When the big things work out…

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. [Psalm 23:4-6]

When I was young, I used to go to a tanning salon…let me rephrase that…a very questionable shack connected to someone’s house with a tanning bed in it. The tanning bed worked fine, except for the timer. There was a chair in the room with a kitchen timer on it, and that was what was used so you didn’t spend too long in the “oven.” One time I arrived at the place, and no one was there, but the owner allowed people to just go in and use the tanning bed even if she wasn’t home. I didn’t usually use the timer, but I went ahead and cranked it over to 20 minutes before laying down. After a few minutes in the bed, my mind wandered to all sorts of thoughts, and before I knew it, I was sound asleep. A moment later, I woke to the obnoxious sound of the timer ringing two feet from my head. I have been thankful for years that I didn’t cook that day.

While I was in college, I drove an older car that had its share of issues, but it typically got me from point A to point B without much trouble. One Friday night, I had traveled about 300 miles to visit friends in another state, and when I returned on that Sunday, I made a couple of stops along the way for gas or snacks. When I returned to campus, I pulled into the driveway at my friend’s house and went inside to visit her and others that lived there. I went back out to the car to go to my dorm, and the car wouldn’t start. The starter had died. Though it wasn’t a cheap fix, I was thankful it didn’t quit on one of those stops during my travels.

The light went out, again.

When I was a sophomore in college, I had the opportunity to attend a May term in France for three weeks; it was a memorable trip in many ways. One incident I had wished to forget involved the motel where our group stayed and a rather immodest, indecent guest. A group of about six of us returned to the motel late one night and discovered a nude Frenchman wandering the halls. He seemed to have disappeared to his own room, we assumed, and then a couple of us went back into the hall to go use the showers, which had their own entrances from the hallway around the corner from our rooms. I was about to step into the shower when the light went out. Since it was late, I assumed that I had forgotten to lock the door; the showers were equipped with automatic lights that turned off after the door was unlocked for a number of seconds. After locking the door, I stepped into the shower and proceeded to lather up the bar of soap. The light went out, again. Realizing in a split second that the door was moving slowly open, I slammed my soapy body into it with all of my strength and relocked the door. I shouted repeatedly and stood there bracing the door, trembling but determined that it would not open again. After several minutes of shouting, I dressed in every piece of clothing I had in there with me, and finally built up the nerve to return to the room that I shared with two other girls on the trip. No one was in the hallway as I ran to the room and fumbled with the keypad to gain access inside. I was a sight, my hair still dripping and my clothes clinging to my soap-covered body. My friends looked at me and said, “What’s wrong?” I explained what had happened, and one of them said that she had entered the shower next door to mine, but had returned to the room to get something, and saw the nude man wandering the hall again, so she decided not to shower that night. I was just thankful that I returned safely to the room unscathed.

…without my faith, those other events could have destroyed me…

Many difficult situations have arisen in my life, and I have had to face them like everyone else has. The incidents that I have written about here turned out much better than they could have, and like I said, not all of my life events have had such desirable results. The point is, without my faith, those other events could have destroyed me, as could these had they turned out differently. I am thankful to be here today to share my stories and what I have learned. Please share something you have learned from an event in your life in the comments.

When those little things work out…

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. [Matthew 10:29-31]

One time when I left the grocery store a few years ago, I had decided to also grab a movie to watch. I selected one from the kiosk and proceeded to the car with my son and the groceries. After unloading the groceries into the car, my son and I got in and headed out to pick up one of his friends a couple of miles away. While situating backpacks and groceries in the trunk, it occurred to me that I didn’t know where the movie was. I inspected all of the grocery bags, but it was nowhere to be found. I asked my son if he’d seen it, but he hadn’t either. We returned to the grocery store, and I located the cart I had recently parked in the cart collection area, and there was the movie–leaning against the side in such a manner that it blended in with its surroundings. I was so thankful that someone hadn’t seen it and taken it.

When I was in college, I drove a smallish mid-80’s station wagon that had a roof rack. I used to travel from state to state visiting friends during breaks, and one time when I had stopped for gas, I inadvertently had left the gas cap on top of the car. About 200 miles later, I had stopped for gas again, opened the gas door and was surprised to see the gas cap was missing. For a moment, I worried that I’d left it at that gas station in another state, but then it instantly hit me to check the roof. I slid my hand along the edge of the roof rack back to the crosspiece that ran perpendicular to it, and there, wedged into the corner, was my gas cap. I was so thankful I didn’t have to figure out how to replace it on the road or back at school.

