NO. DON'T GIVE ME A LIFE RAFT. I WANT TO DROWN.

Did the title of this alarm you? Don't worry--I'm not suicidal or anything. At least, not in the sense that you might be thinking. But, I'm going to throw you for a loop, I do really want to drown.

Drown in grace, that is.

I heard this song at Pine Cove and I'm pretty sure it's called "How He Loves Us". I don't know who sings it but I do know that there's this one line in there that says, "if His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking".

And, for me, I only see two kinds of people as pertaining to this song. People who fight the current and people to let it go. But yeah, you can have people who do both. I am certainly one of them.

When Jesus died for us, He gave us this immeasurable amount of grace. But there's a distinct difference between grace and mercy.

When I think of mercy, I think of someone who is about to be punished for whatever and the punisher says, "But I will be merciful on you and give you a lesser sentence/no punishment." You know, in some deep voice with a British accent. That's just how I picture it. Yeah, go ahead and reread that dialog in the accent. Anyway, mercy is not punishing us for what we deserve.

Grace, though, is God extending kindness and blessings even though we don't deserve it. So, on top of giving us mercy and not punishing us, we're also given blessings and love that is so far past what we deserve it can only be given by God.

So to get to the two people. The first are the fighters. Some of them feel absolutely unworthy of this precious gift and therefore do not want it. They don't want help. These are the people who feel like they can earn their way to Heaven and won't just accept the grace. Then there are others who just don't think that anyone can give that kind of gift out and don't believe in something so redeeming, or such a powerful Redeemer. They just don't think such a thing exists. Still more, some don't want to give up their lives enough to totally sink into the ocean. They know the grace is there, but they're terrified of letting go. It freaks them out. So, I guess there are sub-catagories to the fighters, but they all do the same thing--try not to drown. When this is the one thing you need to drown in.

However, there are people who just freely let go. They leap off the boat, or the diving board, or the side of the dock, or the beach, and just go. They're ready. They want to give their lives to Someone who will give them something so much better than what they have. They have such faith. They know that grace is one thing worth dying for. They know they will be blessed beyond all measures in this vast ocean. They want to sink. They will ignore the lifeguards, and the rafts, and the boats, and then rest in the ocean when they've gone far enough and be submerged and not fight it and are enveloped in this all-healing, all-consuming, all-powerful grace. They surrender. They give God everything they've got by sinking into that ocean of grace.

I'm a fighter and a sinker. Sometimes, I'm screaming, "No, no, no! I can do this. Don't touch me, God. I can do this all by myself. Don't worry about it." And I fight that current with my meager strength and the shore won't get any closer and I'm getting tired and I'm just wanting to control the situation when I very obviously can't. And when I finally realize that there's no way God's grace is ever going to stop, I stop fighting. My arms, exhausted, stop trying to propel myself forward; my legs quit treading. I don't even hold my breath when my head goes under. I breathe in and out--under this water. I feel a sense of peace. I know hurricanes will come my way but I'm in an ocean of solid grace, meaning that I will continue to be blessed and loved and cared for even when the height of the storm is on top of me.

I don't need the Coast Guard. Don't get me a rescue boat. Keep your life jackets. Let me sink. And, might I make a suggestion? Jump in with me. The water's just fine.

"Beyond Belief" by: Josh Hamilton

You probably know him as the American League's MVP. There's a chance you knew of him when he played for the Reds. You might have even heard of him when he was the #1 draft pick in 1999. I got on the bandwagon late--not knowing who this dude was until the baseball season of 2008.

But I have seen the error of my ways.

When I learned his name, my sophomore year of high school, I thought, "Cool. Rangers might be good this year with this guy." I've always been a Rangers fan (been going to the games since I was 7 years old) but I sort of followed them during that 2008 season. Then the next season, I really started avidly following my boys in Arlington and feeling sad when they lost and rejoicing in their victories. I genuinely cared about them.

My church started working with this campaign, if you will, called I Am Second. One day, I spent more than an hour on the website. Basically, they interview normal people and they give their testimonies of faith. But they had a couple famous people, like Stephen Baldwin. And then they had Josh Hamilton. I heard a brief version of his testimony and I decided that he was pretty amazing.

So then I decided that I needed to read Josh Hamilton's autobiography called "Beyond Belief". I just finished it literally ten minutes ago. Did I cry? You got it. Have I been inspired? Absolutely. Will I ever look at the number 32 the same way again? Nope! I physically feel different. Something about that autobiography that has really effected me. And I can't quite describe it.

Anyway.

So basically, here's Josh Hamilton's story in a nutshell:

He was a BEAST at baseball. A child prodigy at it. He was a first grader playing on a team for fifth through seventh graders. He was shooting balls out of fields further than high school kids when he was in middle school. He was stand-up, all-American, class A kid who was picked right out of high school to go to the Devil Rays. He was the first one to be picked right up since A-Roid (if you know me at all, you'll know the certain Yankee I'm speaking of). Then something went wrong. Even in the story, he said he couldn't pinpoint what was the catalyst for his behavior. Maybe it was the 26 tattoos. But whatever happened, one night he ended up drunk as a skunk and had tried cocaine.

And like every beginning addict, he said that he didn't need it. A hit every few days--no problem. But, of course, it escalated. He left every thing that tried to help him. No rehab place was enough. No one could threaten him out of it or scare him out of it or anything. Nothing was working. And it got worse--he got on crack. He tried to barter his wife's wedding ring for drugs. He had officially hit rock bottom. Then he went to his last resort--his grandmother's house. After losing a ridiculous amount of weight, his grandmother (Granny) made him eat and slowly, slowly, he got better. His wife did the almost-impossible and totally forgave for all his negligence. Josh handed his life over to God. And his life...changed. It was a miracle that he was still alive, really. After a bunch of amazing "God things", he got back in the pro ball business and played with the Reds for a while. Then they traded him to my boys, the Rangers.

The most moving part of the book, though, was probably one of the last stories. He was at one of his first press conferences with the Rangers when he saw Ian Kinsler, Michael Young, and now-former player Hank Blalock in street clothes in the back of the room. No one had ever done that for Josh before. No teammate had ever come to just support him--much less three of them.

Yeah, that was when I cried.

He also said that the Rangers felt like home. Which I'm thrilled about. So, #32, keep doing your thing. Because you've got A TON of people looking at you for inspiration. Including me.

Josh Hamilton went from zero to hero in a matter of just 6 years (which is a short amount of time when we're talkin' addictions). Throughout the whole book, he just kept talking about how he wanted to be a better man of faith, husband, and father. I have such a massive amount of respect for him now. And it helps that he plays for my team.

Dear Josh Hamilton,

I hope you don't mind--I call you J-Ham sometimes. I think you're an amazing individual. You're a living miracle and such a Godly man. Hallelujah! The world needs more of those. You are no doubt a great dad and awesome husband. And I think your mom is right--God does love ball players. Praying for you, #32. And I'm glad you consider Texas home. It's pretty awesome. GO RANGERS!

Love,

Linley.

Something(s) interesting

I went to this thing called Winterfest at Pine Cove. It's basically a week of Pine Cove (an amazing week-long summer camp in East Texas) crammed into one weekend. At Winterfest, four different speakers talked about Christmas but from different perspectives. So I felt like sharing them with you guys, because I thought they were extremely interesting.

Friday night:

We opened our Bibles to Genesis 15. The speaker asked us to just read it. And when I did, I was very weirded out. It talked about an animal (a sheep or goat) that was cut in half and the blood ran between the halves and a fiery tornado and flaming torch passed through the blood. And I was just like, "What the heck is this?" My friend Paige and I exchanged confused glances and I was completely rapt in what the speaker had to say to us.

The scene takes place when God is making his awesome deal with Abraham. You know, about how Abraham's decedents will outnumber the stars and how they will be a great nation and that they would be God's chosen ones, etc. All that good stuff. But it was a deal, meaning that Abraham had to have some part in it. God's request? "Be blameless." Oh yeah, okay. Sounds great. Just be totally perfect and all this will happen. Easy shmeasy.

Not so much. Genesis tells us that Abraham fell into a dark and terror-filled sleep over this. Obviously, he was human, so he couldn't be blameless. But how do you walk away from such an incredible gift from God? He would be walking away from an extremely personal connection with the creator of the world and the promise of a ridiculous future for his decedents.

In those days, you made a deal by cutting an animal in half and letting the blood run between the halves. The major party would then step in the blood and basically say, "If I don't hold up my end of the deal, let this be done to me." So, if he didn't hold up, he was going to be killed. Then the minor party would do the same thing. It was binding and irreversible. So Abraham had killed the animal and now the deal was about to be sealed.

The flaming tornado was God. He passed through because he was the major party. So, logically, it was Abraham's turn. Walking through that blood would pretty much be committing suicide. But what choice did he have? But then the unbelievable happened. The flaming torch, God again, passed through the blood.

Get what that means? God was saying, "If you don't hold up, which you won't, I'll take the blame." Remind you of someone else? That's what Jesus did for us. A foretelling of Jesus came all the way back in Genesis--the very first book of the Bible. How crazy is that?

My mind was BLOWN. I just sat there in shock and thought of how awesome God is and how powerful his plan is. It's absolutely crazy and wild and I almost wouldn't believe it if it hadn't been written out for me. Wow. Just wow.

Saturday morning:

King Herod. He was the leader of what was going to become Israel for Cesar. And he was absolutely petrified of anyone coming to take his power away from him. He was paranoid like no one has ever been before. He killed two sons and a couple wives because he was threatened by them. What a nut job, right?

So you can imagine it went over really well with him when he heard about a king coming in and the people following him instead of Herod. The king was insecure like nobody's business. So he did the almost unthinkable.

But hold on one second. Let's get a little more information.

