Hammer on Anvil '

A few nights ago my six-year-old daughter, Missouri, came to me and asked if I had already thought of my costume for Halloween. Oh man. It's days after Christmas, friends, and my darling daughter is already planning for her next favorite holiday. She told me she was thinking of doing a costume that was "inspiring." Seriously - inspiring? What a weirdo. Holding back a chuckle, I asked, "Oh, like Susan B. Anthony?"

 "Uh. No. Like Bethany Hamilton. And since you don't know who you'll be yet, you can be the shark. You have those shark pj's now. You can be the shark and we can make surf things and then tape my arm down."

Well, that was unexpected.

Sometimes things don't turn out quite the way we pictured or planned. Bethany Hamilton can testify to that while she tells her story of strength and determination. Sure, a shark ate her arm - but Bethany's story didn't end there. With relentless gumption, Bethany not only learned how to surf with one arm, she became a professional surfer, winning first place in national tournaments! That girl is inspiring. Perhaps tacky shark footie pj's and a taped down kiddo is not the best homage, but maybe to my sassy six-year-old it is an inspiring reminder that a sad story doesn't have to end there. To most kids, regardless of the hurt and horror, there is always hope. That's childlike faith, friends.

I am turning 31 this year. I remember a time when that sounded real old, but as I sit here, comfy and cozy in my cute (and real messy) house, I realize that getting older has been, well, really good for me. Sure, I hurt in places I didn't know I had places, but jeepers, I am happy. Oh, friends, it has not always been this way. If you want to hear stories of my hurts you can read my personal blog, http://awfulappealing.blogspot.com, but let me just tell you: I am one very depressing person. Honestly, I have spent my whole life afraid. I was afraid of what others thought of me. Afraid of my own truths. Afraid of what might happen. Afraid of what has happened. Just afraid. And like Master Yoda says, "Fear is the path to the Darkside. Anger leads to fear. Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

Thirty has had some major lessons for me, but I needed 30. The combo of a lack of vitamin D and what I like to call early-onset midlife crisis led me to wake up early one spring morning, get real weird and then cry. I think, to put it simply, I had just realized things are not as I planned. I am not an accomplished author. I don't have a useful trade or a marketable skill. I never even graduated college. I quit to work at a comic shop. I felt like I had nothing to show. I am a migraine-afflicted, sad kid. We live paycheck to paycheck and everyone I know has a lovely new living room set. My pride whined, "This isn't the M.A.S.H. life I planned in 4th grade!" I do not own a Skee-Ball machine and I never became the size 4 lounge-singing artist/archaeologist that owns a hip cereal/coffee bar and apothecary on the west coast. Actually, aside from my nose ring, none of my life looks like what I planned for myself.

But how could I have pictured such a perfect mate, such precious children and such a beautiful life?

Friends, I have a major pride problem, and pride is any form of self-absorption. I felt I deserved more, and by believing that lie, I cheated myself out of so much grace.

This year I got consumed by a whale. I am like Jonah. I know what I should do. I just choose to run the other way. I needed a low place where I could cry out, "All who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs" (Jonah 2:8).  My idols are what I think I deserve. My pride, my idols, keep me from contentment. The gifts and grace are all around me, but I am too busy holding onto dreams of crap that doesn't matter. Titles, stature, clothes, objects - stuff that is is obsolete. I am giving up grace for Skee-Ball! You see, sometimes when we feel the lowest, God can do the biggest things. I needed to break down. I needed to see that I am an idiot. I needed to know what pride is and I needed to see how it robbed me blind. When I got that figured out, I realized I could not do any of this without my God. I need a Savior.

So why on earth am I sharing with you my emotional instabilities? Because we all have to confront the looming giants in our life. We all have to be David before Goliath, but, and this is crucial: We do not go into battle alone. Sure, you might feel unprepared, but God gave you want you needed to defeat the enemy. You are thinking, "What, this little slingshot?" Yes. That is what it will take. Not the shields or the big swords - a teensy slingshot. You see, God doesn't pick the people, events or objects we choose to exalt. He picks the underdogs. The little guys. You. This means we have to face what we fear, boldly, with what we have been given. And when we are victorious, friends, we take the head of our defeated and dead enemy and carry it around. You tell everyone what God did. (Read that story in 1 Samuel 17 again. David carries the decapitated head around. It's gross and awesome.)

For me, God saved me from myself. My fear. My hurt. My anger. My depression. My pride. My idols. When I was able to let go of "how I thought it would be" I was able to finally embrace how fabulous my life really is. I needed to start stepping into my grace. I am aging. There. I said it. It's happening. Am I old? No. Am I getting older? Yes, and so are you. Thirty is a great place to adjust to the changes. I want to use Star Wars references here, but I'll use major car brands as points instead. Friends, we are not the fresh-off-the-line models anymore. For me, I am Volkswagen Westfalia. A Classic. Quirky, yes, but road tested, and clearly not without faults. Heck, some parts are rigged together just to work, but I am still here, chugging along at my own pace. Turning 30 has given me the platform I needed to observe this fact: I am not a Maserati, and I don't want to be. I do not need to keep up with the new versions, and I don't need to strive to look like them either. God has given me all I need. I was blinded by pride and couldn't see that, but this year has taught me that life-changing truth.

Believers, I want you to be victorious. Yes, you will have bad days. Yes, things will feel overwhelming, but with God we are more than conquerors. This year let's focus less on how we thought things would be, and rather on how they really are. Be honest. Get help if you need it. Help others if you can. Encourage and show others what you have defeated. That idea, or idol, you're holding onto, with white knuckles and shaking fists, is not what you need. You need to let go, open up, heal, be restored and be renewed. There is so much grace and love around you, but you are choosing to hold onto crap. Let go and get a hold of something honest, something real.

If Bethany Hamilton can win first at nationals with one arm, you can certainly let go with both of your arms and learn to embrace something better.