tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53079606976421466322023-11-15T06:05:03.845-08:00Christian in ProgressC. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-27623264587016450812012-07-16T10:16:00.000-07:002012-07-16T10:19:12.159-07:00I'm back!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.034381225472316146" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah, yeah – I know … It’s been a long friggin time since my last blog post. A really long time. In my defence, I’ve been too busy working, posting news articles to my Facebook page and reading smutty books to blog. (I didn’t say it was a good defense). And while we’re on the subject of “ways that June is slacking” It’s been just about as long since I’ve been to church, but that’s a whole other post. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What’s important is not how long I’ve been gone, or what I was doing with my time, but rather that I’ve returned filled with the spirit and the urge to share my thoughts and feelings.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Also of great importance, is the topic that moved me to blog again: Sexual predators.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something happened to me when my daughter was born that changed the way I looked at young people. Suddenly instead of thinking of children in terms of how well-behaved or annoying they were, I began thinking of them in terms of how vulnerable or well-protected they were. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something about being a mother changed my first response from “Somebody<strike> grab a switch and beat his bad a$$”</strike> put that child in time out " to “should we be calling social services? Because something is not right with this situation.”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obviously, the idea of a child being hurt like that by a trusted adult makes me feel sad and angry. But I think what’s bothered me the most about these accounts is how close they hit to home.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How many times in High School and Junior High did one of my friends or acquaintances brag about something they had going on with an adult? How many times did I (at age 15,16, and 17) wait in the hallway of some college jerk’s dorm while one of my friends was inside? And worse, how many times did I seek out information from the gossip mill about classmates rumored to be having affairs with faculty members, collegiate members of Greek letter organizations, or even other people’s parents? </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s so sad that all this information was right in my face and I never felt compelled to ask somebody for help – that I never considered any of this to be unusual or wrong. I mean, (in my mind at the time) yeah, it was wrong for these “hoes” to run around messing with all the fine high school guys AND the hot college guys. And if the young girl in question was a friend of mine, then my main concern was what was wrong with me that I couldn’t attract these college guys and grown men. Wasn’t I mature enough? Pretty enough? </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The idea that these young women, from ages 13-17 were technically being raped, was so foreign, that when a young man did catch a charge for it we blamed the “fast” girl he was caught messing with. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking back, I’m so embarrassed at my actions. That an instance of abuse filled me with judgement and envy instead of compassion and concern. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I think of the position my heavenly Father put me in, one where I could have stepped in, spoken up and maybe helped someone, I feel disgusted at my perception of the events around me. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I mean if a 35-year-old man is messing with a 15-year-old girl, there’s a problem. If a 23-year-old man is messing with a 16-year-old, there’s a problem. And when we as Christians are wagging our fingers at the babies in these situations, there’s a problem.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sin is not moving these young people, it’s infecting them. They’re being tainted, by the very people who should be teaching them and leading by example. They’re being scarred for life and the adults around them are labeling them as “fast” and “slutty” instead of looking at them with compassion-filled eyes and seeing them as the victims they are. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I guess my reason for writing this blog is to apologize. If you had a “relationship” with an adult and I gossiped about it in the halls, please forgive me. If young men filmed you in a compromising situation and then distributed those tapes around campus (which is technically making and distributing child pornography) please forgive me for the judgement I know I passed against you. If you were my friend and I accompanied you to meet your adult “boyfriend;” If I drove you to meet him, lied to your mother, if I laughed and joked with him like he was one of us, please forgive me. I don’t know why, but at the time I did not recognize any of this behavior as predatory or illegal. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up, tell my mom or a counselor. I’m sorry I stood back and watched this happen. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can’t change the past, but I can promise to teach my daughter that this crap isn’t cool; that when a grown man is interested in a young girl, it’s not because she’s mature, sophisticated, beautiful or fast, it’s because there is something wrong with him. He is sick. He’s a predator and when you see him, don’t hesitate to cry “wolf.”</span></b></div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-71902917458831071332011-08-19T15:01:00.000-07:002011-08-19T15:01:25.399-07:00Peer pressure made me blog this thought<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It used to be the past that haunted me.<br />
The hurtful things I'd done, the cruel things I'd said. The ugly blanks I couldn't remember, but instinctively knew were filled with evil and darkness. For a long time that's who I thought I was — the M&M they don't have a commercial for: Smooth, dark, cruel and forever plotting the downfall of man on the inside, with a sweet, brightly painted shell on the outside.<br />
But I wasn't really that person. And at some point I realized it, asked for forgiveness and moved on.<br />
But now, after a few years of blaming my past for my present lack of blessings (stupid I know) and wallowing in guilt (pointless indeed) I've found that what keeps me up at night isn't what I've already done, but instead, all I have to do.<br />
I bet you didn't see this coming, but this post is less about my personal demons and more about my growing anxiety about my daughter's first day of Kindergarten.<br />
For so long, my success in raising her has been measured by her advanced comprehension and language skills and her striking looks and personality. But now, for the first time, all my hard work will be put to the test as she enters into a true social environment outside of our home.<br />
So I guess this is about my inner demons — I mean it's certainly not about the crap-load of cash I've spent trying to look like a super prepared, all-American soccer mom. It's not about her awesome Old Navy wardrobe, or the Martha Stewart-type lunches I'm planning on making.<br />
No, even through my crazy shopping haze, I do understand that all the money in the world won't make me a good mom. I know that her new backpack and Disney thermos and name-brand shoes won't cover any mistakes I've made over the past 5 years. And her annunciation and mature vocabulary — while awesome and inspiring — won't deflect from any emotional scars I may have inflicted on her.<br />
Did I yell too much? Did she see me cry? Will she inherit my strength or my weakness? Did I work too much? Did we play enough? Am I a woman she'll be proud to call "Mom." <br />
(Read: Did I break the most precious gift God has ever entrusted me with?)<br />
In six days I'll find out.<br />
In six days, she'll march into a classroom full of dumb-as-dirt, snot-nosed, misfits. She'll march in without judgment (unless they're boys, she hates boys) with perfect hair, clothes and diction and the world will get to judge whether or not I did a good job.<br />
That's what keeps me up at night.<br />
Thankfully, I have a great kid and I'm pretty sure she's not going to grow up to be a serial killer. But more importantly I serve an awesome God, and once or twice a week, when I get a night off from work, He reminds me that her future is not in my hands, but in His.<br />
