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 47

Venting, real life versus real-time, the taste of Christmas, the season of giving mixed in with some j-o-y, all rolled up into some bullets.

I is the ninth letter of the alphabet.  And sometimes the most disappointing thing to hear out of someone's mouth.  I did this, I said this, I think this.  One thing that hurts my feelings in conversations is when I can tell the other person is waiting on me to finish my sentence so they can say something—and sometimes not even waiting, but interrupting.  Care more about knowing someone than being known.  Listen more than you speak.  It makes the person opposite you feel valued.  Speak more and listen less, well, that value will decrease and you won’t have to wonder why they never ask you to hang out anymore.  I have to pursue this in every conversation.  I try to practice pausing my need to share—which, anyway, is usually met later on in the conversation when the other person feels comfortable enough to ask me something.  I have to die to myself on a regular basis.

App’d at the hip.  If we sit down together and you cannot put your iPhone down, you are sending me a very clear signal that you have better things to do.  I’m not talking about an occasional text to check in on your child or an appointment tomorrow, but if you’re sitting there playing Angry Birds or Words with Friends while I’m trying to open up to you, I’m not going to waste my breath.  Either spend time with me or don’t.  I could be elsewhere with someone else, not staring at the top of your head while you're busy interacting with someone—something—else.

Cinnamon-stuck.  I am stuck on cinnamon this season.  I mean, I love it year round, but it definitely feels more like Christmas with a candle, a cookie, or coffee to taste, smell, and enjoy.  I love cinnamon.

Gratitude to latitude.  I’ve been praying to God to be able to bless someone this season.  I was blessed a few days ago when I received $100, a very special gift from someone.  I prayed about what to do with it.  Pay off bills, buy groceries, buy gas, buy clothes…all of that seemed like…things I could do any time.  And so today I made a couple deposits into a couple different accounts of people who have spent the last year watching over me, protecting me, and making sure I had something to eat when it appeared that I didn’t.  They may not ask from where the gifts came, but I know they’ll appreciate it.  It means more knowing that they have something than me doing something less with that money.

Self-fulfilling prophecy.  I ain’t going to lie.  The last few days have been rough.  The next few weeks will be rough, too.  So rough that I’ve started giving up on love.  I’ve resigned to the idea that I’ll be 50, maybe 60 or 70, and never married.  That seems to be my scorecard so far.  And when talking with Sara about this tonight, she told me about the danger behind a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I wonder though if as a relationship-addict that I’m meant to feel this way for a time—to remove the primary desire for a husband, to take full advantage of being single.  And by full advantage I mean becoming someone who has their life centered around Christ—so much so that He is the only road to joy.  Right now if I were to date I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would fall back into being dependent on a guy for happiness, and happiness happens, but joy abides.  Need to rework some things before I can love to the best of my ability.

Tres away.  Day 47 into my challenge.  It's been difficult—so difficult.  But I'm growing.  Every day I get a little closer to who God wants me to be.  One day I'll be ready to love and be loved by someone.  Three days until my 50th day anniversary, and three days until Christmas.  On the path to being saved in more ways than one.  I get to celebrate my small victory, and I get to celebrate His larger-than-life victory.  And this will be my second Christmas at Fellowship—so much has happened in a year.  And I am so different from even a year ago.  I can't wait to see who I am in another year.

Assumption.  You read my blog and assume you know me, wrong.  Ask me, then you'll know exactly who I am and where my heart is.  Assuming does not breed life, but good conversation does.