tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80829025542892819312024-03-14T04:02:08.902-06:00courtney laibCourtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-9764208046767982402023-03-20T16:33:00.003-06:002023-03-20T16:35:39.199-06:00How we respond matters<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgI7o6FldzulMf9soLMVUDDXaETyaMAh12FhjlS3M5Xrj2YOcUE8bnYVJJLX6uOGoaMNd8vaN4q7REBlTqRR5s0mUO9dHi4nnT-wDxQzkMmNsOP1e_QcCFhRUp2-iCBNOMVj37GfhMVVi_SIrwaQk8y8poEIsfQ898Mv2NVCZSt0k5pa4AO7g7OMGO6A/s1200/alley_city_female_graffiti_person_walking_woman-963823.jpg!d.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgI7o6FldzulMf9soLMVUDDXaETyaMAh12FhjlS3M5Xrj2YOcUE8bnYVJJLX6uOGoaMNd8vaN4q7REBlTqRR5s0mUO9dHi4nnT-wDxQzkMmNsOP1e_QcCFhRUp2-iCBNOMVj37GfhMVVi_SIrwaQk8y8poEIsfQ898Mv2NVCZSt0k5pa4AO7g7OMGO6A/w607-h397/alley_city_female_graffiti_person_walking_woman-963823.jpg!d.jpeg" width="607" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="page" title="Page 1"><div class="section" style="background-color: white;"><div class="layoutArea"><div class="column"><p><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">When I was in high school my mom found out I was having sex. I was 16. And to make matters worse, it was with a boyfriend she didn’t approve of. And rightly so, he was no good for me. I was a broken teenager looking for love. When I found out she knew I was scared. Scared of how she would respond. Scared of what kind of trouble I would be in. Scared that the toxic relationship would have to end.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">But her response surprised me. Shocked me, really. She was calm and collected and although I can imagine she probably wasn’t on the inside, she said “Let’s sit down and talk.” Of all the moments of my teenage years, good or bad, this is one I remember vividly. And I truly believe it was because of the way she responded. It mattered SO. MUCH.</span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">When it comes to friends and family sharing hard stu</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">ff </span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">our response is so crucial, especially when it involves struggles with sexual identity, curiosity, or temptation. Topics like these tend to be pushed aside, especially in Christian circles, and I believe most of the time it’s not because we don’t love that person or want to help but rather because we fear we won’t know what to say or how to respond in a way that won’t make them feel isolated or cause them to lose trust in us. I’ve totally been there. But we have to do better.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">So how CAN we respond when someone brings us something hard involving their sexuality?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">We can listen. Most of us are pretty bad at this. I’ve been in church circles my whole life and if I’m totally honest, most people I’ve spent time with are pretty crappy listeners. If we want someone to feel valued, if we want them to know that we see their struggle and we’re ready to help them carry the burden, we have to listen well.</span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">We can admit that we don’t get it. Issues involving sexuality can be complicated. There’s no easy answer or quick-fix to why someone struggles with any number of sexual issues and it’s probably more complicated than you know. You don’t have to completely understand what someone is going through to love them well through it. We’re better o</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">ff </span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">asking great questions than we are making assumptions.</span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">We can choose to care more about their soul than we do about their sexuality. Often times we push people away because we try and address their sin before we a</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">ffi</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">rm their hearts. A person who is deeply known and deeply loved will be more likely to open up about what they’re struggling with versus a person who feels like they’re just trying to be “fixed”.</span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">Several years ago I was with a group of friends at the Mall of America. Our Youth Pastor paired us up into groups of three and we were each handed an envelope with di</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">ff</span><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">erent amounts of cash in each. My group received $100. Our challenge was to do something GOOD with the money. We’d have to report back to the group at the end of the day on what we had decided to do. I walked the mall with my two friends trying to think of how we might use this money to do something good or to bless someone. We passed by two girls, holding hands. We assumed they were in a relationship so we awkwardly followed them into a shoe store (I wouldn’t recommend this unless you’re on a weird reality tv show!) and we stopped them to ask if we could chat for a minute. We told them about our challenge and we asked them if they had ever been hurt or judged by Christians because of their relationship. They said “Yes.” We handed them the money as a gift and told them we were just three people trying to follow Jesus the best we could. We told them we were sorry for the ways they had been hurt by the Christian church. We told them we hoped this gift would bless them in some way. We exchanged names, hugged, and headed back to meet up with our group and as we walked away we could see tears streaming down their faces and looks of complete disbelief. Maybe they thought we were crazy or maybe, just maybe, it was a response they hadn’t experienced before.</span></span></p></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="page" style="text-align: start;" title="Page 2"><div class="section" style="background-color: white;"><div class="layoutArea"><div class="column"><p><span style="font-family: HelveticaNeue;">The way we respond to the brokenness of this world matters so much. We can respond in disgust and judgement or we can respond in love and grace. Whatever we choose, it matters more than we know.