"Life is messy and people are messier." -Pastor George Ray
A few years ago I was driving a U-Haul with my one of my greatest, most special friends from Key West, FL back to the Motherland AKA Boston, MA. As I was winding the box truck around bendy turns on a sub-highway in Pennsylvania I was overhearing her talk to her distraught daughter who was away at college and trying to get to the bottom of a mysterious rash without the aid of her present mother. I was focused on the traffic and the scenery, my mind wandering in and out of day dreams when I heard her say, "At least you have your Christian friends to be there with you and help you with this."
She continued talk and my mind instantly processed that information into practical terms that I could describe to someone else. What does it mean to be a "Christian friend?" What is the difference? Should there be one? What would it look like if the last question were true? Thoughts started to spin. I reflected on my friendship with my co-pilot on my current pilgrimage home. I mentally filed evidence of a good Christian friendship versus a regular one or worse, a bad Christian friendship. Oh, but maybe you don't want to know lest you be convicted but here it is anyway.
The primary difference is active involvement. For the women that I serve and mentor on a daily basis, it takes more than a just a phone call. It takes more than a canned response to things. It takes more than just, "I'll pray for you." It is easy to say, isn't it? When I say that I will pray for someone I mostly do but occasionally I forget and when I remember I burn with shame for letting it slip. I want to honor the request, of course. Prayer is powerful, I don't wish to underestimate it at all. Still, how many times have we offered prayer when something tangible was needed? Have we ever had the power to help with a need in some way and instead offered to pray for someone else to come through? No, in order for a friendship to resemble that of Christ there needs to be skin in the game. How involved did Jesus get with his friends and associates. Pretty personal if you ask me!
Remember the woman caught in adultery. Did He stand idly by the scene of a mob with rocks ready to hurl at this ashamed woman who'd been cast to the ground before them and say, "Hey, I'll pray for you?" He got involved. He stood at her side and defended her, because He should, because He could. He stood next to her even in the face of danger. That is love.
It takes more than a warm sentiment to make a change to, to take a stand. The work I do with women who are facing their unintended pregnancies and chosing adoption for their children is hard. It takes time, resources, tears, phone calls, late nights, sleepless nights, lots of prayer and a willingness to be there no matter what. For a lot of them, I have been the only one in the whole world that they have ever been able to trust. I want to honor that at all costs.
Interested in this kind of work? Want to support what we do? I do apppreciate your prayers. But if you are making a decision to just pray and withhold resources you know could help us, please don't pray for me. Get involved. For where your heart is there your treasure will be also.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
My Guest Post from Bethany Christian Services
I was featured on Bethany Christian Services Blog for Sanctity of Human Life Sunday:
http://www.bethany.org/main/blog/unexpected-joy#.UTEYbv9j8B4
http://www.bethany.org/main/blog/unexpected-joy#.UTEYbv9j8B4
Monday, February 11, 2013
It's Just A Song
I sit here on day four of the great "Snow In of 2013" here in Boston, listening to the music on my iPhone and being grateful that my bored 6 year old is in bed and we can look forward to getting back to the normalcy of life for a busy single mom and a six year-old who loves Kindergarten as much as candy.
As I stared off into the abyss in front of me a song started playing into my ears. It was the song I played during my husband's funeral service. It was quite unorthodox to play in the sanctuary of a stuffy, moderately legalistic Baptist church but I didn't care at the time and I still don't. It was given to me on a CD of music meant to lift me up in such a dark time, from my husband's faithful accountability partner and friend, J. I remember listening intently to the songs that he brought me, stretching for any message, subliminal or otherwise that would help me understand my husband more. I grasped for any tiny straw that would help me make sense where to me there could be none. He was gone and nothing I thought, said or did would change it. The finality of God's sovereign will had been rubber stamped on my life. No matter how I wished I could erase it, the indelible mark was there for all to see.
The song was so powerful to me. It was a plea, no a commitment to praise God when all seemed hopeless. I tried, I really tried but in all honesty, I didn't want to. I wanted Him to give back to me what He had, in my eyes, stolen and I knew that He wouldn't although I recognized that He could.
Months went by of me trying to make sense of my life and find a balance. It was like trying to learn how to tightrope walk with Rollerblades on. The more I fought for control the more the rope swayed. It was one day that I just decided to fall off, convinced that the learning wasn't worth it. That was when I discovered that I was carrying Alex.
