Day 317.

As of today I have 50 days left of my challenge.

It almost feels as if I’m cheating myself by limiting this to a dating fast.  What it really should be called is a drop-everything-you’ve-ever-held-dear-and-practice-being-obedient-and-loving-God challenge.  But somehow that’s just not as pleasing to the ear.

Today, for the second time in a week, I was called Esther.  Now, I hadn’t read Esther in about a year, so I didn’t know quite what to expect when I opened my Bible today during lunch.

For the longest time I’ve only seen myself as Gomer, nothing more.  Something ugly, something to be despised.  Something only God could love and want to redeem.

But this challenge—this challenge has given me so much.  So much I never expected to know or feel or be.  Strong in an entirely new way.

…after being twelve months under the regulations for the women, since this was the regular period of their beautifying, six months with oil of myrrh and six months with spices and ointments for women—when the young woman went in to the king in this way, she was given whatever she desired to take with her from the harem to the king's palace (Esther 2:12-13).

There are many other verses God used to touch my heart this afternoon from the book of Esther, but this one stayed with me.

A year is a long time to consistently concentrate on bettering yourself and a relationship.  But it's been worth every second.  Every tear.  Every frustration.  Because beyond all of that is success, a closeness, a trust, a reliability, an evolution of a love I never knew.  I think back to the Gomer I was, the Gomer God saved, and can only see myself through the lens of Christ now.  Not cocky or confident in myself, but more safe in and loved by Christ than I’ve ever known.

This, still, has been the most amazing experience of my life and I love my King more now than ever and I’m still learning to let Him love me.  And, boy, is it ever amazing.

Fifty days left and a lifetime to go.

Day 227

Pregnant.

She was pregnant and dressed in nothing but a mini-dress.

It was November of 2010 and I stood downtown in Confederate Park surrounded by a large group of homeless men.  She was one of the very few homeless women there that day, and she stood before me, bearing child and wearing near nothing on a winter day in Memphis.

Go get her your jeans!

I paused.  For whatever reason, I had brought an extra pair of jeans with me that day—my favorite pair of jeans—and stored them in my car.

My feet didn’t move.

Do it.  Go get your jeans.  She’s pregnant, Jamie!  You have so many pairs, just give her these!

But I didn’t move.  And I watched her walk away after receiving food.

And instead of it being the frigidness of the day piercing my skin, what I felt was the cold that had seeped into my bones from the decision of a selfish heart.

Present day.  This is my closet.

After the sermon by Bryan on Sunday, the nausea set in.

If I wore one outfit a day, I would not run of clothes for 6-8 months.  Without doing laundry, I would be able to clothe myself for six to eight months.

I counted my shirts.

I felt sick.  And not because having things is wrong.  But because I find in myself a lack of desire and ambition to be kingdom hearted with my money—with God’s money.

I spend, spend, spend on myself—and for what?  Why?  Bryan asked the question, “Why?” on Sunday.  Why do I need this?  And I find I never ask myself this question.

It’s wrong because I’m always putting my wants above the needs of His children.  If I’m honest, I haven’t given anything to anyone, to any foundation, to any shelter—no, I’ve kept it all for me.

And this conviction inside of me has been stirring ever since that November when I decided to keep one of my 10 pairs of jeans for my sake rather than care for His child who needed them.

I’m sick to think about it.

Do you know how many clothes I’ve bought that I told myself…

I need this!

Why not?

I deserve this!

I want this!

They’re buying it!

I looked through the items that I once so desperately wanted.  Dresses I’ve worn once.  Shirts I’ve never worn.  Pants I swore I’d lose weight to wear.  Clothes I still own from ten years ago that I can’t bear to let go.

It’s like that $500 class ring for which I begged my parents that sits in a jewelry armoire in a jewelry box, worn, maybe, once a year.

These are investments, I argue with myself. Work clothes, work shoes, dresses for weddings, classy stilettos, work out clothes I never work out in—these were things I argued with myself to buy.