</span></p></div></div></div></div></div>Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-21629785377272928352019-10-30T15:44:00.001-06:002019-10-30T17:06:27.541-06:00Letting the brokenness fall <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGs16PKUwo1rqMi-J5xF9_tlRKewPdmJhR2XCFj-JjozZBtt0wgnxysFSINR9mht6Xbbw0mFoU0yuYmP_GQL0frv-cGdajZDIyzpnHAjfIOKWULVWpknrW-up38uAK3trQYAZWUOJjIq5J/s1600/IMG_8499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGs16PKUwo1rqMi-J5xF9_tlRKewPdmJhR2XCFj-JjozZBtt0wgnxysFSINR9mht6Xbbw0mFoU0yuYmP_GQL0frv-cGdajZDIyzpnHAjfIOKWULVWpknrW-up38uAK3trQYAZWUOJjIq5J/s640/IMG_8499.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've felt a weight of brokenness over my life for as long as I can remember. I grew up in a broken family. I felt like a broken kid. As a teenager my brokenness oozed out in all sort of ways that led to many dysfunctional relationships. I didn't know how to not feel broken. And some days, if I'm honest, that's still true. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lately something has been stirring in my heart, maybe you could call a righteous discontentment. It's a discontentment towards hiding. Because we're really good at that aren't we? Especially if you run in Christian circles or even if you just go to church on Sundays it's probably no surprise to you that most of us aren't very good at sharing our junk. (In your defense and mine, the Church hasn't always been the most safe place to share hard stuff.) And I'm not talking about everyone everywhere needing to know your deepest darkest secrets. I'm talking about the closest people in your life, the ones who really KNOW you, letting them actually know you. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe it looks like letting them know you're depressed. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been looking at pornography. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been thinking about divorce. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been feeling lonely. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been drinking too much. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been holding on to anger towards someone. </div>
<div>
Or letting them know you've been overeating and you feel ashamed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The list could go on and on. We all carry some weight or brokenness because well, we're broken people living in a broken world. But the good news is it's not ours to carry. Jesus has already carried it to the cross for us.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lately, I've experience in my own life that when I speak out loud the brokenness I feel bearing down on me, the shame begins to fall. Our sin and our brokenness will only stay hidden unless we bring it in to the light. If you've tried sharing your heart with someone and it didn't well, I'm sorry. Can I encourage you to try again? I'm here and ready to listen. And can I also encourage you to seek help? I'm a huge advocate for professional counseling and there's absolutely no shame in admitting that you need help. Friends, this life is TOO SHORT for us to carry around weight that we're not meant to carry. It's time to lay it down. Let's do it together.</div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-2503971358876341282019-07-22T07:30:00.000-06:002019-07-22T06:56:50.959-06:00The Risk of Motherhood<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrT2ZYWMnJaTmgTpc2QWiROPE2iwlnqgQiyCJEC5WBAR8zSKRxJFk_IZoJGRU9dJhXZuVtQatGetbRGP6SQP-e33kCw0kkBk_ubOub-7sV_gkj7k4wVPfUVAMS3D2TxTJwl2FIcRwxaVv/s1600/IMG_7648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrT2ZYWMnJaTmgTpc2QWiROPE2iwlnqgQiyCJEC5WBAR8zSKRxJFk_IZoJGRU9dJhXZuVtQatGetbRGP6SQP-e33kCw0kkBk_ubOub-7sV_gkj7k4wVPfUVAMS3D2TxTJwl2FIcRwxaVv/s640/IMG_7648.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
Risk-taking looks different for all of us, doesn't it? For some, jumping out of an airplane would seem like a huge risk while for others it's considered adventurous and exhilarating. For some, meeting a new friend for coffee feels like a risk, while for others it's exciting and comes naturally. Whether we're talking extreme sports, traveling the world, giving a speech, or taking a relational plunge, <i>I believe risk-taking is all relative to the one taking the risk. </i><br />
<br />
Several years ago I had the privilege of attending a women's conference in Austin, TX. It was a great weekend for so many reasons. It was my first time to Austin (which turns out to be a very cool city), it was MUCH warmer than the frigid Chicagoland climate I'm used to, and I was able to enjoy some alone time out of my normal day-to-day routine. The speakers were top notch and I met many women who shared similar passions and desires for God to move in their hearts as well as in the hearts of the people they do life with in their communities. The seating at the conference was a little different than most conferences I've been to in that rather than "stadium style" seating, we were all sat at long farm tables which sat 40-50 women each. We were facing each other. People we didn't know. And there were questions laid out of the table. I can imagine that for some of the women who attended that conference, just getting there was a risk. The thought of opening up your heart in whatever condition it might be in, to a bunch of women you've never met, can be scary.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There were times through out the weekend where we were to discuss some of the questions laid out at our tables. We grouped into fours or fives and dove head first into some raw, heart-revealing conversation with complete strangers. One of the questions asked that weekend hit me a little more than all the others. The question was this:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"What is one area of your life where you feel like God is asking you to risk?"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As the ladies around me started to answer I knew that my response probably wasn't going to be like theirs. Most said things like, "reaching out to my neighbors who don't know Jesus", or "getting to a place where I can say "God I'll go anywhere you want me to go". Some were afraid that if they loosened the grip of control they had on their own lives, God might tell them to move to a mud hut in Africa. