Confessions of a Gnocchi Maker...

Excuse me whilst I go Italian for a minute. Yes, technically speaking I’m only 2% and still salty that 23 and Me did me over like that, but for the purposes of this blog I’m claiming it. My momma has been making homemade pasta my whole life. But one thing she has never tried to make was gnocchi because she never really cared for it. Clearly, this shows we are not of the same genes. Because I live for the stuff. So you can imagine how excited I was when I met a master crafter and learned how to make it for the first time. And no, I’m not talking about Giada de Larentis the Everyday Italian lady. We all know she’s an imposter. I mean really, who pronounces bruschetta that way? I’m talking a thoroughbred 100% pure (because 23 and Me hasn’t ruined her life yet) Italian Nonna (grandma). Enter Isabella Genezzi. I mean right? With a name like that she has to be authentic. I met her my first year in college. And let me tell you, this lady was as real as it got.  She scorned at the jarred pasta sauce isle. She was constantly singing. And I don’t remember not seeing her in a dust cloud of flour. She loved her family and the way she showed it was through her cooking. So, when she took me on as her protege and adopted granddaughter  I was through the moon. 

Now, I don’t know how much you know about making gnocchi but on paper it’s relatively easy. You cook some potatoes, mash them up. Mix them with a little flour and salt and make a dough, then roll and cut it into gnocchi. Easy peasy right? WRONG! It’s really quite persnickety. Undercook your potatoes and you get chunks. Overcook and they become so starchy they crystalize and you can’t mix them with the flour. Too much flour you’ll never get dumplings. Too little and you’ll never get it off the kitchen counter. Knead the dough not enough you get a tough pasta. Knead too much and you might as well call it pizza. Who knew right? I mean, Trader Joe’s sells them they can’t be that hard to make. 

I will never forget the very first day I helped her cook them. She threw flour on the mashed potatoes and told me they would make a dough. I thought, “There is no way this will work.” I think she could sense my doubts. She kept telling me “Fiducia nel processo. Trust the process”. Words easy enough to take to heart when you’re not the one kneading by hand. Ten minutes in, “Isabella are you sure?” “Fiducia nel processo.” Twenty minutes in, “I think I did something wrong.” “Fiducia nel processo.” Thirty minutes, “Isn’t it supposed to be dough yet? The food network people have dough by now.” “Fiducia nel processo.” “Isabella I’m not coming back here. My arms are killing me.” “Fiducia nel processo.” “Finally! We have a dough!” “Not done yet. Keep going. Fiducia nel processo.”

I was beginning to think she was just out to make fun of the poor Jewish/Irish girl who wanted a taste of culture when suddenly she came and poked my dough. I mean how rude. My beloved dough I had worked so hard to make. When it sprang back just a little she said, “There. All done” Great. Now we can make the pasta? “No. It must rest. One hour.” Honestly I thought this was just her excuse to sit down for an hour and drink a glass of wine, but I knew if I questioned her on it she would just tell me to “Fiducia nel processo.” I’ll say one thing, that is NOT what I wanted to do to the processo at this point. 

Low and behold though we let the dough rest, formed the gnocchi, dusted them in semolina flour, and let them rest again while she indulged in another glass of wine. I’m beginning to see why the Italians are such a relaxed people. And low and behold another hour of work, some sauce, and we had gnocchi. Believe me when I tell you it was the best I’d ever had and no matter how many times I try to recreate it, it never turns out the same. 

Now comes the fun part. That’s right, I am about to drop a spiritual application on some pasta. I learned a lot that day. We too, have a master crafter. And He is kneading us and forming us into who He wants us to be. Not who we pretend to be. Not who we try to make ourselves be. Not who our failures, past, and illnesses dictate we are. Not even who society thinks we are. Psalm 139:13 tells us that we were knit together in our mother’s womb. Psalm 119:73 says, “Your hands have made me and fashioned me; give me understanding to learn Your commandments.” We have a purpose. We have been made the way we were made for a reason. Sure, some of us are crystalized and beautiful.  Some of us are potatoes. Some of us are a little too salty. Some of us are rather bland. But we all hold a purpose in the Master Crafter’s plan. Some of us are nearly dough. Most of us are still very much in the kneading process. And it’s painful at times. We are being stretched beyond what we think we can bear. The pressure as we are pressed over and over is too much. Or we rip completely. And we think it is never going to end. For six years I was too depressed to function. For six years I laid in bed at my parents house feeling like a total and complete failure. I’d watch every dream I’d ever had die. I had a useless degree, nobody would hire me, I’d had crappy job after crappy job, I’d put all the weight I’d lost back on, I’d tried to go back to school and couldn’t get into the classes, then I’d finally chosen a career path and realized there was no way I was ever going to be able to live by myself and support myself with it. I’d said goodbye to my favorite city on earth, the ocean which was my solace, and the best friends still living in it. I had lost all hope. I would lay there and think “This is it. This is the best my life is going to get.” Every step forward led to two steps back. And then one day it changed. I hit submit to three toddler teacher job applications in Franklin Tn. Within a week I had them all scheduled for a New Years Eve interview, a flight booked, a car booked, and a hotel to stay. By the end of the week I had been given three offers on the spot, but had no place to live. And then twenty minutes before I’m about to leave for the airport when I have exhausted all measures God swoops in and saves the day. So I move. I leave everything behind, pack what I could fit in the back of my little nissan versa and drive 2000 miles too start my new life, sleeping on the living room floor for two weeks because amazon prime was a little late to the bed delivery game. And it hasn’t been the easiest route here either. There’s been lots of ups and lots of downs. But here I am, nearly thirty, working in the billing department of a commercial truck tire warehouse. I have a core group of girlfriends I met working a crappy daycare job and I now have more “older brothers” and "crazy uncles" then I know what to do with. And I’m sitting here on the other side of it just saying keep going. Yes, sometimes you will be completely destroyed. It’s okay to mourn the death of who you were and your dreams. But believe me when I say it ends. Sometimes its sooner. Sometimes its six years. But it ends. This to shall pass. One day you will look back on those memories again as happy memories instead of wanting to forget them. Anything we can turn to on this earth for comfort only numbs temporarily. But our God is a Healer. He is a God of restoration. He brings life back into what was dead and makes it beautiful. Its not the same old pot. It’s a totally new, re-formed creation.  We are constantly being made new. The Master keeps kneading. He never gives up. His arms never grow tired. And we never leave His hand. Even when we think we’re being a rebellious potato piece and try to jump ship. Even when we’re just a pile of flour and we say, “God, this will never be something good.” or “That will never happen.” He says, “Rachel, I am God. I know the finished product. Trust me. I AM FAITHFUL. Trust the Process.” 