It's in the rare moments that I actually get to do the nighttime ritual that I remind her to be quiet, be still and go to sleep or no more McDonald's forever and she reminds me to calm down, say my prayers and thank God for all the people we love and all the blessings we've received.<br />
And though I'm freaking out now, it's a comfort to know that in 6 days the world may find out she's has a pair or so-so parents, but I'm sure she'll remind them that she serves an awesome Father.</div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-41976380163274211232011-07-11T03:50:00.000-07:002011-07-11T03:50:02.056-07:00Searching for answersI searched the dark hallway that connected the room I shared with my cousin to my aunt's room. I hated that hallway. Even knowing that on the other side, there was a room full of stuffed animals and grown-up treasures didn't distract me from the fact that it was a creepy space that cased the creepy bathroom with the creepy rusted toilet, sink, tub and pipes that made a creepy hiss every time I ventured past it.<br />
Sure the fear was irrational, and even knowing it was probably rooted in some ridiculous horror story my cousin Lizz spurted off the top of her head, I still couldn't shake it.<br />
Regardless of my fear, or perhaps because of it, my eyes were drawn to the dark space between those rooms that night.<br />
I'm not even sure why I was still awake, but then it seemed like my 5-year-old body never wanted to sleep. Every night something called me out of bed. A walk through the dark but familiar house, a quick dip in grandma's sugar cup, a late-night cry without the judgement of my entire extended family.<br />
"You shouldn't cry; You have to be strong for your mother."<br />
Sometimes I'd just sit in the big scratchy chair on the back porch and look up at my mom's mug printed in an actual beer mug next to her twin hanging on the wall.<br />
Sometimes I'd stare at Jesus, and his heart practically beating off the painting on the opposite wall -- Catholics.<br />
But that night I was too sad to get out of bed, to sneak sugar, to look at my mom ... or Jesus. That night all I could do was stare into the darkness.<br />
Who knew how long it would be before I saw my mom again. At that point I couldn't even remember the last time I saw her. And right down the hall, through that black hole of horror, was my cousin's mother, somebody's mother, somebody who might feel sorry enough to comfort a crying child with a warm hug -- even if that child wasn't hers. Or someone who would be really pissed for being bothered at 0 dark thirty. Not that it mattered with that creepy hall between us.<br />
That's probably when I started crying, or maybe I had been crying all along --who knows. It seemed like whenever I wasn't pretending to be smart, cunning, adorable and well-adjusted, I was hiding somewhere crying.<br />
Anyway, I was at that point where my tears had blurred my vision to nothing but a swirl of colors, when I realized in the dark of that creepy hall, I probably shouldn't be seeing colors. And as curiosity stilled my stuttering sobs, I realized that I wasn't alone.<br />
Of course, I knew I wasn't alone before, Lizz was snoring in the bunk bed above me (ok, ok, little miss perfect straight A-making, softball champion, piano playing Lizz didn't snore) but I also knew that she didn't emit a hazy blue glow (she wasn't that perfect).<br />
Slowly my vision began to clear, and as it did I noticed the light wasn't in the hall but upon me. And looking up I saw the Virgin Mary in her full glory. Looking down on me just like she looked down at Jesus in every friggin rosary book I'd ever seen. She was<i> that </i>Mary. Blue veil, pale skin, serene face. <i>The</i> Mary. It wasn't like she was alive -- breathing, smiling, talking or anything. She was just there, the image, like someone was projecting her image right from a Sunday missalette. And she just looked at me and after awhile I just fell to sleep.<br />
<br />
I know this isn't the first time I've mentioned my miraculous visit from Mary. It's one of those things, that even with it's lack of divine purpose or magic, has never been something I doubted.<br />
Why am I writing about it now? Well, it's probably close to 5 am and I can't sleep. I'm so sad I can't sleep. I haven't been able to really sleep in months.<br />
And as much as I pray and search for guidance, I can't seem to shake the overwhelming sense that I am losing at life.<br />
I really have no idea where God is leading me. I feel like there are signs and they are everywhere, but I just can't tell the signs from everything else.<br />
I can't seem to move with any purpose outside of survival.<br />
I guess I should be glad that I want to survive. That I want to fight tooth and nail to make it through this dark time.<br />
But more than anything, I want that warm glow that quieted my fear, my sadness and that damned hissing bathroom long enough to bring my 5-year-old self a little sleep and a lot of peace.<br />
I want to be able to accept that even though I have no idea what's going to happen, the weight of the world is not on my shoulders and I will be alright.<br />
I want to say 10 Hail Marys and call it a night ... Catholics.<br />
But instead I was attracted to the warm glow of my desktop. Instead images from that night flooded my mind. Maybe she's trying to remind me that she's always with me -- that He's always with me.<br />
Maybe they're trying to tell me that her warm glow is never more than a prayer away.<br />
Maybe no one's trying to tell me anything and I just have to let this pass.<br />
Whatever the maybe, the warm glow of this computer is starting to feel a little cold, my lids are starting to feel a little droopy and a Catholic little voice inside of me is telling me there's a rosary in my closet with my name on it.<br />
No advice or biblical words of wisdom for this one ... well, let me get my Google on ...<br />
OK<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><b>John 16:23-24 (NKJV)</b><br />
23 "And in that day you will ask Me nothing. Most assuredly, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in My name He will give you.<br />
<br />
24 Until now you have asked nothing in My name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">... Lord, I'm asking ...</span>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-88334255884810835192011-05-23T14:55:00.000-07:002011-05-23T14:55:49.095-07:00Pride and prayer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The cupboards are bare, my pockets are empty and the bills are neatly stacked and unopened on my dining room table.<br />
It's a heavy load.<br />
Every conversation with my husband is about where the money is going. How can I be using the money to pay bills when there are so many cut off notices? How is it that I seem to owe more money now that we've moved to a cheaper apartment? How am I already behind when I just got paid? And about that, why does there seem to be less money when I work overtime weekly?<br />
I'd ask the same questions to God, but I'm a little afraid of the answer.<br />
Then there are the conversations with my family. "No, everything is fine! Things are hard but not impossible; we'll get through this. God will find a way. He always does."<br />
<br />
And then there's that question, the one I don't want to ask: "Why isn't he helping me?"<br />
And then there's the answer, the one I don't want to hear: "Because you don't deserve it."<br />
<br />
And that's when the blogging stopped.<br />
Because how can you claim to be on a spiritual journey in which the destination is a place you're afraid to go?<br />
How can sit here quoting scriptures to support dreams and ideals I don't believe I'm worthy of receiving?<br />
And then there were the questions? Just because I decided to share this journey, this experiment in absolute faithfulness, people assumed I knew the answers to the 10 million what-ifs of existence. As if I were one of the scripture-quoting, judgmental, do-gooders who scared me away from organized religion.<br />
<br />
And that's why the blogging stopped.<br />
<br />
But yesterday, something snapped and amidst the perfect storm of emotions and circumstance I turned to the only one who has always been there for me: God.<br />
Don't get me wrong, I talk to God everyday. I ask for help, I ask for strength, for forgiveness.<br />
But a lot of the time I talk to God like I talk to my mother, like a show of weakness is tantamount to a failed life and like admitting that I let them down would hurt them in ways they don't deserve.<br />
So I keep it to myself. And even though I ask God for help, I walk away expecting no more than encouragement and positive energy and that's just not what faith is about.<br />
<br />
My God can move mountains, part seas and raise the dead. And I know by comparison my debt and desperation is nothing compared to the circumstances surrounding those miracles, but He can fix this. He can deliver me from this condition.<br />
<br />