Investment, Jamie?  What can you take with you?

I feel as if I’ve invested too much in myself, too much in the world, and I haven’t done anything for His kingdom, for His children, for my brothers and sisters.

What have I become when I spend double-digits on coffee, but can’t spare change to the homeless standing on the divider in the middle of Poplar?  Or buy a candy bar from a student?  Or Girl Scout cookies from a Girl Scout?  Or tithe?  Or support others?

I’m dying.  Every day we’re all a little bit more dead.  Morbid.  But what will our legacy be to the world?  My old Target dresses?  American Eagle jeans?  When I go, this stuff won’t follow, and honestly, probably nobody is going to want my old, used crap.  So what purpose is it really serving?

This stops right now, because I can’t bear to waste what I have been given on things of this world anymore.  I refuse to move past this point and not change.

I invite anyone reading this, anyone who knows me, at any given time to ask me, to question, to e-mail, to tweet, and ask me, “What have you bought today?”  Embarrass me.  Encourage me.

Someone hold me accountable, because I can’t do this on my own but know desperately it needs to be changed.

I want the kingdom of God, not the things of this world.  And more importantly—most importantly—I want the kingdom of God for others.  And if I start to manage my money better—in a way that is others-focused instead of Jamie-focused—so much more of that will be accomplished.

And nothing to further the kingdom is ever given in vain.

Bryan Loritts, Fellowship Memphis, says:

"You know what?  I was putting this message together, and I thought, wouldn't it be cool if I could pull out the old pair of stone washed jeans?  Just kind of show them.  I couldn't find the stone washed jeans, couldn't find the Jordache jeans, couldn't find the fat boy laces I just had to have.  Couldn't find those shell-toed Adidas I just had to have."

"It's just the new apple...and I'm not talking about computers."

"Just like the other day, my son comes home, and there's a pair of socks that he wants, and I said, 'We can talk about it, how much are they?'  Forty-eight bucks for a pair of socks.  I said, 'What do they do?'  Because if I put on a pair of $48 socks, I'm going, 'Do something.'  And then I just said, 'I'm not going to tell you yes or no...the answer's no...but I'm not going to tell you yes or no, but why?  Why do you have to have them?  Let's just get underneath the hood, let's go from actions, let's get to the heart, what's in you?'  'Well, dad, the other kids have it...I just really want to fit in, and it's just kind of what they do, and if I have this then I'll be that.'"

"So, let me ask you a question.  If Jesus were to look you in the eye, and say, 'If you be perfect, go and...sell your house, go and...never buy another new pair of shoes, go and...fill in the blank.'  If there's a hiccup there, it means there's something there I need to kill."

"It's like me coming to you in March of 1912. It's 1912, March. 'Hey, man, I got this great business venture.  They just built this ship, biggest ship ever, and they're looking for investors, and, man, and I think you should invest $15,000, in this ship!'  'Oh yeah, yeah!'  'If you invest $15,000, I promise you're going to make $100,000.'  'Really?  Really?  Really?  That sounds good!  Let me just go to the bank and I'm going to write you a $15,000 check.  Now what's the name of the ship?'  'Titanic.'  Well, of course, knowing what you know now, I'm not investing in that.  Because it's going down.  It's not going to last.  Then why in the world are you investing in this world?  Why in the world are you consumed with stuff that's going to be out of style next month?"

Day 205

I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, painfully cold.

For the third morning in a row, the set-to-freezing air conditioning in the beach house refused to let me sleep.  It was obvious God had bigger plans for me than a few extra hours of rest.  I heeded the call, albeit uncomfortably, and rose.

Before the rest of the house awoke, I showered, and made my way back to the beach for one last visit.

The morning was still.  Peaceful.  I walked down the row of colorful houses, admiring the freshness of the day.  Quietly, I began to sing...