“This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me. He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.” -Jeremiah 18:1-6

Confessions of a Pandemic...

Life is interesting at times, isn’t it folks? A month ago little did we know we’d all be asked to stay inside as a pandemic swept across the nation. Little did we know that toilet paper, the thing we used to throw on the trees of our enemies, would become a most precious commodity. That social distancing, a practice which I exercised of my own every single weekend, would become a sort of prison to millions. Life is totally and completely unpredictable at times. I have contemplated this a lot as I have lived through recent events.

I read back over old blogs written not so long ago. And they tell a very interesting story. They’re the story of a marine biologist turned jobless graduate. They’re the story of a girl who would do any and every job to survive and wonder if she was going to ever get out of her parent’s house. They are stories filled with life crumbling around her as she lost loved ones in horrific ways. They’re the story of a girl wanting nothing more than to hear from God and yet being faced with absolute silence. They are stories of regret. Regret in letting a friendship go that I should have fought more to protect, regret in not setting boundaries up more securely in another. Regret of not spending more time with someone. Regret in not maintaining the body I had fought so hard to get. Regret in not pursuing nursing.

Then came Nashville. Nashville was totally unexpected! It was a chance to spread my wings! It was a chance to make everything better. Only it wasn’t. At the end of the day I was still stuck in the same circle. Loving my coworkers and babies, but working a job I honestly hated and was miserable at. Stuck in a low income apartment with a 1 1/2 hour commute each way and still struggling to fit in with a church. But God, I questioned, did you forget Nashville was my fresh start? Things were not supposed to be how they were in California. I wasn’t supposed to be too depressed to function. I wasn’t supposed to be stuck in a dead end job I hated. I wasn’t supposed to be struggling to connect with people at church. I wasn’t supposed to still be burying the people i loved. Nashville was my turn around. Get with it God! Follow the game plan here! Good church, good job, good man, babies, nursing school. Thats how it was supposed to go! I grew frustrated. I’d read over and over “The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.” (Exodus 14:14) and yet nothing changed. I tried. I tried to have the attitude of Shadrach, Meshack, and Abendigo before they were thrown into the furnace. “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand.  But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (Daniel 3:17-18). Still I grew frustrated at the fact that very little seemed to change. For years. I had endured endless pain for years. 

I have long pondered over the reason why the Jewish people chose to let Barabus go instead of Jesus. I know, sudden change of subject here, but bear with me.  I mean, he was a murderer. Were they idiots? Jesus was no threat to them. Why not free him? But then it suddenly dawned on me recently what Barabus actually represented. Control.  Just like the people of Israel asking for a king in the old testament, the people wanted a leader to help override their fear. In the Old Testament, they  were afraid of being attacked from other nations so they asked for a king. In Jerusalem, they  were afraid of being suppressed by the romans so they freed the zealot who had led murderous rebellions against the romans. It was their own solution to the Roman problems. And that’s where satan preys. He wants us to think our solutions are better than God’s. 

I can honestly tell you I do believe Nashville was a part of God’s plan all along. Not in the way I thought originally but its so interesting to look back even over the past two months. God knew. He knew coronavirus was coming and if I had gotten a job at SeaWorld I would now be unemployed. If I had pursued nursing I would be risking my life serving in Los Angeles county without proper medical equipment. He knew that I needed that first job here to be mom to a roomful of babies. He knew I needed to love them and be loved by them. That I needed to understand selfless love and endurance. He knew that it was time to leave that job and so he opened that door. He knew that a lady would be retiring and a company would be desperate for a biller because they were finally looking when they should had been doing it months before. He knew that the two people conducting the first interview were also former teachers who understood completely what it meant to feel like you weren’t called to it and the burnout that ensued, and thus were the only ones who understood wanting a complete career change. He knew this job would be essential. He knew I would get hired right before a pandemic struck shutting down virtually all hiring and yet would still be able to work 40 plus hours through it. He knew that a girl who had postponed for months on end getting new tires because she couldn’t afford it would go to work for a tire company where she could get new tires for an unbelievable price. He knew that this same girl needed a boss and coworkers who were not afraid to let her know that they were praying for her as she struggled to cram seven years worth of knowledge from the retiree into her head in a month. God knew. He knew what I needed all along. And no, this job and this current life I’m living is not without its frustrations. It’s not perfect. But He knows what’s next. Be it this is my forever job, or this is another stepping stone. 

This pandemic is scary. This pandemic is not without legitimate concerns for the economy and mental well being of our nation. I am concerned about the psychology of food scarcity. I’m concerned when I see empty grocery store shelves and people buying beyond what they need. I am concerned that there is something we are not being told. I am concerned about how quickly the virus spreads. I am concerned about the hysteria. I am concerned about being so far away from my parents who are both over 60. I am concerned because I still have to work in close proximity to people every day. I am concerned because I have seen a huge majority of selfish people who put their needs above anyone else’s. I am concerned about Italy. I am concerned about what this is going to do to us as a country economically. Business can’t afford to pay employees and not be making money because they are closed. Or people can’t afford to be out of work. And applying for disability or unemployment isn’t going to work because everybody will be doing it. I’m concerned we are headed for a greater recession than we saw in 2008. But most of all I am concerned spiritually. We are called to worship together in fellowship and community for a reason. Satan seeks to isolate us from others and from God. And yes, to an extent I understand why we must close churches, but I worry about those who will be facing a severe spiritual battle because of it. I’m concerned. But I’m not panicked. My God already knew this was going to happen before the first infection in China. And He knows how it’s going to end. And so I am left with only one conclusion: troubles will come. It will not be smooth sailing any more from here than it has been in the past. But God is faithful. God is faithful. I get it now. I heard the late Dr. Dave and Ruth Wood tell it to me my whole life. I questioned how they could live that truth with all the heartbreak they had endured. I get it now. So please, let me remind you of it today and pray we both remember it in the future when struggles come again. God is faithful. God is faithful. Nothing has happened nor will happen that our loving Father has not seen. GOD IS FAITHFUL. I hope that truth brings you peace tonight.

