Am I Less Than Because I Didn't Do It?

This is long, but I promise I'm going somewhere. Are you up for the journey?

My father is from Albany, GA, and my mother is from Bronx, NY. My three sisters and I were born at Vandenberg AFB, CA. Both my parents served in the USAF, and this fact kept us on the move for the first half of my life. So, already, it would seem our family would be different.

When I was about 4, we moved to Grand Forks AFB, ND. We were one of very few black families, but it didn't seem to be an issue to me. We went to school, played with our friends, and went to church. I didn't really get the whole God, church thing, but Sunday School was fun, and I loved family camp during the summers. I remember the beginning of getting easily heated and a rebellious streak.

Our next assignment was Barksdale AFB in Louisiana. We lived there for four years. It was during this time I developed a shorter fuse/temper, fought with my sisters and kids at school, talked back, experienced "inappropriate touch" by a cousin, was introduced to pornography by a "friend", began a struggle with depression, and hated myself for not being on the A honor roll every 9 weeks. It was also during this time when I read the Old Testament and decided God was a God of wrath. I was too afraid to read the New Testament because I didn't believe I deserved the grace of Jesus' message. I read Revelation and couldn't sleep. I knew my life was messed up, and I didn't know what to do.

All this time, my family was involved in our church. I went to Sunday School and knew the answers. I went to service and acted like I was paying attention. I did Vacation Bible School, sang the songs, did the hand motions, and even prayed in public. I listened to Psalty the Singing Songbook. I watched Superbook, the Flying House, Colby, The Donut Man, and Greatest Adventures - Stories from the Bible.

I was 12 when we moved to Minot AFB, ND.
By this time, I thought I had to be perfect. I thought no matter what, how hard I tried, how much I worked, I'd never be good enough, but I tried anyway. I played sports, sang in choir, studied and aced everything, and strove to be the one everyone saw instead of the one everyone overlooked in favor of someone else. Then, there was the ONE.

How I wanted him to notice me. How I wanted him to pick me. How I invested so much in a hope and a wish.

We left MAFB right after my 14th birthday and headed to Atlanta. I left MAFB with a broken heart, a huge insecurity about being back in the south, and even more head knowledge about God than before. Yeah, we were still active in church. We sang specials and in the choir, did Sunday School, talked to our friends and invited them to church. Does that stop us from striving for acceptance? Does that stop us from looking for peace? It didn't for me. I still carried the hurt from before we got to Minot, and 2 years of living that way only compounded my soul's burdens.

Wheeler High School in 1995 is the scariest place I've ever been in my life. I didn't know what to think, how to act, what to say, who to talk to, and it all barraged at one time.

The next four years of my life are a blur now, but some instances stand out. I remember my first friend. She was the first person to talk to me in three months. So many people thought she was strange, but I was grateful. She introduced me to my chorus teacher, which set me on a path that I still walk today. I remember my first choir solo as one of three freshman in concert choir, something that didn't happen then. I remember getting my first A in high school. I remember my first show - My Fair Lady - and the torrential rain that tried to stop our baby musical theater program from maturation. I remember teaching elementary age kids to read. I remember getting involved in FCA, Theater, Chorus, and developing my writing skills. I remember graduating and being proud of my accomplishments.

I remember the first guy I liked, and how I thought I was wrong because I held on to the hope of the guy up north. I remember how I broke when I found out the guy up north thought I was a joke. I remember fights with girls in the hallway, screaming all kinds of words that a young lady shouldn't use or know. I remember being at parties with my friends and getting high from THEIR smoking. I remember lying, sneaking, manipulating, yelling, rebelling, and demanding. I remember learning lyrics to songs I knew were demeaning. I remember people I knew killing themselves. I remember conversations with friends (guys and girls) that were obscene and contained too many innuendos. I remember graduating with regrets and pain.

I remember Liberty Church and the Lighthouse, my home away from home and saving grace. I remember going to my first camp and not knowing God the way these other kids knew Him. I knew of Him, but I didn't know Him. I remember speaking in tongues for the first time and how it BLEW my mind. I remember physically feeling the Spirit bring me to my knees and being completely unable to stand in His presence. I remember finally feeling free after being baptized by my youth pastor. I remember graduating with purpose and intent.

Let jump forward 10 years. Since then, I graduated from college, worked a couple jobs (steadily now), traveled across half the country, dealt with a huge blow to our family, fell in love and had my heart broken, and now here I am, at 29, a sinner that struggles with addictions, depression, insecurity, and brokenness.

Why did I write this? Because this morning I woke up feeling completely unqualified for ministry. I woke up feeling completely irrelevant, out of touch, ineffective, I've lost touch with the age group God's called me to love, and they all look at me like I'm old, bitter, and legalistic. I woke up thinking "They're going through stuff I never dealt with. Who am I to say anything?"

Please hear me out: no, I don't have to dig through sexual partners, hours of being high on pot or crack or meth, or nights of being drunk beyond recognition, but yes, I have to dig through people that have been eternally broken and killed by my words, hours of sitting in the darkness fighting the urge to die, and nights of pictures and images that are forever burned into my mind.

And yes, I grew up in the church - my whole life.

Don't get it twisted: God is very real to me, and I am very serious about the role He plays in my life. I am redeemed and saved by the blood of the Lamb. I am a daughter of the King, and I am becoming who HE wants me to be.

