Ever feel like an imposter?

(You don’t have to admit it out loud, but...) Have you ever been inside a bar when you were underage? Did you feel like everyone was looking at you, convinced they all knew you had no business being in there? Or you’ve taken a friend’s child to an activity and signed the parent permission slip, knowing your friend would approve, but afraid someone in charge is going to know you’re not who you say you are? Or sat in on a group meeting or some kind of class with a friend, because you were there, even though you weren’t registered?

We all have times – even fairly legitimate times – in which we pretend to be someone or something we’re not. But is it possible that sometimes we’re the ones who are deceived? If we’re not careful, Christianity can become more about membership in “the club” than it is a way of life. We know the language – we mastered the secret handshake, talk like insiders, know how to look the part, carry our Bibles and tell people about our Bible studies and prayer groups. We go to church and know when to raise our hands, when to bow our knees. But is it all a sham? Is it just surface Christianity? Are we in a really great fraternity – belonging to a group of people we like, surviving initiation, attending the meetings – or are we in it because of God? Have we been changed on the inside, or are we just wearing a uniform? Can people tell we’re followers of Christ, shining our light, directing others to the One we are here to serve? Or do we have to talk about our pious acts to convince people we are Christians? We shouldn’t need external accessories like cross pendants and tote bags covered with Scriptures to declare to others who we are. Those things aren’t bad – not at all. What’s bad is when nobody would know we were Christians if we didn’t have those things. Our faith isn’t about being in the “in crowd.” Instead, it should define who we are and how we live. Our identities should radiate from within, from a quiet assurance that we are who HE says we are. It doesn’t matter who the rest of the world thinks we are. It matters what He thinks. We have to remember that we are King’s kids. Heirs, sons of God, the Beloved. We are His. No questions asked. Simply because He said so.

Celebrating!

Mom had scans done this week... still cancer-free! So very thankful, so thrilled. Worst part? This means my dad and husband were right. They were convinced everything was fine!

I'm his favorite

I have one younger sister. Our dad, who loves us completely and totally and with an unconditional love, has a standing joke when we call: “Is this the pretty one or the smart one?” After all these years, it still makes us laugh, and depending on how we feel that day, we give him a different answer every time. We know he thinks we’re both. My dad has found a way to always let each of us know we’re special to him. If you would ask my sister, she’d claim she’s his favorite. So would I.

One night at church, someone testified and said, “Don’t you ever, sometimes, just for that moment, know that you are God’s favorite?” At the time, I was stumped, because I couldn’t imagine feeling that way, feeling as though I was that special to Him. I wasn’t important enough. I didn’t know Him well enough. But the thing is, we are that special to Him. He would do anything for us. When He prayed that this cup would pass from Him, when He suffered the agony of the beatings, when He carried His cross, and when He hung on it, dying, He was saying, “I love you the best. I would do this just for you, even if you were the only one on earth. You, my child, are my favorite.”

Watching the show

Have you ever noticed, when you’re buying a new car, how many of those exact models you see everywhere you go? You wonder when that car got to be so popular. It must be a new thing, we reason, or else we would have noticed them before. When you are picking out names for your soon-to-arrive baby, all of a sudden you will hear numerous mothers calling out to their toddlers, who all seem to have been given the exact “unique” name you wanted for your child. We are constantly surrounded by things that we don’t notice, but once we start paying attention, we’re amazed by what we find.

I’ve noticed the same thing in everyday life. When I’m mad at my husband, or frustrated with a client, or late paying my bills, it’s easy to let those events color everything else that happens all day. When this happens, my thoughts are on the injustice of what someone said, or the blatant way someone is spending money I don’t have to spend, or the fact that my husband still hasn’t responded to a question I posed him two hours earlier. I will not allow myself to enjoy anything else because I’m consumed by my anger, and the day is ruined (for me and for everyone nearby).

Or I can let go and look for the good. I can remind myself to notice how much I’ve been blessed by the other projects a client has sent, or be thankful that my friend’s finances are in good shape right now, or realize how lucky I am to have a husband who will pick up the kids from all their activities and not complain. Both sides are always there; it all depends on what I’m looking for.

A friend once told me that Satan continually shoots arrows at us, flaming arrows of greed and hatred and hypocrisy and sinful thoughts. She found that for a while, she was reaching up and grabbing hold of those arrows, gnawing on them, letting those thoughts fester and torment her mind. She wasn’t able to forget the trial she was in; it was always right there. But one day she realized she didn’t have to reach up and grab hold of those darts. The enemy could shoot all the darts at her that he wanted, because she was going to let them go on past. She wouldn’t catch them, she wouldn’t gnaw on them, she wouldn’t listen. She wasn’t going to take his bait any longer. I’m with her. I’m going to choose what thoughts I hold onto. And, rather than hold on to the darts, I’ll enjoy the show as I let the fireworks go right on by.