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For many of us, living a life of risk means our loving father is going to ask us to do the very thing we are terrified to do, and we have no choice but to say yes. And maybe sometimes that's the case. <i>We often learn and grow the most when we are in a situation where we feel the least equipped or qualified</i>. (Because it forces God to be in charge. And He's really good at that.) But risk doesn't always look like that. Sometimes it looks like the mundane, the day-to-day, the things that challenge us to persevere and test our level of faithfulness. A difficult friendship, a messy marriage, a wandering child, a role in which we don't experience meaning or purpose, those too can be times where God can ask us to step into risk. And often the risk is to just keep going. To keep loving. To keep obeying. Even though there may be pain and heartache ahead. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The "big" risks tend to be easy for me. If God wanted my family to move to some third world country, I'd say "Let's Go!". Those are the kinds of things I dream about. Just ask my husband. It's not hard for me to say "God, I'll go where you send me." (Unless of course it some not-so-desirable place like Nebraska or Idaho in which case God and I would have to sit down for a chat.) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The risk I struggle with is the RISK OF MOTHERHOOD. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a mom and I LOVE my kids more than I could've ever imagined I could love someone but I didn't grow up as a little girl dreaming to one day be a mother. I'm not naturally a nurturer and I often feel like the mom role doesn't fit me so well. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The risks of motherhood for me are many. Being intentional, being present, being consistent, being selfless, embracing my weaknesses, asking for help, being physically run down, showing Jesus to my kids, and giving grace to those around me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think anytime we feel like we might fail at something, that's when it becomes a risk. If the idea of failure isn't in sight, then it's probably not a risk. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So there I sat at the women's conference with my new friends and I knew that Motherhood was the area in which God was asking me to risk. Because I feel so inadequate and ill-equipped and because so often failure seems to be too close in view. But when it does I remind myself that Grace is bigger and jumping into the risk of motherhood just might be one of the most rewarding risks of all. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I want to risk. Risk to love my kids well. Risk t</b><b>o show them Jesus. And risk to let Grace be bigger than the fear of failure. Here we go!</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eyPt8ewKwiOBb3i6TNXFzxUJ9s9IGIHJ8NjDylrplw6UjyVKsdTpAFfQpVR-rGPQh95953r7rMwa0TbmYiuY6ClRnvXN_QkTRlnFQ9OTHD0vem4YjsU9-0DM_zfNQVyM23M0ejMofYzM/s1600/motherhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="633" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eyPt8ewKwiOBb3i6TNXFzxUJ9s9IGIHJ8NjDylrplw6UjyVKsdTpAFfQpVR-rGPQh95953r7rMwa0TbmYiuY6ClRnvXN_QkTRlnFQ9OTHD0vem4YjsU9-0DM_zfNQVyM23M0ejMofYzM/s1600/motherhood.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-8648026313942536362016-03-10T13:43:00.001-06:002019-07-22T06:22:25.497-06:00Moving out of the darknessI've been a part of a handful of conversations lately with friends who are either fighting an ongoing sin issue themselves or have spouses or other loved ones who are. These are not rare or unusual conversations because we all struggle with sin. But the unique thing about several of these recent conversations is that these friends have kept quiet about the sin. They haven't told anyone. They've kept it in the dark, at least until now.<br />
<br />
That got me thinking about the power of the darkness and how much the enemy of our souls wants us to keep things there. If we allow our sin to linger in the darkness, to hide there, then we give him control. And that's exactly what he wants.<br />
<br />
I got to share some thoughts yesterday with my bi-weekly <a href="http://www.heritagechurch.cc/women/">MOPS</a> group (which I love!) and I read a snippet from Jen Hatmaker's book <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/for-the-love-jen-hatmaker/1120945111">'For the Love'</a> that says SO much about the power of bringing something from darkness into the light.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"<i>Simply speaking truth out loud is healing in and of itself. When people courageously voice a true, hard thing, they've already stolen back some of its dark power before we offer one word to fix it.</i>" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"<i>Pulling something difficult from its dark hiding place and into the light is innately healing.</i>" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(For the Love, Chapter 7, Page 47) </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I love those words. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You don't even need to have a firm grasp on a solution to the problem before you're able see a glimmer of hope. The first step to healing is simply bringing the truth into the light. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The hard things in this life were never meant to be fought by ourselves, in the dark. There's a very slim chance of victory when that's our approach. When the true things of our hearts, how ever ugly they may be, are brought into the light the destructive power that "thing" has over us is weakened and it gives the people who love us a chance to walk the journey towards healing with us hand in hand. That way it was intended to be. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>John 1:4-5 ESV</b></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-57078041434316692012015-11-05T09:16:00.000-06:002016-02-15T12:43:23.845-06:00sitting in the middle of someone else's pain <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrGT4TF6rCcZMxMZB0iN2yH6Y7OSnJobTiV6jhcgrPcnQUyOH2frnrJhs8EqVU8WiQa26JwRJsAmwkmow8H8tPiJVF0l19f-LFvy4Qn-jLYBvE9q8dD1r49A70JIphjusgGDNlClPRFsI/s1600/SeptemberStockPhoto2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrGT4TF6rCcZMxMZB0iN2yH6Y7OSnJobTiV6jhcgrPcnQUyOH2frnrJhs8EqVU8WiQa26JwRJsAmwkmow8H8tPiJVF0l19f-LFvy4Qn-jLYBvE9q8dD1r49A70JIphjusgGDNlClPRFsI/s640/SeptemberStockPhoto2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Recently I had some time to myself so I spent it at one of my favorite places... Chick-Fil-A. Their sweet tea is one of my favorite things on the planet so it's not a hard sell to get me in the door. I usually take a book or my laptop with me in hopes of spending some time reading or writing while I sip my on my bottomless cup of sugar and caffeine (mixed with a touch of tea). When I walked through the doors on this particular day I immediately noticed something was different. The line was long. Normally, it's not. The restaurant was loud, and crowded, and bustling with energy. And then I noticed the difference. It was a group of about twenty-five young adults with special needs and just as many aids to help them. I had a hard time taking my eyes off of them because they were precious. Some with greater disabilities than others. Some being spoon fed pureed food by their aids, others carrying their own drinks to their tables. Some talking, some not. Some smiling, some not.<br />