Confessions of a High Place...

*Creaks door open* *Steps inside dusting cobwebs* *Sees a roach* *Screams, panics, then gathers courage* Hello? Is anyone home? Helllooooooo? 

Hey folks. Listen, I know it’s been a while. And by a while I mean years. To say I’m not a consistent blogger is the understatement of the year. But give me some time to whip out the fabuloso and the lysol and we may have this place sparkling clean by the end of the week. It seems I have suddenly come upon more time to blog. And by more time to blog I mean unemployment. Now, lest you fret it was a choice I made not one that was thrust upon me. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been teaching me some very important lessons in the process.

I’ve been studying a lot in 1 Kings. I know, whoo! Exhilarating really. Truth be told it’s not a book of the Bible that immediately has me captivated and jumping up and down for joy. But, that doesn’t make it any less important to study. Somebody important and famous once said that if you don’t learn from history you are doomed to repeat it. I don’t remember who said famous and important person was so you can understand how I barely passed history. However, I do consider these wise words to live by.

Speaking of wisdom, the life of Solomon has been of particular interest to me lately. I mean here was a king who had it all. Riches, wisdom, women, the favor of God. The guy had a really great start. However, like most of the kings you will read about, he didn’t end so well. What was his downfall? He worshipped at the high places (1 Kings 3:3-14).

In order to grasp the full concept of this though it’s first important to understand what high places were. Here I take some help from the Lysa Terkeurst “Trustworthy” study. Now again, not the best at history so I also say do your own research. But here’s what I’ve been able to gather. The high places were once of importance to God. It was a place for the jewish people to go and worship the one true God. However, when God called Soloman to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem, he also ordered the high places be destroyed. He knew based on their history that the Israelites had a pattern of falling into worship of idols. Spoiler alert, Soloman did not destroy the high places and that’s exactly what they became- idols. Now, why are such places important? Because they showed what the people truly revered. If you were infertile you would travel to the high place of fertility and pray for a child. If you were sick, desolate, etc etc. Whatever your attention was on so then was your affection. 

The high places were a place where the people who worshipped there thought they could force the outcome. All the fellow control freaks raise your hands! They would fast. They would pray. They would offer sacrifices. They would do whatever they could. But that’s exactly the problem. Their trust never left their own hands. 

Now, why do I bring this up? Well, remember how I was mentioning being unemployed? I’ve realized I’ve done the same thing as those people on the high places. I have pounded pavement, maxed out the number of applications on indeed, interviewed, networked, anything and everything I could. And then I pat myself on the back and say, “Well, that’s it; it’s up to God now.” But what would it look like if my trust in God wasn’t an afterthought? What would it look like if instead of saying “I’ve done what I can do,” it became “I’m going to trust You to do what You’re going to do, God.”?

The funny thing is, choosing the high places is choosing the hardest route. In Israel they are literally high places. It was quite a climb to trek up the mountains. In comparison, God ordered the temple be built on Mt. Moriah, literally the lowest mountain in the city. Isn’t that compassionate? He wanted to be so accessible to His people that He chose the smallest and most humble mountain to dwell. He wanted His people to have easy access to Him. 

Time to get back to Solomon. Not only did he not tear down the high places like he was commanded to do, but eventually he worshipped at them. He sought fame, fortune, women,  and political and economic status over the one true God. Because of this, part of the mount of olives was literally renamed the mount of corruption and Soloman’s life ended far more tragically than it had started. 

So, are those of us who have set up high places in our hearts doomed to the same fate? No! Look at the way Soloman’s father David repented and was considered a man after God’s own heart. Look at the thief on the cross who acknowledged Jesus as the Son of God. Look at Jesus Himself. He prayed in the garden at Gethsemane at the base of the mount before his crucifixion. He ascended into heaven on the mount of olives and the Bible tells us that He will one day return again! God has never abandoned the true purpose of that mountain! Zachariah 14:4 says, “On that day his feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem, and the Mount of Olives will be split in two from east to west, forming a great valley, with half of the mountain moving north and half moving south.” 

So what does this mean? Christ is the reversal. He will come again and return to God’s glory that which was defiled. Zachariah tells us that the mountain will split. A physical representation of the old, misplaced affections being cut off from Him and His glory. And if he can do it to a mountain of idolatry he can certainly do it to our own hearts. From the very beginning Christ has been and always will be the redeeming solution. 

Lord, tear down my high places and reverse what has been defiled. Help me to trust in You alone...

Confessions of a Quick Thought...

This is going to be a shorter post than most. And while I normally try to incorporate witty thought and humor coupled with storytelling into most of my posts, believe me when I say, I’m too tired. The end of the summer has been go go go. And so, insert witty funny statement of your own here. But allow me if you will to share a quick thought that I’ve been thinking of for a few days now.

I think so many times in our Christian walks we believe a watered down version. of the prosperity doctrine. We’re not quite at the Joel Ostene level of “God only does good for Christians. Once you’re a Christian God is going to bless your life and you’ll never worry about money or family again.” We recognize that’s not correct thinking but I think so much we believe a doctrine that really has more in common with that then we think. I’ve heard so many times “oh well we’ll keep praying and God will do it.” Or “I know times are hard and I’m facing this struggle but God will make it okay.” And this can be an even harder thing to distinguish, but in some ways is not much different than the prosperity doctrine. Yes, God has promised He will never leave you, nor forsake you. He has promised that He works all things for good. He has promised us that even suffering has a point. He has promised us that good things will come from our suffering. He has rescued and restored more often than not. BUT He never promised it would always happen our way. Read 1 Peter 4 if you doubt.