Remember the 3 Wise Men from all the stories? They actually weren't from Herod. They came from some place way far away and had studied all the prophecies and saw the signs (so did Herod) and decided to go find this savior. On the way to find Jesus, they met Herod and ate with him. And Herod lied his fool head off.

He said that when the three guys find the savior, to come get Herod because he wants to worship the savior too. Well, the wise men are called "wise" for a reason. They aren't stupid. They realized that Herod was a paranoid control freak and that he would probably kill the kid. But the three said they would come get Herod and went on their way.

After a year, Herod realized the three wise men hadn't returned and decided that they had lied to him and that was when the massacre was decreed. Herod, not knowing how old the child was but knowing he wasn't older than two, he ordered that every boy in Bethlehem under the age of two be killed.

The potential threat and absolute paranoia of one powerful man killed hundreds of innocent kids. And Jesus wasn't even in Bethlehem--he was in Egypt.

Saturday night:

I've always thought that Mary gave up the most to have Jesus. You know, she was looked down upon in her village or whatever because everyone thought she'd been with another man or with Joseph too early.

But you don't ever think about what Joseph endured.

Let's make a list.

1. His carpentry business? Out the window. Everyone would've assumed that it was his kid and he broke rules that have been in place for as long as anyone could remember. No one would support someone who did that; no one would give business to a person who had no respect for ancient customs.

2. The shame. Can you say "social outcast"? If he said that the child wasn't his, he was piling shame on a blameless Mary. If he said it was his, then he (like the reasons above) would suffer because people thought he was a tradition-ignorer. And that was a very serious crime.

3. The fear. He doesn't know why God has done this to him and is totally freaked out. Angels keep coming to him and his wife is suddenly pregnant and now he has to take this journey with a pregnant wife and doesn't really know what's going to happen. He only knows that he is about to have the Son of God in his midst. As his child. How terrifying is that?

Joseph was a strong, Godly man. And God could not have picked anyone better to help His son grow. But the sacrifices and emotional trauma are often overlooked. Let's stop that. Let's acknowledge Joseph. Because he absolutely deserves it.

Sunday morning:

The three wise men had pretty cool gifts. But, I'm going to be honest, I only knew what the first one symbolized. Shows how interested I was. But when I learned what they meant, I was absolutely blown away.

The gold. Yep, that's the one I knew beforehand. Gold, obviously, is very precious...especially to a young family who is only holding onto God and each other. Gold stands for Jesus' kingship. He is the King of Kings and that's what the gold is. Yeah, it's pretty brainless and, "Yeah duh" but it's still crazy to think that this stranger went up to Mary and Joseph and basically said, "Your son is going to rule the world."

The frankincense. It's just a fancy form of incense. You know, what priests use for holy stuff. I'm going to be honest and admit that I really don't know that much about incense (because I'm not Catholic) but I know that priests use it. Super impressive, right? Anyway, when this guy placed the frankincense in front of Mary and Joseph, he was telling them that their little boy was going to be the spiritual leader of the world. The Priest of Priests. Like if the Pope and Billy Graham had a baby...except times a billion and more.

The myrrh. I had no clue what this stuff was. Didn't even know how to spell it until that day. It's pronounced "mur" in case you didn't know. Anyway, this stuff was used in ancient Egypt as a preservative. For bodies. It was like embalming fluid for the Egyptians of the past and it comes from the myrrh tree. Because Mary and Joseph's ancestors were Egyptian, there was a good chance they knew what that stuff was. This last gift was probably the hardest to give and receive. It said this, basically. "Your little boy is going to be a sacrifice, he's going to die, for the world." I don't know about you, but I would flip if someone told me that about my firstborn. And I'm not even a parent yet. Imagine how hard that must have been for Jesus' parents. Like, their son was born to die. Heavy stuff.

So, needless to say, I look at Christmas a little differently now. It's so much bigger than Jesus being born. It was the start of the rest of the world. It was the beginning of a masterfully planned revolution. And I fully intend to be in that revolution, waving my flag high and pronouncing my allegiance to Christ the Lord.

And don't you dare try to stop me.

Christmas Break is for kayaking.

Today, I went on an adventure.

So, my house backs up to a creek that's pretty shallow and with a mud-bottom...meaning that it is straight up nasty. Like, the huge catfish that live in it survive off of the trash that gets in there. But, while gross, it also holds much potential to have adventure.

And because my dad likes to think our family is adventurous, he bought two kayaks shortly after we moved into our house...which was seven years ago. Those two kayaks have been used only a handful of times, including today.

So here's what happened.

My friend Tannah and I have been planning a kayak adventure since this summer but whenever she was available, I wasn't, and vice versa. We could never find an available time to go kayaking. But today was the day. She was home from Baylor and I was out of school for two weeks and it was a balmy 61 degrees outside. We wore shorts, t-shirts, old tennis shoes, and ill-fitting life jackets as to not drown in the five foot deep waters.

We decided to go upstream, which wasn't overly difficult in general. Really, the only hard part of our epic journey was trying to maneuver around the logs that had fallen across the creek. And the first of those came about a hundred yards from where we departed.

Basically, a couple months ago, a tree fell during a storm and stretched over the width of the creek. A bunch of trash had built up on the side of it but there was a space just big enough for a kayak and a few passengers to squeeze through. We had to duck and still got tree bark in our hair and on our shirts. Then we got stuck the first time going under and had to reverse and duck again. Then we got it.

Since we were going upstream, the current wouldn't exactly let us go straight, so we had to turn the kayak multiple times and we got very, very wet. We went around a couple of bends and we felt like Pocahontas, so of course we had to sing "Just Around the Riverbend". Then we ran into another log that I almost singlehandedly got us over. It was pro maneuvering skills, I assure you.

Tannah kept making bird noises and I thought a bird was just following us around (she didn't confess until the next day). We encountered some more logs and laughed and splashed each other. Then we had to get out in the mud because we didn't think we could get through and we had some extreme troubles getting back in the creek.

But it's hard to push into the water when you're laughing so hard.

Then we encountered the "rapids". Someone had dumped a bajillion rocks into the creek and it was super shallow, probably only a foot of water. Tannah and I were having issues. Then there was this tree that jutted out into the middle of the creek that we spent five minutes wrestling and booked it when we finally escaped. We made it past the rapids after three attempts, but we were so tired we just drifted right back down...going backwards.

Soon we approached the part where we had to get out the last time and we discovered a small passage to get through. But we still got out and climbed over a log and almost fell in. In fact, Tannah climbed a tree (pretty much if it's climbable, Tannah will climb it) and misjudged her step and her foot plunged into the creek. Her face was priceless. Then I got out and just had to hold onto the kayak while Tannah got in and then I got back in and off we went.

Though our arms were tired and we didn't ever want to wiggle under a tree again while in any sort of boat, that might have been one of the best experiences of my life. It was full of laughter and adventure and rarely do I feel that...free. Nothing was holding me back and being surrounded by God's glory was the best possible start to my Christmas break.

"God of wonders beyond our galaxy, You are holy." --God of Wonders

My church is about to become a less-paid but happier Wal-Mart

So, I go to Valley Ranch Baptist Church. About 11ish years ago, we were challenged to spread outside our walls. Yeah, missions in other cities is a big part of the expansion, but the church is located about 40 miles away from south Dallas, a place ridden with poverty, drugs, violence, prostitutes, lack of education, and general desperation. This will be the 11th year to do what we like to call "The Christmas Store".

Basically, my church becomes Wal-Mart. But better. Much better. Months in advance to the second weekend in December, parents start signing themselves up at VRBC's sister church, Cornerstone, so they can be "customers" at the Christmas Store. When the weekend is upon them (and everyone at VRBC), these south Dallas residents are picked up via van (driven by men from our church) and taken to my church. Once they arrive, they are seated in a hospitality area and given food and drink.

Then the fun begins. A GPS (guider, prayer, server) who goes to my church will come and get them from the lobby and start to get to know them. The GPS and customer (generally a woman because men tend to not be around in south Dallas...a sad fact I've grown accustomed to) will then go pick up some shoppers in a designated room.

Shoppers are generally younger kids, in elementary or middle school, and their parents and they carry the bags with the customer's name and kids' names on them. The GPS will then guide the shoppers and customer through our church, aka, the store. They go into the rooms where the gifts for each child are held, seperated by age groups (ages 0-3, 4-6, 7-9, 10-12, 13+), and the parent or guardian of that child picks out a big gift and a small gift for each of their kiddos. After getting the gifts, they then go get socks, underwear, and a sweatshirt for the kids and parent(s). And the kids get stockings stuffed by VRBC's children's ministry and those have candy, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other little necessities for a growing kid.

After getting all the goodies, the shoppers had back to the shopper room and the GPS and customer go to the santuary where they will continue to have conversation. The GPS will then pray with his or her customer and possibly share the gospel. Then prayer requests by the customer are written and tacked onto a huge, wooden cross at the front of the stage. The GPS then hugs their customer and takes them back to hospitality where they wait for the next van going back to Cornerstone.

Oh, and did I mention that all gifts are being wrapped while the GPS and customer are in the sanctuary and in hospitality? It's basically a free Christmas for these people who wouldn't otherwise be able to afford one. Without my church, nearly 1,300 kids wouldn't have Christmas gifts under the tree. Powerful stuff.

But that's just half of the deal. You're probably wondering where all those 1,300 kids are while they're parents are shopping? Wonder no more! I have an answer!

The parents go in shifts and the whole ordeal, travel time included, takes about three hours. So while the parents are shopping on either Friday or Saturday, a lot of their kids are at Cornerstone church in Dallas under the care of VRBC's youth group, henceforth known as 86:12. Naturally, not all 1300 kids go to Cornerstone--that would be just a tad overwhelming. And a lot of the kids have aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends to stay with, so we generally have somewhere between 400-700 kids that run through Cornerstone on Friday afternoon and all day Saturday.

