three-minute thursday: take 19

Go. I spent four hours in a studio today shooting a new promo video for Thrive. And I've gotta tell you -- I am juiced right now!

I went into this thing feeling kinda nervous about it. Intimidated by it really. I've done this sorta thing before, but never by myself. And for someone who tends to shy away from the proverbial spotlight, being in a literal spotlight all by my lonesome can be pretty nerve-wracking.

But then I got there. And we started brainstorming. And story-boarding. And talking vision.

And everything changed.

Granted, I was still nervous. And some things took more takes than I'd like because I'd speak too fast, or trip over my own words, or wiggle my arms or legs too much. And there were times I had to say "Just wait a sec" while I took a minute to think through what I wanted to say. But the producer always knew when I was ready. He said he could see me get my game face on and inevitably the very next take would be the one.

I can honestly say I had a blast today.

Because I seriously love talking about Thrive Africa.

Done.

denying myself

Jesus said, "Deny yourself and follow Me." But instead, I've denied myself for everybody but Him.

I've sacrificed myself to follow my husband. To lead my ministry. For the sake of my family. For the love of my friends.

I've gotten really good at self-sacrifice. So good, that I readily throw myself under the bus to keep peace. I take responsibility for others' wrongdoing when they're not willing to own it themselves.

My life has been marked by the belief that I am third, which translates into putting myself last---always. I've spent my entire life apologizing for being me.

I've been denying myself.

But I haven't been denying myself to follow Christ.

I've been denying myself to follow others. To simply be seen, rather than invisible. To receive love. To avoid rejection.

And in doing so, I handed the reins of my life over to everyone around me. I surrendered the control of my life to others.

I'm tired of denying myself for all the wrong reasons.

I want to live surrendered. But I want only to surrender to God.

He is the only One worth denying myself for.

casting my cares

"Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." I know that. Cognitively. He cares for me. He cares about what I care about. I should cast my anxiety upon Him. All too often, though, I subconsciously take the word cast to mean the same as it does in fishing. I give it to God, but I'm still hanging on to the other end. As far as I throw it, as much as I give it over, it's still attached to me. Because I'm holding on tight.

"But I gave it to God..." I try to convince myself. Meanwhile I'm poised and ready to reel it back in whenever I want. And reel I do. I decide to take it back from God's hands. Which means I think it's better off in my capable hands than in His.

Oh to be so smug.

I looked up the word cast in the dictionary. When it's not referring to fishing, it means to get rid of, to discard, to throw off or throw away; to hurl or fling.

I need to let that sink in a bit. I need to let it sink in a lot.

When I give something to God, I need to hurl it at Him (He can handle the blow), get rid of it (forever), throw it off me (with as much vigor as I can muster). And then I need to leave it there. For good.

Sigh...

"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you..."

I'm trying...

[originally posted on this day two years ago]

four-minute friday: ED

Go. I hate pharmaceutical commercials.

One came on the other day when I was watching TV with 14-year-old K. Suddenly the room was flooded with phrases like prostate cancer, impotence, and erectile dysfunction. I silently prayed that K wasn't paying attention.

Sure enough...

"What's a prostate?"

My eyes widened. I maybe even gasped.

"Well, it's a gland that only guys have because it's inside them in their... in their..." I opted for gestures instead of words.

Now it was K's turn for the wide-eyed gasp. Followed by a squeal and some "I wish I didn't know that" groans.

But I got off easy.

She could've asked me what erectile dysfunction is.

Done.

four-minute friday: fleece is my favorite comfort food

Go. I've been in DC since Wednesday. That was a hard day for me. Even as I type that, I can't help but sigh with my eyes closed. All I wanted to do was wrap up in a warm cozy fleece. But I don't have one. (Not with me in America anyway.)

As I waited for my flight I tweeted that fleece is the clothing equivalent of comfort food. I would've bought one right then if I could.

Instead my friend loaned me one the moment I arrived in DC.

It felt like a hug I could wear all day.

I needed that.

Never mind the fact that it's ridiculously cold here. At least compared to the HTL. Mmmhmm. I just combined Hotlanta and The ATL to form my own brand new nickname for my current hometown.

So I'll keep borrowing a fleece.

To stay warm and keep my heart feeling as hugged as possible.

From DC to the HTL.

Done.