<br />
Once I got through the line and had my food it was time to find a seat. There weren't a lot of choices because the restaurant was pretty full but I noticed a few high-top tables near the back and right next to the group of young adults. For some reason my heart just wanted to sit next to them. Among them. With them. I knew there probably wasn't going to be any conversation between us but it was as if in my own head sitting among them was a decision of solidarity. I see you, I hear you, I'm with you. So I sat. And it wasn't what I expected.<br />
<br />
It was uncomfortable. And at moments even a little disturbing. At one point a young man started to yell very loudly about every 60 seconds which was a little disturbing in itself, but it also seemed to upset one of the other students because he also stood up and started yelling and smacking himself in the head. This went on for 15 or 20 minutes. I thought about moving to a different seat but I just couldn't. What would that say to them? "Your challenges are inconveniencing me on this lovely day as I'm trying to enjoy my lunch." Where some of them in physical pain? Probably. Emotional pain? Maybe. Psychological pain? Possibly. I'll never know exactly but I knew that if I got up and left it would speak volumes about how society ALREADY treats them and views them and I wasn't interested in jumping in that boat. So I sat. And I stayed.<br />
<br />
This experience might not mean anything to you but for me it sparked so many thoughts about sitting in the middle of someone else's pain. And how necessary it is.<br />
<br />
But here's the honest truth when it comes to sitting in the middle of someone else's pain....<br />
<br />
It's uncomfortable.<br />
It's awkward.<br />
It's disturbing.<br />
You might not know what to say.<br />
<br />
But more than any of those things, what I learned at CFA that day is it speaks volumes when we do. It speaks volumes to the person you're sitting with and it speaks volumes to the people around you watching. I'm pretty sure no one noticed where I sat at CFA that day but I know there are plenty of times in life when people DO notice. There are so many people in this world who are aching for someone to sit with them in their pain. To join hands in solidarity. To know that they are seen, heard, and valued.<br />
<br />
Who can we stand in solidarity with today? Refugees? The homeless? Foster children? Single moms? Orphans? The poor? The oppressed? The widowed? The list could go on and on and on.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>With words or without, solidarity says "You're seen. You're heard. You're valued." Someone needs to know that today. <span id="goog_1680084166"></span><span id="goog_1680084167"></span></b></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-18693458282999832562015-10-16T09:28:00.000-06:002015-10-24T21:06:23.160-06:00Staying connected to the vine <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_8VXmWPdp6EY2e3E3asbhDyg8VTgLXVwEjCuXcTITDFnytMiigaMb-3pQNaEX1SGMuhum-4WSZTGpTeSemSbJ-PiJgLWPqJWQ2elb51-jyXf5PvKhRHyndRBvQUyslNBKGd21vKDA4AF/s1600/faithdwight3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_8VXmWPdp6EY2e3E3asbhDyg8VTgLXVwEjCuXcTITDFnytMiigaMb-3pQNaEX1SGMuhum-4WSZTGpTeSemSbJ-PiJgLWPqJWQ2elb51-jyXf5PvKhRHyndRBvQUyslNBKGd21vKDA4AF/s640/faithdwight3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
My five year old walks into the room sometimes and calls my name, when I happen to be standing right in front of him. It goes something like this... "Mom. Mom. MOM. Mooooommmmm!" My reply starts gently, "Yes, buddy?" but when he doesn't hear me (most likely because he's not listening) after the fourth or fifth call, my gentle response usually turns into "WHAT!? I'm standing RIGHT HERE!" Can you relate? The immaturity of our kids sometimes keeps them from seeing that what they need is actually right in front of them. They petition, they whine, they beg for something when all they really need to do is reach out and grab it for themselves.<br />
<br />
I think we do this with God sometimes. We tell our friends, "I could really use some peace today." We vent on our spouse about how much we're lacking patience. Or maybe we tell a co-worker at the water cooler how we wish we had more wisdom when it comes to a certain situation. There's nothing inherently wrong about these statements but the irony is that God is also standing right in front of us saying, "I'm right here! I have what you need! I AM what you need!"<br />
<br />
I've been reading and studying the book of John over the last few months and I love it because it is FULL of "I am" statements. These I am statements are being made by Jesus.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the bread of life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the light of the world.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the door.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the good shepherd.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the resurrection and the life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the way, the truth, and the life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i AM the true vine.</div>
<br />
Notice that Jesus doesn't say, "I could probably muster up some peace for you if you clean yourself up, do all the right things, and get your act together." He simply says I AM PEACE. Everything we need resides in Him. In the person and presence of Jesus.<br />
<br />
