#WarfareWeek: Would you take this case?

Hello, lovelies, and welcome to the very first ever #WarfareWeek. Spiritual warfare has been a theme in my walk with Christ, and it even makes an appearance in my first book, The Field. I wanted to do something to honor this theme here on my blog.

The topic for the week is “The Fight of Your Life.” I’m kicking things off today, and later this week I’ll be joined by Author Emerald Barnes and Kandi J. Wyatt, Author. Please join us and share if it resonates with you.

Warfare Week Promo

As those of you who have been following me for a while know, my word for 2016 is champion. Most of the things I’ve posted have dealt with the noun champion: a person who has defeated or surpassed all rivals in a competition, especially in sports (Google Dictionary).  And while victory is an important part of my year, today I want to talk about the verb champion: support the cause of; defend; advocate (Google Dictionary). And the battle I want to talk about today is not so much one fought in the trenches as it is in a courtroom.

Recently, a verse in Nehemiah struck me: “When Sanballat the Horonite and Tobiah the Ammonite official heard about this [Nehemiah’s commission to rebuild Jerusalem’s walls], they were very much disturbed that someone had come to promote the welfare of the Israelites” (Nehemiah 2:10 NIV, emphasis mine). The Israelites had a reputation at that time as far as the rest of their world was concerned: they may have been God’s chosen people at one time, but now they were deserted, desolate, and not cared for, and there’s little question of whether or not they earned their place in the world. Before the Israelites entered the Promised Land, Moses warned them: “Be careful, or you will be enticed to turn away and worship other gods and bow down to them. Then the Lord’s anger will burn against you, and he will shut up the heavens so that it will not rain and the ground will yield no produce, and you will soon perish from the good land the Lord is giving you” (Deuteronomy 11:16-17 NIV).  And even as Israel moved further and further away from God, He sent prophets again and to beckon them back, but they weren’t having it: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it…Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, ‘We will not walk in it'” (Isaiah 30:15 and Jeremiah 6:16 NIV). It doesn’t exactly seem like they deserved to have anyone come along and promote their welfare.

And yet. And yet, that’s exactly what Nehemiah does. When he hears that the people of Jerusalem are in “great trouble and disgrace” and the city’s walls are “broken down” (Nehemiah 1:3 NIV), it causes him distress. Seeking God with the situation opens doors for him to return to Jerusalem with the objective of rebuilding the city and restoring its people (Neh. 1:4-2:10). First, he surveys the damage (Neh. 2:11-17), and then the great task of rebuilding begins (Neh. 2:18). Not only did Nehemiah undertake rebuilding the wall and protecting it from further damage (Neh. 4, 6), he put an end to oppressive practices within the Israelite community (Neh. 5). Then he undertook the most difficult task of all: getting the Israelites back to God (Neh. 8-9), and keeping them on that track (Neh. 13). Nehemiah was an advocate, a champion of restoration for the people of Israel – people known as outcasts, desolate, and deserted – restoration not only to their rightful borders and boundaries, not only to their basic needs, but to God.

Most people probably wouldn’t take that case – the case of the guilty. Sanballat and Tobiah certainly wouldn’t have. So why did Nehemiah? Nehemiah remarks, “The gracious hand of my God was on me” (Neh. 2:8), and I can’t help but thinking that restoration was always God’s plan for the Israelites. After all, Jeremiah says, “The people of Israel are oppressed, and the people of Judah as well. All their captors hold them fast, refusing to let them go. Yet their Redeemer is strong; the Lord Almighty is his name. He will vigorously defend their cause so that he may bring rest to their land” (Jer. 50:33-34 NIV). God was just looking for a champion for His people, and Nehemiah – Nehemiah was willing.  

This week is Holy Week, and in the Church, we are celebrating the death and resurrection of Jesus. We are celebrating that moment when Jesus looked at our guilt in rejecting God and said, “You know what? I’m going to give you the best possible life anyway. Life with My Father.” Jesus died to promote the welfare of a race that rejects God, a race in ruins; He rose again to advocate, plead for, and champion people who can do nothing for themselves, who walk away from Him again and again and again. First John 2:9 says, “If anybody sins, we have an advocate with the Father – Jesus Christ the Righteous One” (NIV). We have a Champion – Someone who wants to make it right for us, and everyone around us.