I'm only sorry that I've continued to let my pride stand in the way of my blessings.<br />
I'm sorry I haven't asked my Father to save me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Psalm 10:4 <a href="http://christianity.about.com/od/faqhelpdesk/p/newinternationa.htm">(NIV)</a> tells us: "In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God."<br />
So I'm through hiding .. or at least I'm working toward being through hiding. I want God to save me spiritually and financially. I want to rest in my Father's arms, cry on my Father's shoulders and let him take away the weight of my burdens.<br />
<br />
I don't really have much to share by way of a lesson I've learned, but I ask that anyone reading out there tonight pray for me. Pray that I ask for the help I know I can receive.<br />
</div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-77819832664334787922011-03-15T20:43:00.000-07:002011-03-15T20:49:31.805-07:001-800-WAHHHHHHH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I'm a bit conflicted today. A big part of me feels like there is so much to complain about — so much wrong with the world, my life, my circumstances! And that part of me wants to spend every minute of my free time (all 30 of them) complaining about it. Then there's the little voice in my head, the angel on my shoulder, guilty remnants from my catholic upbringing, asking me "what do you really have to complain about?"<br />
"OK, so the bills are late, they'll get paid and nothings been cut off yet, so count your blessings.<br />
And so your husband has been short with you and insensitive, things could be worse – things have been worse. And so you deserve better than a lot of the hands you've been dealt lately, Jesus certainly deserved better than what he got."<br />
(note, the voice in my mind sounds like Fran's aunt Frieda from The Nanny, don't ask me why)<br />
Unfortunately, the voice in my head is not always reflected by what comes out of my mouth. And lately, even I am getting sick of my constant complaining.<br />
I know how blessed I am to have all that I have and I feel ashamed that I've let myself go on and on about what I don't have.<br />
So, for lent, I've given up complaining.<br />
Even if you don't celebrate (or suffer through) Lent, I would advise anyone to take some time off from complaining. Especially in the wake of recent global disasters, like the earthquake in Japan, I feel like high-fiving my inner voice. What do I have to complain about?<br />
A part of not complaining is taking time out of each day to reflect on the things I'm thankful for. This has been the best part of my fast. I can feel my heart filling with joy as I reflect the blessings and accomplishments the Lord has bestowed on me this year alone. And in place of my usual rants and curses, I am saying the rosary and the occasional "Praise Jesus."<br />
So for those of you who know me, help me out, by reminding me of all the things I have to be thankful for the next time you hear me whining about my many, many woes. Unless it's Sunday, because everyone knows it's cool to cheat on your Lenten promises on Sundays!</div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-36533493581503446472011-02-13T21:16:00.000-08:002011-02-13T21:16:16.950-08:00Confession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I've been unplugged for a while, but now I'm back and I can't say the net break did me much good.<br />
Turns out I'm a bit of a naughty girl without the accountability of my blog, but then, those of you who know me probably aren't surprised.<br />
I won't say I sinned more in my weeks without internet access, but I will admit to sinning more stubbornly and without abandon and for that I have asked the Lord to forgive me. ... now, I'll confess:<br />
<br />
In my 18 years attending the Catholic Church, I always dreaded confession. I think going to Catholic school and attending Catechism and youth groups created a complicated relationship between my priests and myself that made me feel the need to impress them rather than seek their guidance. So when confession came around, I'd hold my breath and glaze over all the "real sins" and give them the G version.<br />
"Bless me father, for I have sinned. Last week I got smart with my Mom and disobeyed her even though I knew it was wrong. ..."<br />
leaving out <br />
"and yesterday, I was so embarrassed that Sampson Simms gave me a love note in front of the whole class that I was purposely hurtful, tried to embarrass him and stole his notebook and threw it in the trash after school. I knew it was wrong and Sampson is my friend, but people make fun of him and I was so worried about them making fun of me that I did something cruel, and I'm very sorry about it."<br />
(seriously, I still lose sleep off of that one)<br />
It seems silly to fret over these faux confessions now, but the truth is I was building my character based on lies.<br />
I know a lot of Christians take issue with Catholic confession, but when done correctly, it can really help with self-healing.<br />
Despite what most people think, Catholics aren't confessing to the priest, they're confessing with the priest. He is there for them as they lay their hearts on the line for God to assess and forgive. Yes, the priest tells you to say so many Hail Mary's, but I was always left feeling that the penance was more to help us let go of our guilt, not to earn our forgiveness.<br />
But I wasted those years of confessions and never let go of my guilt.<br />
I wasted time thinking God was punishing me for the way I treated Sampson Simms, or my little cousins or my school-yard nemesis when I could have been focusing on how I would be blessed after letting go of my sins and moving on.<br />
So today, since I probably won't make it into a confessional, I want to openly ask the Lord for forgiveness in my latest transgression.<br />
My family has been tasked to help and to give. And though I have financially facilitated this gift, I have done so begrudgingly and that's not right.<br />
The thing is, even though I know in my heart that I am doing a good thing by giving. My head is full of "Whys".<br />
Why should I work hard to give to someone who doesn't appreciate it?<br />
Why should I continue to take from my household to give to someone who will waste my gifts?<br />
Why am I helping the same person do the same things every year?<br />
Why should I risk my family's stability to help this person who has never helped me?<br />
WHY?<br />
I have no answers, but the Word says:<br />
<div class="verse visible"><h3><a class="bibleref" href="http://www.gnpcb.org/esv/search/?passage=Deuteronomy+15%3A7-11">Deuteronomy 15:7-11</a> <span class="note"></span> </h3><h3>“If among you, one of your brothers should become poor, in any of your towns within your land that the <span class="sc">Lord</span> your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart or shut your hand against your poor brother, but you shall open your hand to him and lend him sufficient for his need, whatever it may be. Take care lest there be an unworthy thought in your heart and you say, ‘The seventh year, the year of release is near,’ and your eye look grudgingly on your poor brother, and you give him nothing, and he cry to the <span class="sc">Lord</span> against you, and you be guilty of sin. You shall give to him freely, and your heart shall not be grudging when you give to him, because for this the <span class="sc">Lord</span> your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.’ </h3><h3> </h3>This is not the spirit I had in my giving and for that I am truly sorry. I pray that the Lord will help me to move past the "me and mine" syndrome I'm struggling with and bless me with an open and giving heart.</div></div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-66975691227961396152011-01-26T16:51:00.000-08:002011-01-26T16:51:50.903-08:0030 days of Praise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><em style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></em>Over the holidays my church connect group leader suggested we re-gift or make homemade gifts for our secret Santa game. I chose to regift and recreate a blessing given to me a few years ago while attending<em><i> </i></em><a href="http://kviconline.org/">Kingdom Vision International Church </a>in Columbus, Miss. The pastor there blessed us with "90 days of ridiculous praise," in which he gave us a list of 90 scripture-based affirmations to meditate and pray on over a 3 month period.</div><div style="text-align: left;">This simple idea changed my life. I was able to learn about the Bible and use it as a guide and crutch through life simultaneously without feeling ignorant. </div><div style="text-align: left;">So I shared this idea with my group.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now I'm sharing it with you. So for the next 30 days, I'm going to focus on specific scriptures that may be useful in dealing with or understanding everyday issues!</div><div style="text-align: left;">The first three are based on a study guide my husband found at <a href="http://www.creflodollarministries.org/BibleStudy/StudyNotes.aspx?id=966">Creflo Dollar Ministries</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Worshiping through the blood of Jesus is something we are personally working on at home right now, as we explore and strengthen our faith at home.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><h3>Empowered by the Blood of Jesus: Five Points of Victory</h3><div style="text-align: left;"></div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" data-ft="{"type":"name"}"> </span></h3><em></em><br />
