Christian women

This is not a call for crappy unwarranted  facebook ranting argumentative opinion spewing.  This is a call for Biblical boldness. By nature, I am a pretty outspoken person.  If you know me personally, that is extremely obvious to you.  I always have something to say.  As I am maturing, I am getting increasingly better at knowing when not to say something.  My tongue is scarred from biting it so much.  Sometimes I have to sit on my hands to keep my fingertips silent, too. But I am also becoming increasingly aware that I am unable to stay silent about certain things – especially when it comes to Jesus. If you’re just opening my blog for the first time, you will notice that I really really really like Jesus.  I believe in God’s Word, and I believe in God because I’ve seen Him move. I also believe I’m right about all of this.  I say that not meaning that I am the ultimate authority on right and wrong, but that I believe in the God who is. You may not believe I am right.  We can go round and round and round about why I am right and you are wrong,

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I’ve never really been shy of being brutally honest, but this one topic, I am fearful of.  After the shooting in the Charleston church, which was clearly racially motivated, I feel like I can no longer be silent and just be the “cop’s wife” on subjects such as racism.  Bear with me as I wade through my feelings. I had an awkward exchange the other day that sparked a quiet debate in my head.  I placed a to-go order at a restaurant here in town, and sat down on a bench to wait.  Already sitting on the bench was a young black man, maybe 20/21 years old.  He was dressed nicely – button up shirt, slouchy blue jeans, clean tennis shoes and wearing dreadlocks in his hair.  He was clutching some sort of paper in his hand.  I noticed as I sat there, he straightened himself up a bit and inched about as far as he could to the arm of the bench.  There was at least a foot of space between us. I recognized in that moment, that he was just as terrified of me as he thought I was of him.  He already assumed that I thought he

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Imagine this: You’ve got a precious gift in a box.  So precious that you would do anything for this gift.  You’d die for this gift, even.  You’ve read the instruction manual and it’s got lots of good stuff in it.  It can do all sorts of things. But this box has a requirement – you have to give it away.  You have to tell everyone you can about it and give it to them every time.  Inside the box is the same gift.  So precious. What?  No.  Not my gift.  This is mine.  You gave it to me.  If you wanted other people to have it, why don’t YOU give them one?  Why do I have to be the one to do this? And what if they don’t like what’s inside?  What if it offends them?  What if they no longer see me as a loving person because I gave them an offensive gift?  I certainly don’t want to be offensive. What if they don’t use this gift in the way I intend them to?  What if they just trash it?  Or try to change it?  Not my gift!  It’s too precious to be giving it to people who don’t care.

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I know you know what I’m saying. You, as a woman of God, desire to live a life as a disciple of Christ.  You read, you pray, you study, you attend church.  But at home, there is no support.  There is no one urging you to do this.  There is no one asking the family to sit down around the table and do family Bible time together.  No one initiates prayer time between the two of you. You turn to your girlfriends for counsel before you turn to him. Because he isn’t your spiritual leader. We know that it is Biblical for the man to be the leader of the household.  He is to love and lead his wife like Christ loves and leads the Church.  We, as the wife, are to submit to his authority and be his helper in leading the family to Christ. So what happens if your husband isn’t fulfilling his role? Before you start piling enormous amounts of pressure on yourself, take a moment to breathe. This is where we, as wives and mothers, have to pick up where the husband leaves off.  Someone has to be the leader.  Your first priority mission field is right

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To my beautiful mother on Mother’s Day – You always told me when I was older and had children of my own, you would understand the reasons you did things the way you did. I get it now. Every time I look into your grandchildren’s eyes, I feel the enormous amount of pressure on me to do things not only the right way, but to do them well.  I see how they look at me to be their #1 source of their needs and their wants.  They need me every moment of every day to be behind them, encouraging them, leading them, and sometimes making choices for them. I know that when you look at Brooke Allen, you see me all over again – the way she talks, the way she plays, and the way she sasses.  In your frustration with me growing up, you warned me over and over again that I would have a child just like me one day.  I am absolutely reaping every seed that I sowed in my childhood, and will eventually reap my teenage years too. But the best part about that is, you are also reaping what you sowed in me.  I have

