Hello, I’m January
Inspiration and thoughts on God and faith, written by a simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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He didn’t “deserve” it either…
“Does it really even pay to be nice?”
This is how the conversation started with a fellow, empathetic friend of mine. Going over the many times we have felt like doormats in the last few months. You know what doormats are, right? They get stepped on. That’s what we had felt like. We had given and given and given. Opened our hearts and like a doormat felt walked on, stepped on, and worn out.
“I mean, this being like Jesus stuff is hard. I just don’t deserve to be constantly treated like dirt.”
However, I am pretty sure Jesus didn’t either.
I don’t claim to be Jesus. But, I am called to be like him.
I can’t feed 5,000 with two fish and five loaves, but I have fed the hungry…and received nothing more than a grunt in return.
I haven’t raised a man from the dead, but I have tried my hardest to bring dry bones back to life…and been spat on.
I have tried to teach others that true love offers forgiveness and grace. Looks at people as more than their imperfections, mistakes, and flaws…and been ridiculed for being too “soft.” Not “hard” enough on them.
I may not be the man who walked on water. But, I have jumped in some earthly fires hoping to save some lost sheep. Felt like I have only been burned, and wondered why I was the one forsaken.
This being like Jesus stuff is hard.
He was despised and rejected-a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised and we did not care. Isaiah 53:3
My methods, teachings, and practices may be questioned by the authorities just as the Pharisees questioned the teachings of Jesus.
I may wander the wilderness or the desert, and be tempted to give up on God by the cunning schemes of the devil.
I may have people abandon me in my time of despair, or sell me out for their personal glory.
I may be scoffed at. Mocked. My outstretched hands reached out in love may be rejected each and every time. I may suffer in His name. Just so others can see His light.
And, I may not deserve it. I may deserve better.
But, I didn’t shed blood for a sinner like me. I scoffed at the one who did. Mocked him. Turned from him. Sinned against the one who gave His Son for me. I didn’t deserve His love.
Yet Jesus gave it all.
He suffered again and again. Knowing it may never be given in return.
Yes, this being like Jesus stuff is hard. But, if he could bleed and die so I can know what perfect love feels like, then I can take a couple grunts. Some criticism. Some abandonment. Some rejection. Some tears. Some suffering.
He felt it all. He gave it all. He deserves it all in return.
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His masterpiece
For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. Ephesians 2:10
It’s another day down. Another day when I wake up, put on my “game face,” which means I bathed myself in prayer, opened up His Word, put on my battle gear, and vowed that I would stand against the attack from the enemy every step of the way.
But, I have to admit. I have been in a season when that enemy has been hounding me. He has been whispering lie after lie after lie. And…on those days when I pray, and I am ready to fight, that is when his voice gets louder.
See, he tells me I am useless. That I am not reaching anyone. That this light I hope is shining through the darkness is only burning out. He tells me that no one is listening. Really cares to hear what I have to say. It goes in one ear and out the other. I will never make a difference. That the cycles of despair and defeat will repeat themselves. My God will never use me to make a difference.
When the lies he starts to tell me don’t work, he uses people to try to convince me I am unworthy. Broken. Bruised. Damaged. Not capable. Until I start to believe all of it.
But, God? He tells me something different.
Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I was sculpted from nothing into something. Psalm 139: 14, 15 MSG
He has made me.
Yes, I do have bruises, scars, scrapes, and blemishes. But, God has pieced this masterpiece together. There are hills and valleys that tell stories of triumphs and despair. Battles I have fought and won; and many more lost.
Yet, those bruises, scars, scrapes, and blemishes all tell the stories of those battles. The hills climbed to reach those triumphs, and the valleys where I often wallowed in defeat. Those scars, blemishes, and imperfections…those are the ones seen and picked apart by the outside world.
Thankfully, like any masterpiece I was crafted by my maker. Who believes I am altogether flawless.
Who placed those hills and valleys just where they are so they can be a testimony.
Who healed the wounds. The bruises. But left the scars and blemishes.
And, like a masterpiece counts me as priceless. Worth an exorbitant price.
Worthy enough to die for!
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The lost (beans) get found
Anyone that knows me well, knows that I have a slight, unhealthy dependency on coffee. So much so that I have been known to plan entire road trips around stops at Starbucks (don’t judge!).
My husband also knows this about me. Thankfully, he also understands my obsession, and the fact that it is essential to his health that I remain caffeinated. For this reason, he will often come home from Costco shopping trips with the newest seasonal Starbucks blend…and, while we are still working on the “He-Brews” part of the deal, this one is still pretty sweet.
This past Christmas season I found myself in a bit of a tizzy when my “bean” jar had dwindled, and I could not locate the remaining beans from that bulk bag. It was quite possible I had gone through 2.5 pounds of coffee in a month, but I was pretty sure I had hidden those things somewhere in this house. Somewhere I would remember, of course. Or not.
That somewhere was never found.
Until 3 months later. In a cabinet I open every night at home during the dinner making hour. Sitting right next to my beloved casserole dishes, and my well-used measuring cup, were my “missing” coffee beans.
“I found them! I finally found those darn coffee beans! I told ya! Things are finally looking up!”
My husband was slightly (well, probably more than) amused that I had missed them each time I had opened this cabinet. I, however, was not. These beans were just one more “wink” from God that I can miss a whole lot when I am distracted from my purpose.
