Confessions + Me // Angry, Christian and Confessing

Confession: I have an anger problem.

Wow.

I bet you didn't see that coming, did you?

But I type the truth. I have an anger problem.

And to tell the truth, it's humbling. Beneath this combed, primed and sweet complexion is a woman who still needs to grow; a woman who yearns for authenticity; a woman whose blood boils when she doesn't get her way and whose frustrations rise when she loses an argument or is criticized.

For as long as I can remember I have struggled with anger; not the fist throwing, wall punching, bad-word saying anger. But the quiet, teary-eyed, throat burning, heart thumping anger that is still as much a sin as the first.

And, for the first time in my life, I want to face it. I want to call sin sin and then I want to call upon my Savior Who died for the fits of temper and wrath which can fill my heart. I want to grow.

I've surprised you, haven't I?

It's okay; I don't doubt it.

You see, my whole life I have learned to push away my feelings, my anger, my hurt, my wishes so that others might only see what I wanted them to see. In 5th grade it was a matter of hiding my hurt when I wasn't chosen for the team or group project; at 25 it's a matter of hiding my feelings when my husband asks me how I am or a friend disagrees with my opinion. You'd never know that there was more to my cool-as-a-cucumber outlook ... until I blow-up in a angry torrent of temper and attack. (I save that for my poor husband and family ... those special few who know me enough to look beneath the constant sweetness.)

There's a lot I want to write on and even more I want to mature in; I want to be real, authentic. Most of all, I want to be full of virtue, character -- to have a heart that reflects our Father God's.

And the first step was acknowledging that I didn't have it all together; that I, Frannie Anne Duncan, have an anger problem.

Thankfully, God's Word has a lot to say about this.

 

Thankfully, for me and all my fiery-tempered sisters and brothers out there, God never calls us to be or do what He will not equip us to be or do. That gives me hope. I can truly be tenderhearted and I can forgive. We can put away bitterness and evil speaking and anger.

 

What about you? Have you struggled with anger in your life (even if it's itsy bitsy?). How did you overcome?

 

With love, coffee and a rejoicing spirit,

Following God as Dear Children // Coffee Series

It's 9:30 am and glorious.

 

With birds singing, sun shining and a cup beside me I can't help but rejoice (even though I just dribbled coffee like a sprinkler down my dress and recliner ... woopsie!)

 

Above all the beauty and joy which I have described I am most thankful for the love of God. Often, I struggle with worry and fear; I introvert too much and spend days wondering if I am doing enough,  loving enough and following enough, if my walk with God is enough. Can you relate?

 

After weeks of fretting I began to ask God to work in me; to show me His love, to lead me away from any sin and to create in me a heart that loves Him. And while I feel that I'm not where I should be He has answered my prayers.

 

 

Being followers of Christ isn't about being good enough. For "Christ's sake, I am forgiven."

 

Loving the Heavenly Father isn't about following hard rules, strict obedience and bowing down to a wrathful judge (although obedience and justice is involved). It's about "walking in love, as Christ loved us."  

 

We're called to be followers of God, as dear children. A long time ago, I wrote a little piece on the definition of the word dearheart. As I look over it I see the phrase, "Highly valued; greatly beloved; cherished; precious." Following God isn't about following hard rules; it's about following Him as highly valued, greatly beloved children. If you are a follower of Christ, you are cherished, precious and your Heavenly Father will equip you to follow His ways fully and in love.

 

And that is the greatest reason for being happy today. The springtime weather, fresh coffee and singing birds are lovely, but having a God Who has forgiven me fully, loves me as a dear child and equips me to follow Him is why I sing today.

 

What lessons have you been learning lately? Do you ever struggle with introspective thoughts and have you found freedom in looking to Christ? I would love to learn from my fellow sisters and brothers in Christ. :)

 

With love, blessings and an (empty!) mug of coffee,

Let's Be Facebook Friends // Blog Growing Up

Dearest readers ...

I did a big thing.