These kids then get to practically be in a carnival and each kid is assigned a "buddy", which is an 86:12 member. They get coloring and activity packets that are Christmas-themed. They make a bookmark that tells the story of Salvation (I led that section and God blessed me with the opportunity to lead 5 kids to Christ!!) and write prayer requests on green pieces of paper that they then tack onto a wooden cross. After the prayer requests, they move onto the book section where they can sit down and read a book with their buddy and then get to pick out 6 books to take home. After the book fair, they migrate to the nice craft room where they make a present for the parent at my church (this year they made ornaments). Then they go to the craft room that's for themselves (candy canes with beads and pipe cleaners). However, the favorite is the play-dough, cookie, face-painting, video game room which is where they go after they've done everything else. That's also where they get to get the wide variety of food that our awesome men in the kitchen are whipping up for us.

Every once in a while, there was a nativity story that was led by a couple guys in my grade, Drew and Luke. They narrated the story of Jesus' birth while the kids put on costumes acted it out. It was rough going the first time but when middle school teacher Haley came and organized it, everything ran much smoother. The nativity scene is always a highlight.

I'm in RLT (refuge leadership team--refuge is the name of our youth group) and there are about 30 other RLTers. We all had specified jobs to do, like I was in the bookmark room. People were manning the craft rooms, the little kid room, the nursery, the carnival room...etc. There were jobs for everyone. Then there's LIT which stands for "leaders in training". They're sophomores who will graduate into RLT the next year and are training to be the next leaders of the youth group. They ran the book fair this year.

The Christmas Store is amazing and a humbling experience. I love being able to participate every year and will be sad next year when I can't come and help because of college. I'll always hold the memories close to my heart and am excited to hear stories in the future.

THANKS AND GIG 'EM

Fair warning: I just got the answer today.

I HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO TEXAS A&M UNIVERSITY (COLLEGE STATION) AND WILL BE ATTENDING THERE FOR COLLEGE.

I mean, it's no big deal, really. It's only my dream school...

Yeah, it's not the prettiest campus. No, it doesn't have all the glitz and glamour of other schools. But it has rich traditions. The campus is alive. It's an military school. One that people in my family have been attending for 4 generations.

And I get to go there. So, any admissions people who happen across my blog, THANK YOU. God has blessed me in so many ways and this is absolutely one of them. So, thank you Lord! What a great day.

When I saw the page where I go to check my application status, my jaw dropped and I could literally feel my heart in my stomach. My hands started to shake because it just said "a decision has been made". Then, below it, it said to "click here" to accept offer. So the logical side of me registered that I got in because they wouldn't be offering me something if I wasn't accepted. But there was still that other part of me that was just thinking, "There's no way." Then the little box was like "Congratulations, you have been accepted into Texas A&M University!"

I started bawling. Then I called my mom. And cried more. Then I updated Facebook. Then I woke up my dad (who has had food poisoning) and told him. Then Tanner and I did a happy dance. Then I accepted the offer.

Talk about a load off my chest.

The amazing part is that just yesterday, a family friend had just prayed for my A&M application in the woman's Bible study she's in. The thing online said the answer went out in an email yesterday. Mind blowing! God works in amazing ways.

Part of me won't fully believe this until I have the acceptance letter in my hands (which will probably happen tomorrow). But then I'll apply for housing (hello, Commons?) and get a room mate and be well on my way to getting myself a degree and ring from Texas A&M University. I am just SO happy right now. Unbelievably happy. It's ridiculous.

So, I will leave with three things:

1. Jeremiah 29:11 (look it up)

2. "I will cut off the horns of the wicked..." Psalm 75:10a

3. WHOOP! (even though, as an incoming freshman, I'm not technically allowed to do that. But I think exceptions can be made...)

Thanks, and gig 'em.

Put on your shades, because things are about to get BRIGHT

So, lately I've been obsessed with sun rays. And, I kid you not, a week doesn't go by without me seeing them poking through the clouds. Against a dark cloud, they are distinct and I almost expect a bunch of angels to appear every time. It's an amazing sight, really, to behold. But, as I'm coming to realize, those rays don't only show off their beauty; they also like to directly relate to my life.

When I was, like, eight, I announced to my mom that I didn't believe the sun had rays because I'd never seen them before. I only drew them in pictures (you know, those lines coming out of the colored-in circle made by a yellow Crayola marker) but had never seen sun rays before in my life. So, because I was so well-learned at the ripe old age of eight, I concluded that I had enough experience to proclaim that such rays did not exist. Right after this conclusion, I jumped into my cousin's pool with my nifty goggles on and saw sun rays coming through the water. I almost choked and surfaced for air. I don't remember if I told my mom about how my conclusion was proved wrong so quickly, but I do remember be surprised.

For some reason, that memory has stuck with me. Maybe because I've been keenly aware of those beams of light lately. Maybe because it provides a good anecdote for blog entries like this one. Maybe it's just God's way of introducing a new concept into my life...even though it took me about 11 years to realize it.

Being "salt and light" is a cliche Christian phrase. Salt keeps things flavored and preserved, so, as Christians, we're supposed to preserve the word and also flavor life and other's lives with our knowledge of Jesus Christ. And light...well, that's obvious. The world is dark. Not so much physically, as in we carry around flashlights everywhere or else we couldn't see, but as far as current morals and ethics go...we're hurtin'. Big time.

But let's say, for argument's sake, the world is totally dark. Like someone turned off all the lights in a window-less room and no one has any form of light to maneuver around safely. So we're all just blindly running amuck with no real direction because we have no light to help or guide us. As a follower of Christ, I'm supposed to be a flashlight in the darkness.

I mean, I'm only supposed to try to lead people to Christ. No pressure or anything. Just kidding...kind of. Of course, that is in my job description. But another necessary part of the Christ-follower deal is that I have to walk the walk and not just talk the talk. A blue light doesn't pretend to be a red light the same way I shouldn't proclaim Christ if I don't actively follow him. Being a light is a beacon of hope. If I can resist cheating at school or dressing inappropriately or watching my language, that is such a testament to what I put my faith in. People notice when I don't do those things, just like people notice when there's a light in a dark room.

Being a sun ray bursting through a cloud is a too-beautiful comparison for myself. It's too...heavenly. And I am far from that. Yeah, sometimes I do hide my light under a cup, or at least put a lampshade over it so it isn't quite so bright. But I'm working on not doing that so much anymore. I want to shine. I want to be able to push dark aside. I want to be bright.

The good news? I'm not alone. There's an even brighter light coming. And the world will stay dark until this light comes. I tell you the truth, Jesus Christ is going to come back. And even those who hide from my light now won't be able to escape the blinding brightness of Christ. So put your sunglasses on, because things are about to get a whole new light shed on them.

"Shine your light and let the whole world see, I'm singin' for the glory of the risen King." --Mighty to Save (Hillsong)

"Shine, they wonder watcha got..." --Shine (Newsboys)

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..." --This Little Light of Mine (Author unknown)

"I wanna be in the light, as You are in the light. I wanna shine like the stars in the heavens. Oh Lord be my light and be my salvation, 'cause all I want is to be in the light." --In the Light (DC Talk)

"For once you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of Light." Ephesians 5:8

Well. That certainly made my day.

My friend Meredith and I do a 7th grade girl's Bible study with six seventh grade girls (that's redundant...) from our church. We've been going since late September and will continue to go through the end of the school year. And we've all gotten really close. Those six know they can come to Meredith and me with anything and we won't judge and will try our best to help. We genuinely love those girls, as crazy as they can be sometimes.

So, for Thanksgiving break, we wanted to do something a little different than just normal Tuesday night Bible study. We decided on going to this restaurant in town, the Local Diner (the name is fairly self-explanatory), for brunch. Because it was 11:45 in the morning, some girls had pancakes but others (like me) had hamburgers. Some even crossed the two and had a pancake with a milkshake. Intriguing combination.

Anyway, as we were waiting for our food, Meredith and I launched into the Bible study. We do "popcorn reading", where basically we just go around in a circle and read the lesson. It isn't long, generally anywhere between six paragraphs and ten paragraphs. Then we discussed questions and read passages from the Bible (that day's was Psalm 139). Then, before we could finish our questions, our food came. So we just continued discussing until we finished and then launched into our girl conversation about boys and clothes and drama and whatnot.

Shortly after ending the day's lesson, though, a woman sitting in the booth across from our table got up and said, "Hey girls, do you mind if I tell you something?" So all the seventh graders looked at Meredith and me and Meredith responded, "Yeah, sure!" I mean, we obviously weren't going to say, "Uh, no, go away" but, I'll admit it, I was a tad nervous when she asked. I don't know why--I just was.

Anyway. The woman told us this:
"I just want to say that I've been having a really rough day and seeing you here worshipping God is such a blessing and just turned my day around." I didn't know whether to say "thank you" or "you're welcome" so I just stammered both out. Then the woman asked what church we went to and we told her and her response was, "Well, I've been looking for a church for me and my three-year-old daughter and if your church makes such strong women of faith, I want my daughter to grow up in that church."

MIND BLOWING.

That just kind of put everything in perspective for me. This might sound creepy, but it confirms that Christians are constantly being watched. And people notice what we do. It was a cool lesson for a high school senior and middle school girls alike to see. So, thanks God!

19 years old. WHAT?

So, yesterday was my 19th birthday. I am a senior in high school. So weird (I went to pre-first which is NOT the same as being held back, thank you very much). Anyway, here are my thoughts on this being the last year that I can use the excuse "Well, I'm a teenager, so...".