And again, most probably wouldn’t take that case – the case of righting a wrong that wasn’t theirs to begin with. Often, we readily advocate and champion restoration for those we perceive deserving of it, but we often neglect restoration for those who have made their beds and are now lying in them. We would give them a life sentence and leave them right where they are, bearing the consequences of their sins into eternity.

I wonder if we understand how contrary to God’s Word this attitude is. And while Jesus is the Ultimate Champion, I wonder if we understand that God is looking for more of His people to rise up and advocate restoration of the guilty to Him.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:17-21 NIV)

In Him, there is no wrong that cannot be made right. There is no sentence that cannot be mitigated – no, lifted.

I believe that for you, and I believe that for me.

Let’s start taking more cases, like Nehemiah and Jesus. Let’s start seeking God about the cases that need our attention, and how we can best go about fighting for them. Let’s get real about the damage, and then let’s get busy rebuilding. Let’s take a stand against oppressive practices. Let’s point people to God. And let’s start seeing Him right those wrongs and lift those life sentences.

Shake Before Using

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“Did you shake this?”

“Yes.”

My dad eyed the salad dressing critically. “It doesn’t look like you shook it.” Then he took the bottle into both hands, held it out, and shook it vigorously.

Well, yeah, I suppose compared to that, I had only swished the salad dressing around a little.

I didn’t understand that the salad dressing had elements that naturally separated, and so it had to be shaken before use to bring those elements back together to balance the taste.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about how, sometimes, people need to be shaken before they can be used, too. I just finished reading The Curate of Glaston by George MacDonald, which is all about that kind of shaking, and one passage particularly stood out to me: “Sometimes a thunderbolt, as men call it, will shoot from a clear sky; and sometimes into the midst of a peaceful family, or a yet quieter individuality, without warning of gathered storm above, or lightest tremble of earthquake beneath, will fall a terrible fact, and from the moment everything is changed. That family or that life is no more what it was – probably never more can be what it was. Better it ought to be, worse it may be – which, depends upon itself. But its spiritual weather is altered. The air is thick with cloud, and cannot weep itself clear. There may come a gorgeous sunset though.” And so recently, I’ve been reflecting on the seasons during which my own spiritual weather has been altered.

I remember meeting with a friend several years ago, and as we discussed our lives, she said, “I don’t feel like I’ve had the one great trial of my faith yet, do you?” I didn’t really know how to respond. Even then, before I had really gone through much in my walk with Christ, I felt like my faith was never too far from one of those thunderbolt moments – those seasons when everything was shaken, sometimes even what I had thought were the most foundational elements. I never believed it would be just one great trial, one great thunderbolt, one great shaking; I thought it would be more like a video game, where I would graduate to levels of greater and greater difficulty. I was, however, slightly jealous that someone could have the somewhat romantic notion that there would be just one great trial of faith, when I didn’t have that luxury.

They are not bad things, these spiritually-altering seasons. They often feel like bad things, because everything that can be shaken will be shaken, and how everything settles after that shaking is outside of our control.

[F]rom the moment everything is changed. That family or that life is no more what it was – probably never more can be what it was.

That’s not to say we don’t try to control it – to short-circuit the thunderbolt, to try and hold things in place as they are coming down around us.

We don’t understand we’re often better off going through spiritual alterations and releasing the shaky things. It produces value within us:  “We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame” (Romans 5:3b-5a NIV). This thunderbolt passage in Curate is about Helen Lingard, a character who has little in the way of passion – described as someone who doesn’t really think for herself, doesn’t fall in love, and whose face doesn’t show much. Without being shaken, she would have gone on, just as she was, and of course, there would have been no story and no character worth mentioning.

These seasons will also bring us closer to God if we let them. I am frequently reminded of something C. S. Lewis said in A Grief Observed, after his wife passed away: “…My idea of God is a not divine idea. It has to be shattered from time to time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence?…” God Himself says, “In a little while I will once more shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. I will shake all nations, and what is desired by all nations will come” (Haggai 2:6-7 NIV). The writer of Hebrews expounds upon these sentiments: “The words ‘once more’ indicate the removing of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what cannot be shaken may remain” (Hebrews 12:27 NIV). With every shaking, I get closer to Him, and His nearness germinates His life within me.