A *big* thing. At least for me.

I made a Facebook page for Authentic Virtue; wow! I can't believe it either! :] I've been journaling, sharing and dreaming on this blog for five years (five years!) and so many of you have traveled along with me; some of you have been here since the beginning!

I would love for you to hop over to the official Authentic Virtue Facebook link, "like" and share. I yearn for this blog to become a place where friendship blossoms and fellowship is as natural as spring air. So, dear one, do jump over and make yourself known.

And let the fun commence!!

With lots of love and blessings,

 

Submission + Freedom Go Hand-in-Hand

photo credit  ♥

photo credit  ♥

"Submission leads to the awareness that happiness should not be based on whether we get our way."

Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline

 

Happy is the woman who treasures what God treasures. As I strive to be a Proverbs 31 woman I am challenged to (truly) believe that submission is a beautiful trait God values. It isn't the crushing, negative loss we're led to believe ... it is the "freedom from the need to always get my way." And, sweets, isn't it nice to know that we are free to not always have our way? I don't know about you, but I have ruined enough days battling for what I want.

 

So here's to submission: may we see the beauty, radiance, and freedom this God-treasured trait grants. And may sunshine and love fill your hearts today.

 

 

Calvary Love

Calvary Love

by

Amy Carmichael

If I have not compassion on my fellow-servant even as my Lord had pity on me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I belittle those whom I am called to serve, talk of their weak points in contrast perhaps with what I think of as my strong points; if I adopt a superior attitude, forgetting “Who made thee to differ? And what has thou that thou hast not received?” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can easily discuss the shortcomings and the sins of any; if I can speak in a casual way even of a child’s misdoings, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I find myself half-carelessly taking lapses for granted, “Oh, that’s what they always do,” “Oh, of course she talks like that, he acts like that,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I enjoy a joke at the expense of another; if I can in any way slight another in conversation, or even in thought, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can write an unkind letter, speak an unkind work, think an unkind thought without grief and shame, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not feel far more for the grieved Saviour than for my worried self when troublesome things occur, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I know little of His pitifulness (the Lord turned and looked upon Peter), if I know little of His courage of hopefulness for the truly humble and penitent (“He saith unto him, Feed My Lambs”), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I deal with wrong for any other reason than that implied in the words, “From His right hand went a fiery law for them. Yea, He loved the people”; if I can rebuke without a pang, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If, in dealing with one who does not respond, I weary of the strain, and slip from under the burden, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot bear to be like the father who did not soften the rigors of the far country; if, in this sense, I refuse to allow the law of God (the way of transgressors is hard) to take effect, because of the distress it causes me to see that law in operation, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am perturbed by the reproach and misunderstanding that may follow action taken for the good of souls for whom I must give account; if I cannot commit the matter and go on in peace and in silence, remembering Gethsemane and the Cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot catch “the sound of noise of rain”* long before the rain falls, and, going to some hilltop of the spirit, as near to my God as I can, have not faith to wait there with my face between my knees, though six times or sixty times I am told “there is nothing,” till at last “there arises a little cloud out of the sea,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