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To myself on this Mother’s Day… Look at you.  You look like a hot mess.  Your hair is on top of your head, your 7am make up is long gone, except for the mascara that has started to raccoon around your lower lids, and just how old are those sweatpants?  They probably at some point in your life fit a whole lot better than they do today, but the elastic is all worn out so it doesn’t matter.  Plus, you’ve been sucking in your leftover baby belly all day, so it’s time to relax and let it all out.  The bra is most definitely off, and your t-shirt is a sorority t-shirt that is older than your relationship with your husband. You’re tired.  You’ve spent all weekend chasing after children while your husband works.  You even had to work in the office while you carted the kids over to Gigi’s house.  Then you did church, grocery, Target, meals, bathtimes, and bedtimes all while wrangling children – one who wants to do everything herself, and the other who wants to chew everything he can get his chubby hands on.  You’ve poured countless cups of milk and folded the blanket at least four times.  Every

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I attended Secret Church last night at Calvary.  And although Ben had to pull the plug early because, as babies usually are, the baby who usually is a breeze to take to functions would.not.go.to.sleep.  Mom and I made it to midnight, just before the last session, but Mom was getting delirious, so we had to leave. But I had a huge takeaway from the simulcast event with over 50,000 viewers worldwide, with still more to watch as it is translated into languages and rebroadcasted by churches even more. I am not a persecuted Christian. As I sat with my brothers and sisters in Christ at Calvary last night, we left the doors to the church unlocked so people could come and go as they pleased.  No one threatened to come in and arrest all participants.  No one opened fire on our church and its members.  No one planted explosives outside the door. And while Secret Church did have a small threat yesterday – The Church at Brook Hills, where Secret Church is broadcast from, had a threat and the location for Dr. David Platt had to be moved – it still didn’t stop the event.  David Platt just found somewhere else

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Christianity is has several truths that we believe. 1.  God created the heavens and the earth, and His people in His image. (Genesis 1) 2.  God sent His only son, Jesus, to take away the sins of the world through his death and resurrection, and salvation is through Jesus only. (John 3:16) 3.  All scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness. (2 Timothy 3:16) As Christian parent, I have a responsibility to my children to teach them these things.  It’s a command for us. But it’s an easy command to follow, really. I love my Savior so much that I want to follow His commands as closely as possible so that I am found righteous in Him.  I know I won’t be perfect in keeping them, but it is out of love that I pursue them. I love my children so much that I want the same for them.  I want them to find salvation, find it early, and to live a life that is pure and holy.  Part of my job as a mother is to teach them how. Brooke Allen is three.  She knows all the words to the Mickey Mouse

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In addition to Jen Hatmaker beating me over the head with words of wisdom this past weekend, she also gave me a new word.  She used it to describe herself, and I have adopted it as my own: Un-precious. You know how there are those people who are so kind and thoughtful when they speak?  Every time you are around them, you just feel like a warm blanket has been wrapped around your shoulders and they stroke your hair by a fireplace and tell you great stories and wise words and sage advice?  Then they pour you a cup of tea and you have hour long conversations about books and current events? Yeh.  I am not that person. If you know me personally, you are probably laughing because you are whole-heartedly agreeing with me. Instead, I am that person poking the fire with a stick yelling LOOK AT THIS GREAT FIRE I BUILT while doing a dance around it.  I am choking on the smoke and adding more logs to see how big I can make it, and possibly threatening to jump across it just to see if I can.  And I will ask you to wager a bet with me

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I had the pleasure this weekend of attending a women’s conference at Shades Mountain Baptist Church in Birmingham with my mother in law.  We attended Shades when we lived in Birmingham, so it was nice to be back and see all of our friends. The keynote speaker for the event was Jen Hatmaker.  If you have not read her books or heard her speak, I would highly encourage you to.  You know that episode of Friends where the book Kujo scares Joey, so he puts the book in the freezer?  Jen Hatmaker did the same thing for me with her book, Interrupted.  I’ve actually hidden it so well that I can’t find it anymore, which is a shame because Mom wants to borrow it. I have to hide it because she speaks truth so well that it hits the deepest core of me and it scares me to death that I am actually being challenged to do what she is asking of me. But it’s not her asking me at all.  It’s the Holy Spirit prodding and urging and pushing me to do these things that He’s called me to do.  And as Mordecai made it clear to Esther (Esther

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