But that “but” is the thing we often miss. And so we create our own watered down doctrine of the prosperity “Yes, God has thrown me into the fire, but He will come save. Yes there is cancer, but He will heal me.” Or “Yes, alcoholism is a big problem, but I’ll keep praying and God will hear me and change him.” Make no mistake. Yes, God will hear you. Yes, God will work this out for good. Yes God will always be there in the midst of it. Yes God is faithful. But God may not pull you out of the fire. He may not heal the cancer. That alcoholic may never turn his life around. Good people may still die too young. Children may still go through horrific things. So don’t be misled to think that just because you’re a Christian and God is powerful that’s He’s always going to charge in like a superhero and save the day. He is gracious, He is good, and He loves us, and so He does come in and save the day a heck of a lot. More than we deserve. And we can praise Him for that and be thankful. But even if He leaves you in the fire, He is still God, worthy of praise. Your present circumstances do not dictate His Lordship. 

“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty's hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." -Daniel 3:17-18

Confessions of a Criminal at Large...

Folks, I have to be honest with y’all. This is a hard one to admit. But after years and years of living a lie, it’s time to come clean. So here goes. Strap on your big boy/girl panties. I, Rachel Dawn Goering, am a wanted felon. It’s true! I know! I’m surprised too. Well except I’m not because I’ve been hiding the fact that I’m a criminal from y’all. We can all pause here a moment to let the gasping commence. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Ready now? Good. So let me explain.

I didn’t mean to be a criminal. It just sort of happened. But I think for you all to understand fully let me lay the facts down straight. It begins with a “So this one time in college....”- it’s amazing how many regrettable stories I have that begin that way. 

Anyway, so this one time in college I went to visit a friend. And this friend happened to attend a very prestigious, private christian university. For the sake of privacy we’ll just call it Viola. Now as most universities do, Biola- I mean Viola- required all students and guests to pay for parking. If you did not have a permit for the day you were cited gravely. But unlike a lot of universities, Viola’s police force wasn’t actually a real police force. If Long Beach PD on campus threatens you, you beg for forgiveness, if Viola security threatens you, you laugh at their security guard egos. The only real way they could discipline you was if you were an actual student. And everybody knew this. So, like I said, I went to visit my friend one weekend. 

Now, you could blame it on me being a poor college student, but let’s be honest here. If it was today I’d probably do the same thing. If I don’t have to spend money I won’t. So, I told the security guard I was there to visit a friend. He insisted I’d buy a parking permit if I was going to stay. I said okay and drove off. I parked my car, glancing the whole time I was walking up to the dorm building at the parking permit distribution. That’s when the adrenaline kicked in. I’d never been a risk taker. I was always the girl who obeyed the law. But even then, I was also always the girl who got in trouble for stupid things even though all I was trying to do was obey the law. I once got a referral in junior high because of dress code. It wasn’t that my skirt was too short or my shoes were wrong. I’d made sure they weren’t- unlike those other girls. No, my referral was because my shirt collar was round instead of pointed. So not only was I humiliated in front of my 7th grade peers when the teacher told me my shirt was a “little girl’s shirt,” but my mom got called to the principles office. It was the worst. I’d like to say I’ve moved on, but truth be told, Mrs. Mayo, if you ever read this, yes, I’m still salty. So yes, maybe it was that very moment that started my life of crime. Come to think of it, it wasn’t too long after that I started toilet papering and fudging hours on my band practice sheet- sorry Mr. Scudder. 

I’ve digressed. Back to the matter at hand. So there I was, a delinquent and a cheapskate, but to be honest thought nothing more on the subject. I spent the next few hours with my friend, getting wasted on garlic bread and Twilight (judge not lest he be judged) then headed back to my car. When I arrived there was a shiny white envelope on my car. I knew immediately what it was. I’d gotten a few of those before thanks to Long Beach street sweeping days. Yes I’ve contributed a good $300.00 over the years to the city. You’re welcome citizens for that fixed pothole on Anaheim Ave. But low and behold this envelope proved no different. There, in that special little non-Christmas package just for me was a citation for a whopping $50.00. 50 bucks? I was only there a few hours! That doesn’t seem very christian. But neither was what I did after that. I knew they’d never trace my car. I knew they couldn’t issue tickets outside of their students and so I picked up that parking ticket from my window and threw it away! Yep! Down with the man! Fight the system! 

I felt invigorated! This was truly living! I was doing things my way! But then as it always does, guilt and shame started to creep in. Well I told guilt and shame to shove it! In fact, I was so defiant, I went back the next weekend and did it again! 

It wasn’t too long after that that my friend had sent me a picture with a bunch of laughing emojis before it. Upon glancing at the picture it was a list of license plate numbers. She was asking if mine was on it. And sure enough there it was. 5jgg626. The number to my dear Smurfette (RIP you old crappy car). It was a “Wanted” paper. And I was top of the list. If they’d been real cops I’m sure there would have been a warrant for my arrest. It was then I became a fugitive at large. 

I was reminded of this story tonight through random conversation. And it really got me thinking. I’m probably the most hated person at Viola now. Because they never found me. Hey, if you gotta be a criminal, be a good criminal. The next time I visited I took mom’s car down to Long Beach because mine just couldn’t make it over the mountain. If anybody traced it my car would show up in Bakersfield with my mother. Totally implausible. They’d assume they’d gotten the license number wrong and I’d be off the hook! If that didn’t work Mexico was only a few hours away and I was fairly decent at Spanish and taco consumption. 