I'm a year away from turning 20. That just sounds so...old. When you turn 20, people stop thinking of you as still a kid and are now really holding you accountable for your actions. You'll possibly be married in the next five years. You'll be well on your way to becoming a legit adult--one who lives on their own and has a job and is working towards a career. You're a grown-up.

Being nineteen is so awkward. As my friend Lauren asked, "Do any perks come with being nineteen?" Translation: What's different about being nineteen as opposed to eighteen? My answer: absolutely nothing. Therefore making nineteen so awkward because you're the exact same as you were when you were eighteen, just a year older. Just a year closer to being twenty. Just a year closer to being a "real" adult.

I need to get on that auto-biography I was going to write. Basically, it's just a compilation of my adventures as a teenager and some of the shenanigans I got into. And it would be nice to have it done before me, gasp, twentieth birthday. Because I will no longer be a teenager when I am twenty. Obviously. That bio is just something fun to write. A journal, if you will, of some highlights of my life from those six years I was a teenager. I only have one more year to finish that.

I'm still weirded out by the fact that I'm nineteen and older than nearly all of my friends. And being this old makes it hard to find a mature dude in high school.

Can we just take a moment and laugh at that last sentence? No such thing as a mature high school guy. What a funny thought. Just kidding...kind of.

But yes. Those are my thoughts on being one of the oldest kids in my high school. Ahh, weird.

Ephesians.

Ephesians is quite possibly my favorite book of the Bible. I have about half of it underlined. So I decided to share my love for the book in this post by posting all the verses I have underlined. I'm currently working on memorizing a few of them!

1:7--In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace

1:11--In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will

2:4-5--But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions-it is by grace you have been saved.

2:8-10--For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this not from yourselves, it is the figt of God-not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

3:6--This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body and sharers together in the promise of Christ Jesus.

4:1-3--As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worth of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with on another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.

4:11-13--It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teacheres, to prepare God's people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ

4:22-24: You were taught, with regard to your formal way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

4:32--Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you.

5:1-2--Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

5:16-17--...making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is.

5:21--Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.

6:10--Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.

6:18--And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.

Words to live by. And all God's people said...AAAAAAMEN!

And now we wait.

All my college applications were in by the almost-universal November 1st deadline. A&M's deadline is December 1st, so I that's why I said "almost-universal". Anyway, now I am now just in that angsty waiting process to find out if colleges think I'm impressive enough to get into their prestigious institution of higher education.

And, as we all know, waiting and I have a troubled past.

I applied to Oklahoma State (Stillwater, OK), Baylor University (Waco), TCU (Fort Worth), and Texas A&M (College Station). OSU has already accepted me--that happened back in September. Old news. I should hear back from Baylor and TCU sometime in either late November (this month...weird...so soon...) or mid-December. Basically, they said, before Christmas. Which I find so strange and slightly terrifying that by Christmas, I'll know if 75% of the colleges I applied to want me or not. And then there's A&M. The latest I hear back from them will be mid-March.

You think I can wait that long? Heck to the no, fool.

Here are my thoughts now, as a senior, on my four schools (in no particular order other than by school):

1. Oklahoma State: Let's be honest--they accept everyone. Part of my reasoning for not applying to say, Alabama (where my mom wanted me to apply to) or Arkansas, was because a cat could get into those schools with no real problem. I wanted to have some level of difficulty. But I visited OSU and know people who have gone there and liked it and I wouldn't have to change my ways of saying "Go cowboys!" because they're the Oklahoma State Cowboys. It's a beautiful school and a cute little college town. But, come now, what's in Stillwater? A Wal-Mart, some restaurants, a couple boutiques, and a dance hall. That's pretty much it. I know that you make your own fun on campus and stuff but Stillwater isn't near another major city for a couple hours and is just too tiny of a town to do anything in. Don't get me wrong--OSU is my second choice for college. But let's just say that bright orange isn't really my color...

2. Baylor. Heyyyyyyyyyyyyy sic 'em, Bears! So, in the past, my reasons for not going to Baylor included their less-than-good football program. But now that they're actually fairly good, that's not a very valid argument. So now I just go the route that it's too expensive. $40k a year? Golly. That's a lot of money to be more educated. And it's kind of a Dr. Pepper-filled bubble. But, on the flipside, it's an awesome school. People are warm and friendly. I know tons of people there. There are Dr. Pepper floats every Tuesday (or is it Thursday?). The campus is gorgeous. I have a friend majoring in English--which is what I want to do. And I look good in green. Baylor is your straight up Baptist college of the South. And there's really nothing wrong with that at all. But it's preppy. And, for me, it would just be my hometown. I think I know too many people. And it's a lot more Greek than people let on. And it's, like, 60% girls. My MRS degree is in danger at Baylor. It's sometimes 3rd on my list and sometimes 4th. I don't really know why it switches. I love Baylor and think it's great. But is it really "my school"?

3. TCU. Hellooooooooo preppy! Purple and white, fight, fight, fight! I've grown up at TCU tailgates, Frog Ally, and in purple. When you live in the same metroplex as the place where your dad went to college, you're going to be under it's influence. There's no escaping it. But is that really a bad thing? Not necessarily. You just know it better than others do. It's a fantastic school (though verging a bit on the liberal side) and I feel like I would excel there. However, like Baylor, it has a girl-to-guy ratio of about 11:1. MRS degree is out the window. It's largely Greek. I'm so not a sorority girl. The girls dress up and look fashionable for games. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good with Nike shorts and a spirited t-shirt. Though I haven't taken a formal tour of campus, I've never seen myself at TCU. It's just too...much. It's changed a lot since my dad went there, obviously. The last time he was a student, it was 1981. I'll graduate 30 years after he did. Though it would be cool to walk into the bookstore and see my dad in his Super Frog costume in a huge picture on the wall and be able to claim that my dad was the original Super Frog around campus, it isn't something I strive to do. TCU is great. But, again, I'm not sure it's the school for me.

4. Texas A&M. So maybe I've been extremely biased about the 3 other above listed schools, but A&M feels like home. I can't lie--the 2 times I've visited, I've wanted nothing more than to sign up for housing and go to class the next day. I want to be an Aggie. It has my major(s) that I want to partake in. It has the history and traditions that I want. It's in the Big 12. What more can you need? Yeah, tons of people from home go there. So I can have my comfort zone. But it's also huge, meaning that the chances of my accidentally running into them are next to nothing. College Station is alive with action. Freebird's, Spoons, and Sweet Eugene's are just a few of the restaurants. Campus is constantly busy. And, plus, I love maroon. A&M is choice numero uno. And I feel about 99.9% sure that I'll end up there one day. So, gig 'em.

Like I said, I'm keeping all options open and trying to have an open mind. But it's hard when you're kind of set on something. A&M felt like home. I know I can't really go wrong wherever I end up, but I have my preferences. Right now, I just want to know. And it's frustrating not knowing if I'm even accepted into my top choice. A girl can only hope and pray.

So, gig 'em, sic 'em, go pokes, and go frogs. College, here I come.

I am second.

So I normally don't write poetry. I'm bad at it and it always sounds really corny/stupid and I just don't write it unless it's goofy...like a haiku about popcorn or something. So this poem is my attempt at being serious or religious or whatever. It's about the "I am second" campaign. A link will be provided after the poem. Try not to judge me and my horrible poetry abilities (or lack thereof).

Second

We are

Judged
Different
Misunderstood
Foreign
Aliens
We don't belong
According to the rest of the world

We are

Beloved
Forgiven
Needed
Beautiful
Strengthened
Empowered
By our God

We are

Not to judge
To always love
Always considered different
Going to stay forgiven
Forever misunderstood
More beautiful than jewels
As foreign as it gets
Given strength by the One who made us
The original ETs
Granted power by an even more powerful Savior
Never going to belong to the world

We are

Second.


Yeah..that was that. Here's the link!
iamsecond.com

30 Random Facts

So, this 7th grade girl tagged me in a note on Facebook that had 30 random facts about herself and I was told to do it too and tag 30 people. I really don't want to put it on Facebook and annoy people with tagging 30 of them, so I figure my blog is a good place to list off my life instead. Here goes nothing...!

1. I make A LOT of lists. Have you noticed?
2. I think I could very well live at my church. Jesus, friends, family, large kitchen...
3. Jesus is the only thing/person I live for. There's nothing else worth breathing for.
4. Reading is one of the only tangible things that gets my through life. Without fictional worlds, I couldn't survive the real one.
5. If I could write for the rest of my life and not have to have any other responsibilities, I would be set. Write, write, write.
6. Music is what I need. Silence is SO not okay.
7. The awkward little toe next to my pinky toe is oddly disfigured.
8. I'm always hungry. It's a curse.
9. Ice cream makes the world go 'round
10. I've been to 5 other countries besides the US: England (briefly), The Dominican Republic, Mexico, Peru, and Kenya
11. VRBC Kenya trip 2010: most epic mission trip of my LIFE. I love all of you guys.
12. I love middle schoolers. They're great.
13. Llamas are my favorite animal.
14. I'm a horrible dancer. So, naturally, I do it all the time.
15. I secretly wish that I have superpowers.
16. I get hooked on book series all too easily.
17. Some of my favorite people are fictional.
18. I find my life funny. Life is so much better when you think about how funny it is.
19. I'm a Facebook addict. It's embarrassing.
20. Math is not my friend. Never has and never will.
21. Texas A&M is my DREAM school. I love it. GIG 'EM.
22. The first Whataburger was on my great-grandfather's property.
23. I recently found out that my grandfather was kind of a spy.
24. I'm allergic to Opti-Free contact solution.
25. My skype username, blog name, and Twitter name are all the same.
26. Bugs don't scare me--if I can squish it, I'm okay. However, snakes terrify me.
27. I LOVE THE TEXAS RANGERS. Life-long fan. What can I say?
28. Chinese food is my favorite.
29. My favorite song right now is "All of Creation" by MercyMe
30. I make lots of strange noises and say the word "janky" a lot.