My heart breaks for the next generation of the church... and I feel like I'm helpless to do anything.

So, am I less than because I didn't do it?
Am I irrelevant because my life isn't full of bad "outer" decisions?

Tonya Cobb really helped put a bow on this one: a person's life isn't their qualification for ministry - their heart for the Lord and his people qualifies them. He calls, equips, and prepares those He has great plans for, and He stays faithful to those faithful to Him.

My Declaration as a Worshiper

I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13:6

I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples. Psalm 57:9

I will sing of the LORD's great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations. Psalm 89:1

I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. Psalm 104:33

Sing to the LORD! Give praise to the LORD! He rescues the life of the needy from the hands of the wicked. Jer.20:13

HIS response to my declaration:
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zeph. 3:17

What brought me to this place of declaration before the world (or at least Emily :0P)? The humbling experience of standing before a group of people, praying and hoping and believing they will see the face of God, not just "feel" something moving around them.

I sing. It's what I do, and I am blessed to do it well. Thank you to all those that have encouraged this gift/talent in me. David, though, wasn't just a good singer - he was a worshiper.

Between David, Solomon, and a handful more writers, the longest book in the bible is a hymnal! It's a compilation CD of worship music laced with desperation, hunger, holy fear, righteous anger, and praise in its rawest, purest, most genuine form. Two whole chapters in the book of Revelation are dedicated to worship around the throne of God. What does that tell you and me?

Francis Chan Crazy Love:
It may sound "un-Christian" to say that on some mornings I don't feel like loving God, or I just forget to. But I do. In our world, where hundreds of things distract us from God, we have to intentionally and consistently remind ourselves of Him.

As a worship leader, I sometimes lose sight of the lyrics and focus on how the music feels, how the atmosphere shifts, or how the people react to the driving drums or rhythmic guitar. In our regular normal days, don't we sometimes lose sight of who God is and how we refer to him in light of EVERYTHING else that's going on? Like our friend Francis, we have to admit we miss God.

The amazing thing God is showing me, in the midst of One Tree Hill and poor money management skills, lack of energy and frustration with people around me, is it begins with worship. Life begins with worshiping Him, and all else falls into place.

I declare today I am a worshiper of the Lord God Almighty, Creator of all things, Jesus Christ, the Risen One, and Holy Spirit, Comforter, Counselor, Teacher, and Friend.

My declaration as a worshiper - David said it best:
Psalm 9
¹ I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.

² I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.

Psalm 145
1I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever.

2Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever.

3Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom.

To worship You, I live.
I live to worship You.
Here I am, with all I am, bowing down in spirit and truth, with lifted hands, worshiping you.

Thank you, Father, for singing over me.
You love me.
(Still working this concept in my head - every time I think I get it, it gets more intense.)

Love Letter

It's been some time, you know, since we've really talked, you and me. Probably too much time, you know?
We could beat around the bush, shoot the breeze, tell a couple jokes... or we could say what really needs to be said.
If you don't mind, I'd like to go first. I'm totally willing to listen to you... by going first, I know I'm being selfish, and it's wrong, but I feel like I'm going to burst if I don't tell you.
I love you.
Like for real, truly love you.
You're probably wondering why it took me so long to figure it out and tell you instead of just assuming you already know. It's because I had to realize you've done something for me that no one else has really honestly done.
You loved me.
Wait - I'm not saying no else loves me. I have a great family and amazing friends, and they loved me their way. I know it deep inside my heart.
Your love, though, is different. For example, remember when I tried to manipulate you to get what I wanted, and you called me on it? Or remember when I broke down and cried because I didn't like who I was? What did you do? You wrapped me in your arms and told me it was okay, how grateful you were because I was me.
What about those times we would just talk with each other? You're such a great listener, and I love hearing your voice. Sometimes, I got chills when you spoke to me. Your words resonated in my spirit.
I miss spending real time with you. I can tell just by how my days goes, and I feel so bad later for not spending time... I just don't say anything.
I was afraid - afraid I'd never be good enough for you. I wanted to be so badly. I want to be faithful and considerate, compassionate and understanding - just like you.
I hoped you'd see my insecurities and weaknesses and be willing to accept me for me. You did, every time. I wanted so much to be someone you wanted to invest in, and you did - a lot.
I don't suppose saying "I love you" is as big a deal now - how much do those words get thrown around, esp. by me? But I do, even when I know I messed up with you. How many times did you forgive me?
So, all this to say I want another chance to love you. No more fear, no more giving in to shame or guilt, no more hiding.
See, I've held back, shut in, and kept quiet for too long. I chose not to fight for you, but no longer will I keep my heart contained.
Forgive me for feeling the need to be like everyone else, for neglecting you, for thinking other things were more important. I'm not ashamed of you - I'm ashamed of me.
But now, let's dance in the rain and laugh and smile and maybe even make a memory together.
I want to worship you in spirit and in truth. I want to be real about what you mean to me.
Jesus, I love you, and I'm not afraid to tell the world.
You know my inmost being, you know all my thoughts, you catch each of my tears, you hold my world together.
You are my provider, the banner that goes before me, my healer, my God, my friend, my father, my big brother, my love, my heart.
You created all the heavens and everything they contain, and yet you know me intimately.
You are my Lord and Master, my King, and I humbly stand before you, grateful to be chosen as one of your own.
I love you, Jesus.
Sincerely,
Jayme