Do you need some life in your bones? He is life. Do you need salvation? Just walk through His door. Do you need answers? He is the answer. Do you feel lost? He is the way. Do you want to be known? He already knows you.<br />
<br />
The best fruit we can desire is the fruit of HIS spirit. Love, joy, peace. patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We could scream at the top of our lungs all day long for more patience, more love, or more self-control but if we don't abide in the one who IS the fruit, who IS the vine then we will remain dry and empty vessels.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." John 15:5</div>
<br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">I learned from a commentary by <a href="http://www.soniclight.com/constable/notes.htm">Dr. Thomas Constable</a> that the "I am" statement Jesus makes about being the vine is the very last "I am" statement He makes in the gospels</span><span style="text-align: justify;">. Perhaps He saved the best for last? I love this statement about the vine... </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">"</span><b style="text-align: justify;">The father "dresses" the vine as a farmer cultivates his vineyard. No vine will produce fruit unless someone competent cares for it."</b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
One of the things I struggle with in marriage is allowing my husband to lead and protect me. I was raised my a single mom who worked hard and my older brother and I spent a lot of time before school, after school, and in the summertime taking care of ourselves until our mom got home from work. This in some cases forced us to grow up faster than some of our peers but it also instilled in us a strong sense of independence. Still to this day, my strong sense of independence can be an asset but it can also be a liability. I often feel like (and act like) I don't need my husband to protect me. Because I can take care of myself. When I say this out loud he reminds me about the nights when he's away and I watch Law & Order SVU before bed and then can't sleep because I'm terrified a murderer is going to break into my house. I struggle with allowing him to lead me because, well, I've lead myself practically my whole life and I don't really need any help. Do you see the flaw in this kind of thinking?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>"The father "dresses" the vine as a farmer culitvates his vineyard. No vine will produce fruit unless someone competent cares for it." </b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
How healthy can my relationship with my husband be if I do not allow him to care for me? This is his God-given responsibility. Even more so... How can we produce spiritual fruit in our lives if we do not allow GOD to care for us. And how can he care for us, if we do not stay connected to him? Crops cannot grow if they are not first cared for and tended, the same goes for humans.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Can you picture the alternative to connectedness to the vine? No love, no joy, no peace, no patience, no kindness, no gentleness, no goodness, no faithfulness, no self-control. Either you've been there yourself or you know someone who's life looks like this. And it's not a pretty sight.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>When we live disconnected from the vine (unintentionally or not), we end up forfeiting the care of the Father. </b></div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So how do we stay connected to the vine? Here are some ideas...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>We dig into His word.</b> We study it, we learn it, we put it deep into out hearts. My friend Jessi says "The bible is not about us, it's about God. The more we know the bible, the more we know God. And the more we know God the more we know ourselves." I love that.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>We spend time with Him.</b> In His presence. In prayer. And listening.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>We stay connected to His people. </b>There is great power in community, isn't there? We are not meant to live disconnected from God and we are not meant to live disconnected from each other. I believe when we share stories with other people of how God is working in our life and they do the same, it strengthens our faith as well as theirs.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b></b>Friends, He is I AM and He is EVERYTHING we need.</div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-53238036469979170862015-08-09T18:39:00.001-06:002015-08-09T18:39:20.808-06:00The hard in the 'Yes'. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBr-1gkFGd5PVNPR1_H1dyFpQl7wjVv_96X5KeLcUGF9sFFSOwWCcU8H612lPzLaTap-HKTwba1To5R1zEEwlfrBZGE5WnjyNMBAj2t9iokVMoC9OvqD_VWWi21-OVF7KnQ4HXk4I9wNl/s1600/IMG_0174-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBr-1gkFGd5PVNPR1_H1dyFpQl7wjVv_96X5KeLcUGF9sFFSOwWCcU8H612lPzLaTap-HKTwba1To5R1zEEwlfrBZGE5WnjyNMBAj2t9iokVMoC9OvqD_VWWi21-OVF7KnQ4HXk4I9wNl/s640/IMG_0174-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
About a month ago my family said a big YES. We said yes to taking a little girl into our home via foster care. She's two and adorable and also kind of feisty. It's been a hard month with lots of adjusting for all of us. Moving rooms around, managing new therapy schedules, and collecting all the stuff a two year old needs but doesn't have. We are grateful for so many friends and family who eagerly stepped in to help with clothes, a crib, and lots of encouraging words. We are thrilled to be able to give this little girl a safe and loving home for however long she's with us.<br />
<br />
Amongst all the beauty of this decision I'm learning that the initial YES was easy. I mean don't get me wrong, we took days and days to think and pray and talk about whether or not this is something we should do. We didn't take this decision lightly. We needed to be sure that we were sure before we took the leap, because once we took the leap we didn't want to turn back on the decision when things got too hard. Beacause we (I) knew they would get hard. This is our second run with having a foster child placed in our home and the first time was HARD. And it ended with that child being placed with another family (who are great people and eventually adopted him.)<br />
<br />