Savior I come, quiet my soul, remember

Redemption's hill, where Your blood was spilled for my ransom

Everything I once held dear, I count it all as lost

I hummed a little as I reached the top of the stairs right before the beach.  I sat and surveyed the ocean in all its morning glory.  The sand.  The blues of the water.  The quiet sky.  It was all much too beautiful and as the lyrics continued to run through my mind, the inevitable happened.

I started crying.  Almost to the point to where I was sobbing.

Everything I once held dear, it’s lost.  In my mind, I recounted where I stood a year ago.  Exactly to the day.  A week from today, last year, something would happen that would strike a fire—an initimate implosion that would change my life forever.  And I was fearful.  I was hurting.  I was in a terrible place.  I was a terrible person making terrible decisions.

Despite everything—everything—He stopped me.

He loved me enough to stop me.

And it’s exactly His love that brought on the outpouring of emotion in front of His beautiful creation this morning.

Redemption.  Much of this trip was an opportunity for redemption.

He gave me the chance to do certain things over.  To act differently.  To speak differently.  To be different.  And maybe most importantly for this time in my life—to see the difference.

I almost can’t believe just how much has changed since May of 2011.

Changes I had always deep down desired but never had reason or strength to pursue…He answered.  And I feel it.  I feel how I’ve changed.  And I feel Him.  I feel it like I can feel the wind on my face, the ocean waves lapping at my toes, the sand beneath my feet.

I know He exists, because who I am now—this complete transformation—has nothing to do with me or who I was.  I had not the strength, the will, nor the desire to change until He came into my life and rescued me.

He could have let me drown in my ocean of sin.  He could have let me die.  But He didn’t.

I am so grateful to God for showing me that I am not who I was 365 days ago.  I am so honored and humbled that He met me where I was and tore me from my worthless pursuits.  I am so thankful that He reminds me from where I came, and pushes me further, encouraging me to drive closer to Him.

And the closer I draw to Him, the farther away I walk from myself.

Today was a reminder of what was, what is, and because of Whose grace and compassion and love and righteousness and mercy that I am saved.

As I stood from my seat, I breathed a silent farewell to the image of majesty set before me, and wept tears of gratitude, humility, and love.  I feel Him now more than ever.  And it’s encouraging, overwhelming, scary, reassuring, and unbelievable all at once.

Day 195

"My only regret in life is that I didn't have another son for you to marry," he laughed.

"Aaw, I can still call you 'Dad,' right?"

We all laughed.  I was sitting at a table with my best guy friend and his parents.  A family preparing to celebrate a graduation and an upcoming wedding.  I'm ready to celebrate, too.

I reflected on the last two years with my friend and his beautiful soon-to-be wife being in my life.  What an impact they have had on my life!  I have no doubt God strategically gave them to me, knowing fully I needed them.

I remember meeting them several Novembers ago while I was in a terrible relationship, and thinking, "I wish I had a relationship like that one."

I remember as he became the first guy to really love me as a friend, showing me what a Godly man is, and watching him as he continued to lovingly pursue his girlfriend.

I remember as she, though being so young, led me spiritually in moments where I desperately needed a strong Godly woman in my life.  The nights she spent on my couch while she was in town visiting him, and how comfortable she is with who she is in Christ.

There is a part of me that will miss the pre-marriage version of our friendships.  I'll miss her spending the night or him counseling me through relationship and men stuff.

But, then, as I was driving the other day, I heard God say that it's okay to miss people and things and seasons of life.  We don't miss the bad things...

Oh, I miss him breaking up with me.

Oh, I miss her using me.

Oh, I miss that job that made me feel worthless.

If we miss something, it was special.  That's why we miss it.  And I don't know how I didn't understand that sooner.

There have been so many things I've been missing lately.  I wish I could go back to this time, this friendship, this season...

But then I'm neglecting the space for new things, new people, new experiences...

All the people I've gotten to know lately, all the delicious food I've been able to eat, all the fun first-time-things I've been able to enjoy...

If I held onto the same friendships, in the same seasons, in the same place, life would be routine.