<em>When Jesus was beaten, tormented, scourged, and nailed to the cross, blood poured from His back, head, hands, and feet; and He was also pierced in His side. Each place from which His blood flowed is significant because it represents a unique aspect of our deliverance. It is through these five points of victory that we have complete redemption and victory over satanic oppression. </em><br />
<br />
<hr style="text-align: center; width: 80%;" /> <br />
<ol type="A"><li><strong>The Five Points of Victory from which Jesus’ blood flowed: </strong></li>
<ol><li>His back, which endured the stripes needed to bring about our healing. </li>
<ol type="a"><li>Pilate had Jesus scourged (John 19:1).</li>
<li>A scourge is not a whip; it is a multi-headed torture device with a thick handle and 39 long branches.</li>
<li>Sharp objects such as small stones, bones, metal, and glass were fastened to the end of each branch. </li>
<li>When prisoners were scourged, they were stripped, bound, and forced to lie face down. Their bare flesh was then “scourged.” </li>
<li>When the scourge made contact with a person’s flesh, the objects at the end of each branch tore the flesh off. </li>
<li>Jesus’ body was so badly marred by the abuse He endured that He was unrecognizable. </li>
</ol><li>His head, which bore the crown of thorns.</li>
<li>His hands, which were nailed to the cross.</li>
<li>His feet, which were nailed to the cross. </li>
<li>His side, which was pierced by the Roman soldier. </li>
</ol><li><strong>“He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him: and with his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). </strong></li>
<ol><li>The brutal scourging on Jesus’ back is the price He paid for our divine healing. </li>
<ol type="a"><li>“Surely he hath born our griefs, and carried our sorrows” (Isaiah 53:4). </li>
<li>Jesus took on <em>our</em> grief and sorrows. </li>
<li>We can be completely free from pain, sickness, and infirmities when we activate our faith in the blood of Jesus Christ. </li>
<li>We activate our faith by proclaiming our complete deliverance from sickness and disease— because of His sacrifice. </li>
</ol><li>During His ministry on Earth, Jesus went about doing good and healing all those who were oppressed by the devil (Acts 10:38). </li>
<ol type="a"><li>Jesus cast out demons that were oppressing people and healed many people who were sick.</li>
<li>Some illnesses are the result of demonic oppression (Matthew 8:16). </li>
</ol></ol><li><strong>If we believe and rely on Him we will see the glory of God (John 11:40, <em>AMP</em>). </strong></li>
<ol><li>We do not have to beg God to heal us.</li>
<ol type="a"><li>We can come to Him in confidence, knowing that Jesus paid for our healing with the stripes on His back. </li>
</ol></ol></ol><h3>Scripture References:</h3><ul><li>John 19:1</li>
<li> Isaiah 53:3-5</li>
<li> Acts 10:38</li>
<li> Matthew 8:16</li>
<li> John 11:40, AMP</li>
</ul></div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-43158406688677285962011-01-26T10:43:00.000-08:002011-01-26T10:43:02.348-08:00A woman on fire!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Working at a newspaper, I am rarely angered by opinion pieces. As a copy editor I've become numb to the ignorance, bigotry and gracelessness I often come across on the Opinion page. But recently the Lord lit a fire in my heart regarding the opinion of a man writing for a publication aimed at the black community in Southwest Missouri.<br />
My husband (the neat freak) has since thrown the paper out so I can't quote from it, but I'll paraphrase (as much as possible) without prejudice.<br />
Basically the principle idea of the article was that in America a black man can't even pick cotton anymore. Opportunities are so limited, that "we" are left behind in the occupations that used to be the only things black people were permitted to do. He gave a slew of statistics about black men without diplomas, without degrees, locked away, selling drugs and lost to gang life. He blamed the demise of the black family, the black community and laid out everything black men needed to do to "save" the value of the black community.<br />
So on to the fire.<br />
Later that week, while reading a Walter Mosely novel where the central character argued before St. Peter that he didn't deserve hell because racism and classism made sinning his mode of survival, the fire ignited again.<br />
In the context of heaven vs. hell it became clear that discrimination of any kind was a tool of the devil. A tool to lead people away from their missions in life; a vessel for hate, an excuse for defeat. Hatred curses the hater and the hated.<br />
So I became angry. I wasn't angry at racism, that's a hilarious fact of life; but I was angry that this educated man, was willing to dismiss me and my children as a lost cause because we can't pick cotton anymore!<br />
What made me the angriest was that nowhere in this man's observations did he take into account the successes of the black woman. It was as if our high rate of graduation, our college degrees our six figure salaries somehow didn't count in the black community.<br />
Let me just put this out there, as my grandmother told me a long time ago, we do not come from cotton picking people. As a black woman I was raised to succeed at school, at work, at home and in life -- not in the fields.<br />
So what if the answer to any oppressed group was not to stop racism, not to find new crops to slave over, but to reject racism and classism, and sexism and accept God's gifts that come with being oppressed; resilience, faithfulness, creativity and hunger!<br />
I am so hungry to receive God's Grace that I will push through any isms that might get in my way.<br />
That was the fire I felt burning in me and I pray it continues to burn until the day I die.<br />
<br />
</div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-76865791573436370412011-01-23T17:59:00.000-08:002011-01-23T17:59:26.062-08:00Simply Cintia: Day 23: Encouragement<a href="http://www.simplycintia.com/2011/01/day-23-encouragement.html?spref=bl">Simply Cintia: Day 23: Encouragement</a>: "Day 22: Happy Reminders Archives: Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3"<br /><br />I was encouraged by this and I hope you are too. It's not every day in our culture that we are uplifted by our peers.<br />So much of our interactions are competitive and defensive, so when I watched this blogpost of my friend Cintia I literally felt a weight lifted off of my heart.<br />It's hard to walk around with worldly armor! Unlike God's armor, which defies the gravity of stress, fear, worry and doubt, worldly armor can take on a literal manifestation in your life. Think about it, if you were a knight of olde, your armor would weigh more than you, it would need to to protect you from a battle axe or sword. The mental and emotional armor we wear daily carries the same weight. All in preparation to do battle with the world! But the Lord tells us we don't need this armor, it's just weighing us down — it's just keeping us down! We need to trust in His supernatural armor and take down our natural defenses. So take down the back-breaking sarcasm, the back-biting, the name-calling, finger-pointing, reactive, angry, vengeful armor of the world and put on the light-as-a-feather, loving, forgiving, uplifting, rejoicing, ENCOURAGING armor of the Lord.<br />My heart was filled with this message, just watching Cintia speak.<br />I was looking into the eyes of a person who genuinely wanted me to succeed in life — a person asking me to encourage others to do the same.<br />This is not an unusual feeling when checking out Cintia's blog or talking to her in general; she has a healing spirit that makes it virtually impossible to feel anger or frustration in her presence! It's like the woman breathes peace, and I thank her for those moments when she helps me to do the same.<br />Watch the post, pay it forward and encourage the people around you to encourage the people they encounter!C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-85471355983248390032011-01-15T20:18:00.000-08:002011-01-15T20:19:11.650-08:00I read a story shared on <a href="http://crunkfeministcollective.wordpress.com/">The Crunk Feminist Collective</a> about a woman who meets her sister for the first time on Facebook. <a href="http://crunkfeministcollective.wordpress.com/2011/01/14/meeting-my-sister/">Reading this story,</a> all I could think was, 'WOW, What a blessing!'<br />