Today is St. Patrick’s Day, and in the patron saint of the Irish we have a great example of someone who was shaken before use. As a young man, he was kidnapped by Irish pirates and brought to Ireland as a slave. After making his escape, he felt a call to return to Ireland to walk among the Irish, so he studied to become a priest. Even then, the Church refused to back his calling because of his youth and inexperience. He opens his Confession this way: “My name is Patrick. I am a sinner, a simple country person, and the least of all believers. I am looked down upon by many.” He remarks about his calling, “So I want to give thanks to God without ceasing. He frequently forgave my lack of wisdom and my negligence, and more than once did not become very angry with me, the one who was meant to be his helper. I was not quick to accept what he showed me, and so the Spirit prompted me. The Lord was merciful to me a thousand thousand times, because he saw in me that I was ready, but that I did not know what I should do about the state of my life … Indeed, I was not quick to recognise the grace that was in me; I know now what I should have done then.” If he hadn’t been shaken, St. Patrick would never have ministered in Ireland the way he did.

What will come of my being shaken today? I hardly know, except I will be brought closer to God, and in His closeness, I will become more. And I believe with my whole heart there is a gorgeous sunset in my future.

How Far Gone Is Too Far Gone? An Open Letter to the Prodigal I Forgot

Gosh. How long has it been? A little over three years, I think, since we last talked, and probably two years since the last time you crossed my mind. A little over seven years, I think, since I first started praying for you, and about four years since I stopped. And almost exactly five years since I plucked up the courage to be completely honest with you.

Until about two weeks ago, it never once occurred to me that you might think about and check in on me, although with me having a public platform, I suppose it’s easy enough for you to do. You said you were done and you seemed like you were done, and I guess I believed you more than I thought I did at the time, because in all of those searches of “Lydia Thomas blog” my analytics tell me have brought people to my blog, I never once thought it might be you.

I just … have not prayed for you or thought about you in years. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

I don’t say all that to make you feel small. I say it so you understand that for three years, I lived the pain. I cried myself to sleep over it more nights than I can count. I prayed, pleaded with God, and finally, railed at God in absolute rage. And I laid flat on my back, numb, until He extended a hand and pulled me up. And since then, it doesn’t hurt me anymore.

But I understand – I understand – it’s your turn now. I find myself both sorry for what you are experiencing right now, and not sorry at all. Sorry, because it’s got to hurt like hell, and not sorry at all, because you finally looked down.

You see, about six months after I plucked up the courage to be completely honest with you, I plucked up the courage to be completely honest with some other people who were involved as well. On the day I went to them, the preacher talked about how our society doesn’t like to feel pain and he brought up a medical condition called neuropathy, that is, a condition that causes people to lose their sense of feeling. In illustrating his the condition, I remember he said, “These people could be walking across a field of glass and be bleeding to death and not even know it.” And completely unbidden, a thought came to my mind, Unless someone tells them to look down.

And after that, when I would pray for you, I would ask God that you would just look down. I had a vision of myself standing on the edge of that field, pleading with you to turn around, and you laughed at me, because you were fine. “You’re bleeding!” I cried, but you laughed again. “If I was bleeding,” you said. “I would know it.” And as a last ditch effort, I pleaded, “Just look down.” Because if you would just look down, you would know you were bleeding out.

And I often tell people, that vision turned into a blog post, and then into an allegorical short story, and then into a novella. One of the hardest plot decisions I had to make was whether one of the characters who had spent most of the story in a forbidden field would look down or not, and what would happen when she did. Would she stay in the field or would she come out?

I’m not going to tell you what happened with her, but I want to tell you, what you’re experiencing right now? It means you’ve looked down, and you’re seeing everything is not good, you are not good. And now, you have a choice to make: keep pretending like nothing is wrong and press on or come out and begin the healing process.