Thar ya goe.

So take me out to the ballgame...

Can I just say one thing before I launch into the meat of the post?



I've been a Rangers fan since I was probably seven years old. I remember going to that ballpark as a dorky little kid. And this season and last year's season, I followed them almost relentlessly. No, I'm not a bandwagon fan. No, I didn't get sucked up into the excitement just to have something exciting in my life. I have loved, do love, and will always love the Rangers. Just thought I'd clear that up for ya. Now here's my rant re WORLD SERIES 2010.



CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? THE TEXAS RANGERS ARE THE AMERICAN LEAGUE CHAMPIONS (beat the spankees to do it...no big deal or anything...) AND ARE HEADED TO THEIR FIRST EVER WORLD SERIES.



Ohhhhhhh my goodness. And not only are the Rangers going, but I got to see the game that sent them to the World Series. Yes, all you other fans (real fans, not bandwagon ones), I was there. At the Ballpark in Arlington. Here's a list of what made the game the most epic game in all of Ranger history to date:



1. It was raining. Now, I know that doesn't SOUND like a bunch of fun, but talk about an experience! I'm sitting next to my brother and mom in my Josh Hamilton t-shirt, jeans, and Pine Cove hat and the rain is coming down. So. Epic.
2. There were these extremely drunk guys. I can't lie--I have a weird obsession with watching drunk people because of the endless entertainment they provide. One of them walked past me several times and always had to hold onto my shoulder so he wouldn't fall. Once he stepped on my foot and apologized multiple times. Another time he just patted my arm. Awkward. The best though, was when he just stood up and started going, "Beeeeeeeeeeeer, beeeeeeeer, BEER, BEER, BEER!" Tanner and I just kind of looked at each other and laughed. Drunk people make events that much better due to their hilariousness.
3. Pine Cove was represented! I took a picture with PC staffers and am now in the running to possibly win a free Winterfest! Exciting. And I saw one of my old counselors and hugged her. Good times.
4. The only homer was scored by your boy Nelly Cruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz.
5. The yanks messed up AGAIN and walked Josh Hamilton. Then big bad Vlad gets up and knocks the ball way into the outfield. Josh Hamilton and I think Nelly score. The yanks had a bad habit of intentionally walking people and then getting into trouble because of it. Nicely done, Joe Girardi. Way to plan.
6. Words do not express how happy I was when Alex Rodriguez (who I call A-Roid) was booed mercilessly whenever his name was called. He is basically hated in Texas. When my mom asked, I told her that I'd rather kiss Vlad Guerrero than A-Roid. That's saying something. The best thing ever though? Top of the ninth. 2 outs. A-Roid is up to bat. The Rangers' kid closer, Neftali Feliz, is pitching. The count is 1 ball and 2 strikes. The potential last pitch is thrown. Roid swings...and misses. Still playing with kids, A-Roid? Muahahaha.
7. DOG PILE ON THE MOUND. Of course, Benjie gets there first, basically attacking Feliz, and then the whole Rangers team jumps on everyone. Craziest thing ever. The stands are going NUTS. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. Fireworks are going off. Confetti is everywhere. It was deafening. I'm almost crying. My real boys of fall were going to the World Series for the first time ever.
8. Josh Hamilton won the American League MVP. When he was interviewed, the first thing out of his mouth was "I want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ." Naturally, almost the whole stadium went crazy again. I was nearing tears again. He talked about how tight the team was. And, for those of you who don't know Hamilton's amazing story, here's a quick recap: he was majorly into drugs and alcohol. Then he was kicked out of the MLB. Then he got cleaned up and accepted Christ. Now he's the American League MVP. So the Rangers, to honor Hamilton's recovery, shook up bottles of Mountain Dew instead of alcohol and sprayed it everywhere. How cool is that team?

So, it was the best game of my life. Ever. I'll remember it FOREVER. Epic beyond words.

Word to Cliff Lee:
Please, please, PLEASE do not go to New York. Do not play for the Yankees. The Rangers can (and, if they do what's smart, will) pay for you. You're closer to your family based in Arkansas than you've ever been. I'm sure you heard, but the Yankees' cheating Nick Swisher had a very explictive-filled statement about you. You really want to play with that? Honestly? Yeah, the Yankees are good. But they're also hated by just about everyone who isn't a Yankees fan. That's a lot of people. And think about your fans. Think about Texas. It's taken you to a World Series. Think about how much of a unit your team is. The Rangers have it all. They have speed, hitters, catchers, and they need to keep their solid weapon: you. So, Cliff Lee, after this season, you'll need to make a choice. Imagine if money weren't an issue. Would you rather stick with the Rangers (close to home, a great team, coherent unit, etc) or play for the Yankees (nasty, cheating, hated, etc)? The age of the Yankees is ending. It's time for a new champion. A Texas-sized champion.

So, baseball fans, here are my last few thoughts of the night: keep your claws up, your antlers on, prepare for the World Series, and GO RANGERS.

Jesus>Frankenstein

Yeah, I'm supposed to be reading Frankenstein right now. And, for all you literarily (yes, I realize that "literarily" is not a word) ignorant people out there, Frankenstein was the DUDE who made the monster, who was pretty much only referred to as "The Creature". Frankenstein=scientist. Creature=green thing with the block head. Anyway, that's my old English lit soapbox. I'll get off of it now.

So, sort of in the same area of old English, every time I hear this hymn, I want to write it down. So it's written down about three or four times in different notebooks. The first line is always the one that makes me smile. Here's the song:
I hear the Savior say
'Thy strength indeed is small; child of weakness, watch and pray, find in me thine all-in-all'
Jesus paid it all
All to Him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow
(a few more verses)
Bridge: Oh praise the ONE who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead (repeat lotsa times)

The first few lines, about the Savior calling me weak and small, somehow never loses it's "WOW" factor for me. I've always loved that line. And for me it's this...

I'm one of those people who likes to pretend she can do pretty much anything regardless of what might be intended for her. I'm not really so much a go-getter as I am a "Oh yeah, I can do that. Easy." kind of person. It's a pride thing. I think that I can do everything all by myself. So when I'm told that my strength is small and that I'm weak, you would think that it wouldn't really go over all too well. But I weirdly like that phrase. Maybe because it ends with redemption. "Find in me thine all-in-all."

Of course, I have to watch and pray before I can go anywhere with my small strength. Watching implies waiting. Waiting means I need patience. Patience is not something that I'm overflowing with. And I do pray--like all the time. It's almost as natural as breathing. And I'm really glad that God doesn't get tired of me and my constant talking. I pray for things like patience but mostly I just...talk to God. About my life, about my friends' lives, about all my book angst, about church, about school, telling him that my stomach monster is demanding more food (I'm convinced that when I eat, I have a small monster in my stomach, named Robert, who eats everything so that's why I'm always hungry.)

Praying? Easy, schmeasy. Watching? Eh, not so much. I want to find my everything in Christ so that He can provide His strength so I won't be a "child of weakness" but that leads me back to the whole patience issue. Kind of a vicious cycle when you get down to it. I owe Christ so much more than my life, but since that's pretty much all I've got to give, that's what He gets. Most of the time. When I'm not being controlling. Which I have a tendency to be.

But regardless of my control and patience problems, He paid my ransom. Sin held me at gunpoint and Christ staked out and eventually got me from my chains. My debt to Him is unpayable because He picked me up and will one day carry me home. How do you repay someone after they save your life? Especially if that someone already has everything? You don't. Not fully. You give your life to them if you're really dedicated. If you really mean it when you say "Thank you".

Why save us? He loves us. That's pretty much the only reason. So I'm forever His. What else can I possibly be?

"And we are His portion and He is our pride. Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes. If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."

Oh, hello angst. Welcome back to my brain.

Today is the end of October 14th, 2010. Two days ago, Rick Riordan's The Lost Hero came out. Yes, I bought it the day of. Except my reading was a little delayed because I grabbed the old debit card so I had to go back home and get the new one and come back and get my book. Barnes and Noble is kind of out of the way but I will literally go through any lengths to get my hands on a book that I want. Except for maybe give away my first born child. Depends on the book, I guess.

Totally kidding.

Anyway, when I got home, I basically holed myself up in my room for the duration of the day. Well, I had to watch the Rangers game (that rant will come in a post probably tomorrow) and eat dinner. But I still got a solid 150 pages into the book. On Wednesday, I got about 3/4ths of the way. My mom got mad at me because I wouldn't talk to her and just wanted to read. Sorry for being literate, Mom! I'm so misunderstood. Ugh.

But today, I finished it. I'm rather proud of myself actually. I figured out so much! Yay for being an attentive reader! Hopefully I can apply those skills to Frankenstein.

This is going to be an extreme spoiler post. If you have an interest in the book(s) whatsoever, DO NOT READ. Holly and Alex, if you're reading this and haven't finished the book yet, leave now.