But now I sit here thinking about it again. And this whole plot does sound familiar. Because we do it every day in our battle with sin. It’s there. We know it’s there, but we believe the lie that it really won’t affect us. Just a little fib, just a little extra shot, just a little flirt. No harm done. All we really care about is the invigorating feel that comes with instant satisfaction. And we try to ride that high as long as we can. Because shame creeps in. It always does. We know what we did was wrong. So then we try to cover that shame with more indulgence. More sin. Until finally we’ve dug ourselves so deep in a hole we don’t know how to get out. And there’s Satan. Standing there with your wanted poster. He knows what you did. He helped urge you to do it. But now it’s time to pay up. And you realize, you’re in deep trouble. Because to pay up costs you your life. Eternal life. And that’s hell. True hell. Trapped in your shame and guilt. Eternally separated from God. With absolutely no way out. Suddenly you regret everything you ever did. But it does no good. You can’t get out of your hole- by yourself. Because the truth is there is one who can pay your debt. There is one who already has. There is one who has traded your life for His. There is one who has stepped in and said “I’ll take her place! I’ll take it all! Every shame. Every sin. Every debt that she owes. It’s now mine. And I have paid it in full. For now and forever.” There is one who has the power to call Satan off, to rip up the wanted poster, to wipe away and pardon all you’ve ever done. And his name is Jesus Christ. And I can tell you friends, his payment is lot better than a few measly parking tickets. It’s life. Abundantly and eternally. 

“You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. In this way, he disarmed the spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross.” -Colossians 2: 13-15, NLT

Confessions of a Forgotten Journal...

I was really struggling. I wasn't depressed, but I felt..... worthless. A few friends had posted some exciting news and I was happy for them, but yet I was once again reminded of how everybody's lives are coming together and moving forward and mine just feels, well.... stagnant. I'd like to say I have ambition, but truth is I don't anymore. I've run out. I'd like to say I know what I want to do and have the motivation to do it, but truth is I don't. I don't want to put in the work anymore because it has amounted to absolutely nothing. All that time and energy filling out job applications, trying to get into classes, for what? I've found myself the past few days being so sick of my circumstances, but yet having absolutely no desire to change them. I wish jobs just fell out of the sky. I wish friendships weren't so much work to maintain. I wish I could go back to being 130 pounds when I thought I was fat. I wish I knew whether to pursue nursing, psychology, or teaching. I wish I had a money tree and could pursue things without any road blocks by either my finances or stupid laws of the California education system. I wish I could get up and move to Tennessee. I really do. Or maybe South Carolina. But most of all I wish that I didn't have to wish and that something- ANYTHING would happen. I wish I had hope. I wish I knew what to do about it. 

These were the thoughts that were going through my mind last night when I was sitting on my bed staring off into space. Through blurry teared vision I glanced over at my television. "Maybe I'll just watch some tv and get my mind off things." That's why I love books so much. They transport me out of my life. But upon my mini staring contest with my television (I lost by the way) I noticed my old prayer journal sitting there. It had a sufficient science experiments worth of dust collected on it. You could say it's been a while since I talked to God about myself. I pray for others. Those prayers get answered. But I quit praying for myself. Those prayers never got answered. So my journal has sat there for a while to say the least. But I thought, "Ah, what the heck?" I picked up the journal and began to write. A page and a half later I finished. Discouraged, I really didn't feel much better after, like I remembered usually feeling after finishing a journal entry. Was it because God felt so distant? Yeah, I think so. Was it because I really didn't even know what to pray about? Mhmm. Was it because I doubted my circumstances would change? I'd be lying if I said no. 

So there I was, my pencil led shaved down quite a bit and my journal entry finished.  No better off than before I started. Just for kicks I flipped to the beginning of the journal, remembering how back in the day I used to enjoy looking through old entries to see what had changed. And sure enough, just as I predicted, I found a few good laughs over prayers to get over old crushes. Man was I boy crazy. RIP the hopeless romantic me. It also contained some old sermon notes and even song lyrics that had touched me. And then I came to something really interesting. I don't really know why my eye caught it, it just did. It was an old journal dated way back to March 17, 2011. I was a sophomore in college at the time. The circumstances were different than now, but as I read I was amazed at how much the words in that entry echoed what I had just dotted down. I've been through this before? Hmm, didn't recall that. 

What struck me though wasn't that journal entry. It was actually a few pages over. It was dated April 5th and another April 6th, 2011. I had written down two quotes I'd heard or read- I can't remember which:

1. "When a wound is infected a doctor may stop the infection by cauterizing it. He takes a red hot tool and sears it, burning away the rotten flesh and leaving only what can be healed. God does this to us. He did it to Isaiah in Isaiah 6:6-7. It is a DRASTIC method and it hurts like hell. But once it's done, the only thing left is the part that can heal."
2. "Rachel, everything that happens in your life- good and bad- passes through My sovereign hand. If I allow it, I have a reason for it. There is more at stake here than your present circumstances. I care more about your character than your comfort. Nothing separates you from my love. I'm for you. If I'm for you, who can be against you? Give me time to work. -God"

Do I need to say more? Maybe I should read over old entries more often...

Confessions of a Warmed Heart...

So there I was. Picture the seen if you will. Pajamas. Mug of green tea. Getting all nice and cozy in my Shamu blanket- don't judge- with my pup resting on my toes. Just perusing facebook like I normally do at odd hours of the day. When a video on my news feed caught my eye. It was titled, "If you're alive you might have your dad to thank." Puzzled, I began watching as a series of short videos unfolded before my eyes. I watched video after video of a father's quick reflexes saving their kids from falling off of swing sets, getting hit by baseballs, falling off of the couch, etc. I was amused, entertained, and amazed. So there I was, contentedly watching these videos and all of a sudden they turned rather serious. Father's were saving their kids lives from runaway cars, drowning in a pool, aggressive dogs, speeding down a hill and crashing into a brick wall, and many others. Well, crybaby that I am I was really touched. So much so that by the end of it I was crying. I blame hormones. But needless to say it really warmed my heart seeing not only these father's quick reflexes, but also just how selfless they were in these acts. I saw dads jumping in front of their kids without any regard for their own lives. They didn't know if it would work. They didn't know if they would be killed in the crossfire. They didn't care. 

