This Memorial Day

I remember being a child and sitting with my cousins as my grandfather told us a story about WWII.  It wasn't something he did often. I really only have the one fuzzy memory of a story of ships, planes, and Kamikazes and I sometimes wonder if I changed the details over the years.  I was too young then to understand  more than a cleaned up movie version of war.  I didn't understand that WWII was so awful that most of the men who came back struggled to speak about what happened to those that weren't their fellow vets.  I was too young to comprehend the fear and dread he must have experienced knowing his wife and four children, all under the age of five,  were back at home praying he would return, with no guarantees.  I certainly was too young to grasp the significance of serving as a soldier for a government that did not protect his own rights and freedoms as a black man in the 1940's.  I didn't get any of that, because he didn't tell us that.  He spoke with only with pride and reverence.  


I think about him and that story on this Memorial Day, and I reminded of something so important.  We are not defined by who the world tells us to be, but by our designer, God.  My grandfather lived in a world that did not treat him with respect and honor daily because he was a black man in the south born in the 1917.  He had not been given the full rights and protections that he deserved as an American citizen, but he did not let the opinions of others or the poor treatment from others define him as a man.  He knew who his true Creator was and he knew who he was in Christ.  I never saw my grandfather as anything but a proud, hard working, somewhat vain (with a name like Hansom, how could he not be), funny, and loving man.  The past struggles and hindrances were things that he grew through and not things that broke him.  He stood tall and walked proud and that is what I saw for the thirty five years of my life that I got to know him.  His quick grin and quick wit are still my fondest memories of him, and neither were marked by what must have been a lot of difficult years. I know now, because I know the history of our nation, that he did not have an easy path to follow as a young man, but I love that he never let others tell him who he could be. 


This Memorial Day, I hope to honor all of those soldiers and sailors that have sacrificed for the freedom  of our nation, and the best way I know to honor them is to stand tall and walk proudly as a Christ-follower.  I know who I am because I know who created me, and I will only allow myself to be defined by Him.  I can be who I am freely, because I live in a nation where men and women have sacrificed to protect our freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom in general.   I will not squander these freedoms in my lifetime.  I will not forget those who gave so I could have them.  I will honor the legacy of my wonderful grandfather with hard work,  a quick wit, and solid faith of my own. He would expect nothing less. 

 My Granddaddy. Hansom Prentice Baptiste Sr. 

 Me at the WWII Memorial in Washington DC!

A Song of my Heart

Last night,  I went to the SHE conference at Elevate Life church and after a message that was right on time for where I am right now, the worship team came up and sang just the bridge of this song, Came to My Rescue, and I was reminded of why this is one of "my" songs.  We played this song at our wedding because it means so much to me.  It tells the story of my salvation and why I do what I do in ministry, and today I wanted to share it with everyone.  

"In my life, be lifted high. In our world, be lifted high. In our love, be lifted high!"

To Nap or Not to Nap...

...that is the question.  Whether it is smarter to push through the drowsiness of a Sunday afternoon and stay awake so that you can sleep soundly when it is bed time, OR better to indulge your sleepy feelings and curl up for two hours, only to find yourself awake after midnight.  That truly is the question.  The question I face every Sunday.  From week to week I choose differently, although I must admit the nap wins out more than not.  Frankly, I love a good nap.  I think I get an endorphin rush from allowing myself to sleep in the middle of the day.  I have no scientific proof, but it feels like science to me, and there is something special about naps on Sundays.  Maybe it is a throwback to childhood when we napped on Sunday afternoon before going back for the evening service on Sunday night.  Perhaps it is praise induced exhaustion resulting from energetic worship services on Sunday morning.   Then again, it could be the soothing sounds of golf tournaments on Sunday afternoons that might as well be soft rain or crickets as far as my brain is concerned.  All I know is, most Sundays, even without trying, I pass out for a minimum of 90 minutes, and I love it.  I love it right up until the point when I'm wide awake writing a blog post at 12:55 am.  Then I vow once again to not nap next Sunday... or at least not so long next Sunday...or on the couch and not the bed because that is less restful.  Who am I kidding.  I'll be sitting here again in a week trolling Facebook to see who else took too long of a nap after church.  Until then...