Here's a nice list of events of the book and my reaction to them:
1. Leo, son o' Hephaestus (the god of the forges), was witty, smart, cunning, and the comic relief. He was everything and more that I expected him to be. He's a human torch--both immune to fire and can create it from his very fingers. I thought that was pretty dang awesome.
2. Piper, daughter of...Aphrodite. GASP! She is sooooo not the glitzy girly type at all. She's strong and smart and sassy. A vital part of being part of an earth-saving quest. She had her great funnies too, like how she named the zit on her nose Bob. So amusing. Her big problem though? Her dad has been captured. And the only way she can get him back is by having Leo and Jason killed. She gets her dad back and the boys live, but they almost don't. Scary, scary stuff.
3. Jason. Hot, amazing, totally confused, Jason. He had no memory because it was stolen by a goddess. Things would come back to him though. Things that were true about the gods but he put them in a Roman perspective, calling the gods by their Roman names, as opposed to their Greek ones. Oh, and another thing about Jason? His sister, Thalia, is a MAJOR player in the first Olympians series. Except she is a daughter of Zeus. He is a daughter of Jupiter. No difference? Oh yes there is.
4. The gods have both Greek and Roman forms. Greek gods liked to meddle with humanity. They're more personal and more involved in their demigod's lives. Roman gods are all about discipline and strength. Basically, Thalia and Jason's mom was first swooned by Zeus and all his earthly involvement. And then again by Jupiter and all his formality. Jason and Thalia were seperated because they couldn't live together when their dads were the same but different. Supre confusing, I know. But apparently Greek and Roman demigods have a bloody past. And Jason and Thalia are going to be major players in bridging the gap.
5. Hera. Or Juno, her Roman name. She took Jason's memory. And plopped him in Camp Half-Blood--the Greek demigod camp. He knows he doesn't belong there. And Hera keeps appearing to him, telling him to save her. And he does. But she also sort of brings back the bane of Olympus on accident. Whoops. Well done, Queen of Olympus.
6. The big, inevitable danger? Giants. GIANT giants. Being released from the Underworld. Because of Mother Earth, Gaea. She has been "asleep" for eons and is stirring. In ancient mythology, after Kronos was defeated, there was another almost-collapse of Olympus. It was because Gaea, Earth essentially, was revolting against the gods. She created the giants, each with a job to destroy one of the gods. The only way the gods won was because demigod and god joined forces. Now, because Kronos has been destroyed, the part two of Operation: Destroy Olympus is going down.
7. So what about Jason? Why the memory swipe? Remember how I said there were Greek demigods and Roman demigods? Hera plucked Jason out of his Roman demigod camp and placed him at the Greek one to hopefully bring the two sets of demigods together. But it can't be a one-sided deal, right? Someone from our beloved Camp Half-Blood must go to the Roman one. Someone that I read about and practically watched grow up (in a fictional sort of way) had had their memory erased and was now in the Roman camp.

And that someone was Percy Jackson, the hero of Olympus in the last go-around.

Can I just boast and tell you that I called it? I SO called that exchange. Just like I called how it was Gaea who was the source of the problems. Just like I called how Thalia and Jason were siblings. So, I win. Except not really. But kind of.


Dear Angst,

I haven't missed you but make yourself at home. You'll be in the back of my mind until NEXT October, when the next book comes out. And I predict that it will be from the Roman camp's perspective, with Percy being your puzzle. Of course, I'll already know everything about him--but that just might make it more frustrating. But I can pretty much guarentee that it will center around Percy. So you can run and tell that, homeboy, homeboy, home, home, homeboy.

Miracles don't always have to include walking on water.

You would think by the time that I hit 18 (almost 19) years of age, I would have figured out that God is in complete and absolute control of my life and knows EXACTLY what is going to happen to me, when it will happen, how I'll be taken care of, and so on and so forth. But every time some milestone in my life (and not necessary what many people would constitute as a "milestone") occurs and I'm just like "Wow! Thanks, God!", I am totally surprised that something worked out that I wasted so much time worrying about. The only way I can define these crazy occurances would to be putting them under the catagory of "miracle".

Don't worry; I have an example to cover this new epiphany.

I'm over a year older than most of the people in my grade and even older than a lot of people in the grade above me. So I've kind of gravitated to the older grade, the class of 2010. That's where I put all my social marbles, if you will. I hung out with them on the weekends, we had sleepovers, sat next to each other during football games, etc. They were my confidants and my best friends. Well, all throughout junior year, I was torn. I knew that I would be socially inept when August rolled around and everyone who I hung out with moved away to start a new chapter of their lives. I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible because I knew that I had a limited amount of it. But then again, I had to think about the future of where I'll be in a year with no super close friend(s) to be with on Friday nights. And it stressed me out to no end.

Let's get deep here, shall we?

I would sit in my room and cry because I was sick to my stomach about not having a social life my senior year of high school. In June, my friends graduated but I still had the summer with most of them. Then everyone left...and I felt more alone than I've ever felt in my life. So I poured into the middle school ministries both in my church and in the community, hoping that God could occupy my mind with befriending and loving them so I wouldn't be able to think about my own looming problems. In a way, my middle school ministry was simply a selfish distraction to pull me away from my stressful world. But it has quickly turned into something way more noble and God-honoring than that. And I'm embarrassed about my initial intentions.

But all of that has changed.

Firstly, God used middle school ministry to get me closer to people my age who were also leaders. Don't get me wrong--I love the middle schoolers. They are so wonderful and full of energy and just straight up hilarious. But the leaders I have been put with have also pulled me into a fellowship ministry that we can embrace together. We can praise God and work with those in the younger grades. Can it get any better?

Secondly, God has taken on a role of the wise old man for me. He's shaking his finger at me, saying, "I told you! You should've listened to me! I said everything was going to be okay and that you didn't need to worry! But did you worry anyway? Yes! So here's me chastizing you for not having complete faith in me! But it's still okay. I still love you. And I'm going to make that so obvious that there's no way you can call yourself a follower of me and not see it." My social life, to sound shallow, is ten times more than it was last year. Every weekend for the past 7 weeks has had SOME activity with friends. Godly friends. Friends who I turn to when I'm stuck and need advice.

Friday night I was going to get food from a local restaurant for my sister, my mom, and me. I was just planning on staying home that night because I had the SAT in the morning and no one had called or texted me to see if we wanted to do anything. So I get in my car and about halfway to the restaurant, I checked my phone and had a missed call from a semi-good friend of mine. She didn't leave a message and the call was just 10 minutes ago, so I called her back. She wanted to know if I wanted to hang out with her and another one of our newer friends and try out this new yogurt place. Of course, I said yes and that I'd call her after I'd eaten dinner.

This song came on the radio right after I hung up. Here are part of the lyrics of the chorus: "God's got his hand on you so never get up hope; you're gonna do great things--I already know." I kid you not--on 121's access road, I started crying. All the wasted time worrying last year was all for not because God's hand is on me because it never left me. I'd just forgotten it was there. And forgetting that will lead to losing hope. And when I lose hope...well, you end up sitting in your room alone because you feel like "all" of your friends just took their diplomas, packed up, and bailed on you.

And even though I know that isn't true and I still frequently talk to all of my collegiate friends, it was MORE than a blessing to know that God already planned for this to happen for me; it's a miracle. It was just His way of reminding me that He was there. Always.

"You called and you SHOUTED. Broke through my deafness. Now I'm breathin' in, breathin' out; I'm alive again. You shattered my DARKNESS. Washed away my blindness. Now I'm breathin' in, breathin' out. I'm alive again." --Alive Again by Matt Maher

These are a few of my favorite things...

I feel like being really optimistic right now. So here's a nice list of everything that makes me feel happy.

1. Friends
2. Puppies (cornball, I know. But they're so dang cute!)
3. Baseball
4. Football
5. Days that are sunny with a high of 75 (thank you, Relient K)
6. Rainy days (I'm kind of quirky, okay?)
7. Long weekends
8. Sleeping in
9. Meaningful conversations
10. Being a total goofball
11. No-commericial Mondays on 106.1 Kiss FM
12. Worship time at 180
13. Laughing until my stomach and back hurt
14. When the Yankees lose
15. Sonic Happy Hour
16. Texas A&M University
17. Making people laugh
18. Being quirky
19. Lazy summer days
20. My church
21. Staying in touch with friends
22. Writing. Writing, writing, writing.
23. Facebook (I'm a social butterfly)
24. Funny things
25. When people hiccup only once very loudly
26. When people "like" my Facebook status
27. Riding my bike
28. Pine Cove
29. Singing (Yes, I'm a terrible singer. I do it anyway.)
30. The Texas Rangers
31. Iamsecond.com (Look it up--I dare you.)
32. Being a student teacher with one of my favorite people
33. BOOKS. (I'm OBSESSED with books.)
34. New books
35. TYPING IN ALL CAPS
36. Having long conversations that floooooow
37. Not being a good flirter
38. Friday nights
39. Coke-a-Cola
40. Witty friends
41. Classes with good people in them
42. Baked goods
43. Ending lists on awkward numbers.

Hope you enjoyed that. :)

I don't want anything left

So, here's something that I've wanted to blog about before but just sort of forgot about it. Sorry. But here it is now...

At the Disciple Now weekend my church does every year, someone made the point that they want to get to Heaven and say "God, I used everything that you gave me to glorify You." That struck an extreme chord with me. I mean, I really liked it. A lot. And found it really interesting and challenging.

Imagine if you did EVERYTHING to glorify God. Everything between breathing to driving to talking to people to your hobbies. If I did everything I could to praise God, I would act soooo differently than how I do now. For example, I hate it when people pass me when I drive. It drives me nuts. I can't lie--I normally go about five over the speed limit. Sometimes more. So when people zoom past me, they're over ten at least. And I always secretly hope that there's a cop close by. Most of time there isn't. So, as my revenge on these people for passing me, I get as close as possible at the next stop sign or stop light behind them, just to make them mad. It's rude, I know. But that's just what I do. And it is NOT God-honoring by any means.

On the flipside, if everything I wrote praised God, it would be one of two things: super impactful or super corny. Now, I feel like my writing is somewhere in the middle. Verging on corny but could also help someone--even if that someone is myself. Some people have made awesome careers on writing about their faith. Donald Miller and Francine Rivers, to name just two. I doubt I'll be anything like them, but you never know. But I also realize that I don't have to write about God to glorify Him. I can just not have questionable stuff in my books. No inappropriate scenes or innuendos. No bad language. No questionable scenarios. Mention my love of God in the "About the Author" section. It's simply a matter of keeping it clean but also keeping it modern and relevant. It's a challenge but I would be praising my God with my talent for writing.