I feel like dads today get a bad rap in a lot of ways. And some of them is because they've never done anything to deserve the title of father. It can make it seemingly hard to relate then to a perfect heavenly father. Because even those who are lucky to have a good earthly father know he's not perfect either. One of the hardest parts about getting older is you become ever more increasingly aware of the faults of your parents. Hard when you've idolized them so much as a kid. 

I've been in church my whole life. I've heard an altar call every Sunday. I've quoted John 3:16 more times than I care to remember about God loving the world so much he sent his Son to die. I'm no stranger to it. I know Christ paid the ultimate price for my sins. I know He gave up his life for mine. But I think I've become so numb to hearing it, its lost the weight it once had. It happens to many of us. And then we watch movies like The Passion of the Christ and we're reminded of the horrific death. And it humbles us when we once again realize how awful it was. And I'm not discrediting those experiences, but I know for me sometimes I focus so much on the cross, so much on the act of the death itself, or on the other extent, so much of the freedom gained because of it, that I lose sight of WHO was dying. I lose sight of a perfect and sovereign God who chose that His son would die for a sinful and fallen world. I lose sight of the fact that Jesus was no stranger to the horrificness of the cross. That He knew every detail about His death. That he knew the car was coming and that it would strike and kill him. And yet, he did it anyway. Why? To push me out of the way. He looked at us and said, "Better me than them." Thats humbling. Really humbling. But thats not the end of the story. My father didn't just die in my place. He didn't just push me out of the way. He destroyed the car. He completely obliterated it so it would never threaten me again. I am not now, nor will I ever be again condemned by my sins. Its done! 

Watching that video warmed my heart. Reflecting on the sacrifice of the cross and the aftermath of it brings me to my knees.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are." -1John 3:1

Confessions of a Late Night Lamenter...

 I've done a lot of thinking. Isn't that how all of these blogs ultimately started? And as per usual it's 1 AM. I guess some things never change. The other day I found myself trying to fix the crashed and messed up blogger site that I've had since 2010. I began to reflect on that year. The places I went, the people I knew, the hope I still had for the future of my career. A lot has changed. A lot of trials have come. Some have gone, others are staying for the extended weekend, and other are that aunt that you have to remind her she doesn't actually live with you. Could I say I'm all the wiser for going through it? Sometime yes. But could I also say I'm all the bitter for it too? Most definitely. I'd love to sit here and say I found joy and I'm all the more grateful for my trials. But frankly we're just not there. It's funny though, being in youth ministry I always cautioned my kids not to get bitter with God. That it would do no good. And yet have I taken my own advice? No, not really.

Dare I say I'm more than bitter? I have no right to be. I'm well aware. But I'm also at a place where I'm fed up. I'm tired of the lonely nights crying myself to sleep because I don't have hope for the future. I'm tired of the depression. I'm tired of interview after job interview after job interview. I'm tired of the literally thousands of applications and yet getting no response. I'm tired of knowing I'd be a great worker and yet being told I don't have enough experience. I'm tired of watching people who lie, cheat, steal get ahead. Im tired of people earning money for stupid reasons like selfishness and vanity. I'm tired of watching friends suffer. I'm tired of watching friends have babies knowing I never can. I’m tired, so so so tired, of going to funerals. I’m tired of everyone I love dying, or having to go through some sort of struggle. I'm tired of being asked the question "What are you doing with your life?" And having absolutely no answer to give. I don't know. I'm almost 27 years old and I don't know. Because I fought so hard for so long to do the things I wanted, the things I did know, and nothing has worked. Every door has been slammed in my face. So what? What does that leave me with? God? Do I really even talk to him anymore? I pray for others. Absolutely. But not myself. I gave up having any desires for myself. How many nights did I scream in the darkness with no answer? I feel abandoned. People tell me He will guide. I'm still waiting. I get it. We give such a hard time to Job's wife for saying "Curse God and die" I'm not saying my experiences equate to hers, but I get it. I totally get it. She reached a point where she'd just had enough.

And yet.... I keep living. That must be for something. I keep hoping. I lie in bed and I'm thankful for my family. And I'm thankful for my friends. And I'm thankful for my home. And I'm thankful for my health even though half the time I'm such a hypochondriac I'm convinced I'm dying. I'm thankful for my dog, who is always making me laugh and literally is the only reason I get up some mornings. I'm thankful that I live in America. I'm thankful that I have doctors I can go to. I'm thankful I never have to worry about how I'm going to eat that day. I'm thankful for music. I'm thankful for painting. I'm thankful for my car. I'm thankful for garlic bread- don't you dare judge me!- I'm thankful for people's talents. I'm thankful I can use my talents to make other people's lives better. I'm thankful that the painful experiences I've had have made me the person I am today. I'm thankful that I'm stronger because of them. I'm thankful for the beach. I'm thankful for the internet so I can connect with friends I would otherwise never see again. I'm thankful... I'm thankful.... I'm thankful...but am I thankful for my current situation? Nope. Should I be?

I compare everything to where I've been. The past is constantly on my mind. The people I've buried, the ones I've left behind, the adventures I used to have, the way I used to look. It's my ultimate weakness. I cannot move forward because I'm stuck in the past. And I'm frozen in time because I'm so afraid of the future. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm afraid of never being able to afford my own roof over my head. I'm afraid of my parents dying and being left to clean out an entire home filled to the brim with stuff by myself. I'm afraid of losing friends. I'm afraid of running out of money. I'm afraid of being absolutely miserable again in a job. And I can't just trust God because we're not speaking, remember? Or so that's what my bitter heart tells me...

I lament. I lament and lament and lament over the way my life used to be. But am I really lamenting the experiences and people? Or am I lamenting the fact that I turned bitter and walked away from the One who loves me most? The fact that I curse the same One who broke the curse of sin and death? The fact that I'm angry with the one who has every right to be angry with me and yet shoes compassion time and time again? Am I lamenting the fact that I don't trust the one who has proven Himself faithful over and over? That I feel alone with the omnipresent? That I feel hopeless when I think about the source of hope and joy? That I feel abandoned by the One who calls me His own? That I give myself anxiety attacks instead of bringing it to the one who says "come to me all who are weary and heavy burdened"? Do I lament that I seek proof for the existence of my Creator? That I doubt the power of the Almighty? That I question the authority of the Most Sovereign? 

