Fearless

Daily voucher websites are a wonderful thing. For only $20, I can buy a teeth whitening kit, complete with gel and UV light, delivered to my door for only a few dollars. I seriously considered buying it in a moment of credit card weakness.

There's plenty of useless items up for grabs on the daily deals, and I was fortunate enough to have nabbed myself a bargain a few months ago. I purchased a half price voucher to take a trapeze class.

I'm not really one of those daredevil, adrenalin rush junkies who enjoy heights and falling at great speeds and near death experiences. I much prefer enjoying gravity normally, and sipping soy flat whites. So when this email came through, I dismissed it, saying 'I could never do that'.

But as I did that, a little voice inside whispered 'What's stopping you? Fear?'

Let's delve into that internal monologue a little deeper.

"So Naomi, what's stopping you? Fear?"

"Well, yeah, actually. I'm deathly afraid of heights and I hate the feeling of falling. I don't think I could," I replied defensively.

"So are you always going to let your fears hold you back?"

"No." A quick retort. Not a good look.

"Well they've held you back so far."

Darn this enlightened reasoning. I could feel my heart racing at the probing questions. It was like ripping a band aid off and exposing the wound.

"It's not that I'm afraid, it's just that I prefer to stay on the ground."

"Well, it you're not afraid, buy the voucher."

"Fine, I will!" Reverse psychology. It was a lose-lose situation. Or a win-win if you looked on the bright side.

So I bought the voucher. And I did the trapeze class. And even though I was freaking out climbing the ladder and leaning over the edge to grab a hold of the bar, I did it. (insert applause)

Here's my spiritual lesson to take away: fear hinders us. It doesn't keep us safe, it stops us from enjoying life. Even though I was afraid of heights, I forced myself to climb that eight metres and jump off the edge. By the third time, it wasn't scary. It was actually quite fun.

I could've ignored that email or backed out of the class. But I would've missed an opportunity to thumb my nose at fear and prove to myself that I can do things I never thought I could do.

So now I'm taking stock of my life and identifying where fear is holding me back. What am I missing out on because I'm too afraid to try? Is it meeting new people? Developing relationships? Learning a new skill? Setting bigger goals? Speaking in public? Going on a boat? (pretty sure that's a long way off....) There's a reason God doesn't like fear - it holds us back. And I'm determined to take fear out. This is the year to end fear (that could be a bumper sticker?).

Whatever form fear takes in your life, look it straight in the eye and take it out. You might actually enjoy doing it.

I think I'll try something new next week... maybe whitewater rafting? (that's a whole different story...)

En-Courage

As I get older, I am becoming more in tune with what I believe, what I stand for and what I truly dislike. I guess some people would call it being 'set in your ways', but I think it's a little more than getting stuck in a routine of mediocre adulthood.

I think it's probably more along the lines of, 'another year older, another year wiser'. Amen to that. It's about time I grew up and starting acting like an adult. Maybe it's that nasty cynicism creeping into my world, leaving a bitter after taste of pessimism behind whilst cleverly disguising itself as being 'in touch with reality'.

But I think it's even more than that. I think it's when we finally get comfortable in our own skin and have developed enough self-awareness to realise just what makes us tick. I've been around me long enough to know what I'm like.

I've done the personality tests, the spiritual gift tests, the questionnaires, the psychological tests, the IQ tests, read the books, listened to the tapes, heard the sermons, and I've come out the other end knowing a few things. I know I'm a melancholic choleric who has the gift of wisdom and has a HUGE IQ. I also have the gift of exaggeration.

But even after all those written tests, there's a few things that time will eventually tell you, and often they will come from everyday interaction with everyday people. The beautiful people on the same team, the gifted individuals, the leaders, the sandpaper sisters, those darn sanguines and irritating phlegmatics who can't make a decision. It's through everyday life that I learned a few lessons about people, but also about myself.

I learned that I'm passionate about team. I love team, the very thought of team makes me smile. I'm sold out to the house of God. That's where you'll find me. I like to make big decisions carefully, complete with the pros and cons list. I despise it when commitment is lacking. And I believe that encouragement is one of the biggest weapons in my arsenal.