…ponder all those times that the event didn’t happen.

My son has a habit of putting things in unconventional places, and more than once, he has placed his wallet in the space between the left rear view mirror and the driver’s door. One time when I happened to be riding with him, he had driven about ten miles down the highway before he suddenly realized it was still out there, wedged in. Thankfully, he was able to pull over and retrieve it before it became litter along the roadside. Ironically, we once found someone’s wallet beside the road and were able to return it to him. The man was extremely grateful. Somehow, I don’t think my son’s wallet would’ve been returned if he’d lost it by the highway in that area!

We have lost things on occasion from leaving them on the vehicle as well, like a pair of gloves left on the rear bumper and one of my son’s skis from the bed of the truck–though that is where we transported them, not that we’d left it there by accident. We had hit a substantial pothole and the one ski had apparently flown out unbeknownst to us, but after several days of searching and putting up posters about the lost ski, someone contacted us about his finding it, and we were able to get it back. We never found the gloves.

God shows me that He is just that omniscient and powerful to know about every little thing in my life, no matter how trivial I think it may be.

I think the real lesson is to ponder all those times that the event didn’t happen. How many times have I remembered my keys rather than locking them in the vehicle? How many times have I passed through traffic unscathed rather than that time that I waited for hours in gridlock? It helps me to shift my focus to the longevity of what I take for granted as normal; it helps me to put those trifling nuisances into perspective.

Though I prefer things to be easy, believing that God knows what He’s up to helps when they’re not.

When I start thinking that those little things don’t matter to God, He shows me that He is just that omniscient and powerful to know about every little thing in my life, no matter how trivial I think it may be. And even when things don’t go according to my plan, He is using those events, those details, those frustrations as part of a picture so much larger and more complex than I can ever imagine. So it’s not my place to worry; I only have to live and trust. Though I prefer things to be easy, believing that God knows what He’s up to helps when they’re not.

Change Your World

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

As someone who has wrestled to master my thoughts all of my life, I constantly come back to the drawing board to find a better way to keep my focus on the glass being half full. In other words, I attempt to consciously choose optimism. This is a perpetual struggle for me; I’m always warring with some form of reverse psychology on myself. I shy away from hoping for the best to avoid some strange power of “jinxing” the outcome, which is ironic because I don’t believe that really happens. I would tell someone else that that isn’t a real possibility, so look on the bright side, but then I find myself not listening to my own advice. 

“Change your thoughts, and you will change your world.”

When I was a kid, my mother had several children’s tapes with songs about faith: Patch the Pirate, Psalty the Singing Songbook, etc. We listened to them all the time at home and in the car. One of the songs has surfaced in my mind multiple times over the years. I’m not sure if this was its actual title or not, but the main repeated line was, “Change your thoughts, and you will change your world.” As a youngster, I believed in my childlike mind that it was a simple mantra that everybody must be following. As I got older, I began to realize that the decision to change one’s thoughts became increasingly difficult as more complications and trials of life interfered. 

“Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil; but to the counsellors of peace is joy.”

Because I believe that I will one day answer for my decisions in this life, I take my free will very seriously. When I choose to let my thoughts plummet into the pit of pessimism, I struggle to change that trajectory and focus on being grateful, although I feel that this is the first step to changing that pattern. Some days, I find it extremely difficult to make that choice, and I know that this is something I will most likely wrestle with all my days. People often focus on changing the world by supporting major causes like eradicating hunger and anti-human-trafficking initiatives, which are great causes, of course. I can’t help but wonder if we as individuals were to change our personal “worlds” of thought…how much of an impact that would have. I have to pray for power over my own unruly mind much of the time, but I believe it will become easier to overhaul my thoughts over time. Proverbs 12:20 says, “Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil; but to the counsellors of peace is joy.” I am striving toward the peace and joy. 

