And even that is hard.

It’s hard to be bold in my faith on Facebook, because I’m afraid of what people will think. I’m afraid some folks will be turned off. I’m afraid of being “un-friended.”

My goal, of course, is for people to see someone whom they know and (hopefully) respect actually walking out their faith. I also hope that people who knew me from grade school or college or a former employer—people who knew me before I was saved—might be curious about why the once secular girl raised by an atheist is now professing her belief in Jesus Christ.

That’s my hope. My fear is that they’ll think I’m a nut job—that they will dismiss my zeal as religious nonsense, or worse, think I am sanctimonious and judgmental.

Really, my pride is getting in the way. It would hurt my pride for someone to call me a name, dismiss my beliefs, or cut ties all together. It would also hurt my pride if I failed.

I want to lead people to Christ, to show them that they are missing a whole dimension of life—the very purpose and meaning of life. I want them to understand who Jesus is, and that He loves them SO MUCH that He suffered torment and physical abuse, and ultimately died on the cross…just for them. I want them to accept Christ into their heart before it’s too late. If instead I turn them off, pushing them even further from the Lord, I will be ashamed, embarrassed, and flat out mortified.

Aye, there’s the rub. Because that fear of failure is really narcissism in disguise. It’s making myself greater than God, as if He weren’t able to speak directly to someone’s heart, even if I “blow it.” As if he weren’t able to speak through me, when I don’t know the right thing to say.

Moses said to the LORD, “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” Exodus 4:10

When I look at how God worked in my life, I can see plainly that no amount of preaching was going to reach me until I was ready. I attended Catholic church for eight years and never had a relationship with Jesus. It wasn’t until Craig witnessed to me one night in July 2003 that everything clicked. I couldn’t tell you a thing that he said, but I was wrecked. God spoke to my spirit. I asked Jesus into my heart, and my life has never been the same.

God meets us where we are at. He met me when I was steeped in sin, living a Sex in the City lifestyle in Manhattan, sans the Manolo Blahniks. He spoke to me through Craig. Then he spoke to me through a stranger named Valeria Smith who invited me to sit with her at Brooklyn Tabernacle. Over the next year, he spoke to me through Pastor Lawrence Kennedy and my friends from the North Church, Kara Sparks and Lori Yeary, teaching me what it means to be a disciple of Christ and to walk in His will.

Today, God continues to speak to me through friends, blogs, preachers, teachers, scripture, songs, and sometimes just straight into my head. Several years ago, He planted us at a different church, where I continue to be fed and challenged to study the Word and go deeper in my faith. My prayer is that God will continue to bless me with wisdom and discernment, and to use me as his mouthpiece to speak encouragement and truth into the lives of others.

Because it’s not about me, it’s about Him. I’m just the messenger.

The LORD said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.” Exodus 4:11-12

A walking path cuts through the center of the arboretum, making a direct line from the entrance to the exit, which is far off in the distance—much too far for you to see. Offshoots from the main path lead into different parts of the arboretum—shady areas perfect for lounging, ponds that are home to all types of fish and beautiful water fowl, and tall grasses that beckon you to run and play.

As you sit at the entrance to the arboretum, you lean forward on your motorcycle and rev the engine. Lifting both feet off the ground in one swift motion, you take off like a rocket, zooming straight along the center path toward the exit gate. You are driving so fast, your eyes fixated on the pavement ahead of you, that you don’t notice the flowers or the trees or the birds. You are scanning the horizon for the exit gate—you know it’s there—because somebody told you that just beyond the arboretum is a beautiful garden where you can see the most incredible flowers and trees and all manner of wildlife. You can relax and play there, and you will be happy.

So often, we find ourselves speeding through life, trying to get to the “next garden” as quickly as possible without taking the time to appreciate the place we are in. We’ve heard that just past the exit to this place is a better place—a bigger house, a better job, a more thoughtful spouse, a retirement condo on the beach—and we race to get there, our eyes fixated on the path ahead.

The distractions of this world only fuel our journey. We cruise on, powered by days of office drudgery and nights in front of the TV, without taking time to appreciate where we are. We ignore relationships, say we’re too busy to volunteer, postpone taking action on our personal goals, and cut short our prayer time (if we pray at all). We focus on “just getting through the day,” so that we can be one step closer to the promise of a better tomorrow.

Ephesians 2:10 tells us, “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Each of us is here for a purpose—you are here for a purpose. To know that purpose and walk out God’s plan for your life, you have to look at where He has you right now. Not where you want to be. Not where the grass is said to be greener. Not that goal off on the horizon, but where you are right now.

When we are driving full throttle along the walking path, cutting straight through life at lightning speed on our way to what we believe is a happier future, we miss the beauty of our surroundings. We fail to see the glorious garden in which God has put us in this very moment, or the side paths He is guiding us to follow for remarkable, once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Whether your garden is the inner city streets of New York the open plains of Iowa—whether it’s in a comfortable suburban enclave or a cramped trailer park—it is full of the beauty of God’s creation. It is full of people.