I've never met my father. Throughout my life I've been told the story of how he met my mother, why he didn't stay. I knew he had a 'real' family and a 'real' daughter out there in the world — probably right there with him. But all I ever had was his name. A super generic, million just like it, pointless to google, name.<br />
I'm embarrassed to say how long I waited for him to show up. I'm ashamed of how many times I stood on stages for award ceremonies, graduations, spelling bees scanning the audience for an eerily familiar face and an instant connection.<br />
I can't tell you how much not having a father has impacted my life, but I will confess it's a very sensitive subject. Despite how much I've always wanted to meet my father, there's one person I would have liked to meet more — his 'real' daughter.<br />
As a young girl, I loved her instantly, from the moment my mother told me she existed. It was a passing comment for my mother — one small detail she could give her desperate for information daughter. But for me it was a revelation. Somewhere out there I had a big sister. One day we would meet, talk, laugh — create our own family. It was a beautiful dream.<br />
As an adolescent, I envied her. I imagined she must be smart, beautiful and extremely successful, that my father could be satisfied enough to not come looking for me. Only a massive failure, or perhaps a failed organ would ever move him to look for me. Surely he saw the early signs of inferiority when he first laid eyes on me as an infant. Next to my perfect sister, I reasoned, he saw no use for me in his life.<br />
And now as an adult, I still have my sister on a floating pedestal. She's now my phantom opponent. Instead of envying her, however, my efforts have been turned to out-doing her. I guess a part of me hopes that if he ever does track me down, my success will make him wish he'd thought better of abandoning me all those years ago.<br />
So reading this story about a woman who knew her father, but had never met her half-sister, I felt extremely connected. There's something about knowing there's a person out there who might look a little like you, or be able to tell you things about your father that your mother can't — there's something truly beautiful about that. There's a connection I feel with her, that she may not even know about.<br />
I pray that through the Blood of Jesus I will be blessed enough to find my blood-bonded lost ones someday and reading that account of it working out for one woman gave me a little hope that it could happen for me.<br />
While I wait on my blessing, however, I'll pray that the pain and envy that have come with the rejection of not knowing my father be washed away with the same blood that will bring us together.<br />
And in case you happen to stumble upon this blog Mr. Timothy Carter, you (or your daughter) can find me whenever you want. I'm just a click away.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-46396795249807500042011-01-09T20:46:00.000-08:002011-01-09T20:46:28.203-08:00Patiently waitingIt's strange that we associate the heart with feelings. In all my years, I've always found the stomach to be a much more clear indicator of how I'm feeling.<br />
Butterflies of anxiety, excitement; the sudden empty rush of fear; and my least favorite, yet most frequent abdominal indicator, the deep, heavy burden of worry.<br />
I worry a lot.<br />
Though God tells us not to, I find it nearly impossible to navigate my feelings away from the strong worry magnate in my gut. So today, for accountability's sake, I'm putting it out there. I will not worry!<br />
In making this proclamation I had to examine the root of my worry. I came across one reoccurring themes in my worrying <strike>heart</strike> stomach.<br />
<b>Control: </b><br />
Often times when I'm worried, I distort the whole "pray without ceasing" idea into, nagging God about my problems. God heard my prayer the first time, in fact he knew about it before I asked. But when "too much time" lapsed between the question and the answer, the worry set in. And what I found is that I wasn't worried God couldn't come through, I was more concerned that he wouldn't. That perhaps I was in the middle of a learning obstacle; Perhaps the Lord had put me in the middle of a situation I couldn't pray or act my way out of, but rather pray and act my way through it. What I realized at this point was that, if I had the presence of mind to analyze the issue like this, then I wasn't worried about the outcome, I was irritated by it and the lack of control I had over it. If I know in the end everything is going to be OK, why am I so worried about the journey the Lord takes me on? I can't control everything. In the future when I catch myself in these times I'll pray the prayer of serenity<br />
<blockquote><br />
<dl><dd>God, grant me the Serenity to accept things I cannot change,</dd><dd>Courage to change the things I can, and the</dd><dd>Wisdom to know the difference</dd><dd>Patience for the things that take time</dd><dd>Appreciation for all that I have, and</dd><dd>Tolerance for those with different struggles</dd><dd>Freedom to live beyond the limitations of my past ways, the</dd><dd>Ability to feel your love for me and my love for man kind and the</dd><dd>Strength to get up and try again even when I feel it is hopeless.</dd></dl></blockquote><blockquote><b>From the Word: </b></blockquote><blockquote><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">26</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">27</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[</span><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%206&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23310e"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000099; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">e</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]?</span>"<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #777777; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Matthew 6: 25-34</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #777777; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></blockquote><blockquote><b> From my heart: </b></blockquote><blockquote>Lord I know I am worthy of your blessing and I know I will receive them in Your time. Lord give me the strength and wisdom to utilize your light to eliminate even the shadow of a doubt out of my heart, mind and stomach! </blockquote>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-65199830445136630802011-01-03T20:50:00.000-08:002011-01-03T21:46:47.530-08:00Clean slateIs it because I spend so much time online, that the devil uses it to trap me? Or is it because I'm so rooted in Christ that I can see the attacks coming? I'm thinking it's both! Regardless of the messenger, I am once again, back on a Facebook rant.<br />
Today's ramblings are brought to you by young women with too much time!<br />
So, my story begins on New Year's Eve. I, sitting in front of my computer, waiting on a late story for the holiday paper, was perusing through Facebook statuses seeing how my peers were ringing in the new year.<br />
Most were cherishing time spent with their family, friends, coworkers ... but there's always that one.<br />
You know the one. The <strike>annoying, unknown acquaintance who you couldn't pick out in a line-up </strike>"friend" who went to school with you, or before you, or just happens to be friends with 80% of your friends. This is a person you don't really know, but thought 'whatever' when their friend request came across your profile. These people are a waste of your virtual time and space. They serve no purpose but to add numbers to your friend count. You should delete them. I should delete them.<br />
This is the lesson I learned in the wee hours of the new year.<br />
So, I'm scrolling through posts of blessings and "happy new year's " when I was assaulted with a slew of expletives wishing a very sarcastic blessing to no one in particular.<br />
I was appalled.<br />
When posting anything on my wall, I try to consider all eyes that may fall on my profile, that's just common courtesy. But why in the world would you start a new year off with a curse? It was really not what I needed to be reading as I sat at work counting down the hours until I could be with my family.<br />
I know I shouldn't judge, and I'm not, that just really turned me off.<br />
So I deleted her. I then preceded to delete other little negative Nancys.<br />