See, I looked everywhere for those coffee beans, but never once thought to look in that cabinet.
We look everywhere for love, peace, joy, healing…but never once think to look to Jesus for these things.
I have been feeling lost myself. Like everything I touch crumbles beneath me. Clinging to hope in a dark world. And, praying that God would restore some fire in me to keep fighting.
And, somewhere in a dark cabinet, he shows me some missing coffee beans. The ones I had totally given up on. But showed up, unannounced 3 months later, exactly where I left them, mind you.
To show me that yes, even in those struggles, things are looking up! That good things do exist in a dark world, if you can rid yourself of the world’s distractions and look in the right places.
That he won’t stop pursuing. Won’t let go. Won’t give up hope. For His people. That lost sheep. His purpose. Even missing coffee beans.
Because what was once lost, can always be found!
I once was lost, but now am found; t’was blind, but now I see.
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My God won’t be hidden
“You are the light of the world-like a city on a hilltop that can’t be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.” Matthew 5:14-15
It’s the season of Lent. For those familiar, or not so…this means letting go of something that has a stronghold on our lives for 40 days. Seeking His face any time we are tempted to partake in it.
In the past I have given up chocolate, coffee, Facebook, even gossiping and just basic complaining (and that one was hard!). I have had a tough time this year choosing one stronghold. Maybe because in the last couple months, I have given up much without a whole lotta say.
I recognize the stronghold that social media can have on my time, and thought “Yep…that’s it! It’s time to go off the grid. Sit back. Shut-up, and be a silent ‘good girl’ for a while.”
But, then I remember that light. Yes, that one in the picture above. That shines out of a corner office. Into the darkness. Of a room. A hall. A community. Reflecting hope. Kindness. Love. Jesus. Even if he is the laminated one.
A light some just don’t want to shine. So, it’s silenced. Not placed on a table to reflect that hope. Kindness. Love. Hidden in some dark basket instead.
I will not keep still. Because my heart yearns for Jerusalem, I cannot remain silent. I will not stop praying for her until her righteousness shines like the dawn, and her salvation blazes like a burning torch. Isaiah 62:1
When I told God “yes,” I made a vow I would not place His light in a basket. I would not let His light be hidden. That I would keep speaking up even if I am labeled dangerous, crazy, or some kind of misunderstood freak. I mean…Jesus was, too. Right?
I can choose to cower in a corner. Sit in silence and hide the light, hoping it shines past this little corner, from this desk. My favorite chair. My closet where I battle the devil, the critics, and negativity on my knees each night.
Or, I can use my voice for good. I can use it to spread His love to those who need to hear it. Even when it is unpopular. Misunderstood. Or means I am labeled as a misfit.
It may get me in trouble, or gain me a few more critics, but my God (I) won’t be hidden.
I may have to stand against some scary bullies, with a brave face that takes a heck of a lot of courage, but my God (I) won’t be hidden.
I may have to (gulp) forgive those same bullies, just to prove his light is loving and kind, so His message of love won’t be hidden.
I decided to follow Him a number of years ago. I promised not to turn back, and my God (I) won’t be placed in a basket and hidden.
None may go with me, and I may have to walk and fight alone, but my God (I) won’t be hidden.
Until His light shines in the darkness.
Until those desperate prayers are answered.
Until His voice reaches out into the chaos, speaks louder than the critics, and drowns out the negativity.
Until every misfit, freak, or misunderstood lost sheep hears, sees, and feels His love and comes home.
No, my God (I) won’t be hidden.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. John 1:5
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Are you up there, God? It’s me, January…..
And we are confident that he hears whenever we ask for anything that pleases him. And since we know he hears us when we make our requests, we also know that he will give us what we ask for. 1 John 5:14-15
I have this routine right before I put my “game” face on at work. Before the kids roll in the door, and a moment of peace is no more. Originally, this routine consisted of administrative tasks. See, my “day” job doesn’t involve simply talking to children about making better choices, teaching them to think before they act, and cope with their big emotions. I have the pleasure of documenting all of this for proof that all of it actually occurred to insurance companies.
Those administrative tasks are important. But, I quickly began to abandon them each morning to begin my school day with my Father. That’s right. Because this better choice giving, think before you act speaking, and emotion coping can’t happen on my own.
I need someone to work through me to give these children what they need. Because on most days, I make poor choices, think before I speak, and handle some tough emotions, too. And, I need the help of my Father on the days I am barely hanging on.
Lately, I’ve had these doubts if He has even heard me. Has He heard my prayers and pleas in the morning? My cries at night?
God, are you even listening to me? Don’t you hear me down here?
On this particular morning as I sat at my desk like any other, frantically praying over each student, each situation they and I would face, I heard the chorus of the song I was playing in the background:
I believe you are listening. I believe you move at the sound of my voice. -Tasha Cobbs Leonard, Dove’s Eyes
I stopped….and I wept.
How could I doubt that he heard my call? Had he let me down before? Most certainly not!
Maybe I can’t see it now. But, He is listening. The boulders. The mountains. In my life. In every life of those for whom I am praying. He hears my calls. My pleas. My strangled sobs to him.
God. He is still there. He hears this voice. And, He is listening to this willing servant.
You will pray to him, and he will hear you. Job 22:27
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God; and I am also on some days a hot mess. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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