*1Kings 18:41

If my attitude be one of fear, not faith, about one who has disappointed me; if I say, “Just what I expected,” if a fall occurs, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not look with eyes of hope on all in whom there is even a faint beginning, as our Lord did, when, just after His disciples had wrangled about which of them should be accounted the greatest, He softened His rebuke with those heart-melting words, “Ye are they which have continued with Me in My temptations,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cast up a confessed, repented, and forsaken sin against another, and allow my remembrance of that sin to color my thinking and feed my suspicions, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I have not the patience of my Saviour with souls who grow slowly; if I know little of travail (a sharp and painful thing) till Christ be fully formed in them, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I sympathize weakly with weakness, and say to one who is turning back from the Cross, “Pity thyself”; if I refuse such a one the sympathy that braces and the brave and heartening word of comradeship, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot keep silence over a disappointing soul (unless for the sake of that soul’s good or for the good of others it be necessary to speak), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can hurt another by speaking faithfully without much preparation of spirit, and without hurting myself far more than I hurt that other, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am afraid to speak the truth, lest I lose affection, or lest the one concerned should say, “You do not understand,” or because I fear to lose my reputation for kindness; if I put my own good name before the other’s highest good, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am content to heal a hurt slightly, saying “Peace, peace,” where is no peace; if I forget the poignant word “Let love be without dissimulation” and blunt the edge of truth, speaking not right things but smooth things, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I fear to hold another to the highest goal because it is so much easier to avoid doing so, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I hold on to choices of any kind, just because they are my choice; if I give any room to my private likes and dislikes, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I put my own happiness before the well-being of the work entrusted to me; if, though I have this ministry and have received much mercy, I faint, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am soft to myself and slide comfortably into the vice of self-pity and self-sympathy; if I do not by the grace of God practice fortitude, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve round myself; if I am so occupied with myself I rarely have “a heart at leisure from itself,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

IF, the moment I am conscious of the shadow of self crossing my threshold, I do not shut the door, and in the power of Him who works in us to will and to do, keep that door shut, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot in honest happiness take the second place (or the twentieth); if I cannot take the first without making a fuss about my unworthiness, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If, when I am able to discover something which has baffled others, I forget Him who revealeth the deep and secret things, and knoweth what is in the darkness and showeth it to us; if I forget that it was He who granted that ray of light to His most unworthy servant, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot be at rest under the Unexplained, forgetting the word, “And blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in Me:’ of if I can allow the least shadow of misunderstanding, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not give a friend “the benefit of the doubt,” but put the worst construction instead of the best on what is said or done, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I take offense easily, if I am content to continue in a cool unfriendliness, though friendship be possible, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love.*

*For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water however suddenly jolted.

If I feel injured when another lays to my charge things that I know not, forgetting that my Sinless Saviour trod this path to the end, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I feel bitterly towards those who condemn me, as it seems to me, unjustly, forgetting that if they knew me as I know myself they would condemn me much more, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I say, “Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget,” as though the God who twice day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If one whose help I greatly need appears to be as content to build in wood, hay, stubble, as in gold, silver, precious stones, and I hesitate to obey my light and do without that help because so few will understand, then, I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the care of a soul (or a community) be entrusted to me, and I consent to subject it to weakening influences, because the voice of the world – my immediate Christian world – fills my ears, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If by doing some work which the undiscerning consider “not spiritual work” I can best help others, and I inwardly rebel, thinking it is the spiritual for which I crave, when in truth it is the interesting and exciting, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If monotony tries me, and I cannot stand drudgery; if stupid people fret me and little ruffles set me on edge; if I make much of the trifles of life, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am inconsiderate about the comfort of others, or their feelings, or even of their little weaknesses; if I am careless about their little hurts and miss opportunities to smooth their way; if I make the sweet running of household wheels more difficult to accomplish, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If interruptions annoy me, and private cares make me impatient; if I shadow the souls about me because I myself am shadowed, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it, because the spirit of discernment is not in me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If there be any reserve in my giving to Him who so loved that He gave His Dearest for me; if there be a secret “but” in my prayer, “anything but that, Lord,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I become entangled in any “inordinate affection”; if things or places or people hold me back from obedience to my Lord, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If something I am asked to do for another feels burdensome; if, yielding to an inward unwillingness, I avoid doing it, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the praise of man elates me and his blame depresses me; if I cannot rest under misunderstanding without defending myself; if I love to be loved more than to love, to be served more than to serve, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I crave hungrily to be used to show the way to liberty to a soul in bondage, instead of caring only that it is be delivered; if I nurse my disappointment when I fail, instead of asking that to another the word of release may be given, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I want to be known as the doer of something that has proved the right thing, or as the one who suggested that it should be done, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not forget about such a trifle as personal success, so that it never crosses my mind, or if it does, is never given a moment’s room there; if the cup of spiritual flattery tastes sweet to me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If it be not simple and a natural thing to say, “Enviest thou for my sake? Would God that all the Lord’s people were prophets,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