My advice to you, cut those with no value to your mission out of your life. I know it sounds harsh and judgemental, but it's really just common sense.<br />
If your friend is going through something, let them know that you are there for them, but if they can't bring anything to the table but hatred and self-loathing, you are going to have to take a break.<br />
I felt better, cutting loose the haters. I bet you will too.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-26756285069257226642010-12-13T20:07:00.000-08:002010-12-13T20:08:55.451-08:00AccountabilityI won't say I was raised not to judge, but I was brought up to be tolerant of others. I could never understand how we as Christians could be so critical of others when we had so much of our own crap going on. As far as I am concerned, God is the only true judge.<br />
However, in this same spirit, I think we, as Christians, should learn to hear the difference between a body judging us and holding us accountable for the promises we've made to God.<br />
Right now, my home is engaged in spiritual warfare and while the Lord has armed me with a shield of accountability to protect my home, the world has twisted the Word to resist that shield under an accusation of unjust judgment. <br />
I do think God has given us the authority to judge gently for the purposes of accountability, so that our brethren can avoid the true judgment by the Father.<br />
Now I'm no preacher, and (ask my child) I'm no teacher either, but in my true know-it-all fashion, I have compiled a list of scriptures that touch on the subject. <br />
<br />
<ol><li><b> Galatians 6:1-2 :</b> "Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." <br />
<br />
This one is pretty clear, we have been called by God to watch out for one another. This is why we go to church, live in communities and have peers — to hold each other accountable for our actions and promises to God. <b><br />
</b></li>
<li> <b>Matthew 7:1-3:</b> Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? <br />
<br />
OK, at first glance, this one seems to be against my point, but if you read carefully it's clear that this passage less an admonishment against judgment and more a warning against hypocrisy and a call to be prepared to be judged by the same standards by which you're judging.<br />
</li>
<li><b>Hebrews 10:24:</b> "And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds." <b>1 Thessalonians 5:11</b>: "…encourage one another and build each other up…" <br />
<br />
An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of the cure, so encouraging each other to do the right things have more impact than waiting for them to fail after doing the wrong thing.<br />
<b><br />
</b></li>
<li><b>Proverbs 27:17: </b>"As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend."<br />
<br />
This is pretty self-explanatory, but I like to think of it in terms of a debate. Sometimes just posing a question, can make your argument stronger. By pointing out a weakness, you may actually be helping a loved-one grow into a sharper Christian.<b> <br />
</b></li>
<li><b>Ezekiel 33:8-9: </b>"When I say to the wicked, ‘O wicked man, you shall surely die!’ and you do not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood I will require at your hand. Nevertheless if you warn the wicked to turn from his way, and he does not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but you have delivered your soul.<br />
<br />
This one really spoke to me, because I said it before I read it. As many of you know, I am just now beginning my study of the Bible, so I can't quote the scripture like a pro, but just the other night, engaged in my aforementioned spiritual warfare when I turned to my loved one and stated, that I couldn't live with myself if something happened to them and I hadn't taken every opportunity to convince them to seek shelter in God's Love. Then today, fired up and ready to blog, I came across this passage charging me as a Christian to do just that.</li>
</ol>Ultimately, I'm not trying to encourage anyone to take on the responsibility of judging the world. We don't know what God is going to say or do to someone else when He holds them accountable or their words and deeds. So I can't judge my peers, my friends, my family. I can't walk around talkin' 'bout "Now, she knows better than that," or "He ought to do better," because I don't know what someone else is going through, not even the people closest to me.<br />
But if I call myself a Christian and I see an issue that you aren't acting on, I feel compelled to speak to you about it.<br />
While looking up scriptures to <strike>prove that I am always right</strike> support my thesis, I came across a poignant anecdote:<br />
<br />
<blockquote><blockquote><div class="bodytext">Two men were fishing in a stream when they noticed that a nearby bridge was falling apart. Every time a vehicle would drive across it, another piece would fall and the entire bridge would shake dangerously. Finally, after a large truck passed over, the bridge completely fell apart in the middle. The two fishermen knew that if a car came around the bend, the driver would never know that the middle of the bridge was gone; the whole thing could come crashing down, damaging the vehicle and injuring the driver.</div><div class="bodytext">One of the men looked at his friend and said, “We’ve got to do something. What would be the ‘Christian’ thing to do?”</div><div class="bodytext">His friend thought for a moment and replied, “Build a hospital?”</div></blockquote></blockquote>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-35093736068519835972010-11-18T19:12:00.000-08:002010-11-18T20:10:28.761-08:00Thou Shalt not Facebook? Hold up!Ain't that somethin'! My last post was about using your electronic devices to do Christ's work and today in the news I read about a New Jersey pastor calling for his church leaders and congregants to delete their Facebook accounts.<br /><br /><a href="http://http//www.usatoday.com/tech/news/2010-11-17-pastor-facebook_N.htm">Read story on USA Today's website.</a><br /><br />Call me millennial minded, but that is just crazy! You can't shun technology when your sheep go astray.<br />First of all, a cheating man is going to cheat no matter what, am I right? Whether it's an old flame on Facebook, a new flame on Craigslist (oh yeah, they've got em too) or just a chance meeting at the corner store, a cheater is going to cheat. What Facebook has done is made it easier for sleuthing spouses to catch their significant others in their dirt.<br />In my experience, banning access to social networks will just force a cheater to find another avenue to creep.<br />With that being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and proclaim that Facebook is not the Devil!<br />However, I will admit that it can create temptations for many. My husband and I have had the i-talk about what is and is not appropriate digital communication. I'll share some of our thoughts and decisions with you:<br /><ol><li>Just like we tell kids on the web, If you wouldn't do it in person, it is definitely not OK to do it on the web. Sins of the heart and mind are just as hurtful as those of the flesh. Don't think it's not cheating because it was just said in a text or IM.</li><li>Limit your contacts to true friends, family, colleagues and networking associates. In other words, you don't have to Friend everybody. It is not rude to ignore a person who is not integral in your life. Is this a person you need to have contact with? If not IGNORE! That dude that sat behind you in 8th grade history is not going to be hurt if you ignore him.</li><li>Don't friend old flames. It's stupid. Unless your relationship began and ended before puberty, don't risk what you have. It may seem innocent to you, but your spouse probably will be jealous and hurt. Let it go.</li><li>Remind your friends that you are a Christian and they can't leave a bunch of racy, suggestive messages on your wall. That is not cool. Let 'em know.</li><li>Give each other access to your accounts. After all, if there is nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.</li><li>Post love messages (clean ones) on each others' walls. You've got to let those <span style="font-family: monospace;"><strike></span>home-wrecking skanks</strike> lost and confused children of God know that you two belong to each other and it would be inappropriate to step in on that.</li><li>Be honest to your partner. If you are uncomfortable with an online relationship, let your spouse know and try to figure out a way to resolve the issue before it gets out of hand.</li><li>Be honest with the offender. Please don't be messy, but if someone is sending inappropriate messages to your spouse, you need to let them know what the business is.</li><li>Don't play games online. I'm not talking Farmville either y'all. Don't use a social networking site to lure or trap your man/woman into some mess. Leave the stealth operations to the good folks on 'To Catch a Predator'</li><li>Use all your space online and in this world to praise and exalt the Lord! You can't go wrong with praise y'all!<br /></li></ol>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-17333354214559530372010-11-15T21:19:00.000-08:002011-01-09T17:00:54.116-08:00Using your device to Serve Christ!We've all looked down our noses at those buzzing, ringing and sometimes singing Sunday service cell phone offenders. Most rules of cell phone etiquette suggest we silence our devices or leave them at home.<br />