Do I lament accusing the One who has done no wrong?

Do I dare accuse the One who has done no wrong?

“We have heard with our ears, O God; our fathers have told us what you did in their days, in days long ago. With your hand you drove out the nations and planted our fathers; you crushed the peoples and made our fathers flourish. It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them. You are my King and my God, who decrees [2] victories for Jacob. Through you we push back our enemies; through your name we trample our foes. I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but you give us victory over our enemies, you put our adversaries to shame. In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise your name forever. Selah But now you have rejected and humbled us; you no longer go out with our armies. You made us retreat before the enemy, and our adversaries have plundered us. You gave us up to be devoured like sheep and have scattered us among the nations. You sold your people for a pittance, gaining nothing from their sale. You have made us a reproach to our neighbors, the scorn and derision of those around us.You have made us a byword among the nations; the peoples shake their heads at us. My disgrace is before me all day long, and my face is covered with shame at the taunts of those who reproach and revile me, because of the enemy, who is bent on revenge. All this happened to us, though we had not forgotten you or been false to your covenant. Our hearts had not turned back; our feet had not strayed from your path. But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals and covered us over with deep darkness. If we had forgotten the name of our God or spread out our hands to a foreign god, would not God have discovered it, since he knows the secrets of the heart? Yet for your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered. Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression? We are brought down to the dust; our bodies cling to the ground. Rise up and help us; redeem us because of your unfailing love.” -Psalm 44

Confessions of an Un-a-sha-med...

Picture the scene if you will. Bakersfield, hot July afternoon. A young girl sits calmly in a call center lunchroom. She doesn't bother competing with the 500 other employees for the one microwave in the building on her thirty minute lunch break, so as she sits relaxing, she appears to be reading something. A stranger walks up. And with a boyish grin he says, "Hey. What are you reading?" The girl, shocked that someone has taken the nerve to enter into her most quiet and sacred place of solace looks up. She slowly flutters her lashes up towards the chiseled face. She gazes into those slightly warm chocolate eyes and says "Oh, its a self help book. I need a lot of help." 

*CUE forehead slap*

The stranger says "Oh. Cool," and walks away. The girl groans, "Ugh, great job," she thinks to herself. This was not the sexy and mysterious answer she was going for. But then, even worse than the embarrassment comes the shame. What is the reason for this shame? Well, I'm glad you asked. 

See, the girl had actually just gotten back not two days before from an amazing week at camp. A week where the theme was "Unashamed." For an entire week her and her students had studied what it means to live unashamedly for Christ. They'd studied the gospel. They'd done the quiet times. They'd even sung the jazzed up "Go tell the world" songs. They'd come down from the mountain refreshed, renewed, and spirits restored. And this girl was at peace. This girl was ready to take on the world. This girl had purposefully packed her devotional in her purse, just so she could do it on her lunch break. 

So why is it when the stranger asked "What are you reading?" had she replied a self help book instead of "Actually, its a bible study on the Armor of God. I'm currently studying about what it means to put faith in action."? 

This girl couldn't give an answer. She was shocked that those words had even popped out! They were so easy to her. She didn't have to think about it. And just like that, an opportune moment had passed her by. 

But I guess thats how sin works. Its not hard to sin. Its very easy to actually. But continually renewing our minds, continually choosing to put on the full armor of God in defense of the enemy and his attacks, continually choosing love and peace over circumstances and emotions, and continually deciding to live unashamedly-that takes the effort. 

"according to my earnest expectation and hope, that I will not be put to shame in anything, but that with all boldness, Christ will even now, as always, be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death."- Philippians 1:20. Wow. What challenging and powerful words to live by. Lord help me to make this true in every aspect of my life. 

But lest I leave you without a conclusion to this tale let me follow up and end the scene for you. Lets focus back on our two characters shall we? For every good storyteller knows you cannot leave your audience hanging. Or they get really mad and write you nasty letters. What of the boy? He stole a candy bar from the snack cart and was fired two days later. As for the girl? She continues to do her bible studies in the lunchroom and is praying and preparing for another opportunity. She also continually prays for courage to invite a few of her coworkers to church with her. Choosing daily to live unashamedly and asking for repentance when she fails. And so the war wages on..... 

Confessions of a Forlorn Blog...

Hello, friends! I'm back for at least this time. For those of you just tuning in for the past couple of years I've kind of been doing this blog thing. However, I got busy, lazy, going through stuff, ect, and my blog has kind of been, well, abandoned. So as I'm sitting here thinking about the blogger I used to be and wondering what on earth happened I began to be discouraged. Am I blogging less because my relationship with God is less than it was before? Maybe. Am I just growing lazy and tired? Possible good chance. Or, am I just changing as a person and a blog is no longer my outlet? That could be entirely true too. Whatever the case though I realize I've been too stuck on the past. And because of that it is hindering me from going forward.

And lest y'all think I'm really choked up and emotional about the blog, let me clarify. The blog has nothing to do with it. I'm having the hardest time getting over the person I was and the things I used to do. I miss being in shape. I cry every single night about not being in Long Beach. I miss being a college student. I miss having the hope of being a pediatric nurse. I miss some of the relationships with my friends I had down there. I miss my life. And because I've spent so much time missing my old life, its hindered me and discouraged me as I live this new one that to be perfectly honest, I'm rapidly having to learn to be content with.

It has not been easy. I struggle with the depression and hopelessness of my future on a daily basis, but its time to move on. Time to face that future. Because I cant hide in the past anymore. And I'm missing a good past. But, there are many people who are hung up and can't move past their bad past. Its not so much they cant forget and they miss how good they had it, they can't bring themselves to see past the kinds of people they were and the things they did. 

