four-minute friday: bread butts

Go. I can't stand banana butts. Or hot dog butts. And I really don't like bread butts.

But I used to feel like I needed to be a bread butt martyr. I'd eat them, even though I hate them. Simply so someone else didn't need to. I'm realizing that I do that with a lot of things. I'll choose what I don't like if I feel that decision will be better for others in some way.

But I had an epiphany about the butts: Some sacrifices just don't need to be made.

Bread butts simply do not need to be eaten. By anyone. So I stopped taking one for the team and started giving the butts to the birds.

Everybody wins.

Done.

Your turn! Leave a four-minute comment about bread butts...

keepin' it fresh

Tomorrow is four-minute Friday. That means I start with Go and end with Done, and everything in between is written in four minutes. I typically choose a topic based on whatever's happening at the moment, and then just start typing. I've four-minuted about time zones, nicknames, and cereal. Music, hope, Isaiah 53, and ostriches.

Thanks to an inspiring housewarming gift, I'm gonna mix things up this week. You get to decide the topic of tomorrow's post.

So. What do want me to ramble about for four minutes? Give me as many suggestions as you've got.

coffee talk: exchanges

"They exchanged the truth of God for a lie..." And you know what? So have I.

• I've exchanged His truth that I'm loved freely for the lie that I need to earn it.
• I've exchanged His truth that He'll provide for the lie that I need to take care of myself.
• I've exchanged His truth that I'm free for the lie that I'm still in chains.
• I've exchanged His truth that He uses broken vessels for the lie that He'll only use me when I dot-dot-dot.
• I've exchanged His truth that I was made in His image for the lie that who I am just isn't enough.

What would you add to the list?

And how do we exchange them back?

i packed hope

I don't remember much of what I was thinking the day I arrived in Africa. I was only 19. But I do recall feeling tired and skudgey from my way-too-long flight. I'd crammed everything I thought I'd need into two suitcases---I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything crucial. I was surprised and disappointed to see who was there to meet my flight. The drive to my new home seemed long, and yet passed all too quickly.

I was nervous. Excited. Scared. Happy. Overwhelmed. All mixed into one.

But mostly I was hopeful. I felt confident I was where God wanted me to be, and I hoped He would somehow use me to make a big difference. I had no clue what that would look like. I didn't even know what I wanted to do; I was just there to serve.

And while I know God was clearly calling me to Africa, I'd be lying if I said it was solely my faith in Him that got me there. I think it was a cocktail of faith, naivety, passion, and foolishness that landed me in Africa that day. And I'm absolutely okay with that.

If I'd known how my life would unfold, would I have still boarded that flight? If I'd known all the trials and heartaches I'd face, would I have still followed in faith? If I'd known how many times I'd have to say goodbye to people I love... if I had any clue how the AIDS pandemic would touch my own life... if I foresaw the droughts, fires, and tight finances... if I really knew how big the responsibility and weight would end up being... would I still have been obedient to His call to "Go"?

I'd like to think I would have. But I honestly don't know. My passion and faith may have easily gotten swallowed up by fear and doubt.

Some times more than others, I am grateful He only gives me enough light for the next step.

eyes to see and ears to hear

Mary Magdalene was overwhelmed and confused when she discovered the empty tomb. Her bewilderment only compounded her grief, and she collapsed into tears. As she wept, her risen Savior appeared and stood beside her, but she didn't recognize Him. She looked at Him; she even talked to Him. But somehow she didn't realize Who was right in front of her eyes. I do the same thing far too often.

In my ignorance, busyness, and sometimes just the emotions of the moment, I easily miss Jesus when He's standing right in front of me. I simply don't realize it's Him---ever present, ever speaking. My eyes can be so blind that I miss Him in painted sunsets and unforeseen provision. My ears can be so deaf that I miss His voice in familiar Bible passages and the words of a friend.

Mary eventually recognized Him. You know what finally opened her eyes and ears?

"Jesus said to her, 'Mary.'"

He called her by name. His voice---His tender, powerful, matchless voice---uniquely calling her name was enough to make her realize He'd been beside her all along. Her blinders fell off; her ears were opened. She saw. She heard. She knew.

I desire to see the Lord in expected and unexpected places. I want to hear Him in common and uncommon ways. I need Him to open my eyes and unblock my ears.

Jesus, say my name!