And me? I’ve come back to the place where I was five years ago: the edge of the field. Why? I am here for you, no longer begging and pleading, but cheering. you. on. Because where you’ve been is not good enough for you, no matter how much you tell yourself it is. Because even though there’s not hope for this one thing you’ve been secretly been holding on to, there is hope for you. So I’m here to cheer you on, through every painstaking step out of the field, through everything you think you have to lose, through the cleansing of those old wounds, until you can say, “I’m good,” and it’s true.

“But he knows the way that I take;
    when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold” (Job 23:10).

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(Photo Credit: Three Rivers Deep)

 

 

Favorite Quotes from The Curate of Glaston by George MacDonald

I finally finished reading The Curate of Glaston by George MacDonald last night. I’ve been plugging away at it since the beginning of January – and while it is in a similar vein to MacDonald’s There and Back, I found it considerably weightier, and am still mulling over it. As usual, I love how MacDonald handles skepticism (the story follows a young curate who doesn’t believe what he’s been preaching), but there’s something he drives at in this book that I’m not entirely comfortable with. I’m trying to understand why it makes me uncomfortable, and at some point in the future, I expect to provide an analysis of exactly what is troubling me. Until then, I thought I’d share some of my favorite quotes from the book.

She had just finished the novel of the day, and was suffering a mild reaction – the milder, perhaps, that she was not altogether satisfied with the consummation. For the heroine had, after much sorrow and patient endurance, at length married a man whom she could not help knowing to be not worth having.

“Helen Lingard was not a girl of the sort to fall readily in love.”

I wonder how many speak with the voices that really belong to them.

“Ought not men be good to one another because they are made up of ones and others? Do you or I need threats and promises to make us kind? … You must consider that you are but a part of the whole, and that whatever you do to hurt the whole, or injure any of its parts, will return upon you who form one of those parts.”

Even the sunshine, the gladdest thing in creation, is sad sometimes.

“But how can a man go through anything till his hour be come?”

‘Then do you intend that a man should make up his sermons from the books he reads?’

‘Yes, if he cannot do better. But then I would have him read – not with his sermon in his eye, but with his people in his heart.’

“What is Christianity, then?”

“God in Christ, and Christ in man.”

‘How am I to know that there is a God?’

‘It were a more pertinent question, sir,” returned Polwarth, -‘If there be a God, how am I to find him?’

“My longing was mainly for refuge, for some corner into which I might creep, where I should be concealed and so at rest.”

‘I repeat,” said Polwarth, ‘that the community whose servant you are was not founded to promulgate or defend the doctrine of the existence of a Deity, but to perpetuate the assertion of a man that he was the son and only revealer of the Father of men, a fact, if it be a fact, which precludes the question of the existence of a God, because it includes the answer to it. Your business, therefore, even as one who finds himself  in your unfortunate position as clergyman, is to make yourself acquainted with that man: he will be to you nobody save in revealing, through knowledge of his inmost heart, the Father to you.’

“If a man will use figures [illustrations], he should be careful to give them legs.”

Sometimes a thunderbolt, as men call it, will shoot from a clear sky; and sometimes into the midst of a peaceful family, or a yet quieter individuality, without warning of gathered storm above, or lightest tremble of earthquake beneath, will fall a terrible fact, and from the moment everything is changed. That family or that life is no more what it was – probably never more can be what it was. Better it ought to be, worse it may be – which, depends upon itself. But its spiritual weather is altered. The air is thick with cloud, and cannot weep itself clear. There may come a gorgeous sunset though.

“The Power of Life is not content that they who live in and by him should live poorly and contemptibly. If the presence of low thoughts which he repudiates, yet makes a man miserable, how must it be with him if they who live and move and have their being in him are mean and repulsive, or alienated through self-sufficiency and slowness of heart?”

But when a woman, in her own nature cold, takes delight in rousing passion, she will, selfishly confident in her own safety, go to strange lengths in kindling and fanning the flame which is the death of the other.

“To be content is not to be satisfied. No one ought to be satisfied with the imperfect.”

Thou only thinkest – I am thought.

“It is the man Christ Jesus we have to know, and the Bible we have to use to that end – not for theory or dogma.”

If a dream reveal a principle, that principle is a revelation, and the dream is neither more nor less valuable than a waking thought that does the same.