Facing This Mother's Day

As this Mother's Day approaches I find it hard to pin down my emotions.  I have the greatest mother on the planet, so I have always loved celebrating her.  Frankly, with a kid like me she should get two holidays a year, not one.  I was not an easy one to raise, and yet she did it with grace, love, and discipline.  In my admiration for my mom, I always knew one way I wanted to emulate her. I looked forward to the day that I would get to be the kind of mom to my own children, that my mom had been to me. When I was recovering from my abortion years ago, I grieved the child I was too foolish to keep, but had great hopes for the ones yet to come.  I still look forward to that day, but it has been delayed.  In the past six months I have miscarried two children and instead of this being my "mom-to-be" Mother's Day, it will be a day of hope and gratitude mixed with grief and sorrow.  I know that I will not be able to help thinking of the children that I've lost this Mother's Day, the ones I will never hold and will never hear call me "Mommy".  At the same time, I believe that I will someday hold other children who will call me "Mommy" and "Mama" and "Mom" and "Mother!" in all the tones that those words are delivered, good and bad.  As I count down to this Sunday, I can't help but think of the other mothers out there like me.  Others have made the horrible decision of terminating their children and now live with the grief and regret that comes in the aftermath.  Others have lost children who were never born and feel the emptiness of their arms deeply.  Other still, like my own mother, have lost children that they knew and named, dressed and bathed, played with and talked to.  Those mothers have pictures and toys and songs that still hold the memories of those children they have outlived.  We may arrive at this day from different causes but we are unified on this day by our sorrow.  My prayer is that we will also be unified in our hope. 

I don't doubt I and many of you will shed a few tears this Sunday.  To be honest, I already have shed a few this week just thinking about the day to come, but I know that some of the tears I shed will be tears of joy.  I am so thankful that our God also grieved the loss of a child, His Son.  He knows our exact pain and sorrow.  He felt our loss to a greater extent than we have felt it, and He did so willingly.  "For God so loved the world, He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."  This verse from John 3:16 is so often quoted, but this Mother's Day it has new meaning for me.  Not only has God felt my pain, but He chose to feel it to save us all!  He allowed His perfect, flawless Child to die, so His imperfect, sinful children could live!  I am more thankful for that now than I have ever been.  I am thankful that I serve a God who has a capacity for love that far exceeds my ability to understand it or receive it. I'm thankful that Jesus Christ so willingly walked this earth so that I could have a perfect model for how to live my life.  Every sacrifice He made, was made for God's glory, even when those around Him did not get it.  

So this Mother's Day, I am praying for the strength that comes from my Savior. I'm praying for the strength to serve for His glory even if those around me don't get it, to serve for His glory even when I don't get it.   I am praying for all of the other mothers out there who know Jesus Christ to be comforted by the knowledge that our God truly understands, and if we live our lives for His glory, our losses are not in vain.  This Sunday we can be more than mothers who have lost our children, we can be daughters of the King who live on for His glory.  To live with hope is to glorify God, so know that your hope has not died with your children. Your hope lives in Jesus Christ who is eternal.  Trust in Him.  Hope.  Be joyful.  In all of these things, you will bring glory to God!

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Romans 15:13

Waiting Room Suggestions

I've spent a lot of time in waiting rooms lately. I know them well. Some go for the modern look while others are more elegant classic. Some have kids table while others are clearly for grown folks only. All seem to be linked to the same obnoxious awful elevator music station that plays horrible keyboard arrangements of Celine Dion hits and jazz tunes I've never heard in any jazz club. A few will supplement the bad music with a muted, closed caption flat screen viewing of CNN or Fox News. And then of course there is the standard basket of outdated magazines covering sports, cars, fashion, parenting, and Hollywood gossip but only as current as last month. 
Knowing what I'm facing, I try to remember to go in armed with a book of my own choosing so that I don't feel compelled to read about the "latest" Kardashian drama or who will go first in the NFL draft (yes I know it is over, but the old magazines don't).  I am tempted to pull out my headphones and save my ears from the auditory invasion that calls itself easy listening, but it feels rude, and I'm worried I might miss my name when it is finally mis-pronounced  to the room at large. I mean I have to be ready to respond to Janet Wilburn as well.   Finding a corner away from the television is usually not too difficult except when they don't have it muted, in which case I'm just stuck hearing the same news I already heard this morning repeated several more times.
If I could change the slightly less important things of this world, I would start with waiting rooms. The magazines would all be from this month/ week only and I would have more than three types available.  The music would be actual music.  You know, the music people buy and listen to at home and there would be a jukebox wall where each person waiting could pick one song to play while they wait.  I would eliminate TVs altogether from waiting rooms.  I mean my husband and I only agree on a handful of shows and we are in a lifelong committed relationship.  There is no way a rotating group of strangers can find one show to watch outside of the Royal wedding and the Olympics (summer not winter).
Now the best solution of all would be to cut back on the waiting time altogether, but alas that seems unattainable. So for now I shall bravely face my waiting room time, book in hand, with a seat far from all speakers, and a smile on my face. There are far worse things happening in the world..., and I did use today's time writing this, so there's the bright side.

Falling Down, Looking Up, Laughing All the Way

I admit it.  I'm one of those people.  One of those people who laughs when someone falls down.  I know. It's not nice, but, in all fairness, I laugh just as hard at myself when I fall down.  There is just something about it that cracks me up.  I'm the reason AFV will be in syndication for years to come.  It is always funny.  Just the other night as my mom and I left the first night of Flavour Conference, I fell as we were going to the car.  I had just shared in my message that night that I'm accident prone, and I fell before I made it to the car.  And, yes, I laughed...for a while. It was extra funny because I had just talked about it to a room full of women, but it would have been funny if it had just been a regular Thursday. 

