A little more like MacKenzie…
I pushed open the door and looked inside. A loooong line. My heart sank just a bit. I was at the Cricket cell phone store with Julie, as her phone had been lost or stolen or otherwise no longer with us.
The lobby was full of people, all of whom looked homeless. We were in a rough part of town. I clutched my purse a little tighter and held the door for Julie. Her face lit up when she walked in the door, “Oh good! MacKenzie’s here.”
Julie called out, across all the people, “Hey MacKenzie! I lost my phone again!”
The girl behind the counter smiled. She was young, tattooed on both arms, and stood with arms folded as a toothless, elderly man at the front of the line waved his arms around. “You’re taking all my money! Just like women!” He hollered, laughing at himself for his cleverness. Julie and I took our place in line and waited. For 15 minutes the man messed with her, asking questions and getting confused and pretending he wasn’t going to pay her. Then came the next customer–an angry young girl. Then the next. One older man in line, with a little red-haired girl no older than Heidi, tired of waiting, turned, storming out the store. “I’m outta here! I’m OUTTA here!” He shouted twice, dragging the little girl away as he went. MacKenzie’s face darkened slightly, then she turned back to the next customer.
Nearly an hour went by. She juggled customers, often helping two at once, processing bills while people tested phones, programming and talking and answering phones all at once. She bantered, smiled, and stood her ground, as hard as nails, when needed.
Someone commented on her tattoos. One was an elaborate drawing, and another a long sentence in scripted font. I couldn’t make out what it was.
“What’s your tattoo say?” A woman asked.
She said it quietly, but clearly, looking straight in the eyes of the woman who asked.
“Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future.” Then she turned to get the woman’s new phone.
Our turn was next. Julie relayed her story about the phone. MacKenzie smiled and listened while simultaneously, with quick hands, pulling out the least expensive phone and programming it for Julie as she listened. Julie told her about her new home, “I’m 125 days clean and sober!”
MacKenzie stopped her hands. She looked up, into Julie’s eyes, and leaned into close.
“I’m so proud of you, Julie.” Julie smiled, eyes full.
When it was time to pay, I had to use a large bill, and felt a little bit uncomfortable. I slid it out and held it low. MacKenzie instinctively reached around and slid it from my hand, behind the paper bag on the counter. She slid my change back into my hand without counting it out loud. She smiled into my eyes.
“It was great to see you, Julie. Take care.”
We left the store. Julie went to catch the bus, and I went home. But MacKenzie haunted me. I don’t know her story, her past, but I do know that this young tattooed girl, working long hours at the dingiest cell phone store in a rough part of town, understood the grace of God because it flowed through her to every person in that store. She stood behind that counter, embodying Jesus to every person she met. The toothless ones, the rude ones, the obnoxious, impatient ones. I watched her doing her job, juggling things joyfully, looking people in the eye. Listening. Not taking flack but bantering when possible. Giving people dignity.
Later that day, I got another call. We needed to go back to the store and pay Julie’s bill. Inwardly, my heart leapt, excited. I wanted to see MacKenzie again. Heidi hopped in the car with me, and I prayed she would still be there. Sure enough, when I pulled up, she was there. And no one else was in the store.
As soon as I opened the door, she beamed. “Hey, I wanted to tell you, it’s really nice of you to help Julie like this.” I smiled.
And then I told her. I told her I followed Jesus too, and that I saw Him in her, as she interacted with all those impossibly irritating people, how her beautiful tattoo was such truth–all saints do have a past and all sinners do have a future. I told her she fulfilled her job with such excellence, even though she was the only one there. I could tell she worked for an audience of One.
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, I am a Christian. Thank you.”
Then I awkwardly asked if I could take her picture and write about her. She laughed and agreed.
And I clicked a picture of her, Cricket worker for the glory of God, shining the light of His love in the midst of the darkness there.
And I prayed the whole way home that God would let me be a little more like MacKenzie.
Thanks for reading.
What does today tell us about us?
I lit up when I heard those two little words.
“Last Chance!”
I’d heard about this place–basically The Rack of The Rack. The unwanted items from Nordstrom go to Nordstrom Rack discount stores, but then all the unwanted items from all the Nordstrom Rack stores around the country go to one store, located in Phoenix, called Last Chance. And that’s exactly what it is–the last chance to get high-end clothes and shoes at ridiculously low prices. (You know something’s a good deal when they put a limit on how many of something you can buy and when it’s illegal to re-sell items purchased there.) Because of this, the place is a mob scene. Since the only place I shop is either Goodwill (no one’s fightin’ over worn out sneakers there) or Amazon (from the comfort of my own home), the scene at Last Chance was quite another beast altogether. I’ve never done the Black Friday deal either (Well, I bought a coat once), so I was unaccustomed to the frenzied fight for fashion.
