memory may have been a moment of extreme hurt, but there comes a time when we can look back and see that even in our pain God was using it to mold us into the person He'd have us be. 

Being that tomorrow is Easter I wanted to share this song that Rick NesSmith and I wrote several years ago. Even though this song tells about the events leading up to the crucifixion, I was actually thinking about how easy it is to get pressured into following the crowd when I originally wrote it (Rick came in later and helped tweak some of the lyrics and add some, and put it to some amazing music). Anyway, I wondered if I would have joined in if I had lived in those times. My guess is, probably so. It's so easy to think we never would do such a thing. But look at Peter. He denied Jesus 3 times. And he had walked closely with him. He loved him. But you know, Jesus knew all of this would happen. Still, He chose to lay down his life for us. And I am so grateful that He did. People can tell me all day long that He doesn't exist, but in my heart, I know He does. He's changed me. That's something I couldn't have done myself. I could never be "good enough" to make it to heaven. No works could ever pay my way. His blood alone provided the atonement for my sin. He was the perfect sacrifice; the sacrifice necessary to reconcile us to God. And the best part is that the sacrifice was made while we were enemies of God. It reminds me of these verses found in Romans 5:7-8:

"Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us"

Before accepting Christ, I didn't know this man Jesus. Oh, I had heard about him. But I didn't have a true understanding of the man He was. How could someone love their enemy? How could they want to lay down their life for them? This was a love I couldn't comprehend. My whole life had been filled with rejection. That rejection had turned me into a bitter, angry woman. And now, here I was being accepted with open arms. Arms that were spread out on a cross for me. To this day I am still amazed by that. I see all too well the weaknesses I struggled with then, and now. I miss the mark more times than I'd like to admit, and I wonder why anyone would want to forgive that. But He did. And today I want to be sure to say a heartfelt, "Thank You, Jesus!" Sometimes we can take that for granted. I don't want to do that. I want to always remember the grace and mercy that have been extended to me. I want to remember that forgiveness He provided.

Before I close, let me tell you about my Grandma. She was a woman who loved the Lord. Her every waking moment was spent seeking ways to glorify His name, and to share the good news. She would call me every time Billy Graham was on television. She desperately wanted all of her children and grandchildren to serve the Lord. In her later years she developed Alzheimer's. Up until she was no longer speaking, she would always mention church and God. I found it quite fascinating that a woman who didn't know her own children when they entered the room, who had no control of her bodily functions, who couldn't recognize a fork, couldn't feed herself, etc. could still remember God. And why do you suppose that is? I know that it's because she had a deep intimate relationship with Him. She knew Him personally. Her one desire was to live out His will for her life. I don't know about you, but I want to be like that. I want that kind of intimacy with Christ.

For those who may not get this blog on their facebook or in their email, go check out my recent post on the Dirty Feet Missions website (you may have to copy and paste the link):

http://dirtyfeetmissions.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/do-something/

http://www.reverbnation.com/myspacecomcarriewilliams57/song/12792086-this-cant-be-love

I don't know if this link will be one you can click on, but if not, copy and paste it and go listen to my friend, Carrie Miller singing "This Can't Be Love." It's a song about an abusive relationship. I love her voice, and she writes some pretty amazing and heartfelt songs. She has plenty of other originals on Reverb Nation so please feel free to check those out as well.

"My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is The Lord who judges me." 1Corinthians 4:4

As I read this verse it reminded me that even when we think we are okay, we may still be doing something displeasing to God, something that grieves his heart. Over the course of our lives we have been gradually desensitized to sin. It's all around us. We see it on tv, in movies, hear it on the radio, read it in books, etc. It's always packaged in an easy to swallow pill. And the more we are exposed to it, the more likely we are to think sin is okay. I mean, everybody does it, right? Yes, we all fall short when it comes to the standard of holiness God requires. That is why we needed a savior. But any time we sin we should be grieved by it. We should seek forgiveness. Sin should break our heart. In order for us to feel that way, we have to spend time in God's word. We  have to know his heart and his character. Otherwise our perception of sin is based on a worlds view rather than on God's view. Our conscience is altered as a result.

Bravery

Today I was thinking about bravery. Now some may immediately think of a hero who rescues someone or perhaps someone in the military. And while those would be considered brave, I want to touch on an aspect of bravery that is often overlooked.

Yesterday evening the family cat died. It was a really sad thing considering she had been a part of our lives for many years. Earlier in the day I had let her go out. She had been wanting out more frequently, enjoying laying in the sunshine. When my grandson and I went to leave for karate class we found her lying on the front porch having what appeared to be a seizure. It was quite distressing and I knew then that she would probably die soon. My grandson, Jacob, began crying and then screaming, "No! Don't die, Zoe!" The pain he was feeling was evident. My heart was breaking, not only because Zoe was dying, but because Jacob was hurting. I got Jerry and he grabbed a box and put a blanket in it. He then put Zoe in it and brought her inside. I wanted to spare Jacob so I asked if he wanted to leave the room. With tears in his eyes he said, "No, I want to respect Zoe." So I let him stay with her. In a short while she breathed her last breath. Afterwards, Jerry and Jacob took her out by the pond and buried her next to our dog, Princess.

So why does this bring bravery to mind? My grandson did something many adults can't bring themselves to do. Despite the intense pain he was feeling, he stayed by Zoe's side to offer comfort and show his respect for a cat he loved just like family. He displayed a strength of character beyond his years.

Over the years I have known people to suffer from illnesses that left them unable to move and communicate. Many of their friends and family avoided going to see them because it was too painful for them to see the person like that. And I can understand how they felt. But wouldn't the courageous thing be to lay aside your own feelings and put the other person first? In a sense, this is exactly what Jacob did. He is definitely a brave young man.