IF in the fellowship of service I seek to attach a friend to myself, so that others are caused to feel unwanted; if my friendships do not draw others deeper in, but are ungenerous (to myself, for myself), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I refuse to allow one who is dear to me to suffer for the sake of Christ, if I do not see such suffering as the greatest honor that can be offered to any follower of the Crucified, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I slip into the place that can be filled by Christ alone, making myself the first necessity to a soul instead of leading it to fasten upon Him, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If my interest in the work of others is cool; if I think in terms of my own special work; if the burdens of others are not my burdens too, and their joys mine, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If, when an answer I did not expect comes to a prayer which I believed I truly meant, I shrink back from it; if the burden my Lord asks me to bear be not the burden of my heart’s choice, and I fret inwardly and do not welcome His will, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I avoid being “ploughed under,” with all that such ploughing entails of rough handling, isolation, uncongenial situations, strange tests, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I wonder why something trying is allowed, and press for prayer that it may be removed; if I cannot be trusted with any disappointment, and cannot go on in peace under any mystery, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I make much of anything appointed, magnify it secretly to myself or insidiously to others; if I let them think it “hard,” if I look back longingly upon what used to be, and linger among the byways of memory, so that my power to help is weakened, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the love that “alone maketh light of every heavy thing, and beareth evenly every uneven thing” is not my heart’s desire, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I refuse to be a corn of wheat that falls into the ground and dies (“is separated from all in which it lived before”), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I ask to be delivered from trial rather than for deliverance out of it, to the praise of His glory; if I forget that the way of the Cross leads to the Cross and not to a bank of flowers; if I regulate my life on these lines, or even unconsciously my thinking, so that I am surprised when the way is rough, and think it strange, though the word is, “Think it not strange,” “Count it all joy,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the ultimate, the hardest, cannot be asked of me; if my fellows hesitate to ask it and turn to someone else, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the Cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

That which I know not, teach Thou me, O lord, my God.

It seems a little harsh, Miss Carmichael's words, grabbing my little, self-loving heart and shaking it about with truth. Yet, I want to know this Calvary Love--this love which is real and genuine and truly practical. Thank goodness, by His might, our Father continually seeks to lead us to this sort of practical, world-changing holiness.

Stuck in Dreams

Via

        

         I’m a dreamer; an ISFJ to be precise. What’s that mean? It partly means I find more pleasure and enjoyment in the idea of a thing to the thing itself.

For instance, I find great delight in the idea of spending the day on our pond; it’s rather lovely, my idea. It goes like this: Me, beautifully arrayed, sitting in our silver boat. I float about reading my latest find while eating an apple just like Anne of Green Gable would do. After a while I let my hair down and I just know that the scene is as pretty as a picture.

          In reality I’m sitting in a rusty boat on a murky pond and I’m sweating buckets. My half eaten apple has long turned brown and the gnats love to swarm about my tangled, wind-tossed hair.

          Reality isn’t nearly as pretty as I pictured.

          The problem isn’t that I’m dreamy. I believe God made me this way for His glory. He knows that His church needs both practical, down-to-earth realists as well as the reaching-for-the-stars dreamers. He makes all things work for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

          The problem is how I let my preference for the idea become more important, more engaging, than the idea itself. We all know of the sincere Christian who dreams of becoming a missionary yet fearfully refuses to speak of Christ to his college peers or the young lady who dreams of running the picture-perfect home yet refuses to be a blessing where she is at now. They’re in love with the dream while they shirk the hands-on, practical necessaries.

          What then can we dreamers do? Throw out our ideals? Never. Instead let’s put our hand to the plow. Has God given you the desire (dream) for a more active, powerful prayer life? Then spend time in prayer. Have you been inspired to get into shape? Then by all means, put that on-sale Valentine candy back on the shelf. Are you dreaming of running a home of your own one day? Then practice the virtues of a servant.