We said yes and then we started living. Living out the day to day with more diaper changes, more crying, more giggles, more baths, more people to strap into car seats, more mouths to feed and one more broken soul in need of love and compassion.<br />
<br />
There are so many things in life that we have the choice to YES to.<br />
<br />
Friendships.<br />
College.<br />
Significant others.<br />
Marriage.<br />
Kids.<br />
Jobs.<br />
Ministry opportunities.<br />
Adoption.<br />
<br />
Whatever God wants.<br />
<br />
We proclaim the big YES and it's exciting and fun but then there are a thousand more yes's we have to say day in and day out.<br />
<br />
Yes to writing one more paper for a class you hate.<br />
Yes to fighting for a friendship.<br />
Yes to spending the rest of your life with one person.<br />
Yes to raising children in this crazy world.<br />
Yes to adopting from another family, culture, or country.<br />
Yes to a job you feel like you're over-qualified for.<br />
Yes to serving God in whatever capacity he desires.<br />
<br />
Those are the hardest yeses. Because they take perseverance. And sometimes discipline. They take commitment when you don't want to and love when you don't feel it. They take compassion when your compassion is all dried up and grace when you've got none left to give. Saying yes to marrying your best friend is easy. Saying yes to picking up their dirty socks AGAIN or giving them grace when they're 20 minutes late... exhausting.<br />
<br />
The big yes takes courage and risk. The little yeses take humility and sacrifice. Both are important. Both are good. Both will hopefully produce fruit in our lives.<br />
<br />
Our work, the act of saying yes to God and then walking it out in our daily life, will never be perfect but that doesn't mean that it's not GOOD. We GET to do good work because the perfect work has already been accomplished on the cross. That takes the pressure off, doesn't it? His love for us fills in all of our gaps and that's a reminder I need on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis.<br />
<br />
It starts with one big yes and then a thousand more yeses to follow.Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-25755330404697935772015-07-03T19:49:00.000-06:002015-07-26T13:58:05.782-06:00Clean hearts or clean hands?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpR4hZSxev_JQ-tbgkUOIBfU4ArvNz7WmpEeFqXUQNPVZzrNryHyeahuK_5sR7hBa2xpidqqq7ZoJYiycWY-epArZ-qLJRFFtdWX6oE__UcncJkbWfeddpsCiBNONLCMr37XrBpUf9IH7/s1600/IMG_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpR4hZSxev_JQ-tbgkUOIBfU4ArvNz7WmpEeFqXUQNPVZzrNryHyeahuK_5sR7hBa2xpidqqq7ZoJYiycWY-epArZ-qLJRFFtdWX6oE__UcncJkbWfeddpsCiBNONLCMr37XrBpUf9IH7/s640/IMG_0041.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
We bought a house back in February. It's a cute little place that suites our family well. It's in an older neighborhood with big trees and each modest little home looks different from it's neighbor. Some are kept, some are not. Ours currently might be considered to be a part of the 'unkept' category. At least on the outside. Weeds are overtaking our yard, the driveway is shot, and big mature trees are in need of some major trimming. But those things are going to have to wait because we're still working on the inside and I'd pick fresh paint colors and pictures hung, over the front yard being immaculately landscaped any day. So the weeds will have to wait.<br />
<br />
I care more about the inside of our home than the outside because <b>the inside is where life happens</b>.<br />
<br />
The inside is where people grow.<br />
<br />
And learn.<br />
And struggle.<br />
And love.<br />
And belong.<br />
And fight.<br />
And forgive.<br />
<br />
The outside matters, a little. If the landscaping of my house is SO overgrown that no one can see my front door then that's kind of a problem. And maybe even a distraction. Who will want to come in if they have to wade through a jungle to get there? Only a few may be brave enough to attempt that. The people who REALLY love me. The people who KNOW me. The people who know that once they make it inside they'll find safety and a place where they'll feel at home.<br />
<br />
But most of us know the INSIDE matters more. And sometimes we're too busy tending to the outside that we neglect the inside and it gets ugly. It gets selfish, and prideful, and bitter. I struggle with the outside stuff a lot. I struggle with wanting new clothes that make me feel good about myself, and having a nice car that's not dented (because ours is), and making sure my family looks "put together" when we are out in public. But what does all that matter if my heart looks like a dirty, empty, discarded coffee cup? Jesus says it so well in Matthew 23...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are so careful to clean the outside of the cup and the dish, but inside you are filthy - full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First wash the inside of the cup and the dish, and then the outside will become clean, too." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We live in a world that values the outside over the inside. A world that values success over integrity and looks over character. But there's always a choice. We always have a choice.<br />
<br />
<b>May we clean our hearts before we clean our hands. And may God pour out His grace on us when we don't. </b></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-47308165332264776022013-06-23T22:08:00.000-06:002013-06-23T22:08:02.976-06:00Seeing beauty in the brokenness.There's always some beauty even in the most broken of places, isn't there? In my opinion, New York City is one of the most beautiful places in the world, but it's also incredibly broken. You could be standing on the most dangerous and drug-ridden street in the city and also right next to a beautiful and one-of-a-kind piece of graffiti art, all at the same time. Beauty in brokenness. I've never been to a third world country (I will one day), but when I hear from people who have, I always here the same thing. Amidst so much poverty and pain, there is so much beauty. Beauty in the people, beauty in the culture, and beauty in the contentment they have with so little. Ironic isn't it?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_WD6ilvqor3G4pK2h0X0TVq4UtUNUCUM5hHVf0U_pXvk7XbhMN8r08fEIUqPivPuND-F7kVo2j0-GtVGSJKMdXA94b626tb8EgwAEOKr-HzUtOOA6t1ADTTS3o8M_2DRIhFFWDAKutsl/s1600/Broken_Glass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_WD6ilvqor3G4pK2h0X0TVq4UtUNUCUM5hHVf0U_pXvk7XbhMN8r08fEIUqPivPuND-F7kVo2j0-GtVGSJKMdXA94b626tb8EgwAEOKr-HzUtOOA6t1ADTTS3o8M_2DRIhFFWDAKutsl/s1600/Broken_Glass.