But upon arrival, I quickly figured out why the people were crazy there–this place was great! Bins of real leather boots, racks and racks of high-end shoes, rounds and rounds of designer jeans, a sea of quality bras for $2.97 each. What? You can imagine the frugal-shopper in me was doing the happy dance.
I had a blast. I quickly spent the $120 of Christmas cash I had tucked in my wallet, and walked away with two big bags of treasure. But something didn’t feel good inside. I laid in bed that night for hours, unable to sleep. Part of it was certainly just the sheer amount of money I spent. I never spend that much. We live frugally and give a big chunk of our income away. I’ve trained my brain to think of dollars in terms of mosquito nets and sponsored children. I could have bought 33 mosquito nets with that amount of money! But it wasn’t just that. That money had been given me for Christmas to buy whatever I wanted, and I had done just that. Nothing wrong with that.
What nagged at me was what the day told me about me.
In the fascinating book I Told Me So, the author discusses “giveaway actions.” A giveaway action is an event that uncovers and reveals the true values of the heart, which often contradict what we think are the values of our heart. He explains that these moments are helpful for us, because they show us where we may have inadvertently deceived ourselves into thinking we believe something other than we really do.
In our fight against self-deception, we’re wise to pay attention to these giveaway actions.
Last Chance was my giveaway action. Because even though I don’t spend much money, even though I don’t buy clothes or fritter away our finances on frivolous material things, even though I wrote a book on living frugally (directly to your right), my time there, in my heart of hearts, revealed that deep down–I still really love stuff. I still really love jeans and leather boots. And, if I want to give it the name God gives it–I still have greed in my heart. The response, then, isn’t self-loathing or even necessarily returning (there’s no returns at Last Chance) but to confess (call it what God calls it) and recognize once again how much I desperately need His grace, His sanctification, His work in my life.
I desperately need Him to change what I love. To continue to make my heart like His.
So I share this post not to shame us (I’m still wearing my new jeans), but to help us pay attention to these giveaway actions. Certainly, Black Friday is a giveaway action for our nation, spending $59 BILLION dollars on ONE day while 21,000 children will die that same day of preventable causes. So I ask, What does today tell us about us? I know it’s not simple, and I know guilt isn’t good motivation.For me, it wasn’t that spending $120 was bad, it was that it revealed a root of greed still present in my heart.
So all in all, I’m grateful for my trip to Last Chance, but not because of the leather boots and great jeans.
I’m grateful for the giveaway action that brought me back to the cross, and back to the gospel of grace, that showed me my fallenness, His forgiveness, and the cleansing, transforming love of Jesus Christ.
{Happy Friday. Thank you so much for reading.}
The Plan
On the eve of our nation’s favorite food holiday, we’re going to talk for a moment about just that–food. As much as we want the focus to be on giving thanks, we inevitably spend a great deal focusing on food as well. Nothing wrong with that. I shared way back here about not wanting to walk in circles in the area of food and diet and received quite a load of varied responses. I mentioned briefly a book called The Plan, and since then the most frequent question I am asked seems to be: “So, what’s The Plan?” It’s been a fun journey these last three months and I am happy to report: I’m no longer walking in circles! More than a couple pounds shed though, my mindset has changed. I so enjoyed the book I’d like to share a bit of it with you. So let’s just do a quick dive into 1) What is The Plan? 2) Why does it matter?
What is The Plan?
The Plan was recommended to my mom, to help in her fight against Parkinson’s. I ordered it for her, and was so intrigued by the beginning that I told her I’d do the 20-day plan with her. Jeff caught my enthusiasm and said he was in, and our housemate, Debra, jumped on board a few days later. The gist of The Plan is identifying which foods trigger an inflammatory response in your body, and are therefore detrimental to your health in a variety of ways. Negative responses can range from headaches, weight gain, bloating, puffiness, foggy thinking, stomach-ache, irritability, etc.