But is it really so bad to use your cell phone or electronic device during service?<br />
I can see it being rude to interrupt the sermon with annoying rings or vibrations. Also, checking scores and Facebook statuses are without a doubt uncool. But I think there is a place for my phonw in service.<br />
Some examples:<br />
<ol><li>Awesome Apps — No, I'm not playing bubbleburst during service, but with so many helpful apps on my smart phone, I find it indispensable during service. First of all, there's my Bible App. It allows me to follow along quickly. I'm not super Bible-literate, so it helps me track down passages quickly instead of flipping through pages, I can bookmark my favorite passages and even share them with my friends via text or Facebook. I love it, and it helps me continue studying Sunday's message all week long. I may not carry a Bible everywhere I go, but my phone is with me 24-7, so I have no excuse not to explore the Word with my bible on my device.</li>
<li>Notes — Ok, so this is basically anther app, but taking notes, making list and other reminders helps me to practically use the word after service. This week my pastor gave us 12 steps to forgiveness, I immediately made a checklist in my phone, something I have referred to twice already (It's Monday)</li>
<li>Status — I know, I said checking your status wasn't cool, but that's totally different from updating it! Sharing a weekly message with friends and family is an excellent practice of evangelism. We may not all be called to preach, but all Christians should freely speak the lessons we're learning on this journey. Hey, did you think twice about posting that latest viral video?</li>
</ol>These are ways I feel comfortable pairing my faith with my attention deficit issues and addiction to technology. How do you use your device to serve Christ?C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-79256577927082216092010-11-13T20:24:00.000-08:002010-11-13T20:52:24.649-08:00In God's handsSomething was wrong. It was about 5:30 a.m. Friday morning that my body woke me and brought me to this conclusion.<br />My left hand was itching. And not in the 'lookout now! I got some money coming' kind of way. It felt like I had my hand had been bitten by 100 mosquitoes. I got up and turned on a light to view the hand that was surely swollen and inflamed. nothing. I was beginning to feel uneasy. Something was wrong. But what?<br />I'd prayed over my family. Things were good, great even. We were speaking God's word like middle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">schoolers</span> speak 'yo mama' jokes. My husband and I were even discussing, planning for our approach to teaching our child the word of God.<br />But something was terribly wrong.<br />I went back to sleep.<br />Three hours later, as I read the morning news updates on my phone it hit me.<br />I had skimmed headlines about the Indonesian volcano story all week. But I never seemed to have the time to read it. That morning however, I had a little more time. I didn't have to read past the first sentence to realize what was wrong in my life.<br />You see, amid all of the disaster stories in the news — those stories about other people in other countries with problems other than your own – there was one, on the other side of this planet, that applied directly to me.<br />My best friend, Irma <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Paramitha</span> and her family live in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yogyakarta</span> where the volcano erupted. And all week I had been reading about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kanye</span> West and 'For Colored Girls' and Lindsay <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Lohan</span>. while someone I loved was literally dealing with disaster.<br />ugh. what's up with that.<br />So of course, that's when the Devil hit me!<br />"How could I be such a bad friend," I cried to my husband.<br />He told me things would be alright.<br />"I can't believe, I didn't think about it until now,"I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">weeped</span> to my friend.<br />She told me not to worry.<br />"What if she didn't make it," I worried over the computer.<br />The news stories reported most had evacuated and the dead were mostly farmers.<br />"I'm just so worried about my friend," I sniffled to my daughter.<br />She told me God would take care of my friend.<br />And then the Devil gave up, I suppose, because any guilt, worry or distress I had felt melted away.<br />I cried about it. I prayed about it. There was nothing more that I could do. And my baby was right. The situation was and is completely in God's hands.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-86524386440624843792010-11-08T08:38:00.000-08:002010-11-08T09:26:05.462-08:00In the beginningToday I'm reclaiming two very important parts of my identity: My faith and my word. I won't say I ever lost these two traits, but somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that I didn't have the credentials or the right to share these parts of me with the world. One day I stopped writing short stories and monologues. One day I stopped talking about how the Lord was working in my life. And now I find it difficult to share even the simplest thoughts or feelings. <div>It seems that when you don't uses the gifts the Lord gives you, he feels inclined to take them away.<br /><div>So today, I'm going to try again as I've tried before. I'm going to write. I'm going to blog. I'm going to share and if it is God's will, I'm not going to stop.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Now the thing I've been battling with the most lately is trust in God.</div><div>Recently at church, we had a series on practical atheism which, as I understand it, is professing a belief in God without actually acting like you believe in God --sounds better coming from my preacher. </div><div>Anyway, during this series, there was a lesson on trust and the question was "Which do you trust more God or Money?"</div><div>And it's funny because normally in service, I'm listening to the service like "Oh that's my husband all day!" and "Um, hmm I was like that once" or "If only my friend could hear this one!" But on that day, that man was talking to me.</div><div>That day, I realized that I'm praying to God for the money I need to obtain the security I want when I should just be praying to God for the security. I should just be praying to God to ensure I have everything I need, but instead I'm praying for $10,000 more dollars a year. </div><div>That one really hit home. Because at the end of the day, I was depending on the dollars and cents, not God and I knew that there was a time in my life when I could ask the Lord to provide me with my needs and he did.</div><div>That realization made me really question a lot of my actions and struggles over the past few years. </div><div>In that one moment, I realized that I had received every blessing I ever asked for and was still unhappy. Every monetary goal I ever spoke was achieved, and still there was a sense of longing, a sense of failure. And in my darkest moments, my prayer was always if I had $5,000 more Lord, if I could just make this amount, I know my problems would be solved and I could do your will.</div><div>I was really ashamed of myself and of how far off track I had gotten that I could believe that any amount of money would fix my marital problems or make me a better person or instantly activate a better Christ follower within. </div><div>No amount of money is going to give me more time, effort or energy to write or to reach out or to become a contributing member of society.</div><div>But any amount of time that I put into reading the word, sharing my faith and listening to the Lord would help me come closer to the real goals I set for myself a long time ago.</div><div>Because I do want to eventually have a home big enough and wealthy enough to sustain any and all friends or family members who need a place to stay. I do want to create a charity. I do want to write a book and be heard and make a difference. But I don't want to wait on the world to make that happen.</div><div>So today, I'm stepping out on faith. I'm sharing my thoughts, my faith, my words. </div><div>And I''m claiming my blessings, not in dollars but in spiritually tangible goals that I am sure the Lord will move mountains to help me achieve right now without a dime to my name.