When I think about how vulnerable I used to be as a young person setting out on the Christian journey and how much it meant to me when a leader or friend encouraged me with a note, quality time, a kind word or something else meaningful, I'm reminded of the impact it had on me. I haven't forgotten those things, and literally still have every note someone ever wrote me in a box. So when I look at this generation today trying to find their way, their calling, growing in their ministry gifts, I think back to the impact that encouragement had on me and I pay it forward.

My dad says, 'You catch more flies with honey than vinegar'. I can make more friends and help more people to grow through encouragement than I can through reprimand. There are times when you need to deliver the hard word (my college lecturer used to say 'two positives then a negative' and 'sandwich it with encouragement'), but geez, there are always way more opportunities to deliver the kind and encouraging word.

Encouragement is free. It costs me nothing, but you can't put a value on what it could mean to the other person. I want the people I do life with to never doubt that I believe in them.

At the end of my life, I want to be known as an encourager. A leader? Sure. A great friend? Absolutely. But to be known as an encourager, that every time I led, every time I interacted with someone, every time I taught a newbie musician, I found something positive that they did and something positive within them, and encouraged them. That's what I want to spend my life doing.

'Hey mate, the way you played that chorus was awesome, great job!'

'You did really well tonight, I loved that you jumped in that song, that was heaps cool.'

'You led the band really well tonight, especially when you brought the chorus down and built it up again, well done!'

'I can see heaps of potential in you, you're pretty great.'

'I'm so glad I get to do life with you!'

Words can be cheap these days, so I never want to sound insincere, but it really doesn't take much to be an encouraging voice in a discouraging world.

At the end of the day, if you sow encouragement, you reap encouragement. It's a win-win situation really.

pass the gloves please

I'm one of those people who hates getting their hands dirty. I don't like getting dirt under my nails and I don't like the feeling of grime on my skin. I used to wash my hands a lot, so much so that I developed an allergy to the handwash and couldn't use it anymore.

I'm not a gardener, I don't much like cooking and using my hands to prepare food, and I most certainly don't do anything handy around the house other than the laundry. I'm not precious about my nails, but I do regularly groom and manicure myself so I don't look sloppy.

I don't really enjoy housecleaning, but I love the feeling of having a clean house, so I will occasionally pull out the furniture polish and get about buffing the timber. I can check the oil and water in my car, but that's as far as I'll go. No oil change for me. That's what I pay mechanics for. Their hands are already so grubby it would be a shame to dirty my pretty little paws when they could do it in half the time.

I do bath the dogs and brush their coats, but when it comes to the gross things like cleaning out their ears? Mum's the best person for that job. And let's not get started on who should clean up any mishaps on the carpet. Mum. Enough said.

I like washing up, but I always like to make sure that I have a sink full of clean water. We're not advanced enough to have a dishwasher, so it's good ol' fashioned washing up for me. I don't enjoy sticking my hands into luke-warm dirty dish water to pull the plug. I'll often use a fork to pull it out so I don't have to get my hands dirty.

Now, before you label me an OCD fanatic, let me explain. (...I used to organise my wardrobe in alphabetical order according to the colours of the fabric.... black, blue, brown, green, grey, orange, pink, purple, yellow. I have since recovered, but that obsession does linger every now and then...) I just don't like getting my hands dirty. I feel, well, dirty.

But I also know that things don't get done on their own. I've had to learn the art of rolling up my sleeves and doing whatever needs to be done. It's a pretty simple concept. When things need to be done, I do them. I don't like to have a job unfinished. I very rarely leave a job uncompleted. I do enjoy working through a to-do list and ticking off the things that need to be done.

My dad used to drill into me, 'If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well'. Thanks Dad. You bred excellence into me from a young age, as young as I can remember.

I'm no stranger to hard work. I do what needs to be done. And I've learned that, sometimes, you've got to get your hands dirty. There's just times where things need to be done. And there's no way you can't do them. You can't ring Hire A Hubby and get them to finish the job. It can only come from you, from your hands, from your experience, your background, your knowledge and wisdom.