Making dreams reality only happens when we are willing to do the hard things.

Ugh. I hate doing the hard things. But what I hate even more is never growing because I’m too busy dreaming.  Too busy wishing I was a better Christian, witness, daughter, student and friend . . .

Oh, Papa, teach me to be content with where I am at and to put into action the beautiful dreams you give.

Yours forever dreamy,

          Frannie


 P.S. I know, I know. Writing about being Beatrix Potter one moment and then writing about reality the next . . . can this girl ever find balance?

One  day in glory I will. Until then laugh and bear with me.  :)

Why I {Don't} Love Downton Abbey

 

It really is quite brilliant, Downton Abbey. Full of beautiful people, props, and enchanting gowns. The plot is suspenseful; will Mary and Matthew ever marry? What will happen to the inheritance? The creators of the show have done an excellent job captivating audiences of all kinds including Christians.

And so, here I am stepping upon my soap box. I promise I’ll not dictate an hour from “Frannie’s Book of Sermons” but only offer a bit of encouragement.  

Lately, I have seen a huge explosion of Downton Abbey interest from fellow believers. And sisters, I understand why you love the show. However, I am distressed. Why? Because I feel we are filling our hearts with a lot of evil for a little bit of good.

After a couple shared how wonderful the series was I eagerly awaited the moment I could watch it. Immediately I was enthralled with it; the costumes, the romance, and the history really is quite enchanting. I watched two seasons.

But I had to quickly hide my eyes when Thomas, the homosexual servant, tried to kiss a fellow man. And I shared Mary’s shame as she nearly gave her virginity away and then was forced into a life of lies and guilt. I felt peculiar when I tried to explain the plot to my mom and sister; I was a little embarrassed that I had to say I was enjoying a show with so much filth in it. “You just have to watch it for yourself,” I’d say. “I know it sounds weird but really . . . it is good.”

I canceled season three from Netflix.

I just don’t think the Son of God, who was with me as I watched the show, was honored. I believe the Spirit of God who is in me was not blessed or lifted high.

I just want to encourage better choices, dear sisters. I know; there really is some good in the show. But let’s choose the best. Let’s choose to invest our time, affections, and memories in to things which are pure and virtuous and of good report.

With a loving heart,

Frannie

A Little Nugget from Mr. Chambers

Look'ee Here!

“By the Grace of God I Am What I Am”

“By the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain…”

1 Corinthians 15:10

The way we continually talk about our own inabilities is an insult to our Creator. To complain over our incompetence is to accuse God falsely of having overlooked us. Get into the habit of examining from God’s perspective those things that sound so humble to men. You will be amazed at how unbelievably inappropriate and disrespectful they are to Him. We say things such as, “Oh, I shouldn’t claim to be sanctified; I’m not a saint.” But to say that before God means “No Lord, it is impossible for you to save and sanctify me; there are opportunities I have not had and so many imperfections in my brain and body; no, Lord, it isn’t possible.” That may sound wonderfully humble to others, but before God it is an attitude of defiance.

Conversely, the things that sound humble before God may sound exactly the opposite before people. To say, “Thank God, I know I am saved and sanctified,” is in God’s eyes the purest expression of humility. It means you have so completely surrendered yourself to God that you know He is true. Never worry about whether what you say sounds humble before others or not. But always be humble before God, and allow Him to be your all in all.

There is only one relationship that really matters, and that is your personal relationship to your personal Redeemer and Lord. If you maintain that at all costs, letting everything else go, God will fulfill His purpose through your life. One individual life may be of priceless value to God’s purposes, and yours may be that life.

November 30^th

 

Chambers, Oswald. My Utmost for His Highest. Discovery House Publishers, 1995. Print.

 

 

Bits of Love

VIA

“But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.” Isaiah 43:1

 

I see a few bits of love in this verse.

