“Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.”James 1:21 NIV
My day started at 3 AM. I woke up early out of a habit that I can’t shake. By the time I was ready to go back to sleep, my alarm was going off for work. I went into the day knowing I was going to be about thirty minutes late to work because I had to put air in my tires.
I’d practically been riding around on a flat, so my mom drove with me to a gas station to make sure my car was all set. She even helped me put air into my tires. It wasn’t until the air machine silenced that we heard all the air rushing from my front wheel. By that time it was 7:30. Not a problem, I could still be at work by 12. We dropped my car off at a service center. It would only take an hour to fix. Everything was on schedule until I got a phone call at 10:30 notifying me that my rim, not my tire, needed to be replaced. No big deal. All I needed to know was if it could be fixed and how much it would cost. Unfortunately, life rarely works out the way you want it to, if ever, which meant my car could be fixed just not by a mechanic at that location.
I updated my mom. What was once gratitude for her giving nature turned into guilt. She had her whole day planned, and I was messing it up. She told me to call my dealership. Before I did, she started rattling off questions that hadn’t even crossed my mind. I felt my frustration growing, so I jokingly held out my phone to her, “You wanna talk to them?”
“I’m right here.” There wasn’t anything to say back. If I needed help, there she was. I couldn’t argue with that, so I began what would be a series of phone calls and estimates and lovely holding jazz music.
With every, “Do you mind if I transfer you?” my heart sank. I was supposed to be at work by 12 at the latest. I was actually excited to go into work for no other reason than I wouldn’t have to be at home. You can only do so much running from yourself before life catches up.
I ended my final phone call feeling annoyed and frustrated. My mom asked, “You okay, Esh?” I wasn’t okay, and I didn’t feel like lying, so I kept quiet. It was almost as if she were in my head because then she asked, “I know you’re not good, but are you okay?”
Okay is such a relative term and it never actually means that someone is a-okay. It means that they’re present and aware of the things around them. They are moving, not necessarily forward but moving in a direction with the least friction until they’re stable enough to change direction. More than anything, they’re probably tired too. In that moment I was all of those things. “I’m okay. You ready?”
We retrieved my car from one service center just to move it to another one. Instead of going back home, my mom drove behind me in case I needed immediate roadside assistance. That’s my mom’s thing. She may not know how to do something or what exactly to say, but she’s going because, “We’ll figure it out together.” (But that’s a different post for a different day.)
The car service center was only eleven miles away. Two miles into the drive I realized I wasn’t okay. I acknowledged the circumstances around me, and I started to cry. There was little in that moment—completely unrelated to my car—that I could control. There were things that I wanted that I now had to give up for a season, so I cried. I looked in my rearview mirror, constantly wiping my face as if my mom could see me crying through the car. We were minutes out from our destination when I heard her voice echo, “I’m right here.” Again, I checked my mirror, and sure enough there she was as promised.
When the truth is spoken no matter the state of the person or the circumstance, it echoes louder than anything else. My mom’s declaration was just words to fill the air when I was disappointed in her living room, but my spirit held on to it for a later time.
Today, the consequences of my actions and the reality of all my circumstances were staring me in the face demanding payment. Every situation, no matter the severity of the matter, had their hand out asking for guilt, shame, and regret. Every situation wanted something that I didn’t have to give. Were my circumstances less than ideal? Absolutely. Would I die from them? Not a chance.
How I treated someone, how I left someone, how I would be introducing someone didn’t matter. What mattered is that I was not alone, and that if I chose to, I could begin anew in that moment. I didn’t have to hold on to guilt, shame, or regret to pay back for my mistakes. The mistakes I made were paid for in full at Calvary. My debt is zero. In the middle of my hurt feelings, it’s almost as if Papa reminded me of His truth: “I’m right here. Let’s begin again.”