There's some things that you've got roll your sleeves up for and get your hands dirty.

Now, you've probably figured out that I'm not talking about planting pansy's or scrubbing down the garage walls (because who wants to do that?!). I'm talking about getting your hands into the hard work, the team challenges, the building, the stretching the growing of yourself and others, the tedious tasks of teamwork and the painful process of internal healing. Sometimes, there's no other way to deal with it than to get out those princess rubber gloves with faux animal fur, snap them on and go about the Father's business.

Because when you busy yourself with building God's kingdom, He busies Himself with your steps. When your about the Father's business, He looks after yours.

What a privilege, what an honour, to spend my life getting my hands dirty for the Kingdom.

Trust Me

Have you ever heard someone say, 'Just trust me!'? And have you ever actually trusted them? It's the mantra of shonky salespeople and the repetitive chant of manipulative shady-tradies.

I'm pretty sure that I have never trusted anyone who has to tell me to trust them. If they haven't earned my trust, then I'm pretty sure I'll never give it on their words alone.

It's kind of like the screenwriting rule - show don't tell. You should never tell the viewer everything that is going on. The viewer should be able to deduce and determine what a character is thinking and feeling by their actions and their speech. Otherwise, you may as well have a narrator on screen talking you through what is happening. Part of the fun of a movie is figuring out what's going on.

This morning when I was getting ready for work, I did all my ablutions, got dressed, tied my hair up and jumped back into bed to read my Bible for a few minutes before heading off. It's my little bit of quiet time (and on occasion extra nap time).

I was reading through Mark, and got to the story of Jairus and his daughter. Jairus was bringing Jesus back to his home to heal his sick daughter, when on the way, his daughter died. I like this story, not because of the daughter dying, because Jairus was a real man in a real situation. He had real hopes and real disappointments and a real opportunity to put faith into action.

The story starts with Jairus running to Jesus, bringing him home to heal his daughter. Imagine you're Jairus. Your child is deathly ill. You run to the man who you believe is the only one who can help your daughter. That takes a lot of faith. And you bring the healing miracle man home. That's a massive leap of faith, because after all, he could be the psycho that everyone is saying he is.

Jairus was a man of faith, a devout Jew, the leader of a local synagogue. He would've lived a life above reproach. He would've followed the Law to the enth degree. He was a leader, respected and well-liked in his community. He would've worked hard to support his family, giving them his best.

Put yourself in Jairus' shoes. Or sandals. Just when he thought he had some hope. He had this Jesus coming to his home. People were saying he was the Messiah. Others were saying he was a prophet. Others also were saying he was just a good man. But whoever people claimed him to be, his miracles and healings were enough proof that this Jesus was sent from God.

So Jairus let hope swell in his soul. His daughter was going to be okay, Jesus would heal her. His steps were quick, almost a run, so desperate to get Jesus to his daughter. When on the way, a woman reached out and touched Jesus.

And she was healed.

Jesus stopped and addressed the woman and declared that her faith had made her well. Yes, Jairus was onto the right man. Jesus was healing people left, right and centre! And he had faith. He had come all this way to get Jesus and bring him home. Yes, Jairus had faith.

They began on their journey again after Jesus had stopped with the woman and her healing. Jairus would've been feeling confident. Yes, this Jesus could heal his daughter! He'd just healed a woman who'd been sick for over a decade! Surely his daughter would be fine. But then, he gets hit with the news.

Your daughter is dead.

Here is the part where the swelling violins starts, the tears start rolling down Jairus' cheek, running into his beard. Sobs well up from the pit of his stomach and then... gut-wrenching sobs, the kind that suck the breath out of you and take a massive effort to fill your lungs up again.

In this moment, imagine his thoughts. 'But I had faith!', 'This Jesus cant really heal', 'If Jesus hadn't stopped with that other unclean woman my daughter would still be alive'. All of this and more, travelling through his mind at the speed of thought. Sorrow for his child, the desperate emptiness of hopelessness and disappointment, anger.