The Balancing Act

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

I wrote about having patience last time, but I feel compelled to address the opposite circumstance, as well. Sometimes life moves fast, and there’s the necessity to adapt quickly. In my experience, some of the valuable lessons I’ve learned in the long periods of waiting have helped me to respond more adequately in the times of adjustment.

Establish priorities

…having a “big picture” view of life helps in weighing those decisions, large or small, and making the most fitting choice.

When I’ve been faced with circumstances that demanded a somewhat immediate response in the past, I typically weighed the effects of my possible decisions based on my family, my career, and my home, in that order. Now that I’m in a different phase of life, I have adjusted my priorities slightly to fit my current circumstances. It isn’t always easy to make decisions on the fly, but having a “big picture” view of life helps in weighing those decisions, large or small, and making the most fitting choice.

Remain calm

“People who maintain that calm mental outlook…can see beyond the chaos and find a solution.” *

Regardless of the caliber of the decision at hand, I have found that remaining calm is always the best option. Whether the fork in the road could lead to an optimal career position versus a terrible work environment, or just the difference between a literal walk in the park versus a day at the lake, keeping a level head has always served me well. As I have gotten older, I am less likely to get rattled easily. When I have felt anxious in the past, I typically have been able to survive and overcome by relying on my faith. I realize that many people struggle with anxiety, especially when presented with a difficult decision, but that does not diminish the effects of staying calm. In fact, those who suffer from such afflictions reap the benefits of seeking out ways to keep their peace amidst stressful situations. “People who maintain that calm mental outlook while in the middle of a chaotic situation can see beyond the chaos and find a solution.” *(https://www.careeraddict.com/5-reasons-why-staying-calm-under-pressure-will-make-you-successful)

Move forward

Reliving moments in my past that I’d rather forget only brings distress and discontent.

My mantra over the last several months has been, “I cannot mess up His plan.” This wasn’t a New Year’s resolution or any type of contemplated life statute. It developed over time and surfaced in my mind at just the right moment. Having to make multiple decisions regarding the future of my career and my life in general during this past year, I have come to the conclusion that looking back for wisdom or nostalgia has its place, but that’s about it. Reliving moments in my past that I’d rather forget only brings distress and discontent. Even decisions I’ve made recently, including jobs I’d rather have not endured, have been at the very least, learning experiences. Whatever I glean from these unpleasant events becomes part of the fabric of my life going forward, but it doesn’t define my future.

Even when my plans don’t play out the way I think they should, I have to keep moving forward, not wasting time on regret or “what if I had done whatever” scenarios.

After years of waiting for the doors to open for a major life and career change, I have adopted a peace that defies common sense, that surpasses understanding (those of you who share like faith will recognize that phrase!). It hasn’t been through any plan of my own, but it has come about through all of the varied experiences in my life—intelligent design, no doubt, and far more complex than any ideas I could concoct. In Isaiah 55:9, it says, “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” I don’t have to understand how or why life plays out as it does; I use my God-given free will to make choices, and I reap the benefits as well as the consequences. Even when my plans don’t play out the way I think they should, I have to keep moving forward, not wasting time on regret or “what if I had done whatever” scenarios. I have to say now, though I couldn’t see it at the time, that I’m thankful for all those years of preparation for the multitude and magnitude of changes that have made up these last twelve months of my life!

Praying for patience

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on One Comment

Who actually ever prays for patience? I don’t know why anyone would–the ordeals in which we learn patience are not anything anyone in their right mind would ever ask to endure. In my experience, being patient and waiting are two different concepts. I would define patience as “waiting gracefully.” Everyone might not agree with that definition, but that’s my perception.

I remember hearing that story as a youngster and thinking such an experience would be unbearable.

When I began my journey into parenthood alone, I truly anticipated that at some point I would meet someone who would share that responsibility with me. But as time wore on, it became more and more obvious that that was not going to happen. When seven years had passed, I thought of Jacob working for seven years for the right to marry his love, Rachel, only to find that he had to marry her older sister, Leah, and work seven more years in order to marry Rachel (Genesis 29). I remember hearing that story as a youngster and thinking such an experience would be unbearable.

“Hey, I never asked to learn patience.”