All aspects of my life should be dedicated to the Lord. But they're not. Unfortunately. I'm still praying that I can use everything I've got to praise the one who should be praised. I want to stand in front of Him with my arms out and say, "I used it all for you. I've got nothing left."

Senioritis is NOT my friend

It's contagious. It can be fatal. It's the one bug that ALL seniors in high school eventually catch: senioritis. The disease that tells you "Oh, you don't have to study for that quiz" or "Just do it during fifth period, you have better things to be doing...like Facebook". Senioritis LIES! Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Though I haven't been completely bedridden by this plague, I can feel it working through my brain, trying to convince me of things I know are wrong (see above examples). Now, there's a difference between the normal senioritis and extreme senioritis. Normal just tells you that studying is irrelevant and that your social life and relaxation time far and away exceed your school work. Extreme, however, informs you that senior year is the time to live it up, illegal activities included. Drinking, weed, things that seem pretty harmless if you don't do them too much. But it only takes one night for your world to come crashing down.

I can assure you that I will not fall into the extreme senioritis. No desire to drink has ever crossed my mind, much less drugs. Ick. Thanks, but not thanks, modern society. I'm afraid I will not be joining you and your cult to corrupt my chances of getting into college. As tempting as that sounds...oh wait...

But I am struggling with the whole "Oh-I-can-just-review-in-the-morning" thing because I think I might but, in the back of my mind, I know I won't. To keep myself going, I just have to chant "finals exemptions" over and over in my head. With no underclassman status or TAKS holding me back this year, I'm hoping for no finals this year at all. And if I don't have to take finals, that means that I made good grades. And if I made good grades, it means that I beat senioritis. Points to me.

Of course, the first time I'll be eligible for exemptions is in January. It is currently September. I have a long way to go. But, like Philippeans 4:13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Yes, that includes finishing college applications, being accepted into college, finishing high school, graduating, getting a job, having a lively social life, and so forth and so on. Um, can I get an amen on that one?

I LOVE THE RANGERS

I'm going to be honest: I would rather watch the Rangers than the Cowboys.

Now, not to say that I dislike the Cowboys, but...I sort of do. I LOVE Jason Witten and Miles Austin. But Romo? Barber? Jerry Jones? Uh, no thank you. Truthfully, I would much rather see my boys with the baseballs go to the World Series than watch the silver and navy head to the Super Bowl. Personal preference. Here's why...

The Rangers' team is AMAZING. Here are my top favorites:
1. Josh Hamilton. LOVE HIM. Though he is currently out due to running into the wall to make a catch, he will hopefully be back in action in the near future! He's just an awesome guy and holds the record for longest homerun in the Ballpark in Arlington. Whatabeast.
2. Michael Young. A class act. Great hitter, speed demon, cool guy. He's your All-American baseball player. What's not to like?
3. Bengie Molina. The Rangers' new catcher. He is large. And he is not the youngest on the roster. But if you can hit the cycle (single, double, triple, homer) then you basically shoot to the top of my list of awesome people.
4. David Murphy. Four words: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyy sic 'em Bears! :)
5. Elvis Andrus. Beast.
6. Julio Borbon. Luhgit.
7. Nelson "Nelly" Cruz. HOLLAAAAA
8. Vladimir Guerrero. Big Bad Vlad. Vladdy. The Vladiator. Whichever way you spin it, he's a designated hitter because he's awesome. My favorite part about Vlad is not his slugging abilities though. It's the fact that he looks like he's constantly having fun. He's always smiling. I just feel like that Vlad would be so fun to hang out with for a day. Too bad he speaks pretty much no English.
9. Ian Kinsler. Okay, I'm a little hesitant to put his name on here because of his latest idiocy. Honestly, you can't expect to get away with saying "eff you" (except actually using the word) to an umpire and get away with it. Not possible. So he was therefore ejected from the game. To quote Antoine from "The Bed Intruder": "You are so dumb. You are really dumb. For real!" But he's a great hitter and infielder but sometimes baseball players like to use colorful language that may not be appropriate for daily conversation.

Another reason why I want the Rangers' to get to the World Series? Because we have a good shot at beating the Yankees. Who will probably end up at the World Series. Like last year. And all other years. I hate, hate, hate the Yankees. I guess part of it is because of the time-old thoughts that everyone hates the one who gets everything. And because I think A-Rod (who I affectionately call A-Roid) needs to get his big, egotistical head out of his butt. He just thinks he's hot snot on a silver platter. When, in actuality, he's a cold buggar on a paper plate. And then there's Nick Swisher. Now, until the past month or so, I didn't really have a problem with him. Then one of the Rangers pitchers sent a strike-out his way. So, with lovely tact, Swisher decides to throw his bat down and drop the f-bomb very loudly. But it's okay, because Molina later tags him out at home plate by hitting Swisher's family jewels. Muahahaha. Oh, and hey Yankees? Who swept you this weekend? Sorry...my memory is fading. SIKE! I love my Rangers.

So yes. That's my baseball rant. GO RANGERS! :)

Let's hear it for New Yawk

So, 86:12 is flying from DFW to La Guardia on June 18th. For a week long mission trip. In the Big Apple.

WOWZERS. I AM FREAKING OUT.

This is so epic. I listed out my last 6 mission trips in a previous blog post, but here's the progression of Linley's mission trips in case you haven't read that post.

1. El Paso, TX
2. Pueblo, CO
3. Memphis, TN
4. New Orleans, LA
5. McAllen, TX
6. Atlanta, GA
7. NEW YORK CITY, NY

So, the class of 2010 is a little miffed that they graduated 86:12 before the epic trip of epicness. Bummer for them. But, obviously, a trip this can't be pulled together in a little under a year, like most 86:12 trips are. This is New York we're talking about.

Here are some crazy thoughts/logistics
1. Last year, we had 206 people going on the trip. 206 people flying from DFW to La Guardia? Oh my.
2. Yes. We're flying. Obviously, 86:12 will get there in shifts because there's no way all of us will get on the same plane--that's just ridiculous. And a bus drive from here to NY will take about a day. Yikes.
3. We're staying in Jersey, just across the river from Manhatten. We'll be able to see the skyline from our dorm rooms :)
4. No Vacation Bible School this year. We're going to be doing other outreach ministries. Though I don't know what as of yet.
5. It's going to be more expensive than other years, obviously. But we're getting a steal. It's only an $800 trip for a week in New York City. Danggggg.
6. Registration is in the fall this year, so anyone coming in the spring semester won't get to go on the trip, which is good. That means kids who normally slack on rehearsals HAVE to come fall semester or else no NY trip for them.
7. I've heard some whispers of cool events that are original to NY that we'll get to do, but we'll see...
8. Concerts in Central Park? OHMYGOSHHHHH
9. Who knows? We might actually see some (gasp) celebrities. Weird.
10. Could I get a better senior trip? Didn't think so. :)

So, I am A LITTLE excited to go hit the Big Apple this next year. God is going to use us to do some amazing things in His name and glorify Him. And get some crazy awesome memories while we're at it.

"I will praise you, oh LORD, my God. With all of my heart, I will glorify your name forever." Psalm 86:12.

September 11th, 2001. My timeline and thoughts

7:50 AM. I was a third grader at Lakeside Elementary. So that would put me at about nine years old. We had gone to PE or something and had just come back to our class. We were met with an extremely unusual site: my teacher was watching TV and had a stricken look on her face. When we came in, she quickly turned the TV off and got the day started. But she wasn't fast enough. We all saw planes going into these two huge buildings. We didn't know what exactly was happening. We didn't know why all our teachers were acting so weird. We didn't know anything other than something bad had happened and no one was telling us anything.

Around noon. Some parents had come and picked their kids up from school. I'd heard that whatever had happened was in New York, but I knew nothing besides that. We were having a "normal" school day with lessons and recess. But it wasn't really normal. The teachers were acting off. We knew something was wrong. We just didn't know what.

3:15PM. Tanner, who was in first grade, and I walked home. I don't remember the walk or anything, but my mom didn't pick us up, so I guess we did. By the time we got home, Tanner asked my mom if everything was okay. Because you can't tell a first grader about a terrorist attack, she said that everything was fine and Tanner went upstairs to go play. But my mom told me more information. She said that some people had taken control of planes and crashed them on purpose into two big towers in New York. She said that lots of people did not make it out alive. Then she told me that my dad was in New York. I was in third grade--I just knew that my dad traveled a lot. I didn't really ever know where he was. Mom assured me that she had talked to him and that he was perfectly safe and totally okay. But she let me watch parts of the news.

Friday, September 14th. My dad, and another guy from our church, got back into town. They had driven from Manhatten, which had been completely closed for some time, to Dallas. They came to the Coppell vs Jesuit game. The CHS band did a moving piece dedicated to those who lost their lives on Tuesday.

The story of Mike McCord.
My dad was about to leave his hotel room to go to a meeting in the North Tower (the first one hit). His meeting was at ten in the morning. The towers were hit at around nine. So my grandfather calls my dad and his phone didn't ring. But he had a voicemail. My dad calls my grandfather back and is told to turn the TV on. He sees the footage and agrees that he probably shouldn't go to his meeting on the 43rd floor. The next day, September 12th, my dad stood in line all day to give blood. He said that he made several new friends and that street vendors and pizza parlors were just constantly coming by and giving them food and drinks and encouragement. He said that he was one of the coolest things ever. A day after the biggest terrorist attack in American history, the first time we'd been attacked since Pear Harbor, New York was already alive again.