·         “the Lord that created thee,”

You were created.

Not thrown together; not an accident, not a happenstance of nature. Your skin tone, toes, hair strands, and mitochondria were all created.

 

·         “O, Jacob,”

I use to wonder why on earth God would insist on addressing Himself as, “the God of Jacob.” Couldn’t He have chosen someone more worthy; someone like Enoch? Instead, He chooses Jacob: liar, thief, despiser of Leah, father who plays favorites . . .

And then it hit me. He chooses people like Jacob—liars, thieves, and all other sinners to be known as His people.

 

·         “O Israel,”

The Bible is overflowing with charming, delightful descriptions of the Israelites . . . right?

Actually, most of the time, the stories are full of a hard-hearted, faithless people and yet God insists on being associated with them. He insists on being what they need.

 

·         “Fear not:”

I’m reminded of the verse in I John (I believe) which says that perfect love casts out fear and also of I Timothy which says that we are not given a spirit of fear.

 

·         “for I have redeemed thee,

Why not be afraid? Because if you are a follower of Jesus you have been redeemed.

 Bought.

Forgiven.

And being redeemed is the greatest key to defeating fear; fear of death, guilt, and shame.

 

·         “I have called thee by thy name;”

Yes, He calls us by our names. The God of the constellations, of Niagara Falls, of the Amazon jungle, of the Milky Way calls you by your name.

 

·         “thou art mine.”

And He owns you, holds you, in the very hands which fashioned our universe and the plan to redeem it.

 

“But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.” Isaiah 43:1

 

What an amazing and merciful God we serve! Let’s make Him known with the same love His given us!

♥,

Frannie

The Glories of Being Awkward

It seems I am a winner in only one thing in life.

            Multiplication Races: FAIL

            Knitting anything: FAIL

            Piano playing: FAIL

            Acting: FAIL

            Gardening: FAIL

            Running: EPIC FAIL

Awkwardly enough, I think the only award I could ever fairly win in this life is the Awkward Award (they make those, right?). I know it’s hard for you to accept, loyal readers, but I really am terribly awkward. YES, I do get sweaty palms when nervous. YES, I do swallow loudly. YES, I do fold my arms up and act like an prude when meeting a new guy. YES, I do struggle starting conversations.  YES, the conversations I enjoy tend to be awkward embracing the subjects of either spiritual matters or bodily refluxes. (It’s the strangest thing, but it seems most people have an aversion to either of those choices).

            I’ve spent years of my life bemoaning the fact that my awkward behavior was even more apparent due to the fact that I had such an awkward nose,  my hair shot out awkwardly as if I was related Einstein, and that I was “physically matured” by the time I entered 5^th grade (which really can be awkward).

            Thankfully, I’ve learned a few things since 5^th grade which have made my life a little less . . . stressful.

1)     Embrace the awkwardness. That’s right, embrace the fact that you were made different. Cherish those differences. For example, I’ve attended Christian school, public school, and the prestigious Halbert Academy (a.k.a. homeschool). Consequently, I don’t really fit in anywhere . . . and yet I fit in with anyone. It used to bother me; now, I see it as a blessing.

 

2)   Embrace your Creator. "This is what the LORD says--your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb: I am the LORD, who has made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself,” Isaiah 44:24.  Embrace the God Who wants to embrace you. Who claims you.

 

3)   Embrace others and their awkwardness. We love when others accept us (and all our weirdness). Let’s love our neighbor as ourselves and choose to be accepting. Now, I’m not talking about accepting sin but rather accepting the person you happen upon and all their glorious peculiarities.

 

4)   Look beyond yourself. Ultimately, we need to look past ourselves. I’ve found that whenever I freak out over pimples, mistakes, or perceived awkward moments I’m not really looking to God—I’m practicing self-love. Idolatry. And it wounds me every time.

 

Learning to see the beauty of being different,

      Frannie

 

 

P.S. I think God is worshipped when we chose to accept what He has done; what thinkest thou?