But we have to understand no matter what way you swing it, these thoughts are completely unbiblical. There's a reason Matthew 6 tells us not to worry about tomorrow, but rather focus on today. Its because one day's stress is sufficient and its all we were meant to handle. Your past is your past. You cannot change it any more than you can really completely control your future. Its time to stop this idleness and just hand the reigns over. As I was lamenting this morning as I always do Isaiah 43:18 came to mind "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."

The first part of this is easy for me to handle. Okay yeah, don't focus on the past or you will miss all the things God is currently doing. Fine. Got it. Heard that one before! But the second part of this verse is actually the challenge. And its weird because the second half actually gives no direction as to what I'm supposed to do. Its all what God is doing. "I am doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?" Well, no. I perceive nothing. I'm stuck in the past remember, but please God, go on. "I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." God, I'm stuck in Bakersfield. That hardly counts as making a way in the desert. I'm not going through the desert. I'm living in it. And thanks to my apparent lack of being able to attract a man and the laws of the state of California that is a barrier to my future as a nurse, I honestly don't see how any way out of this dessert is going to come about. "I am making a way in the dessert and streams in a wasteland." God, now you're just being ridiculous. We're in a drought. And again I repeat. If you're making a way, where is it? 

There's an old saying, "When God closes a door he opens a window." I officially hate that saying. Because its not true. Sometimes you just have to sit in the hallway for a little bit. Sometimes you're stuck in the hallway for a lot a bit. I'm not looking for open doors anymore. We're WAY past that. Not even windows at this point. Nope! I'd settle for just a peephole. Where on earth is my peephole?

Its these conversations in my head that I realize have led me to the real issue. See, the problem is not whether or not there is a way. The problem is not even whether or not I am looking for or perceive it. The problem is that I subconsciously doubt that God has made a good one. The problem is, is that I really don't want God to make the path at all. I want to make my own and follow it and then say, God bless it. 

The problem is that I'm trying to be involved in this "Making-a-way" process. But I'm really just making things harder. I'm over here standing with my yellow pad of inputs and God's like. "The scripture doesn't say we will make a path together. My word says I am making a way. Shut up Rachel. Go get some Taco Bell. This is one meeting you don't need to be in on. Sit back and watch me work. I'll call you when I'm ready for you to act."

I've never been good at just sitting. Maybe its time to learn. But this also leads to doubt. Fine God, I will learn to sit here and wait, but, You will act, right? I mean eventually? I'm not just going to be the one you don't know what to do with so you just put me on hold forever? "You are precious and honored in my sight and I love you." (Isaiah 43:4)

This then leads into the big question. And I begin to understand the significance of what Paul says when he says "I have learned to be content in all circumstances." (Phil 4:11) What if God's plan for my life is nothing even remotely close to what I planned? Would I be content in that? 

Hmmm, thats a hard cookie to chew on. Time for a little more self- examination.....

"Search me, O God, and know my heart; Try me and know my anxious thoughts; And see if there be any hurtful way in me, And lead me in the everlasting way." -Psalm 139: 23-24

Confessions of a Puppy Owner...

If you've seen any part of my Facebook in the past two weeks you should not be surprised that I am the new owner of a little puppy named Charlotte. So, it also should not surprise you that dear Miss Charlotte has taught me a few things. First, I thought I had totally caught the baby bug, but I can now officially say it has passed. Second, they aren't joking when they say having a puppy is like having a baby. You get woken up by crying in the middle of the night, you turn your back for 30 seconds and they're gone, you have to avoid putting things on the bottom shelf because they get into everything, you can't go into the bathroom by yourself without someone being at your heals, if you don't give them enough attention they cry until you pick them up, and don't even get me started on the potty house training! All of this to say, I can wait on motherhood a while., I like my alone time, clean carpet, and, well, privacy.

But aside from this, Charlotte has also taught me one pretty significant spiritual lesson. She has developed a little attitude (wait, when did my puppy go from toddler to teenager?) Well, miss Charlotte was being.... how do I put this nicely?.... a little butt. So the solution? When she gets like this stick her collar on her for a little while. Then after an allotted time, take it off. Mellows her out every time and gets her used to wearing one since she had a fit the first time we put it on her.  Well, Charlotte had her collar on and it was time to take it off. She was starting to whine a little about it. So I called her over, but much to my dismay, she wouldn't come. I said, "Come here. I will take it off, but you have to come here." Nope, she wouldn't. Ran to mom, ran to dad, ran to the slipper she'd been chewing on, threw a crying fit, but would not come to me. I found myself growing dismayed, "If she would only come to me, I would take it off and she would be free and wouldn't have to cry anymore."

Finally, fifteen minutes later she finally gave up fighting to get it off on her own, and her little prideful and disdainful attitude she had towards me for putting it on, and walked over to me (with some guiding from mom). Immediately I took it off and cuddled her in my arms. She was so relieved she immediately started giving me kisses. I put her back down and sat down on the couch. She then propped her little body and legs up on the sofa and started crying again. Apparently, she wasn't ready to leave my arms. I picked her up and she cuddled back down and fell asleep. 

So, what is the spiritual lesson you may ask? Sometimes God disciplines us. Hebrews 12:6 tells us that the "LORD disciplines those He loves and chastens everyone He accepts as His son." But how many times have I been disciplined and gotten the same attitude as Charlotte? How many times have I been so ticked off at God during those times, that He would discipline me, or even allow me to go through a hardship, that no matter what, I wanted nothing to do with Him. And all the while God was standing there looking at me trying to do it on my own and failing, shaking His head and saying, "Rachel Rachel Rachel. You do not have to fight anymore. Come to me. I will relieve you of your burden. All you have to do is come to me. You can curl up safe in my loving arms. But you have to do it of your own free will. I will not make you." Because thats just it. Once I do curl up with the Father, I never want to leave. But somehow, I always do. But just like all of us children that get off the beaten path, somehow, He always brings me back to Him. And in His infinite and unconditional grace, He always takes me back.