“For Christianity does not mean what you think or what I think concerning Christ, but what is of Christ. My Christianity, if I ever come to have any, will be what Christ is in me; your Christianity now is what of Christ is in you.”

What man was more dangerous than he who went too far?”

“The only thing I can say is: if you have been in the way of doing anything you are no longer satisfied with, don’t do it anymore.”

How would Jesus Christ have done if he had been a draper instead of a carpenter?

“The curate’s search, it will be remarked, had already widened greatly the sphere of his doubts.”

With him they sought and found shelter. He was their saviour from the storm of human judgment and the biting frost of public opinion, even when that opinion and that judgment were re-echoed by the justice of their own hearts. He received them, and the life within them rose up, and the light shone – the conscious light of light, despite even of shame and self-reproach.

“And do not our souls themselves fall out with their surroundings, and cry for a nobler, better, more beautiful life?”

Yet it is strange to see how even noble women, with the divine gift of imagination, may be argued into unbelief in their best instincts by some small man, as common-place as clever, who beside them is as limestone to marble.

“No crime can be committed against a creature without being committed also against the creator of that creature.”

But the first part of friendship sometimes is to confess poverty.

“Your calling is to do the best for your neighbor that you reasonably can.”

What sort of watchmaker were he who could not set right the watches and clocks himself made?”

“The only way to save your brother is to strengthen him to do his duty, whatever that may be.”

It is true that the best help a woman can get is from a right man – equally true with its converse; but let the man who ventures take heed. Unless he is able to counsel a woman to the hardest thing that bears the name of duty, let him not dare give advice even to her asking.

“He loved her with the passion of a man mingled with the compassion of a prophet.”

I only venture to suggest that, though the labourer is worthy of his hire, not every man is worthy of the labour.

“The waves of infidelity are coming in with a strong wind and a flowing tide. Who is to blame? God it cannot be, and for unbelievers, they are as they were. It is the Christians who are to blame. I do not mean those who are called Christians, but those who call and count themselves Christians. I tell you, and I speak to each one of whom it is true, that you hold and present such a withered, starved, miserable, death’s-hand of Christianity; that you are yourselves such poverty-stricken believers, if believers you are at all; that the notion you present to the world as your ideal, is so commonplace, so false to the grand, gracious, mighty-hearted Jesus – that you are the cause why the truth hangs its head in patience, and rides not forth on the white horse, conquering and to conquer. You dull its lustre in the eyes of men; you deform its fair proportions;  you represent not that which it is, but that which it is not, yet call yourselves by its name; you are not the salt of the earth, but a salt that has lost its savour, for ye seek all things else first, and to that seeking the kingdom of God and his righteousness shall never be added. Until you repent and believe afresh, believe in a nobler Christ, namely the Christ revealed by himself, and not the muffled form of something vaguely human and certainly all divine, which the false interpretations of men have been substituted for him, you will be, as, I repeat, you are, the main reason why faith is so scanty in the earth, and the enemy comes in like a flood.”

‘I need a God; and if there be none how did I come to need one? Yes, I know you think you can explain it all, but the way you account for it is just as miserable as what you would put in its place. I am not complete in myself like you. I am not able to live without a God. I will seek him until I find him, or drop into the abyss where all question and answer ceases.’

 

 

 

The Box by Debbie Sheffield-Barnett

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[BUY HERE]

About The Box by Debbie Sheffield-Barnett:

A little girl who is sad from the death of her mother and longs for love and affection receives a special box and becomes curious who sent it and what could possibly be inside.

A miracle takes place and restores the love in the little girl’s heart that she thought was gone forever.

About Debbie Sheffield-Barnett:

Debbie Sheffield-Barnett is a 30 year veteran teacher (retired) of the Oklahoma City Public School. She holds a BS degree in Elementary Education and minor in music (piano) and has currently returned to the classroom.

She is an accomplished singer, pianist and organist. She serves and dedicates her talents to the work of the church ministry. Debbie lives in Oklahoma City and is married to her husband Charles.  She has 5 children and 10 grandchildren.

You can connect with her on her website and Facebook.

My Review:

I give The Box by Debbie Sheffield-Barnett 5 out of 5 stars.

This review is long overdue, and it was actually supposed to be a video review, but my camcorder is acting glitchy, so I’m going the old-fashioned route: a written review.