A letter to al Qaeda:
In case you haven't realized, you didn't win. You got a nice reaction out of us. But, obviously, you didn't win. You're like the bully on the play ground, just more extreme. You come in, seek and destroy, and call yourself victorious. But who is hiding in caves and planning cowardly actions? Who is being hunted by countless governments? NOT the USA. We've recovered. We came together as a nation. Do I get mad every time I see victims lists from that day? Yeah, absolutely. But am I also inspired by our victory? By the fact that a nation of 300 million came together? Yes, yes, YES! So, in your face, al Qaeda! You've lost in the long run. We're Americans. And we are proud of it. And we're not going to rest until every last one of you has been terminated.

A special shout-out to all policemen and firemen out in our nation. Y'all are amazing.

"Because I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. And I won't forget the men who died, who gave their life for me. And I'll proudly stand up next to you and remember still today. 'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land. GOD BLESS THE USA."

"Dreams are a wish your heart makes" haha, yeah right.

So, I have really strange dreams. I'm pretty sure God doesn't speak to me in them, and I'm really sure that my heart wasn't wishing this to actually happen. Here's the terrifying dream that I had last night.

The beginning for me (Tanner informed me that you never remember how your dream actually starts) was when I was in a caravan of cars. Some guy who I didn't know was taking me away from this place where I'd been held captive (don't know how that happened...) and now he and his large group of friends were rescuing me. Then, I blink and we're back at my high school, except it did not look like my high school at all. I only really recognized the freshman wing

I'm ushered into this arena that was made for barbarians. It was all busted up; the stands were broken, boulders were in the arena that looked like they had been thrown by a really angry giant. It kind of resembled the arena Harry was in while fighting the dragon in the 4th HP book, to give you a visual. Except the one I was in was less rocky. And with no dragons. Anyway, this HUGE (tall, not fat) and frightening woman with a pointy face (I normally don't remember faces, so this is a treat for y'all that I'm remembering hers...you're welcome) told me that I would pay dearly for my escape. There was no CHS staff in sight and I was kind of freaking out.

Then I somehow appeared in a place that looked like a Nazi concentration camp. It was barren and sad looking. The big woman pointed to a ledge that was about ten feet long, maybe six inches wide, and twenty feet up in the air. It was like a super tall balance beam. And there was a rod about five feet above that. Attached to the rod were twelve, brace yourselves, nooses. And attached to those were twelve of my friends. I had begged and pleaded the large woman to let me take their place, to take me back to where ever--anything to save them. But she wasn't budging. So I climbed the ladder and told all of them that I loved them before I was dragged away. My friend Kirstin tried to calm me down with a Black Currant Fanta (African drink) but I was still freaking out. The twelve were pushed off and all of them were (gulp) killed. Well, except one. Cody. He's been in my English class for the past three years and somehow he survived. He got out of his noose, hugged me, and left. But I was sobbing. Eleven of my friends had just died right before my eyes.

Then I was in my house. It was dark and cld and looked like it had been bombed. My mom told me that because of my actions, a school shooting was happening right now. Of course, that made me feel really great. Then my friend Sarah called me and asked me if everything was true and she couldn't bear to look at the notes (I had no idea what she was talking about). I confimed that I somehow caused twelve-plus people to die some horrible death.

And then my alarm went off. I had about three thoughts right when I woke up:
1. Mary Beth, Nicole, and Claire are dead?! Nooooooooooooo.
2. My face is wet.
3. Oh my gosh--this was a dream. PRAISE THE LORD.

I had cried in my sleep, apparently. And my relief upon waking up and realizing that I had dreamt that whole thing felt absolutely wonderful. So, I texted Mary Beth to ensure her liveliness. She texted back. Then I saw Nicole at school. And Claire was on Facebook. All of my friends (who I remember in the dream) were, in fact, alive.

Now, I don't normally dream about my friends dying and school shootings. I don't know where I got al that, but I assure you that I do not wish death on any of my friends. I love my friends. And am still a little shaken from my dream.

Last night was just straight up scary.

You win some, you lose some

Depressing news in the life of Linley McCord: I did not win the Maximum Ride writing competition. Wasn't even a runner-up.

I can't lie to you. I really, really, really wanted to win. Not because I'm obsessive and have to win everything. But to prove it to myself. To prove to myself that I am a pretty good writer; to prove that I've got some form of talent. And now that I've lost...it's a bit of a blow to my already mildly fragile self-esteem. Before the end of junior year, I just kept thinking to myself, "If I make Red Jackets, if I win the writing competition, I'll be good enough." But, now that both of those things have come to nothing, I realize that I didn't know what or who I was trying to be good enough for. Colleges maybe? My peers? I don't know.

But you know what? It's okay. I mean, I type this as I wipe the pity tears off my face, so sometimes irony gets the best of us. But I really am okay. Rejection is not a fun thing to experience, as I'm sure we all know, but I have to learn to move past my mistakes. If you've read my blog about the competition, you know how badly I wanted that winning position. But allow me to assure you that it is not the end of the world for me. When God closes one door, other ones open.

The rest of the day might be a bit rough for a little while, the loss still on my mind, but I'm signed up to be a middle school girls' retreat counselor at my church tonight. And what they need, since most girls between the ages of 12-14 are a little more insecure than I am, is someone who can lead with her own personal experience and love them like there's no tomorrow. Because, if you think about it, there might not be. And I have no doubt that God had the letter come today, the day where I was supposed to be giddy and joyful for the girls, because He's got a plan. A plan that is flawless and beautiful and joyous and full and awesome. No earthly plans can foil it. And, as I think about it more, I realize this: my joy is not my joy. My joy needs to be God's joy. And tonight I was fully anticipating on using my joy to minister to these girls on a church retreat. God's probably just like, "Hmm, no. Let's use mine instead." And the ONLY way I'm going to be even remotely joyful tonight is through the LORD. My friend Paige said something really wise last summer that has stuck with me. She said that "our joy should not be determined by our circumstances."

Can I get a "soooooo true!" on that one?

Remember that one story about David in the Old Testament? The Ark of the Covenant returned to Israel and David was FREAKING OUT. Like, you could not contain that dude's crazy awesome joy. He was out in the streets in his underclothes just straight up dancing. And his wife was all like, "David, you're out in the streets in your underclothes in front of servant girls, get inside!" and David stops, looks at her, and responds with, "WOMAN! I will dance out of joy to the LORD!" or something like that. Haha, I put it in Linleyspeak. But you get what I mean.

I want joy like David. I want to dance like nobody is paying any attention to me whatsoever. No matter my circumstances, whether I've just lost a contest or I'm dancing in my underwear, I want to be so joyful that people have to put on sunglasses because I'm so bright.

And you know what? I don't need to try to be "good enough". Because God loves me where I'm at right now. He gave me the talent of writing...that I know that I have. I'm His beautiful daughter. And He's my rock. I don't seek the approval of men. I seek the joy of my God.

You can run and tell that, homeboy. ;)

For ALL have sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God

That's part of Romans 3:23. Harsh, isn't it? We've all screwed up and therefore cannot be within God's magnificent glory. Bummer. This post is going to be my realizations that God gave me at the wonderful place called Pine Cove. So, if you're overdue for a reality check, here it is. Like it or not.

We basically fail at life. 24/7. It's inevitable. Every single day we do something (actually, lots of somethings) that the Lord is not happy with. We all mess up. And, prepare your mind to be blown for this one, but all of our sins are seen as the same. For example, if someone murders someone else, and you just lie to your mom, both of those sins are seen the same to God. Heavy stuff.

For me, I walk down the halls of my school, and think, "Oh, he drinks" and "Oh, she's done things with boys" and automatically consider myself the "better person". I mean, I don't drink underage; I don't use my body in ways that I might later regret. But I do judge. I do gossip. I do lie. I do disobey my parents. I am mean to my siblings. I sin. Everyone does. And it doesn't matter what kind of sin it is, because it's still sin. There is no such thing as "Holier-than-thou" because no one is better than someone else! When you get right down to it, we're all pathetic, dirty people who are inherently "bad".

That's why we need a Savior. He was absolutely, 100% perfect. Nothing was wrong with this guy named Jesus. And yet He was all, "Okay, Linley, guess what? I love you. I LOVE YOU. So I'm going to die so that you don't have to be punished for your sins and end up eternally seperated from me." And I think I take that too lightly. I've grown up hearing preachers and leaders saying, "Jesus took the blame for what you've done so that you can be with Him forever" and have always been aware of that, but think about what we needed, what we very nearly asked, Him to do. We asked a perfect, blameless God to DIE for us. Imagine asking your mom or dad or husband or wife or just anyone you totally loved to die for you so that you could live forever in paradise? I couldn't do it. I couldn't just straight up ask my dad to die for me. He loves me enough so that he would, but I can't bear the idea of seeing my father killed so that I could live.

That's what we did to Jesus. He is described in the Bible to be our father and then he goes and is brutally murdered and sometimes we don't even shed a tear when we think about the sacrifice. Have we become so numb to that? Has it come to the point that we just say a passing "Thanks" to Him, like we would if someone held the door open for us if our hands were full? I hope not. I hope that I can remember every single day that I'm not supposed to live forever in a place of sheer perfection. I have to pray that God is going to remind me that He loves me enough to save me from myself. From the destructive, disasterous, horrible, dirty, screwed up, person that I am.

But there is hope, of course. Because He died, we live. In other words, because Jesus came and took the blame of the world and was punished for it, we don't have to go to Hell (that's right; I said it). But the flip side to this great gift? Since we are alive because of Chris, our lives should be spent in total devotion to Him. It's hard to do that, especially since we live in the 21st century. But I find myself in a constant state of prayer. I'm always talking to God. And, really, it's easy to always be talking to Him. He's one of my best friends. And He always answers. It may not be the answer I want, but there is always an answer.

My hope, my life, lies in Jesus Christ. Where's yours?