Like anyone else, I want to present myself well.  I want to make a good impression and generally like to imagine that I'm thought of as poised and well put together.  Sometimes, that is who I really am, but just as often, I'm the girl who trips and falls on her rear end. Why? I think it is one of the many ways God keeps me humble.  I mean, think about the timing of Thursday's fall.  What could be more dangerous to my pride than standing on a stage and having hundreds of people listening just to me? Not much for a girl who liked being the center of attention from birth,...and the delivery room was all about me.  Seems like the perfect time to me for God to make sure I'm knocked on my tail in my pretty white pants within the hour! Just in case I was about to forget for a second who the evening was really about, I remember I'm Janay, the girl who trips over nothing and falls down.  He is the God of the universe.  

For this balance from the Lord, I'm truly thankful.  I want to please God and live according to His will.  I want to keep Jesus and the spreading of the gospel first in my life.  I want to be the vessel He uses, and not the distraction He must remove.  I want to be a part of the kingdom work for as long as He will let me.  I want all of that knowing that I'm undeserving, unworthy, and unfinished.  The miracle of grace is that God can and will use me in spite of me, even if that means letting me stumble on my rear a few times to make sure I keep looking up.  I'm thankful for His grace, His gifts, and His plan to use me, so I laugh when I fall down. Then I get up, brush myself off, and look up to see which way He's pointing next.

Don't Shoot the Messenger

Let's face it.  None of us likes to hear bad news.  For many years I refused to watch the news because I didn't want to hear about all the bad stuff in the world, and some days I still have to turn it off.  It's not just the sad and tragic stories of the world that we don't want to hear, but any news that conflicts with our own desires, goals, or plans.  If we are planning a picnic and hear it is raining, we turn off the weatherman.  Our natural response to anyone telling us something we don't want to hear is to shut that person down, even if only for a moment, giving birth to the phrase, "don't shoot the messenger".

I've heard the phrase for as long as I can remember. Shakespeare gets the credit on most websites for the original phrase that later evolved into this more modern, and somewhat violently worded, idiom.  (Yes, I used the word idiom.  An idiom is a commonly used expression, the meaning of which can not be understood when translated literally.  I was an English major; what are you doing to do?) I don't remember having it explained to me, but I remember as a kid not wanting to be the bearer of any bad news because I didn't want to be on the receiving end of the backlash.  As an adult, I realized that the reaction was not really about me, but that did not have me eagerly signing up for the job...until I entered the ministry.  One of the things I learned very quickly was that being God's messenger means speaking the truth, and most people do not like hearing the truth.  I'll admit it, I don't always want to hear the truth myself, but you can't follow God and not listen to what He has to say. 

That means we sometimes come face to face with God's truth and hear it as "bad" news, not because it is bad, but because it is not what we want to hear. You want to date a guy that is a really "good" man but not a Christian. God's truth tells us to only be in relationship with someone who is also a Christ-follower.  "Bad" news.  You want to go off on the woman at work who is so rude to you all the time.  God's truth tells us to turn the other cheek and love our enemy.  "Bad" news.  You want to quit waiting around for your husband to make a decision and take charge of the situation. God's truth tells us our husbands are the head of the household and to submit to them.  "Bad" news.  

So what do we do in the face of  this "bad" news? We shoot the messenger.  We put away our Bibles, stop praying skip church, and avoid our believing friends who share the truth.  Oh sure, you don't "pull our your nine and bust a cap" in anyone (another idiom for all the wannabe hip hop/gangstas out there), but we all know how to shut down the flow of truth from God when we want to, at least temporarily.  As a speaker, I have stood on the stage and seen people's facial expression turn icy as the words God has given me begin to step on their toes.  As a minister, I have recognized the moment in a conversation when the woman asking me for counsel is no longer listening to what I have to say.  As a flawed human being, I have done my own share of shutting down when God is using someone to tell me what I need to hear, not just what I want to hear.

The funny thing is, you can shoot the messenger all you want, but His message can not be shut down.  God will make sure that somehow, some way you will hear what you need to hear. Romans 1:19 says,
    
    "They know the truth about God because he has made it  
     obvious to them." 

God will make sure that the truth you need to hear is right in front of you.  The question is will you see it and receive it or will you make it difficult for yourself? I like to think of it this way.  The first time God tries to tell me something it is a whisper.  Each time I refuse to hear, He gets a little louder.  The longer I resist, the louder He gets and eventually He will hold up a megaphone to my ear.  That metaphor makes my ear hurt just to imagine it, but that is a great image for what happens when we refuse to listen to God. 

Let me encourage you to avoid the megaphone and the ache that comes with it.  There is something God is trying to tell you right now, some message you need to hear.  The message is not what you want to hear, but is is what you need. Instead of shooting the messenger, listen to the message and let God take you where He knows it is best for you to go. I'm just sayin'.