I encourage you today to slow down and spend a few minutes with the Lord. Ask Him who you can lift up today, and how you can better appreciate the place that you are in. Turn off the TV, log out of Facebook, and put down your cell phone. Take a moment of pause, and ask Him to show you the beauty that is all around you. Even in the tough times, we are surrounded by the beauty of God’s grace. Every challenge presents an opportunity for growth. Every meeting presents an opportunity for connection. Every relationship presents an opportunity to express His love.

You are here for a reason. Don’t drive through life so fast that you miss it.

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10

Most Americans enter into the first weeks of the year full of enthusiasm, proudly proclaiming their New Year’s Resolutions. I will admit that I’m no exception. In addition to reading through the Bible in one year (something I have done previously and enjoyed), I intend to work out at least 5 days/week with the goal of building muscle, improving my cardiovascular strength, and (of course) losing 10 pounds.

As I thought about ways to increase my chances of long-term success, I started to consider the root of the word “resolution.” When we make a resolution, we resolve to do something, what does that really mean?

Random House Dictionary defines the term resolve as, “to come to a definite or earnest decision about; determine (to do something).” Those words are key — definite, earnest, determine(d). There’s no ambiguity there. When we resolve to do something, we are serious.

In addition, the dictionary includes two more definitions that I believe are worth noting:

• to reduce or convert by, or as by, breaking up or disintegration (usually fol. by to or into ).
• to convert or transform by any process (often used reflexively).

Making a resolution is a transformative process — we are breaking with the status quo and converting to a new system (whether that is following a healthy eating plan, using Quickbooks for accounting, or allocating 10 minutes each morning to prayer).  When we make a New Year’s Resolution, the ultimate goal is to be transformed.

“Resolution” also shares the same root as “resolute,” which means to be firmly resolved or determined; set in purpose or opinion. Again, we are firm in our convictions and set on a path toward positive change. When we make a resolution, we should be unshakeable.

With the Christmas season having just passed, I am reminded of the resolve demonstrated by Joseph, perhaps one of the greatest unsung heroes of scripture. While traveling with his young fiancee, Joseph is presented with a difficult and very emotional choice:

…Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:18-21)

Bear in mind that in Joseph’s day and age, Mary could have been stoned to death had she been found to be pregnant out of wedlock. Stoned to death. Her life was literally in his hands. What’s more, Joseph could have been cast out of society for choosing to stay with her — and here an angel was telling him to take Mary as his wife and accept the child as his own?

Think about the magnitude of that decision. Think about the conviction it takes to accept that burden — to take that risk — and walk in obedience. Joseph demonstrates this kind of resolve:

When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. (Matthew 1:24-25, emphasis mine.)

Joseph made the ultimate New Year’s Resolution: he resolved to trust God. After Jesus was born, Joseph was again visited by an angel of the Lord, first telling him when to flee with his family to Egypt, and later telling him when to return to Israel. Each time, without hesitation, Joseph obeyed. He was set in his opinion that God is trustworthy. He was earnest in his decision to follow God’s directives, and because of his resolve, his life and the future of all mankind was transformed.

This year, as you write down your resolutions, I encourage you to put God on the list. Make a commitment to spend some time with the Lord, getting to know Him and asking for guidance.  Jesus tells His followers, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” (Matthew 7:7-8)

Resolve to ask, seek and knock this year. I promise, you will be transformed.

My dad was angry about this, and felt robbed of the comfortable retirement he had neatly planned out. After four decades of teaching at the university level, he was looking forward to taking the first of many ocean cruises with his wife of 28 years, Regina. Instead, he made his first of many visits to the hospital for bloodwork and PET scans and chemotherapy treatments intended to ward off his disease.

I miss my dad with a deep ache in my heart. But I am deeply blessed by the time we spent together during the last year of his life, and the knowledge that we became closer and loved one another more than we ever had before.

You see, my father was something of a stoic. He raised me as a single parent for 11 years before he remarried, and although he loved me deeply, he wasn’t one for outpourings of affection. We were more like roommates, each going about our daily routine and carrying our weight in keeping up the household. He was also a strict disciplinarian, especially when it came to academics, and as a child I regarded him with equal parts adoration and fear.

More importantly, my father was an atheist. And, despite all his best efforts to teach me to be a “free thinker”, I became a born again Christian at age 34.

We never talked about religion, except once several years prior, when I was attending Catholic church. Having never been taught about God at all, Catholicism was a comfortable stepping stone in my journey of faith. It was also anathema to my father, who was raised Jewish and — although he was a theology minor in college — later chose to abstain from any religious doctrine or belief in a higher power. The conversation was laughable, like a child at her First Communion trying to explain the precepts of faith to a Ph.D., when she had only encountered a feltboard Jesus.

We never discussed religion after I was born again, and left the Catholic church in New York for a pentecostal congregation in Dallas, Texas. We never talked about what it meant for me to accept Jesus into my heart, or how the Holy Spirit truly transformed me from the inside out, softening the hard edges and filling me with joy, faith and compassion.