Anticipating this wedding, I am so excited for them, and their new life.  She'll be living in town now.  Both of them right down the street.  She’ll be a wife and he’ll be a husband.  And they’ll still be my friends—friends that I’ll get to watch build a life and a family together.

Change can be good.  Change can be great.  And this is opening my eyes to how very good it can be.

Counting down the days to beignets, New Orleans, and seeing two amazing people tie the knot!

Day 154

Solitary.

I’ve spent most of my life in solitude, so it is strange to me that at this stage in my life where God has blessed me with friendship, I can still feel so alone.

Over the last months of my life, God has given me wonderfully thick friendships.  And so I was confused last night initially, wondering why I would be alone at yet another event.

With seven hours spent on understanding suffering, ironically, part of that time was dedicated to the story of Job.

Last night was designed by God.  How else could I understand why I was alone?

Thinking back over my life, being alone has given me so much.  So much pain.  So much appreciation for Christ.

I wonder sometimes what people think as they read what I write on this blog.  Am I thought of as selfish, or conceited, or attention-starved, or self-centered…or lonely?

I write because I know the deep ache of being alone and the haunting hurt loneliness brings.  And because I know this pain so intimately, a vow has been made.  Because God has loved me so and has filled my life with love, I have promised Him that I will heed His call and use this pain for others—that I will do as much as I can to open my heart, to let somebody—anyone—know they’re not alone.

Because ultimately, we feel more alone than we really are.  I write not out of a desire to share my life for the mere sake of sharing, but in the instance that someone should stumble upon my words and know that pain, loneliness, guilt, and shame are not isolated emotions that separate them from others.

The more I know God, the more I understand why He has ordained my life to be as such.  Because of what He’s brought me through, I’m capable of being alone when He calls me to be, because I am beginning to understand it—suffering—serves a higher purpose.

And last night opened my heart and set if aflame for I felt knowledge wash over me like I have never experienced before.  A passion was ignited in my heart, and I realized how desperately I want to share the gospel with others.  Pain is real, suffering is real, but God is real.  And that is what most do not know.

Last night, with love deepening for Christ, He pointed me to look at my past relationships.  From the “sovereign perspective of heaven,” I watched each fall apart.  And part of me understood.  Part of me realized that God knew that those men and I were not headed in the same direction.  Not that their direction is any less than mine, but ultimately at some point our desires and purposes for Christ would diverge us. 

And I think now if any of those relationships had worked, I would not be fulfilling my life for Christ, because I would have been satisfied with settling.  And here God has orchestrated the greatest moments of my life through loneliness—that I forge ahead because of it!  I wouldn’t be learning about Him.  I wouldn’t be pushed to extend myself outside of the immediate community.  I would be satisfied with loving God a little less, because my life in the world would not call upon Him.

In my heart of hearts, I desire to be uncomfortable.  I desire to live my life in such a way that I beg for the world to despise me—for my love of Christ to be so great, that the Enemy fights to take me down.

Now, my flesh is terrified.  What does that mean?  Will I lose my car?  My job?  My friends?  My family?  But in the “sovereign perspective of heaven,” will these keep me from glorifying God?  My heart dedicated to Christ craves glorifying Him.

I pray for discomfort, because I want to be a threat to the Enemy. I don’t know what His plan holds for me, but as I edge on in this OYC, as I grow stronger in my faith, as my knowledge grows, there is a deep, unsatisfied desire to reach people. 

And I want to be unsatisfied, because our dissatisfaction keeps us close to Christ and ultimately the will of God.

Dear God, it is my deepest desire to pursue You, to love You.  And I see now why those relationships were ripped out of my life.  You knew we were different.  You knew our desires were different.  You knew our walks for You and with You would be different.  For the first time ever, I say, God, if I can’t have a husband whose purpose mirrors sanctification of Your children, then I’m okay with what that means.  Because loving You and honoring You, and serving You means so much more than a marriage that will satisfy only my flesh.  I beg that when I begin to date again, You give me eyes to see a man who ultimately wants to love You and glorify You, even in the midst of discomfort, because he will know You are our satisfying reward.