And then Jesus says those most hated words: 'Just trust me'. Yeah right Jesus. Like I'm going to trust you now after you've just let my daughter die. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you. You've just let me down. You gave me a glimmer of hope and now, nothing. Nada. Zip. Thanks for nothing big guy.

I wouldn't blame Jairus for parting ways with Jesus. Everything in his fleshly soul would've wanted him to reject the hope of Jesus for the disappointment in the here and now. Think about times of heightened emotion, maybe when you didn't get that dream job. And you get that all-too-familiar rejection email. And Jesus says 'Just trust me'. That salesman lingo doesn't go down easy at first.

But, all credit to Jairus. He kept going on the journey with Jesus. He didn't part ways, but stayed with him all the way to the destination. He trusted Jesus. He chose faith. Just when he thought he had faith before in fetching Jesus in the first place, his faith is tested and stretched in an unimaginable way.

And his faith allowed a miracle to happen.

His daughter was only sleeping! Now, I'm not a parent, but I'm pretty sure I know the difference between a sleeping child and a not-alive child. It's not like Jairus and his wife would've just stood at a distance to determine if their daughter was alive or not. They would've shaken her, shouted and tried to wake her.

But Jesus, in his Jesus-like way, said she was only sleeping. And he was right. Even if she was in a very, very, very deep sleep, she still woke up and started walking around.

What an awesome story. Imagine if Jairus had parted ways with Jesus earlier. Imagine if Jairus had chosen not to trust? He would've stopped reading the book halfway through and not realised the ending, which was exactly what he was after.

My desire? To trust Jesus when he says 'Just trust me'. He does know the end of the story, after all.

a beautiful cacophony

I've come to realise something.

Life isn't like the movies.

Have you ever wished it was though? I mean, everything is so perfect and complete with closure all within 120 minutes. The guy gets the girl, the girl gets the ring, everyone finds love and perfection and the audience leaves feeling satisfied.

But, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, life isn't like that.

Life is messy. It's imperfect. It's filled with broken dreams, disappointments and lost love. It's full of loneliness, distractions, stumbles and rejection. We get wrapped up in insecurities, mindsets, irritations and short-comings. Life can be all of this and more.

But that is where some people leave it.

They quit before the end. They throw in the towel before the race has been completed. They declare a truce with destruction before hope has a chance to prevail. They see the hurdle in front of them instead of focusing on the finish line just a few metres away.

A friend of mine once wrote about a tapestry. If we did not have the dark threads weaved throughout the entire fabric, then the bright colours would not look as vibrant, the contrast not as stark.

Life is a beautiful cacophony of triumphs and lows. Without the lows, we would not have the incredible highs. Without the highs, the darkness would prevail. If life was a constant picnic, we would not learn survival and we would not appreciate the taste of victory. We would not exert dominion and without the lows, we would not realise the heights to which we were carried.

Life is a beautiful cacophony of helpless cries and shouts of joy, of cries of victory and tears of pain. Without one colour, a rainbow would not be complete. Without struggle, we would not have release.

I believe that we can not do without our dark threads. But weaving a tapestry of only dark colours dims our light.

I appreciate the beautiful cacophony of life. And it is sweet.

People Matters

I had a moment the other day at work that caught me by surprise. I was hard at work (well, sort of) when I had to stop what I was doing and serve some customers.

Now, due to the nature of my workplace, it's very natural to have golden oldies in my store. I've seen them all. Some are a pain in my day, others are pretty fun to dress up.

There's the ones who know what they want. They make a beeline for the the navy slacks and beige skivvys. Sometimes they head my way and ask if I've got any pants that sit a bit higher, because 'your pants are those hipsters'. I wasn't aware oldies knew what hipsters were.

There's the ones who aren't quite sure what they're after, but they know they need something. They know they want something warm and something with sleeves, because 'I don't like how my arms wobble'. Neither do I.

There's the ones who aren't quite as mobile as what they used to be, so they need something with elastic around the waist and zips down the front.

But then there's the ones who bother me the most. They bother me because they believe they're forgotten, they believe they're invisible. They're the ones who aren't empowered to make decisions anymore, whose children and grandchildren make the decisions about what they want. They're the ones who believe they are a burden on their family.