I was reminded of the very end of Matthew, “Teaching them to observe everything that I have commanded you, and behold, I am with you all the days (perpetually, uniformly, and on every occasion), to the [very] close and consummation of the age. Amen (so let it be)” Matthew 28:20 AMPC. How glorious it is that God is with us perpetually, uniformly, and on every occasion. Simply put, He’s always right there through all things all the time.
I started my day off thinking I could get by with just a little air in my tires. I ended the day replacing a rim and a tire. I am a lot like my busted wheel. I needed to be reminded that there is a “Do Over” button with God. Once I accepted that He’s on the scene, everything was more than okay. It was blessed, fixed, and made new. Honestly, the moral of this story boils down to neglect. I neglected my car, which then caused me some problems, but with the help of a good person, I was able to get everything fixed. I also neglected myself, which I then went on to create more problems for me, but with the help of a good God, He was able to get everything fixed. I love when the creation mirrors it’s Creator.
“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” Ephesians 4:1 NIV
…and I was reminded of Someone bigger than myself.
I have this problem (well, not really a problem, more like an opportunity). So, I have this opportunity that I find myself knocking on the door of, and I am terrified. I knocked on this same door in January, and to my surprise, it was locked. I honestly didn’t expect the person on the other side to refuse me entry into a place I knew I belonged. I said nothing, and I stopped moving. I gave up so easily at one silent no. The plan I thought I heard from God was gone.
I briefly mentioned in one of my previous posts that I was reading Love Does by Bob Goff. In it, Goff mentions how sometimes God is waiting on us to not just knock on our doors but to kick them down. I agree with that. I think we, myself included, lay down in defeat too easily. We hear a no and allow that no to stop us dead in our tracks. We plan and plan and rework those current plans in hopes to not make the same mistakes again. The idea I believe we don’t entertain enough is that we didn’t make a mistake. We didn’t miss our opportunity. We just didn’t knock hard enough or long enough. People have the power to change someone’s life, and Goff talks about that too. I think when we remind someone that they have that power, they want to use it for good.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve found myself too scared to knock on the same door because I didn’t want to make any noise! How courteous of me. Now is not the time for manners. Now is the time to do. So, right now, I’m sitting under the moon, but tomorrow—tomorrow I’m wearing my combat boots. I’m reminding myself why I’m doing this, and I’m going to remind the person on the other side of that door why they should let me in.
This evening, I found myself being stood up yet again by a man who says he wants to marry me, but he doesn’t know the first thing about commitment. I decided to blow off my anger on the way to the gas station. While driving, my bitterness began to creep out in the form of Meghan Trainor’s “No Good for You.” After the third time of it playing and my jaded feelings in the front seat, I turned it down.
“Papa, I just don’t understand. Was he out to prove a point? I just…” Before I could continue, I saw my house completed and being used for a bigger purpose. I saw myself teaching. I saw myself with my goofy friends. I saw myself doing amazing things with what I’ve been blessed with, and I started to giggle. God continues to bless me with infinite opportunities and honors. The greatest honor of them all is being called His child.
The thing is, I am His daughter. I dwell in His Presence, and I keep leaving the safety of Him and getting angry when people don’t treat me like the royalty I know I am. There’s a couple of things at work here.
The first one connects directly to 1 Peter 2:9, “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” There is no need for me to keep going back into the dark, willingly exiting from God’s Presence just because I know I can come back. Why not be apart of this amazing priesthood, and wear it as the honor and privilege that it is? The thing about being in the dark is, it doesn’t offer anything new or beneficial. Why not stick with the light?
The second one is, how people treat me should never determine my attitude. People will do or say mean things. They will do things I believe are unfair or disrespectful. Now, I can choose to react to every last one (which is very exhausting), or I can let it roll off my back and continue being the person He designed me to be. The latter is the most difficult one but the most rewarding.
I’m not sure what I expected on the drive to QT. Pity, maybe. I was throwing a pity party for one, but my God and my Spirit decided they weren’t having any of that. I’m grateful. Those parties can spin out of control very quickly.
