Heart for Sale

When I lived in New Orleans, some of the women there began a ministry to women working in the sex industry. The ladies involved walk the streets of the French Quarter, building relationships with the dancers in the clubs, the bouncers, and even the club owners. They are doing a beautiful thing by loving these girls where they are, with a gift or maybe just a smile, and blanketing Bourbon Street and the rest of the Quarter in prayer. Their task is not easy. But those girls are worth the risk. 

When I hear the word ‘prostitution’ my mind paints a picture of what I’ve just described: people in dark rooms or on dark streets selling sex for money. We sometimes hear prostitution described as “the world’s oldest profession.” But there are other types of prostitution.

In Genesis 15, God made a binding covenant with Abram. He promised that Abram would give birth to a nation whose people would outnumber the stars in the night sky. God made good on His promise to Abram, and several generations later Abram’s descendants outnumbered the stars in the sky. Exodus 1:7 tells us “the Israelites were fruitful and multiplied greatly and became exceedingly numerous, so that the land was filled with them.”

But as the Israelites became a great nation, they forgot about their covenant with the One True God. They hadn’t so much as gotten out of sight of the Red Sea (remember that one time when y’all walked across on dry land?) when they crafted a golden calf idol to worship while Moses was on Mt. Sinai with the Lord. Over and over (and over) we see the Israelites turning from God in disbelief or impatience and worshipping other things. It’s easy to look back on that and think, “Silly Israelites. Don’t you know that the Almighty God is on your side? I would never be that spineless.”  But oh, we are. And in a thousand more subtle ways.

The more I read of the Old Testament, the more I see the big picture: God provides for His people who promise to love and serve Him forever-- or just until, you know, they forget about that promise. Then they turn to some other idol, and God in righteous anger allows the Israelites to suffer until they return to Him. Over and over the Israelites sell out to other gods. Over and over He takes them back.

God is still doing this for us: He sees us in our sin and redeems us and offers us life with Him. But before long we turn our backs on Him. Some girls prostitute their bodies. So many more of us prostitute our hearts. How many of us seek the applause of others? Our need for the approval of others goes to our very core. We lay our hearts on the line asking of anyone who will listen, “Am I enough for you?” While the One of whom we should be asking these questions waits patiently for us to turn to Him.

Inevitably, we get hurt. Maybe then we turn to God. But soon, we follow the lure of the world away from the safety of His arms, and we get our hearts broken again. I can only imagine how much it pains our Father to watch us cast out our hearts like a fisherman casting his line, waiting and hoping for a bite. We do this over and over, after each disappointment reeling our hearts back in a little more broken, a little more bruised. Can temporary applause satisfy our heart’s longing to be loved unconditionally? Of course not.

 Oh girls, we were created for so much more than what we have become. I think God must weep when He sees His daughters hurting because we have sold our hearts at a price that is far too cheap.

I would not speak about this prostitution of the heart if I was not a repeat offender. Over and over in my own life I have looked for fulfillment everywhere but my Heavenly Father. And I am here to tell you that apart from Him, it is not to be found. True fulfillment, true wholeness, is found in Jesus alone. Not in your boyfriend/husband or your bestie or your mentor. Acts 4:12 tells us, “There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."

So let’s stop selling our hearts to those who mean well but who just cannot meet our soul’s deepest need.  The One who fearfully and wonderfully made us loves us like no one else can. He deserves our hearts. More than that, He wants our hearts. The promise He makes us is one that no one else can make: He will never leave us.

CC

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

Rescue

I am not an animal person. If you know me, you know this about me. Especially if you know me and you have animals and I have been to your house. It’s not that I hate animals—I don’t. I just don’t like your dog’s wet nose leaving snot on my pants. And I don’t like feeling the need to wash my hands every 30 seconds. It’s not personal. It’s really not. But animals have this way of knowing when you aren’t an animal person, and it becomes their life’s mission to convince you otherwise. Well not me. Sorry, Kobi.

However, I do enjoy looking at animals. I love the zoo. I like pet stores. And I enjoy watching animal videos. There was one that went viral last week of a biker getting plowed by a leaping antelope. One of my ultimate favorite Youtube videos is called “BBC Talking Animals.” I nearly choke to death every time because I’m laughing so hard.

Today I came across another animal video. It was of a guy on a motorcycle traveling down a dirt road and wearing a helmet camera. There are fields on his left and a canal full of water on his right. If you’re paying attention and you look at just the right moment, you can see a speck in the canal at one point. He turns his bike around and goes back to where you may or may not have spotted the speck. It turns out the speck is a calf. Alone, wet, and lost, she has no way of getting herself out of the canal.

The driver hops off of his motorcycle and pulls out, essentially, a rope. Clearly this tells you that the driver was a man, because only a man would just happen to have the tools needed to rescue a farm animal. If the calf had had some sort of stubborn grass stain, I could’ve come to the rescue with a Tide stick. Or if the calf had had chapped lips, I could’ve offered 6 different glosses in varying shades and textures. But a tow rope? Sorry, it’s in my other purse with my monkey wrench (I don’t actually know what this is) and my WD-40.

First, MacGuyver tries to get to the calf without getting in the canal but he quickly realizes that in order to rescue her, he’s going to have to get wet. So he climbs down into the canal with the calf, ties the rope to her, climbs out of the canal, and drags her out by her front feet. He then picks her up, lays her across the front part of his motorcycle, and drives her back to the herd.

I love how God can use a video about a lost baby cow to speak truth into my heart. This poor animal was lost and alone. It was only by chance that the driver even spotted her in the canal. But miraculously, he did spot her and even more miraculously, he came to her rescue. How humbling it is that God does this for us! He sees us in our distress and instead of staying where he is and demanding that we come to him, he meets us where we are. He climbs down into the smelly, muddy waters with us. He doesn’t give up, no matter how much we fight him or how complicated our situation is.  He rescues us and, in those moments when we are too weary to walk, he carries us.