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pray for me, or at least think about me, as I embark on this journey to reclaim my gifts and share them with the world.</div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-18504055729023362942010-05-09T21:21:00.000-07:002010-05-09T21:33:25.248-07:00Seriously lawmakers?Reading a story about the end of the Missouri legislative session and I come across a bullet at the end of the story about a new abortion law awaiting passage. If state lawmakers have their way, women in Missouri will be required to see an ultrasound and hear a heartbeat before being allowed to have an abortion. SERIOUSLY? I can't fathom a situation where I would want to have an abortion, but I imagine that people taking this decision lightly are in the minority. If a woman has gotten to a point where she has decided she cannot support a child and cannot afford a pregnancy. Why make her go through more anguish. I don't think the law should be allowed to guilt women into changing their minds, there are enough private groups covering that territory.<br />I know not every issue is race related, but this whole ordeal calls to mind an article I was hipped to last week that connected the anti abortion movement to the want to breed more 'white babies'. It's sounds extreme, I know, but then you see how invested they seem to be in other people's business and it's like 'What's the real deal?' I don't know, check out the article, connect it to my thoughts, see if your mind makes the same connection.<br /> <a href="http://www.thedefendersonline.com/2010/04/27/are-anti-abortion-groups-targeting-black-women/">Are Anti-Abortion Groups Targeting Black Women?</a>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-58953351788174826302010-04-16T13:14:00.000-07:002010-04-16T13:15:04.516-07:00The secret of my success.When you're brought up in a family of strong, successful women, failure takes on a whole new meaning. You find it was never about whether you won or lost the battle. It was never about making the right choices. It was never about obtaining a certain lifestyle. Failure and success hinge on how we play the hand we're dealt. Ok, you lost this battle. You made a bad decision and you're piss poor ... what are you going to do about it. You're failing as long as you keep waiting around on someone else to fix it. I will not wait. I will succeed.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-79748103491745484552010-04-04T21:54:00.000-07:002010-04-04T21:55:13.066-07:00In living color"Look, there goes another one!" I whispered, nudging my husband as we walked through the Wal-Mart entrance. "Do you think we should say something?"<br />He gives me the 'Are you serious?' look then tilts his head as if it wasn't such a bad idea after all.<br />We're counting black people.<br />We're not racists. It's just taking some time getting used to being a true minority.<br />We moved here from Arkansas. Before then, we lived in Mississippi and in Memphis, Tenn. Lots of black people. Lots of Latinos, Asian, Middle Easterners even – lots of color.<br />Here, not so much.<br />I never thought of myself as a person who needed to be around other black people. People are people right? I even avoided attending an HBCU so I could attend a college with more 'diversity'.<br />Of course, diversity looks different on this side of the Mason Dixon line.<br />It only took me three weeks to break down and sheepishly ask a black woman if she knew of any places I could go to get my hair permed.<br />She replied with a knowing smile and wrote down the number to a kitchen sink beautician and told me that might be the best I could do.<br />It sounds strange, but I feel like I took my culture for granted before this move. Things that weren't important to me before are pressing issues now.<br />Things as simple as the lack of R&B songs on the radio, or my daughter wanting to wear her hair down everyday instead of the multitude of plaits, twists or braids she liked so much before.<br />And who do you talk to about all these feelings without sounding racists?<br />On the bright side, I'm pretty sure no one at work notices how badly I need a perm.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-62526221609667840382010-03-27T20:31:00.000-07:002010-03-27T20:46:28.639-07:00Essense of hoodWhat is hood?<br />My stepson visited us last year when we lived in Pine Bluff, Ark. — known to locals as 'Crime Bluff.' The comments he made to his dad seemed to express an eagerness to see 'the hood.'<br />So my husband asked his 'Son, what do you think hood means?'<br />Fast forward about a year, we've moved to Missouri — caramel candies in vanilla sea — and according to my stepson, we now live in a better neighborhood.<br />I'll admit, there are less grown people at home at noon, which is a relief. There are less gunshots, less break-ins, less domestic calls. More people walking, smiling, waving, talking. A lot less color.<br />But, my pregnant neighbor and her live-in boyfriend are drug users and dealers. So is the couple sown the street and about ten other people on our block.<br />Last week my husband was hanging out and a bitch stole his phone.<br />I mean she straight jacked him for his Blackberry.<br />She ran off, used the phone for two days, then sold it.<br />The guy she sold it too tried to sell it back to us.<br />The host of the gathering suggested the best way to resolve the problem was to let her 'beat that bitch's ass' as she had been waiting too long to do so.<br />So now I'm back to my husband's question to his son.<br />'What is hood.'<br />Because the way I look at it, it's a state of mind.<br />It's the mind set that tells you to do certain things certain ways that you should know better about.<br />It's in all of us, but only a minority of us choose to live in the state indefinitely.<br />I have to admit to harboring many of my own hood tendencies.<br />But I learned from growing up in a family full of non hood regulators you shouldn't let your mouth write checks that your ass can't cash.C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5307960697642146632.post-81953309224647290832009-09-15T15:58:00.000-07:002009-09-15T19:33:37.617-07:00Kanye, KanyeI love Taylor Swift. I don't love <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kanye</span>. That being said, I am very disappointed in the way Mr. West has been vilified by viewers who witnessed his outburst at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">VMAs</span> Sunday. <div>Given: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kanye</span> is arrogant, outspoken and known for his inappropriate outbursts. And yes, Swift is the picture of sweet wholesome American goodness and didn't deserve to have her moment taken from her. But after digesting the situation how can we still hate on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kanye</span>. He apologized three times. Its over. But the fans go on.</div><div>I understand people are offended, but I'm sad his fans and peers have been so harsh and so quick to judge him. We all saw the photos of him walking around taking a bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Henny</span> to the head. I'm sure producers of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">VMAs</span> saw him too and I'm sure they were back stage salivating as he approached the stage, waiting for an iconic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">VMA</span> moment.</div><div>I'm sad nobody seems to care that this man recently lost his mother and is clearly working some issues out and we can't cut him any slack for an inappropriate moment, he actually admitted was wrong and apologized for. </div><div>I'm very sad that we are so quick to judge without even considering what another human being is going through.</div><div>Taylor forgave him. Why can't America?</div><div><br /></div><div>PS: SO NOT mad at Obama for calling him a Jackass!!! It was off the record and a totally real moment for our leader. I called him some names too y'all, but after seeing the cards stacked against him ... I let it go.</div><div>A LITTLE mad at Kelly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Clarkson</span>. Seriously, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">WTF</span>. Mind ya business. You really seemed to take his graceless moment a little too personally? Whose <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">huggin</span>' you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">sista</span>?</div><div>AGAIN, not a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Kanye</span> West fan, seriously, just a fan of human compassion. </div>C. Straighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08755853191978473970noreply@blogger.com0