During my carrying I had to once again be faced with a God who not only stole my husband but sought to seemingly exact His revenge on my disobedience for having dared to look Him in the face and tell Him to "kiss off". I was dutifully fulfilling my obligations and being allowed to be held accountable for my actions, amidst my temporary insanity. I can't remember a time when I was so amazingly down-trodden. I was like a trampled rose on the sidewalk on a hot Summer day. Left to wilt through the heat of a Key West Summer and my sadness I went to vacuum my car one day when the song came on the radio. The words pierced my heart. Before I realized what was happening I was on my knees next to my car with the driver's side door open wailing aloud with the car wash vacuum hose in hand.
I had to acknowledge finally that God had not done anything to me at all. Life has trials, sorrow, grief, and loss. No one ever promised us that we'd get through our existence without it. In fact, quite to the contrary. The book of James in the bible assures us that we will have trials and of many kinds. It is what we do with the trial that makes all the difference. No, I chose my path and now I had to walk it all the way out. It just didn't look like I thought it would. In those moments of brokenness I turned back to see what could be left of my torn relationship with God. I haven't been sorry for anything ever since.
Just this month, in almost 4 years, is the first time that I have been able to listen to this song for what it is and see proof of hope in the lyrics. Where I used to be reduced to tears, I find clarity and assurance. It doesn't haunt me any more. It steadies me. I hope you enjoy it.
http://www.youtube.com/embed/z0LV_p3HQQI
As I stared off into the abyss in front of me a song started playing into my ears. It was the song I played during my husband's funeral service. It was quite unorthodox to play in the sanctuary of a stuffy, moderately legalistic Baptist church but I didn't care at the time and I still don't. It was given to me on a CD of music meant to lift me up in such a dark time, from my husband's faithful accountability partner and friend, J. I remember listening intently to the songs that he brought me, stretching for any message, subliminal or otherwise that would help me understand my husband more. I grasped for any tiny straw that would help me make sense where to me there could be none. He was gone and nothing I thought, said or did would change it. The finality of God's sovereign will had been rubber stamped on my life. No matter how I wished I could erase it, the indelible mark was there for all to see.
The song was so powerful to me. It was a plea, no a commitment to praise God when all seemed hopeless. I tried, I really tried but in all honesty, I didn't want to. I wanted Him to give back to me what He had, in my eyes, stolen and I knew that He wouldn't although I recognized that He could.
Months went by of me trying to make sense of my life and find a balance. It was like trying to learn how to tightrope walk with Rollerblades on. The more I fought for control the more the rope swayed. It was one day that I just decided to fall off, convinced that the learning wasn't worth it. That was when I discovered that I was carrying Alex.
During my carrying I had to once again be faced with a God who not only stole my husband but sought to seemingly exact His revenge on my disobedience for having dared to look Him in the face and tell Him to "kiss off". I was dutifully fulfilling my obligations and being allowed to be held accountable for my actions, amidst my temporary insanity. I can't remember a time when I was so amazingly down-trodden. I was like a trampled rose on the sidewalk on a hot Summer day. Left to wilt through the heat of a Key West Summer and my sadness I went to vacuum my car one day when the song came on the radio. The words pierced my heart. Before I realized what was happening I was on my knees next to my car with the driver's side door open wailing aloud with the car wash vacuum hose in hand.
I had to acknowledge finally that God had not done anything to me at all. Life has trials, sorrow, grief, and loss. No one ever promised us that we'd get through our existence without it. In fact, quite to the contrary. The book of James in the bible assures us that we will have trials and of many kinds. It is what we do with the trial that makes all the difference. No, I chose my path and now I had to walk it all the way out. It just didn't look like I thought it would. In those moments of brokenness I turned back to see what could be left of my torn relationship with God. I haven't been sorry for anything ever since.
Just this month, in almost 4 years, is the first time that I have been able to listen to this song for what it is and see proof of hope in the lyrics. Where I used to be reduced to tears, I find clarity and assurance. It doesn't haunt me any more. It steadies me. I hope you enjoy it.
http://www.youtube.com/embed/z0LV_p3HQQI
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sanctity of Human Life Sunday -Audio of my message
Hi All!
As some of you know, I was asked by Fifth Street Baptist Church to deliver the message of Sanctity of Human Life Sunday this year. Here is the link to the sermon. I hope you enjoy it.
http://www.fifthstreetbaptistchurch.com/Sermons
My Best in Him,
Britt
As some of you know, I was asked by Fifth Street Baptist Church to deliver the message of Sanctity of Human Life Sunday this year. Here is the link to the sermon. I hope you enjoy it.
http://www.fifthstreetbaptistchurch.com/Sermons
My Best in Him,
Britt
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