I had always wanted to have several children, and preferably close in age, so that they would hopefully be close in relationship. I gave up on the “close in age” part as my son approached the age of eight, but I continued to hope that the right someone would eventually appear on the scene, and perhaps we would be able to expand our family. By the time the second seven years had passed, I had begun to lose hope, and I reflected, “Hey, I never asked to learn patience.” Yet there I was, still waiting, with as much grace as I could muster, too.

…without hope, patience is futile.

I began to question what purpose all the waiting could fulfill; I still don’t know why, but I have learned somewhere along this path that without hope, patience is futile. I had had hope all that time that my family would be completed at some point, but when life didn’t turn out how I’d always imagined, I began to lose hope. I can’t explain all of the transitions that took place, but somehow in the process, my entire outlook shifted. I had been patiently waiting for a couple of decades, and suddenly I realized I was just living, not waiting. The change had happened so subtly that I hadn’t even noticed it was taking place.

It takes me a while to adjust to new circumstances and new ideas, so perhaps accepting the massive change in my dreams for my life needed to be spread out over many years. This is where my faith comes in. Without it, I’d have had no hope, and even when my hope waned, my faith is what sustained me. My plans of marrying and having a large family have not been fulfilled; I have been able to interact with hundreds of kids in my career as a teacher, however, and I have to believe that this is my calling. I have managed to let go of how I thought my life should go, and embrace the novelty of each day not knowing what the big picture is, but it’s okay. And I will be patient as the future unfolds.

“…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces patience, and patience produces character, and character, hope.” Romans 5:3-5

Running from rejection…

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

“I can’t explain it. I know I shall probably never see him again. I cannot bear to think that he is alive in the world…and thinking ill of me.” Elizabeth Bennet, film adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice

What if Elizabeth had never seen Mr. Darcy again? What if she had never humbled herself to thank him for his kindness because she was too afraid that he’d reject her? What a different story it would have been! I am well-acquainted with rejection; most people are. I have yet to run into anyone who loves experiencing it, though, for obvious reasons. No one wants to feel unneeded, unvalued, or unloved.

Although I don’t consider myself a fearful person, upon closer reflection, I find that I have made many decisions over the years based on an underlying fear of rejection. These were not usually major life decisions, but a subliminal training of my thought processes to shy away from situations where I could potentially experience rejection. The shift from avoiding rejection to avoiding human interaction is not far-fetched at all.

…“smallish” choices have somewhat backed me into a safe, albeit lonely, corner.

This type of thinking could easily have led to my complete withdrawal from society! However, I crave human interaction, so I began to reflect on why I seem to be less social at this point more than at any prior time in my life. What did I find? A long trail of “smallish” choices that have somewhat backed me into a safe, albeit lonely, corner. Such seemingly insignificant decisions as shopping online instead of entering an actual store or choosing an online course over a traditional educational setting have allowed me to avoid interacting with people in the “risky,” in-person fashion.

How anti-climatic and forgettable their stories would be without those moments!

Looking back, I have rationalized that choices such as these are just to make life easier–and they have, but at what cost? Technology does make life easier on many fronts, but it also allows us to hide from each other and avoid confrontation of actual feelings. I have to imagine if some of my favorite literary characters had avoided confrontation, how they might have behaved if they had the option to text instead of having a conversation. How anti-climatic and forgettable their stories would be without those moments! If Mr. Darcy had texted Elizabeth his proposal from the safety of his aunt’s mansion, we as readers would have been deprived of his appealing vulnerability and Elizabeth’s seemingly justified and abrasive refusal of him. In turn, we also would miss out on her humble confession of misjudgement and eventual change of heart toward Mr. Darcy.

Embrace life in all of its ups and downs! For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7

How much richer our lives are because of these moments as well! I am not condoning looking for confrontation, but rather embracing life in all of its ups and downs. Technology has its place, but shouldn’t be a tool for enabling fear. For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7

Spared from the flames

by BetsyFaith, ParentingPosted on One Comment

“How great a matter a little fire kindleth!” James 3:5

My son was diagnosed with ADHD in the first grade, though his preschool and kindergarten teachers rightly suspected it before that. As his mother, I resisted any attempt at labeling my son and his unique skill set. I realized that academics were always going to be a struggle for him, and I resigned myself to the long haul ahead. However, it was his everyday life fiascos from which I learned the most.