But he saw it.

I flew to North Carolina to visit my father several times during the last two years of his life, knowing — if only in theory — that our time together was suddenly limited. And, although I never witnessed to him or shared the gospel in conversation, I lived it. I demonstrated Christ’s love to him in every way I knew how, which sometimes meant just being there to encourage him with my companionship. I asked him to tell me stories about his accomplishments in high school and college, and I helped him organize the myriad photos, awards and papers that would mark his legacy. I assured him that my husband and I were happy in our marriage and financially secure — two things that mattered deeply to him.

And I told him that I loved him. Whenever I came to visit, and whenever we talked on the phone, I made sure to tell him — and as time went on, I felt it deeper and deeper in my heart. Despite the battles of my youth and our divergent worldviews in my adulthood, I respected and appreciated my father more than ever. Nothing could take away the pain and bitterness of his sickness, but he knew that he was loved, and there is no greater balm.

My husband Craig put together this wonderful video tribute to my father’s life to play at his memorial. I’m adding it here to honor him.

I love you, dad.

[See post to watch Flash video]

Dr. Jay Rosenberg
1942 – 2008

It’s as if, in our collective consciousness, we secretly hope that a mysterious stranger will come swooping in and save us from society’s ills. As a nation, we long to abdicate responsibility for our current state of affairs and instead look for a mystical bail-out package wrapped in a flowing cape. We want a crime-fighting vigilante with super human strength, an iron will, and perhaps a few cool gadgets to deal with the drug lords, gangbangers, and scheming sociopaths all around us.

But, this Christmas season is a reminder that the ultimate superhero has already come, and still walks with us today. He’s not an undercover agent or a radioactive monster. He is God made man — the King of King and Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ.

It’s hard to imagine that the helpless infant born in a manger some 2000 years ago is the Savior for whom we have all been yearning. He was a carpenter, not a covert operative. He never carried a weapon, never beat up a bad guy with his bare hands. But, he overcame the world. All our sin, all our shame. We are made clean by his sacrifice – if only we will believe.

Ay, there’s the rub.  Because for all our fantastical visions of celluloid superheroes, millions still turn away from the one who came to save us. Christ is merely a myth, they say; only the feeble-minded believe those old stories.

Why don’t they accept that Jesus is our Savior? Because it’s hard. Unlike the Hollywood heroes we hope for, Christ holds us accountable. He offers salvation, but the price is submission. And, in our fast-paced, gratification-driven, socially networked world, it’s hard to imagine that we’re not the center of our universe. Scripture tells us to play by his rules — to obey Christ’s commands. Obey? Commands? This whole Christianity thing sounds more like a dictatorship.

Except that Jesus’ principal command is this: Love each other.

What dictator ever demanded that?

If you think about it, if everyone followed this one command – this one simple plea – we wouldn’t need a superhero. If we loved each other the way that Jesus loved us — through service, grace and mercy — there would be no crime, no violence, no emotional neglect or physical abuse. There would be no greed, no prejudice, and no self-centeredness. If we really understood and put into practice what Jesus calls us to do, then we would see that he truly is our Savior, wanting nothing more than to save us from ourselves.

Instead, we spend our days griping about government bail-outs as we wring our hands over our own mounting credit card debt. After a hard day’s work surfing YouTube and sending text messages, we swipe a pack of Post-It Notes from the supply room, then spend $4 on a cup of Starbucks. We hide in our homes at night and watch riveting dramas about adultery and homicide to unwind, and just before bed, we secretly peek at online porn, forgetting that the girl splayed out naked for our entertainment is someone’s daughter.

We hope for a hero, and all this time, our true hero is hoping for us. Phillipians 4:19 assures us: “But my God shall supply all your needs according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus”. God promises that all things work together for good to those who love and serve Him faithfully (Romans 8:28), and that those who believe in Jesus and are baptized for the forgiveness of sins will be saved (Mark 16:16).

He promises to give us hope and a future, if we will just believe. This Christmas, don’t look to the movies for a miracle. Look to the baby in the manger, who is the only hero we need.

Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near.
– Isaiah 55:6

You see, Martin and Kim are passionate people. They have a genuine calling to help the kind of individuals whom many would look upon with disdain or dismiss as “hopeless”. Specifically, YWAM Houston ministers to prostitutes, crack addicts, transexuals, drug dealers and gang members in an effort to rescue them from the streets and help them turn their lives around. They also train teens and young adults for ministry, equipping them with the skills and courage to enter the roughest inner city neighborhoods and offer assistance to anyone in need. The group is part of YWAM International, which currently operates in more than 1000 locations across 149 countries.

The Dales share the combined giftings of compassion and evangelism, and have dedicated their lives to reaching the lost. They also manage to do it in a way that’s not preachy or self-righteous. If I say any more, that’s exactly how I’m likely to come off, so I’ll let the video do the talking.

Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. (Proverbs 24:11)