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I think the same goes for our hearts. There's always beauty to find in our own brokenness. I have a handful of friends who lend a listening ear when I need to process things. One of those friends is Miriam, and she always says to me... "Just BE. Let you're heart do what it needs to do. Don't rush the process." She's a smart lady and let me tell you, she's been through some STUFF. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When my heart is in a broken place, my instinct is to push through the pain, to get frustrated with the way I'm feeling, or to try and fix whatever is wrong, as fast as I can. And those aren't necessarily bad responses all of the time but I think sometimes we just need to BE so that we don't ignore the beauty in the brokenness. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
May I keep my eyes open through the tears. </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
May I keep my ears open to His voice. </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
May I keep my heart open to His plan. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And may I rely solely on God to make my heart whole like only He can.</div>
</div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-77967641114511506952013-06-13T15:33:00.000-06:002013-06-13T21:15:50.773-06:00If we love them well, they'll never feel like a project.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUykU-0eRYWj_8GpZkXlqZBCCPnwN3K7FjeOiIEt2Ofh5g66vtrVUcNk3zeTt-XuyFuulYXQ1iPq-uRhb83ehXnivoLScxMrzdIBzjAQ_41sWOu90nM7kPQxXW8dcOMorXnC_lnwQImtk/s1600/summer-camp-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUykU-0eRYWj_8GpZkXlqZBCCPnwN3K7FjeOiIEt2Ofh5g66vtrVUcNk3zeTt-XuyFuulYXQ1iPq-uRhb83ehXnivoLScxMrzdIBzjAQ_41sWOu90nM7kPQxXW8dcOMorXnC_lnwQImtk/s400/summer-camp-sign.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
I grew up in a single-parent household. My biological father was only around until I was about a year old and then he was gone. My mom raised my older brother Josh and me by herself. My mom was and still is (at the age of 60) an incredibly hard worker. When my brother and I were young she often worked two jobs just to make ends meet. She somehow seemed to always find a way to get us what we wanted for our birthdays or Christmas, and it wasn't easy because we were the bratty kids who wouldn't be happy with anything less than name brands. Our tastes were fancy, what can I say? I guess a "Sorry Mom" would be appropriate. We received help from the government for a little while because we needed it, but my mom never took advantage of that. As soon as she could make enough money to pay all the bills again, she stopped accepting the welfare. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
(Side note: back in the late 80's and early 90's, food stamps came in the form of paper that looked like actual dollar bills but they were different colors. That was kind of an exciting thing for an eight year old.)</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
When I was in third grade I was chosen to attend a summer camp. Only one kid from my whole elementary school was chosen to go and that kid was ME. What an honor, right? I had no idea why they had chosen me but I was stoked! And here's the thing... the camp was totally free. AND... before I left for camp someone was going to come pick me up to take me shopping for everything I would need at camp. Clothes, shoes, backpack, sleeping bag, personal hygiene items, flashlight, etc. What!? </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
I remember being SO excited when the shopping day came. And then the day I went off to camp was even better! I spent a week swimming, playing games, making friends, and feeling loved. I can't remember the name of the camp but I've never forgotten the name of my counselor. Her name was Dana. Dana was great and she made my experience at camp so amazing. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
Here's why I'm sharing this story. Many years later I found out that the camp was for "underprivelaged kids". The elementary school gave the camp my name and one of the music teachers at the school sponsored me to go. But my little third-grader self had no idea. And that's a beautiful thing. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
I never once thought they felt sorry for me. I never felt under-privelaged. I never felt poor. I never felt like I was just someone's project. What I did feel was loved and cared for, in a safe environment. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
For the people in our lives who really are under-privelaged, poor, marginalized, or falling through the cracks of society, may they never feel like we're only helping because we feel sorry for them. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
If we love them WELL, they'll NEVER feel like a project. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
Is there anyone in your life who might feel like a project? How can you love them better?</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
Thanks for listening, friends. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<br></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-39399893936901253152013-03-20T11:32:00.000-06:002013-03-20T11:32:15.569-06:00How vulnerable is too vulnerable? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71o7OjObze8_dhuLWS4T7oiE1pE9YaSNqpGWH9uOMJEx2oXFr_ApRaUVxsWlhF_xgzjFy98em2E8GTWPlajQUGCIjUoHKyQtJ0krBmXG21EVO2nu9L-88RWlPbmNlrc7icUbU5_3-S0gK/s1600/to+love....png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71o7OjObze8_dhuLWS4T7oiE1pE9YaSNqpGWH9uOMJEx2oXFr_ApRaUVxsWlhF_xgzjFy98em2E8GTWPlajQUGCIjUoHKyQtJ0krBmXG21EVO2nu9L-88RWlPbmNlrc7icUbU5_3-S0gK/s1600/to+love....png" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Considering my last two blog titles have been in the form of questions I guess you could say I've been asking a lot of questions lately. I tend to be a 'question asker' by nature. It helps me learn and process. If you've ever met me you can probably confirm that I like to ask questions. Hopefully it's a good thing more than it is an annoying thing.