They're the ones who bother me the most, because they've already written themselves out of the pages of this world before they ending of their chapter, or worse still, that we as a society have written them out. They bother me because they make me sad.

So when I stopped what I was doing and served some customers, I realised what type of customers they were. They were in last category.

The mother would've been around 80 years old, a real golden oldie, her daughter around 50, a well-dressed woman with immaculate hair. They had laboured over the decision to buy a black long-sleeved top and a green cardigan for around 15 minutes. The mother had shuffled behind her daughter around the circumference of the store. And when it came time to purchase the items, they made their way to the counter, the daughter leading, the mother shadowing.

I greeted them both, yet only the daughter answered. The mother looked at me and put her head down. I asked the mother another question, yet the daughter answered for her. I wondered when it became okay to answer for another person.

I entered the items and stated the total price. The mother reached for her wallet and paid me, without saying a word. I counted the change back to her and put the receipt in the bag.

And then there was this look in her eyes.

Not a creepy look, or an angry look, but a look of intense sadness. It was a look of resigned inferiority. It was a look that conveyed so much in so little time.

This lady had probably been a dame in her day. She would've known how to dress to impress. She would've lived through a world war, seen friends and family go to battle and never return. She had raised a family, she had built a life. She still wore a wedding ring, so had remained faithful to the end.

This lady was a life. She wasn't a number or a $63.90 sale. She was a person, with her own attributes, achievements and experiences. She wasn't a shadow of better times, but she was a human life, living in this present time.

Somewhere along the line, I had forgotten that people matter. People aren't a statistic. They are people, humans, living and breathing testaments of God's love for us.

But I realised that this lady mattered. Although society may say that she's worth $160 a week of Centrelink pension payments, she's so much more than that. She's a person who matters.

She matters to God, and if He says she matters, then I know she does.

Love is about love

I have two little dogs. They are adorable in every way. They're cute, they've got big brown eyes, they have waggy tails, little paws and soft, floppy ears. I am in love with them, and each time I look at them, I just want to scoop them up and squish them, which I often do, much to Emily's joy and Sookie's disgust.

They're two very different doggies. Emily is a miniature sausage dog, with a long body and tiny little legs but a very big personality. She is the definition of 'dogged determination' and has the persistence of 100 hungry seagulls. She adores cuddles and attention, and can never be too close to you. Although she's nearly 14, she gallops around the house and patrols the yard like a dog five times her size.

Sookie on the other hand is much more timid. She hides under the bed when she knows you're leaving the house, doesn't like loud noise and much prefers to sit on the bed in the dark than watch Masterchef with the rest of the household. She is intensely interested in the happenings of the street (a rubber neck I believe they're called) and has mastered the art of 'puppy dog eyes'.

When I come home from work, my dogs are waiting faithfully at the gate. They know the sound of my little red car, and when I pull up, their tails begin wagging. And when I get to the gate, every part of their little, furry body is wagging in excited exuberance. Their pink tongues are hanging out of their smiling mouths and they jump at my legs, so happy to see me. They don't judge me, they don't remember the last time I was mad at them, they don't hold anything against me. They simply love.

Although my dogs have completely different temperaments, they are really the same. All they want from me is love, and they repay me with generous outpourings of their loyalty and love. I wouldn't have it any other way.

And that got me thinking. I'm like that. People are like that. All they really want is love. You can see it in their eyes, in their actions, in their responses, in everything they do. Love is the commodity of the world, or so it should be. Without love, people become broken, hopeless and destitute. Love is what heals, love is what creates new life, love is the one thing that we are all searching for and love is the answer for everything.

'If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain 'Jump' and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing.

'If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So no matter what I say, what I believe and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head, doesn't force itself on others, isn't always 'me first', doesn't fly off the handle, doesn't keep score of the sins of others, doesn't revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end.

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day, praying in tongues will end, understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be cancelled...

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. (1 Cor 13 msg)

If this is love, then this is God, because God is love. He is love, and he is about love.

It should always be about love.