No one should be alone, Father.  No one should not know You.  And I want to live my life in such a way that I can share You even when I’m scared, even when it’s dangerous.  Your purpose is higher than my pleasure.  You know in my heart of hearts that I want to be married, but not at the cost of spiritual suffocation.

When I take my last breath, oh, Lord, I want to know I followed You and I did Your ways and I lived how You wanted me to love.  And I pray that my passion for You continues to grow and that my knowledge of You continues to deepen, so that I may move from this self-examination and healing stage into sharing You confidently with others, serving Your purpose for my life.

At the end of this, I don’t even know if tonight’s post makes any sense.  So in an attempt to summarize:
 

·         My passion for Christ has increased.

·         In doing so, I’ve realized that God is my ultimate love.

·         And I only want to be married if I have a husband who shares a passion for Christ.

·         Because my mission while on this earth is to share that passion with others.

·         So that they may not stand alone, but sit next to the throne of God, in love, in redemption.

·         Because this world is dying and we have a responsibility to love and save.

Day 154

Alone again.

I pulled into an almost-empty parking lot and wondered if I was in the right place.

You know, God, I’m really tired of doing things alone.  Why am I alone?  I don’t understand, and I’m sick of being by myself.

I parked, fifteen minutes early for the event, and pretended to be getting together stuff in my car while I waited to see if more people would show.

If nobody else shows up, God, I’m leaving.  I’m not going to be one of five people in a six hour event.  You can forget it.

You don’t mean that, I heard Him say.

Yes, I do!

Of course I didn’t, but I felt irritated and upset.  I really didn’t want to have walk into an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and be uncomfortable.  Leaving seemed like the better plan.

But, as God would have it, more people pulled in, and as they walked toward the church, I tried to walk far enough behind them to seem like I wasn’t following them.   But who was I kidding?  I was lost and too shy to ask for directions, so I was just pretending like I knew where I was headed.

When we got into the building, I looked around.  It was a nice church.  I followed the people I was pretending not to follow to the table set up for the event.

Alone, I purchased my study guide, and walked into the auditorium where I took a seat in the middle.

As more people filtered in, I felt more and more out of place.  I knew no one and even worse, everyone was boo’ed up.  It was like being on the ark.  Pairs of two everywhere—except for me.  Jamie sat alone.

Why, God?

As everyone talked and mingled, I waited for the event to begin.  When the screen lit up, I was thankful.  I wanted to be lost in God and forget my ungrateful feelings of loneliness.

About 200 of us were there for the Secret Church led by David Platt via Simulcast.  I had never heard a sermon by David before, and only know his name by way of his popular book, Radical.  I had no idea what to expect.

He explained to us that in secret churches across the world, people meet and want to learn as much as they can in as little time as they can.  They move quickly and study intensely.  To taste their world, and to make it completely through a 224 book, he said he’d be talking fast.  And talking fast, he did.  Like an auctioneer on Adderall.

And what unfolded was seven hours of passionate teaching of His Word.  I can’t even begin to describe the emotions—all the emotions—I felt throughout the night.  For seven hours I was able to hear how much He loves us, why we suffer, why He suffered, and how much of the world is desperately in need of the Gospel.

Overwhelmed with information and revelation, every minute almost sent me into tears.  Every revelation came like a blow to my heart.  Amazing, amazing, amazing that I hadn’t seen God like this before.

As we ended the night, we sang All is Well With My Soul, and I continued to fight back tears.  Voices overpowered the quiet audio and I could hear every single voice mixed in to a choir praising God and His sovereignty.

The last leg of this OYC was to work on my heart.  Past the ex-boyfriends, past the parents, and onto me.  And tonight while I sat alone, I realized that part of knowing myself is knowing the God who made me.  Because how can I know where I’m going if I don’t know my Creator and the depth of His love and the purpose of my life?