</div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've been in a season lately in which I feel a little extra vulnerable. A little more broken than usual. I mean we're all broken right? But some days the 'broken meter' seems to be higher than others. And when the broken meter is high, I struggle with this question... How vulnerable should I be? How much should I share? How much CAN I share without turning into a complainer? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's one conclusion I've come to recently... I don't think we (as Christians) do a very good job at allowing each other to be vulnerable. Why? Because we don't ask. We don't dig. We only ask the easy questions. We just assume that everything is all good. At least sometimes I do. Can you relate? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When was the last time you asked a friend how their weight loss journey was going? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When was the last time you asked a friend how their marriage was going? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When was the last time you asked a friend in a dating relationship how they were handling the "physical stuff"? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When was the last time you asked a friend what they're passionate about? What keeps them up at night? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When was the last time you asked a friend who just adopted how they were feeling? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I know these are hard questions to ask (and maybe even to answer) but if we want the people in our lives to be vulnerable with us, and us with them, then we have to ASK. And if you find the courage to ask, brace yourself. Because the friend who you thought had a perfect marriage, probably doesn't. And the family you thought had it all together, well, they're probably a mess. And the friend who struggles with food addiction, well she's probably just waiting for someone to believe she can do it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In my life I've only had a small handful of friends who've asked me the hard questions. Two of them are <a href="http://www.gregteselle.com/">Greg</a> and <a href="http://www.carolineteselle.com/">Caroline TeSelle</a>. I'm thankful that they didn't choose comfort over conviction. And I'm a better person today because of it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>May we be the kind of friends who ask the hard questions not because we're nosey but because we care. </b></div>
</div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8082902554289281931.post-71562137669619436912013-03-13T15:13:00.000-06:002013-03-13T15:13:34.441-06:00How well do I listen?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw9_M-9tVfBNE4hidpUupGwkXL47H_qy64rdPGaCa9ui5BwKTvd4bc3n2UNUJLqY0ucjNUQJBCbr-dvhBA1mXbDuyk5b_xvXbMrgFdBS60fre6RFwjlBrBevSLlS2h8AkNChDay5u4ogG/s1600/listen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw9_M-9tVfBNE4hidpUupGwkXL47H_qy64rdPGaCa9ui5BwKTvd4bc3n2UNUJLqY0ucjNUQJBCbr-dvhBA1mXbDuyk5b_xvXbMrgFdBS60fre6RFwjlBrBevSLlS2h8AkNChDay5u4ogG/s400/listen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This morning I was driving with Cooper to go meet a friend. I was on a two-lane road, in between towns, and there wasn't much to see for miles. Until I saw a man. I saw him from behind, he was walking on the side of the road in a grey sweat-suit and carrying a book-bag on his back. I would've guessed he was in his early twenties. My mind immediately started racing with questions... "Where is he going?""Why is he walking on a road with no sidewalks?" "It's like 25 degrees out, why isn't he wearing anything more than a sweatshirt?" "Should I stop and offer him a ride?".<br />
<br />
I was so confused and partially concerned as to why this young man was walking on this long road with no civilization in sight, and in 25 degree weather for that matter. The only thing I could think of was that maybe he was walking to the YMCA but that was still a good five or six miles down the road. I did not immediately stop but as I kept driving I couldn't stop thinking about him. I felt something in my heart whispering "Go pick him up". I argued back. I had my two year old in the car with me. I'm a woman, and a small one at that. I'm on my way to meet a friend and if I turn around I'm going to be late, and I hate being late. This "conversation" went on for a few minutes.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if it was God's whisper or just something in my own head but the prompting wasn't going away and I felt like if it was after all, the voice of the Holy Spirit, then I'd better listen. So now that I was closer to my destination than I was further away, I turned around and drove back towards where I saw the young man walking to see if I could give him a ride.<br />
<br />
(For all of you who just went into freak out mode...just keep reading. And listen, when you've lived in the hood of New York City, you're just not scared of people. Not trying to brag, it's just reality. And yes, I would do anything to protect my son. And no, most people are not killers. That's all.)<br />
<br />
As soon as I turned around the anxiety over the decision was gone. I just needed to do it. I needed to obey. I drove for a few miles and I didn't see the man. In fact, I never saw the man again. Ugh. Now I was a little frustrated. I just wasted 10 minutes of time and gas for what? I hope the man ended up someplace warm.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
As I turned around AGAIN to head back towards where I was meeting my friend I felt God say, <b>"Courtney, sometimes I just need to see if you'll listen."</b> Ouch. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
When it comes to my relationship with God, I'm not always the best listener. Sometimes I pretend like I don't hear Him. And sometimes, honestly, I hear Him and then I say no. Because I'm afraid. Or because I feel like He's asking too much of me. Or because I'm selfish and I just don't want to.<br />
<br />
I may have had a mini Abraham and Isaac experience today. And by mini I really do mean TINY. I'm not sure it was ever about giving the man a ride... I think God just wanted to see if I would listen and obey.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
May we be great listeners to the one who loves us the most. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>How well do you listen?</b></div>
Courtney Laibhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11065075786211129905noreply@blogger.com1