I don’t often have the opportunity to review children’s books, but since I work with kids a lot, I’m always looking out for good books that will interest and entertain them. The Box by Debbie Sheffield-Barnett is such a book.

The book is actually based on Sheffield-Barnett’s own experiences following her mother’s passing when she was a little girl, and I think that’s important on a few levels.

First of all, it’s a way of passing a story from one generation to another. Of course, we’ve all sat and listened to our parents’ and grandparents’ stories (or, at least, I hope we have), but it’s important to have those stories preserved, and writing them down is one of the best ways to do that.

Secondly, a children’s book is an excellent way to engage the younger generation, especially because of the illustrations. Being a visual person, a story is likely to stick with me longer and be more meaningful when it’s accompanied by an illustration of some sort.

Finally, sharing from her own experiences, made Sheffield-Barnett’s The Box relatable. I understood the little girl whose world changed when her mother passed away – how she battled pity from others and how she didn’t have anyone to really talk to. I loved the suspense as the little girl tried to imagine what was in the box – I would have been doing the same thing!

I highly recommend this book for 4-6 year olds. They might not be able to read it themselves, but it’s a good one for dads and moms (or grandpas and grandmas) to read to them.

Go get your copy!

Cheap Change

Sophie Scholl was a German student and revolutionary, active within the White Rose non-violent resistance group in Nazi Germany. She was convicted of high treason after having been found distributing anti-war leaflets at the University of Munich with her brother Hans on February 18,1943. As a result, they were both executed by guillotine on February 22, 1943.

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Her final words: “How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause?”

I’ve been thinking a lot about Sophie’s life and how willing she was to stand against the evil taking place in her own country, even up to the point of her own death. She serves as a reminder that we are not obligated to the status quo, to think and do things simply because almost everyone else is. But she also serves as a reminder that the status quo does not like to be challenged, and resisting it comes at a cost.

It seems, as I scroll through my social media feeds, we have become obsessed with the concept of change. I say the concept of change because many people are talking about change, and looking to public figures to effect change. We say we want change, but we often want someone else to make it, and we certainly want someone else to shoulder the cost.

I wonder how many of us are actually willing to look at our own lives and do anything differently that would effect change in our own lives and the lives of the people around us. I wonder if it’s because we don’t feel empowered to stand up and do things differently as individuals, or if it’s because we’re complacent, or if we’re just lazy.

This year, I’ve had to ask myself this (and I challenge you to ask it of yourself): “If I want change, am I willing to do things differently? And if I do things differently, am I willing to absorb the cost?”

Voting is important. It’s one of the ways we are privileged to effect change here in the United States. But. It’s only one way. The best, most effective changes are made close to home: the ones that come from our hearts, that change our lives, our families, our communities, our jobs, our churches. The ones where we decide it doesn’t matter what anybody else is doing, this – this is how we will live our lives.

And if we’re being honest, those are not hard decisions to make here in the United States. We are not likely to be killed, tortured, or imprisoned for thinking or doing things differently. At most, we might be criticized and lose friends. A time may come when that’s not the case, a time when rising up against a tide of evil for what we know is right will cost us more and more and more.

So it’s important that now, while we are still free to choose with relative comfort, to get out of the habit of thinking and doing anything because we think everyone else is doing it, and get into the habit of thinking and doing what we know to be right, regardless of the cost. We must get away from the idea that change is big and always at a grand level, when often it is behavior by behavior at the individual level.

If we want to see more generosity, let us be more generous.

If we want to see more accountability, let us make ourselves accountable.

If we want to see a better work ethic in this generation, let us work harder, and for things that matter.

If we want to see a healthier environment and economy, let our personal decisions reflect that desire.

But let’s abandon the idea that change is up to everyone else. Because it’s not. It’s up to us.

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How will YOU burn?

Letting Go of the List

Today, I’m delighted to be on Heartskeeper Author Sarah West‘s blog talking about why I let go of the list. You know, the list of those qualities desired in a mate.

Most women have one. A lot of guys do, too, even if they won’t admit it.

I had one. Well, no, that’s not entirely accurate; I’ve had four, at least… [READ MORE]