On the drive home, I listened to Israel Houghton’s “Friend of God.” With every repeat of the verse, my smile and my praise got wider and bigger.
“Who am I that You are mindful of me?
That You hear me when I call.
Is it true that You are thinking of me?
How You love me it’s amazing”
I am a friend of God. As His friend, He reminds me to keep my head on straight when I forget that I’m already standing in the light. His light doesn’t come with any gimmicks but strength and wisdom. Most times, it comes with courage to move past how I feel and step into what I know: I am His special possession.
Don’t ever forget who you belong to.
“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”
1 Peter 2:9 NIV
Those were the words I uttered to my Mom as I sat next to her hospital bed. Suddenly she was awake. Her eyes widened, “What did you say?”
I calmly recited the words I shouted the night before. However, the more I spoke, the angrier I became. My voice rose. I sat up straighter. I dug out everything. If my Grandma was in that room for a Round 2, she would have passed out.
Like many other mid-twenty somethings out there, I lack tact. I formed the conclusion somewhere that the loudest and the last voice is the most accurate one. I tacked in past faults, unnecessary, trivial comments and gave myself the victor speech when I was done. “It had to be said!” I justified my displaced and hurtful words.
Intimidating is a word frequently associated with me. I’m not intimidating because I’m tall and hovering. I don’t look menacing. The consensus is that I speak too fast, use too many large words, and already have a solidified opinion on an issue, person, or place by the time I speak. While this isn’t wrong, it is limiting in some areas. When I’m angry, I struggle to express myself clearly free from petulant tactics. I want blood for blood, but if I remember anything from July, I remember life is not tit for tat.
At around 3 o’clock this morning, I woke up to a text message from my Aunt addressing my tone with my Grandma. I initially sent the “new phone, who this,” text to show I don’t even care who it was. The longer I waited for a response, the angrier I got. I started typing a follow up response. What started off as a half-baked apology progressed to probably a 1000+ word count text message outlining why I was right, what exactly needs to change, and in case someone wanted proof of what I was saying, I had receipts complete with time stamps and exact quotes.
I eventually cut and pasted the text into my notes in order to expand, but what happened moment by moment was a reduction. I cut out the trivial, the bitter. I opened with a sincere apology. No one wants to yell at their Grandma! I cut away the fluff, the worldly, and what resulted was a plea for change and compassion. I said what I needed to say without being nasty. I took accountability for my shortcomings, stated the issue, stated clearly what the issue should not be reduced to, and offered a solution. I closed respectfully. No opinions. No pettiness. No feelings. Factual statements, which were kind in delivery.
As I was re-reading my message, I offered up much more when I spoke out of love. I offered an overlooked perspective, closure, and a new beginning founded on truth. When those are done in good faith, you can only hope that things change. Preferably, start out that way. Don’t go yelling at old ladies about their 70 year old community effecting habits, regardless of how wrong they are. Open with the good.
Unfortunately, I know my family well enough to know that they are a stubborn people who refuse to acknowledge when old ways are no longer good ways. As much as my heart had cleared up by the time I sent my nicer (and shorter) message, I was still met with defensiveness and pettiness. Immediately, I wanted to react. I didn’t. I shouted one, “No!” at my phone, and politely declined to continue the conversation.
I thought my defensiveness and childish ways were something I learned from the world, but I was wrong. I learned it from my root.
My God is a God of redemption. That extends from my salvation to my foundation. I wasn’t raised in the church, so my patient God has a lot of digging and uprooting to do. If last years Aisha was in this situation, she would have gone off. She would’ve been combative. Ultimately, the encounter would’ve ruined her day. She would’ve discussed it thoroughly and vocalized to anyone in earshot. Today’s Aisha knows that reacting is only satisfying for half a second. It’s exhausting and most times doesn’t require a response. When I do respond, all I need to do is stand on His Truth. God will do the rest.
This morning I am terribly grateful that I serve a God who uses all moments as teaching moments for His glory.
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”
1 John 3:18 NIV