I know what it is to feel lost in the wilderness. I know what it is to feel unseen and unnoticed. But praise God that even darkness is as light to him (Psalm 139). When I’m blinded by my own despair, my Father can see the big picture. I may not know my rescuer is coming, but he knew all along that I was meant for more than drowning in a stinky canal. My rescue is sure. My hope is secure. And so is yours.

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Psalm 103:2-5:
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good things, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Psalm 34:17-18:
The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Lyla's Letter

This past week, my bff Jenni had a baby. Jenni and I were roommates my senior year of college. The two of us plus two other wonderful women, my friends Lindsey and Micah, make up a foursome we nicknamed the Bumpass Belles. The story of how the Belles came to be is for another day, though.

Jenni and her husband Jonathan decided not to find out the baby’s sex, which has been no small torture to those of us who wanted to know whether we should buy pink or blue. So when the time came for the baby to be born, there was more than the usual anticipation. We waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, we received word that the baby had arrived. Jonathan stuck his head out of the delivery room and announced to those of us gathered around the door, “it’s a girl!” We. Went. Crazy!

An hour or so later, Jonathan placed little Lyla Nicole in my arms for the first time. As I looked into her sweet face, I came unglued! Through my tears, I held her and praised God for this tiny miracle.

The next day I bought Lyla a copy of the book “On the Night You Were Born,” a beautiful children’s story written/illustrated by Nancy Tillman. The book’s final stanza reads: “Heaven blew every trumpet/and played every horn/on the wonderful, marvelous/night you were born.” The last page of the book reads: “You are loved.”

In the back of the book, I wrote Lyla a note telling her about the day she came into the world (including an Arkansas State Red Wolves win!).  I told her that there has never been a moment when she has not been loved, that there has never been a day when she has not been prayed for. I also told her that my prayer for her life is that she would grow up to love and serve the Lord like her parents do. I want Lyla to know that she is loved by the people in her life. But above all else I want her to know that she is loved by our Heavenly Father, her Creator and the One who loves her best, and I want her to love Him back.

It means the world to me to be able to speak these words over Lyla’s life. It is my hope that her parents will read it to her, and then once she is able to read my note on her own, that it will encourage her in her walk with the Lord. I want her to know that the love of family and friends is precious but incomparable to the love of God. This is a lesson that I am still learning in my own life, and while it is not an easy one to learn, it has the power to change everything about the way we live.

Can we speak these truths to our little sisters? Can we take them by the hand and tell them about the all-surpassing love of Christ? That is what I want my life to be about. I want to leave this world knowing that I have nothing left to give, that I have left all of my human love and affection behind, still living in the hearts of those who needed the encouragement. I want my life’s message to be, “it may not have been easy, but it was worth it.” And I want to proclaim that message with my arms around those girls with damaged hearts. Because let’s face it, who among us is not damaged in some way?

May we be on the lookout for our sisters who need a reminder that they are loved, and may we always point them to the love of Christ.

CC

A New Coat of Paint

About a month ago, I moved into a new apartment. I was SO excited about decorating my bedroom because for several months now, I’ve had a vision of a very feminine, very fancy purple and white bedroom. Part of the preparation for moving meant that I would need to re-paint my antique iron bed. I woke up one Saturday feeling ambitious, so I got out in the backyard with my bed, some sandpaper, and a can of white spray paint.

Have you ever sanded anything? It’s not fun. It’s hard work, for one. Second, the little sand granules come off and get stuck between your toes, because you are wearing flip-flops because you didn’t know how dirty your feet were going to get. Because unlike Jesus, you are not a carpenter.  So, I’m sanding. I’m sweating (because it’s August in Arkansas) and I’m sanding. And as I sanded away at the spots where the previous coat of paint had chipped away, the Holy Spirit began showing me something. In order to put a new coat of paint on this old, rusty bed, I have to make the rough places smooth. If I don’t, the new paint won’t stick. And I can’t just sand the big spots, I have to hit every crevice and curve of this piece of furniture to ensure that it is ready for the white paint.

As I rubbed the sandpaper into even the unnoticeable corners, I thought—this reminds me of what God does with our hearts. He takes us as we are—chipped, beat up, flaky, and having seen better days. And then He begins His restorative work in our hearts. And it is painful. If my iron bed could talk (which would probably mean I’m having some sort of spray-paint fume-induced hallucination) I’m sure it would have given voice to some painful moments as I scrubbed away with the sandpaper. But that was the only way to make smooth the rough places. I knew how great my bed was going to look once I finished my work on it. I did it to improve the overall appearance and value of this piece of furniture. But I first had to expose the weak spots so that I could repair them.

Doesn’t God have this way of doing that to us? I don’t know about you, but my weak spots seem to get a lot of scrubbing with sandpaper. Part of me thinks that getting a rubdown with actual sandpaper might be less painful than the figurative scrubbing that I sometimes receive. Broken relationships. Feelings that are hurt too easily. Insecurity. Fear of rejection. And all of that, sometimes, before lunch.

So where is the hope for those of us with chipped paint? Our hope comes from knowing that we have a Master who wants us, who values us even when we are rusty, old and flaky. He can see past our problems to our potential. Though we can’t see past our circumstances, He can see the end result of his vigorous restoration of our lives, and He won’t give up until His vision is accomplished. It’s scary. No one likes to have our wounds rubbed raw. But if we belong to Christ, we must trust in our Master’s vision for our lives.  It is not easy. But it is worth it.

CC