I live with crazy people.
At any given moment something weird happens. Recently I was at an appointment for one of my miniature residents, answering questions about her. When asked to describe the wee human, my end of the conversation sounded dubious:
No she won’t eat anything cold, wet, or slimy. Yes, she prefers to eat very dry things. Such as? Cotton balls, grass, crickets, chicken-biscuit crackers, and leaves. I know she’s hungry or ready for bed when she makes a high pitched whistling noise. No, we keep the Band-Aid on her belly button because she won’t leave it alone and it was starting to bleed. She drinks about 30 ounces a day, and she prefers to drink it under the kitchen sink while sitting in a blue bucket.
And yes, she’s a real person – I didn’t imagine her. Although I suspect Dr. Seuss now spends his time in the heavenlies helping God dish out personalities.
The madness doesn’t stop there. There are naked vandals, our two and four-year-old sons continually making things insanely weird. The older of the two sleeps with diaper wipes; one in each hand. He barks at us, “WIPES, WIPES! I need some WIPES!” And the younger refuses to go potty in the toilet, but he will change his own diaper, can solve for X, and starts his mornings at 4 am with a cup of hot “caupee” and he takes it black.
I won’t impose on your time with tales of the manbabies and lady babies, too much weirdness for a Thursday. Although, I did go to the manbaby cave to drop off some groceries the other day, next to one of their beds I found three cereal bowls filled with water. There was water all over the floor next to the bowls and two pairs of goggles and some nose plugs. I didn’t ask and honestly, I don’t want to know.
Maybe I am the crazy one? Today I said the following:
“If I see you naked one more time today I am not buying Cheetos ever again!”
“I am begging you, stop licking the shower door and give me three minutes to shave my legs in peace.”
Perhaps it is all me?
Of the craziest things going on at our house my husband would agree – most of it is stuff I say. But as of late, it is a whole new level of crazy because for the first time in my life… I am fearless.
[Tweet “But as of late, it is a whole new level of crazy because for the first time in my life I am fearless.”]
I am not giving up my Xanax; I still have places I must fly and the occasional run in with egg salad, but for the most part… I am not afraid. A manbaby is joining the Marines… we are transitioning our foster daughter home to mama, our youngest daughter is starting public high school after years of being homeschooled…
And I am not afraid.
I guess I am bragging, but only because this is huge news. I am the biggest scaredy-cat on the planet, and I am not afraid.
But not the same old Jesus… the real Jesus. It wasn’t until recently I have discovered my fears stemmed from the belief that my good deeds equated to blessings and safety. This is an exhausting existence. If you believe your child will be hit by a bus, or that God is turning his back on you because you had a second glass of wine – you will live in constant terror of punishment.
My God is not a God of wrath and condemnation.
Years spent chewing on hell fire theology had me convinced I served a performance based God. Performance-based theology produces three things:
None of these things were bought for me on the cross. I can be terrified I will stumble, and that I will be cast into the firey pits – but I said “Yes!” to Jesus and the blood worked and NOTHING can separate me from Him. And I can boast of my righteousness and bark my good deeds; but unless I brag of my weakness He is not the strong characteristic that seeps from my pores, I am. And frankly… gag. Oh, and then when I do sin… which no matter how hard I try not to – I will, I am not only obnoxiously self-righteous – now I am a liar too.
[Tweet “I said “Yes!” to Jesus and the blood worked and NOTHING can separate me from Him”]
So here is the new found formula: I am a sinner. I serve a God who loved me so much and wanted to be with me He was willing to make a covenant that couldn’t be broken with the one being that He could trust fully, Himself. He suffered, died, and was buried – He rose again and now there is no more work to be done. I ACCEPT the gift of blameless – He has declared me righteous. He who dwells in my writes His law on my heart and I am moved to do His will. I walk in His FAVOR. He is not out to get me or punish me. His wrath was purchased by the ultimate sacrifice, His boy. When I fell into His arms He saved me. You cannot be “kind of saved.” If I pull you out of the ocean and take you to dry land you are saved. If I toss you a life jacket you can tread water… but if you get tired and the waves grow too high, you will drown.
The blood worked.
Grace is the consequence.
Eternity is the prize.
Welcome to crazy town.
[Tweet “The blood worked. Grace is the consequence. Eternity is the prize. Welcome to crazy town.”]
2 Cor. 5: 21 God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
You might also like: The Evolution of Chill
And check out my friend Kelly’s new book Fear Fighting!