Failure Does Not Equal Death.

When you wake up in the morning, what is it that you wish you could do?

When you are getting ready for work, what is your mind REALLY occupied with?

What is that thing, above all other ideas and tasks and jobs, that gets your blood rushing and your adrenaline up? That thing that when you think about it, you get lost in a day dream, and when you actually get a free moment to spend time doing it, you lose track of time?

What are you passionate about?

And why aren’t you living that passion out?

Every person I have ever encountered that is not doing what they love almost always answers me with one or more of these three things:

“Well, it’s just not very practical.”

“There’s not really any money in that.”

“My spouse/family/friends wouldn’t understand or approve.”

Here’s the common denominator that anchors all of these excuses to our hearts: FEAR.

Fear tells us that our dreams are only just that: dreams. They aren’t meant to make into a reality. They are simply there to make us feel better, nothing more. Taking it any further would just end in failure, because it’s not what practical adults do.

Fear loves to ask, “how are you going to pay your bills doing that? That’s going to take a lot of sacrifice, and sacrifice is not your strong point. It’s just too hard. People are going to think you are ridiculous for not making every dollar you could possibly make.”

Fear insists that you think about the possible disapproval of your loved ones, and how you just can’t handle that. You’ve tried to make them understand before, but they just don’t get it, so why bother?

All of that is crap. Fear is a liar. I mean, I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it until we all finally BELIEVE THIS CRUCIAL TRUTH.

We were created in the image of our CREATOR. We have the create ingredient in us.

There’s a strange, unexplainable and euphoric joy that comes from doing, making, creating something with your own hands (or minds), isn’t there?

That’s part of that image-bearer in us. And what’s so incredible, what makes me want to fall on my face in worship right now, is that there are millions of us, with millions of different passions and abilities lying in hibernation, waiting to be awakened and put to use for our joy, the continued restoration and redemption of our world and ultimately God’s glory.

So let me ask you again: Why aren’t you living that passion out?

If you just exist each day in the mind set that if you try, you might fail, then you are going to live a very sad life. It’s that simple.

Failure ≠ Death.

Failure = A First, Second, Third, Fourth Try.

In the ridiculous but somewhat insightful words of Pink (or whoever it is that writes her songs), “…but just because it burns, doesn’t mean you are gonna die, you gotta get up and try try try.”

Awakening that passion may mean that you are going to be really poor. It may mean selling your nice car and driving an old clunker around. It may mean eating out less and cooking beans and rice more. It may mean shredding your credit card so that you stop spending loads of money you don’t have. It may mean that even though you have to turn all the lights off in your house to lower the energy bill, you paint incredible masterpieces by candle light.

Your passion is worth it.

It may mean that you die the “American Dream” and sell everything you have and move to Nakuru, Kenya so that you can love motherless babies and make soap.

Your passion is worth it.

It may mean going to school for something so specific and risky, instead of being an accountant like your dad wants you to be.

Your passion is worth it.

It may mean that you try, and fail, and try and fail, and try and fail…. and then finally succeed.

Your passion is worth it.

No more excuses, ok? Stop cheating yourself and everyone around you out of your God-given and beautiful abilities.

Do. Make. Create.

Fear is a liar. Repeat that in your head as many times as necessary.


The Blanton Wedding: Peach in the Fall

If there is anything to be thankful for right now (and the list is very long ) it’s that I have good friends.

Nick and Camillia got married on November 10th in Daniel’s parent’s backyard. It was an intimate affair with only a few friends, and the weather could not have been more perfect.

It was quite possibly one of the sweetest weddings I’ve ever had the honor of being a part of. And, truthfully, I’m kind of starting to lose count. It’s like once you hit your mid 20’s, you might as well plan on going to at least one wedding a month. But this one was good for the heart.

Break All My Bones Part 3: He Doesn’t Just Tolerate Me.

I love Abram.

I’m not in love with his potential.

I’m  not in love with the idea of a better Abram.

I’m not in love with the thought of his future maturity.

I just love Abram, more than can be explained in words. Whether he is destroying the house or being a tiny gentleman.

I love him even when he pokes me in the eye with one of his toy dinosaurs and makes me go blind for a few moments.

I love him even when I have had barf, poop, pee and snot on my at the same time before 9 am.

I  love him when he reaches for a hug and says “momma,” and I love him when I ask him to come to me and he defiantly says “nope.”

These are all obvious things.

Why, then, do we cheapen the gospel and God’s ferocious and unexplainable love for us by trying really hard to be better and avoiding God when we fail?

God doesn’t tolerate me in the hopes that one day I will put my big girl pants on and get my shit together.

He loves me, even though I am constantly putting my foot in my mouth.

He loves me, even though I verbally and mentally crucified someone two nights ago, and repented in devastation yesterday morning upon learning about that persons situation.

He loves me on the days that I wake up and everything is beautiful and bright.

He loves me on the days that I wake up and feel dark, angry and depressed for no explainable reason.

He loves me even though I can’t seem to be a better stuart with my money.

He loves me, even when he nudges my soul each day to come talk to him, and I respectfully decline.

He loves me when I have a day that I’m not worshiping my idols.

He loves when I go through several days of refusing to surrender my idols.

Every imperfection on my face- He loves me.

Every hair that falls out from stress- He loves me.

Every body part that I wish I had more or less of- He loves me.

When my sinuses are infected and I am in incredible pain- He loves me.

He loves me when I serve and encourage my husband humbly.

He loves me when I make our marriage all about me.

He loves me on the days that I am super mom.

He loves me even after I have completely failed at being a mother.

He loves me, even though I can be so terrified of the world that I can’t seem to unlock my front door and step out.

He loves me when courage abounds.

When I’m dealing with my past, and feel like I might die from my heart giving out on me- He loves me.

When my bones are being broken, one by one- He loves me.

As he sets them back together and wraps them up- He loves me.

He loves to watch me heal.

He loves to see the gospel transform my life.

He loves to receive the worship that comes out of this new and changing heart.

He loves me.