The first few days are rough, as you detox and begin to learn how to listen to your body, but after day 3 we were all quickly hooked by just how good we felt! My mom lost a lot of weight, getting to her lowest since before having babies (almost 40 years). Jeff’s cholesterol dropped one hundred points in just a few weeks. I found myself with way more energy throughout the day, and easily shedding the few pounds I wanted to drop. My aunt reached her lowest weight since high school. Our housemate noticed much more metal clarity and more energy as well. It’s been 3 months now and I would say it has been the single best book for educating and inspiring wise, informed choices for our family’s eating.
Why does it matter?
So, while I cringe at the word “diet,” how we steward our physical bodies does impact how we flourish spiritually. At least for me it does. I have never found a more freeing approach to health, diet, weight, and nutrition as by following the simple steps of The Plan. What I love is that she leads readers on a journey toward a new perspective of health and food. Instead of striving toward some dream image or goal weight or following what “they say” are healthy foods, you simply learn to listen to your body (the one God gave you!) and find your set point, the natural place where your body thrives best. Instead of following some new fad diet, or trying to fit insane workouts into your schedule, you just rest in how your body best functions. Although it’s not a Christian book, I find the truths in it are so in line with the idea of stewardship—learning to adopt a healthy, restful, no-stress approach to good health through nutrition.
So, all that to say that as we enter into a season notorious for its food, I enthusiastically recommend The Plan to anyone looking for a healthy, whole, balanced, stress-free approach to nutrition. I feel like I finally know how best to take care of the body God has graciously given me. So, if your interest is at all piqued, check it out. I think you’ll be blessed.
It’s definitely on the list of things I’m oh-so grateful for this Thanksgiving.
{Happy Thanksgiving! Thanks for reading…}
Live Overwhelmed
~
I’m thankful.
Because I have parents. They are alive. And as I click out these words they are snuggled up on the couch with my children.
I’m thankful.
Because I have water to drink. It’s clear. It’s safe. It perfectly satisfies my thirst and every morning I gulp it down and thank God for another day of life.
I’m thankful.
Because I have a bed. I find rest there. I am safe. I sleep without fear.
I’m thankful.
Because in the midst of life’s chaos there is peace. Unshakable, unchanging peace. There is an anchor for my soul.
I’m thankful.
Because my value, worth, and identity is not based on my performance, track record, or week’s resume. However I have triumphed or failed this week, how much I am loved remains the same.
I’m thankful.
Because His living Word is truly alive. And I can crawl inside its pages each morning and find truth, hope, peace, joy. I can go there to recalibrate. To find True North.
I’m thankful.
Because I belong to a body of Christ followers. A little ragtag bunch of believers who love each other fiercely and who remind me of grace and the gospel whenever I forget. Who serve selflessly and give endlessly and although we are all terribly defective, we belong to each other and shine lights on the beauty of Christ in each one.
I’m thankful.
Because I am free, in this country, to write, speak, and proclaim the truth of Jesus Christ.
I’m thankful.
Because there are people around me who are so very different from me. Who inspire me, challenge me, question me, and encourage me. People who believe differently who are willing to love me anyway and willing to let me love them. There is infinite value in every single soul we meet. I’m thankful for them.
I’m thankful.
Because when I feel we are empty, lost, ruined, the Living God swoops in with His provision, protection, power. He does exceedingly abundantly more than we could imagine.
I’m thankful.
Because this fragile wisp of life is fleeting and yet forever. Life here so soon gone, life there eternal.
I’m thankful.
Because most of the things I get so wound up about don’t really matter. The slights, the inconveniences, the discomforts and irritations. A blink and they will be gone. People last forever. I’m thankful for a fresh reminder of this.
I’m thankful.
Because love changes everything. And every exhortation can be boiled down to this: Love one another.
I’m thankful.
Because the truth is, I am overwhelmed. I am buried alive under the huge mass of God’s amazing grace, the glorious gospel, that Jesus Christ conquered sin, death, and the grave, and sets us free to live for Him, in His love, by His power, receiving His provision, experiencing His love. Everything is grace. Everything is blessing. He is so good. And how often do I forget? How often do I complain? How often do I doubt?
OFTEN. Daily?
But there continues to be grace, and returning, and forgiving. And when I wander He draws me back. And when I stray He calls me home. And when I am bound by fear or hate or greed, He lures me back by His love.
This week, forget not all His benefits. When we ever-remember them … we live overwhelmed.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all His benefits.
Psalm 103:2
{Wanting to live overwhelmed, continually reminded of His glorious grace displayed in the gospel. Count, recount, remember, rejoice. This week, give thanks. Thanks for reading.}