When he was in second grade, I had broken my ankle, and my son learned that he could outrun his crutch-laden Mama, easily escaping upstairs or outside, leaving me well in the dust calling to him to come back. He could be headstrong and defiant, and always impulsive, but lovable, empathetic and curious at the same time. I spent every day trying to figure out how to be an adequate parent, feeling most days that I’d failed. I often prayed that God would spare him from himself, and make up for my deficiencies.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” he murmured, and I immediately began sifting through all of the potential disasters that he could have initiated around that corner.

Toward the end of my stint on crutches, we ventured to a furniture store where I was shopping for a desk. I had been hobbling around in the back of the store when I heard a sales clerk suddenly calling out to someone. He proceeded to run toward the front of the store and disappeared from my view. I looked up to see my son appear around the corner of a nearby desk with his eyes round and bulbous, a look of alarm on his 8-year-old face. “Mommy, I’m scared,” he murmured, and I immediately began sifting through all of the potential disasters that he could have initiated around that corner. I heard, “What did you do?” leave my lips, though I distinctly remember wanting to grab his hand and flee through any other possible exit than the front door, leaving the mystery unsolved.

Where did he get matches? Where did he light the matches? How was the furniture store not going up in flames?

To my chagrin, the clerk appeared momentarily with a handful of foot-long matches, with the ends evidently already burned off. They were wet and had apparently been shoved in a snowbank. I looked from the matches to the look of recognition on my boy’s face as the clerk glared at him and admonished him with a very stern, “Don’t you know you are not to play with matches?” My mind reeled with questions. Where did he get matches? Where did he light the matches? How was the furniture store not going up in flames? I apologized profusely, and herded my son through the couches and recliners toward the front door, the clerk following us, probably making sure we didn’t make any other stops along the way.

“…I just wanted to see if they were real.”

As we passed a coffee table, my boy pointed to a decorative round receptacle that stood conspicuously empty next to a centerpiece. It had a strip of rough paper on one side. “They were right there, Mom. I just wanted to see if they were real,” he explained. “I took them out and rubbed them down the sandpaper and they lit. I didn’t know what to do, so I put them back in the cup.” The entire scene played out in my mind in a brief second, and I suddenly became enraged at the sales clerk. I wheeled on my crutches to face him directly, and fired, “What kind of decorator leaves matches down where children can reach them?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond; I turned again and hitched along as confidently as possible on my crutches till we were out the door and back in the car. I breathed a long sigh, relieved that somehow my son did not drop the burning torch of matches on the floor in the midst of a furniture store. How many 8-year-olds would take a moment to carefully place flaming matches back in their holder? I imagine that sales clerk must have wondered the same thing.

Sometimes I would fantasize that, yes, this was it; this was the pinnacle of parental distress, and now it was over, and I would never again have to be quite that tormented.

I thanked God for guiding my son’s hand and mind in that moment. Probably one of the worst effects of these vexing ordeals was the ever-present worry that this may not be the worst parenting experience I would have to endure. Sometimes I would fantasize that, yes, this was it; this was the pinnacle of parental distress, and now it was over, and I would never again have to be quite that tormented. But then I would come back to reality and the certainty that children’s minds should never be underestimated.

There were many more mentionable incidents along my parental pathway. I will share more over the coming weeks in the hopes that others will take heart along their journeys and know that there is still light at the end of the tunnel, even when it’s a flaming torch of matches!

A time to wait…

by BetsyFaithPosted on 3 Comments

Although I know that my performance does not determine my worth, I am convinced it will continue to be a struggle for me to live like I believe it. Last year, I moved away from my long-time hometown. Adapting to a new area where I have no bearings has been quite the adjustment. While I didn’t have a steady job, I struggled with identifying my purpose and the direction I should be pursuing in my career.

I struggled with identifying my purpose and the direction I should be pursuing in my career.

Each time I thought I was making a right decision, I ended up in a job that was not a good fit. I was accepting offers out of desperation–the need to feel valuable, to have a sense of purpose. I was able to walk away from the first ill-fitting position, and once I realized that the second one was not for me either, I prepared to give my notice. However, the situation had already been taken into account by the powers that be, and even if I’d had any second thoughts about staying, the Lord closed that door because the place was shut down at the same time that I had planned to leave.