Tonight was such a gift.  Always complaining, I am so surprised that God doesn’t just smite me.  Tonight was intense.  In retrospect, not going with anyone gave me such freedom.  I got there early.  I got to pick my seat.  I got to focus on my time with God instead of wondering if someone was getting tired or bored.  I didn’t have to leave early.  It was a very intimate, personal time with God.  Almost like a date.  A date where you find out everything about the other person—except this person isn’t a person, but the Creator who formed me!  I found out things I never knew before, and it just inspired a deeper, more intimate love for God.

When I first became a Christian, it was easy to see God as my Abba Father.  But lover of my soul?  That sounded more than a bit awkward.  And I pushed that to the side for a long time.  But tonight, tonight I can honestly say that I’m in love with God.  In love.  Passionately in love for the God who saved me, and saves me daily, and wants me daily, and fights for me daily, and comforts me daily.

How can I stand to not honor Him?

Thank You for tonight, God.  I pray that this message is just repeated in my head and in my heart from this day forward.  I thank You for answered prayers, and I pray that I continue to learn about You.  I pray that one day I can share You and Your love with others and can be used by You to shine Your light to unbelievers.  This was a monumental step in my walk tonight, and I am so thankful that You love me and saved me.  Thank You for giving Your life for us all, God.

“And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.  What then shall we say to these things?” (Romans 8:30-31)

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

—Horatio Spafford

Day 30

He was married.  And he was touching me.

In my mind, I knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t have followed me home that day, all the reasons we should’ve stopped.

But we didn’t.

My need to be wanted overwhelmed the sanctity of marriage.  My desperateness justified my actions.

“So, what are we going to do about us?” he asked as he kissed me.

“What do you mean?  We’re going to stop,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re married…and how will I ever find a husband like this?”

He laughed.  I laughed, too.  Such a sick hypocrite, but I didn't expect what he would say next.

“You’re going to be doing this even when you have a husband.”

His words cut a wound so deep they’ve stayed with me until this moment.  I had never felt lower.  That was the worst thing he, or anyone, could have said to me.  In those few words, he summed up my life.

I was a failure before marriage and I was doomed to be a failure in my marriage.  Not only was I a screw-up, but I was worthless.  I was worthless to him, and I would be worthless to every man, including the one with whom I would one day spend my life.  I accepted those lies, and bought into the beliefs that I was unworthy of love, and so I settled for a cheap imitation.  My entire life I’ve settled for cheap imitations, giving myself to men hoping to feel a semblance of love.  I let—or maybe I made myself believe it would never get any better—that I was such a terrible person that I didn’t deserve better.

Today marks Day 30 of my journey, and I never fathomed how much I could grow in 30 days.  But God is amazing.  He makes the impossible possible.

Last week was the worst week since I began this One Year Challenge.  And on Thursday, I hit rock bottom.  I felt low, lonely, vulnerable, and lost.  I was just trying to make it through my work day so I could go home and cry.

In the middle of my day, I saw someone I knew, and we made small talk like friends.  My amiableness disappeared when he asked me if he could “see” me since I wasn’t seeing anyone.  His wedding band was dull in the ugly fluorescent light surrounding us, but it burned my eyes.  I politely declined, and we said goodbye.  But he was waiting for me outside, bribing me to spend time with him.  Lunch?

“No.”

He asked for a hug.

“No.”

Then he offered to just give me money for lunch.

“No.”

I was angrier with each invitation, each request.  My disdain grew, and he finally drove away.  And I sat in my car, furious.

How could he possibly think I would do that?  How could he cheat on his wife?  Doesn’t he know his money is no good?  He can’t buy me!  How could he see me as being so low to proposition me?!  Does he think I’m a whore?!

…

That pause was God.

Jamie, is that self-worth?

I heard a gentle laugh.  And strangely, I laughed, too.

Sometimes God has to take us through the fire to shape us, mold us, grow us.

But it’s only Him and His love that can get us through it.