The decision now came down to choosing out of abundance as opposed to desperation.

For two more months, I hunted and struggled and planned and prayed, and slowly whittled away what little profit I had had from selling my home of 17 years. I had more interviews and even an offer that was similar to the first two positions that weren’t right for me, but having finally learned something, I turned it down even though it was the only offer on the table, and I was more desperate than ever to have an income. Then, all of a sudden I had an offer for a part-time position followed by two full-time positions–all of which I felt very comfortable accepting. The decision now came down to choosing out of abundance as opposed to desperation.

My mind wandered back to a year ago when I knew it was time to move after years of anticipating the move. I wondered if maybe I had gotten it wrong. Maybe I had rushed the process and should have waited until this year. But I knew that the timing had been right. Looking back on this year of job and income inconsistencies and personal struggles with purpose and direction, one might think that this was a wasted year. But it wasn’t. My outlook has evolved, and I have learned so much about where I am now in my life, both physically and mentally. This year didn’t allow me to produce much from a worldly perspective, but I have found strength and understanding that I could not have obtained any other way.

His timing is perfect regardless of my plans; I can’t mess up His plan!

I recently read a verse a friend had posted–let me rephrase that. I recently MISREAD a verse a friend had posted: I waited impatiently for the Lord to help me, and He turned to me and heard my cry (Psalm 40:1). When I realized that David had written “patiently,” not impatiently, I had to smile at my error and the fact that it wouldn’t have mattered if David had waited impatiently, because the Lord’s faithfulness doesn’t depend on our perception. I was impatient for circumstances to work out, but He still worked in my life through the process. Would it have been any different if I’d been patient? Probably not. His timing is perfect regardless of my plans; I can’t mess up His plan! And yes, I am probably just a little more sure of that now than I was a year ago.

Take me to church…

by BetsyFaith, ParentingPosted on No Comments

Recently, my young adult son relayed a conversation to me that he had had with an older adult male regarding attending church. They were discussing how they felt the need to be role models in their homes and be leaders when it comes to establishing habits like regular church attendance. I am thankful for the mature males in the church who have been role models for my son as he was growing up since there was no male role model in our home.

I still cringe for a moment when I hear a commotion in the next room because for years it was my son causing the disturbance.

As a single mother, it’s truly challenging to fulfill all of the needs of a child, and in my experience, particularly when it comes to spiritual roles. Although it wasn’t always what I wanted to do on Sunday morning, most of the time I packed up my son and his shenanigans and headed to church. He was always a handful, and to this day, I still cringe for a moment when I hear a commotion in the next room because for years it was my son causing the disturbance. My church family was gracious to us, however, and though I always felt terrible for my child’s behavior, they came along side of us and continued to encourage and support us week after week.

Despite the distractions and the frustrations, I continued to take him to church, hoping that doing so would eventually bear fruit. I kept going back to the Word, reading where it exhorts Christians not to forsake assembling together (Hebrews 10:25) and to train up children in the right direction (Proverbs 22:6). These are long-term, seed-planting acts that don’t necessarily reveal their worth in the short-term, but as my son has entered adulthood, I have begun to see the positive results of raising him in the church.

…we embrace the fact that Christ died to redeem us from our sins, we repent, and we are consequently forgiven.

It isn’t to say that every young person raised in the church avoids trouble. I honestly didn’t know if we were going to survive my son’s teen years. Without going into too much detail, I’ll just say that red Gatorade mixed with vodka has stained my living room carpet, and I’ve had conversations with the police regarding the paintballing of one of their cruisers, just to name a couple memorable moments. Life certainly isn’t perfect because we’re Christians, and we go to church. We make mistakes like everyone else. In addition, we embrace the fact that Christ died to redeem us from our sins, we repent, and we are consequently forgiven.

It’s about the importance of building one another up and being accountable as we worship together.

It’s never been the case that going to church saves one’s soul or prevents anything from going awry throughout the week. It’s about the importance of building one another up and being accountable as we worship together. During those periods of my life when I have gotten out of the habit of attending, however, I have witnessed a general falling off of my own constructive habits for not necessarily destructive ones, but definitely for less constructive ones. Being consistent in attendance helps me to stay on track in my Christian walk, and I know now that it has had a positive impact on my son’s life.