Ringing in the New Year: On the Shoulders of Giants

2014 has been one of those years.

Ugh.

The optimist in me hates to write that sentence, because I know so many people who have had much
worse happen to them. I've never been superstitious, but I kind of want to use one hand to type and the other hand to knock on wood as I write it.

When I look at the battles I've fought this year, I recognize that they aren't huge. They aren't the same as the mother whose son is in the hospital fighting cancer.  They aren't the same as the little girl being abused. They aren't the same as the man who just lost his job, or the wife who just found out her husband has cheated on her.

My battles aren't even comparable.

But they are still battles, and while keeping a healthy perspective is good, we all need to take the time to think about what we've had to endure this year. Because those hardships define us, and even the small ones will likely shape our future.

My friend Amy spoke to me a couple months ago about battles, and ever since then, I haven't been able to get it out of my head.

You see, Amy's husband, Craig, is fighting cancer for a second time.

Awhile back, she told me that he was reading the book of Samuel in the Bible over and over again. Craig had told her that the story of David was speaking to him.

David: the man who would become the second most influential king of the Jews, whose very lineage would lead to Jesus.

David started off as an unknown child, powerless against the kings who ruled at the time, against the enemy army that constantly attacked his people. But when a giant mocked the opposing army and asked who would fight him, David felt God speak to his heart and knew he had to fight the battle before him. The men on his side tried to arm him with worldly things for protection, but David knew that he had to use his own particular gifts to defeat the enemy, and he knew that he had to glorify God in the process.

You could see how Craig could easily relate to the story.

Horrible cells inside of him continued to multiply even though he couldn't see them. Chemotherapy and radiation didn't work the first go-around.  And here he was, a father of two kids not even in school yet, a firefighter hero who couldn't stop microscopic cells.

What could make you feel more powerless than that?

Not much. But a weak child facing a massive army would be a contender.

And that weak child's actions in the face of battle is something we can all learn from.

Every other boy David's age must have been scared of the powerful army flanking the huge giant in front of them. But despite him likely sharing this fear, David found strength in the Lord.  He knew the Lord chose him - him, over anyone else - to fight a giant, Goliath.

God didn't cause the battle that was going on. He didn't tell the giant to taunt the army.

And He doesn't cause the evil that continues to plague us today.

But He equipped David with the tools he would need to defeat Goliath, and He equips us with the tools we need to defeat our battles, too.

He told David - so full of faults, a weak boy who grew into an imperfect man - to trust in Him, and He used his performance in battle to do amazing things.

Life-changing things.

Things like ruling a nation.  Things like fulfilling prophecy.  Things like creating a lineage for the only perfect man to ever walk this earth.

And all this happened to David because he chose to trust God through the battle and use the battle to bring glory and honor to the Lord.

Wow.


What's your battle?  It doesn't have be cancer, but we all have things that plague us.

Have you ever felt like David?  A no one?  Unworthy and weak?

The bad news is, we've all been David.

But here's the good news to go with that bad news:

We're all David. 

We are all treasured.  Deeply loved.  Favored.

Chosen.

And we often feel like we couldn't possibly fight the way God wants us to fight.

But, if we make the choice to honor God and do what He's calling us to do, we will fight, and we will win.

Maybe we won't win the battle like David did.  But we certainly win the war.  We glorify His name, introduce His love to others, and open their eyes to the Truth.


People have been doing this since the beginning of time, and they continue to do it today.  It's through those people - and the Bible - that I find the motivation to take on my own personal battles, and the inspiration to glorify and worship God through them.

Take, for instance, Tim Scott, the first African-American senator to be elected in the south since the Reconstruction. After his historic win this year, he tweeted:

My skin color is talked about often. Tonight I want to talk about it for just a moment. In South Carolina, in America, it takes a generation to go from having a grandfather who is picking cotton, to a grandson in Congress. We are thankful for those trailblazers who came before us and said the status quo was not enough. 

I stand on the shoulders of giants.

That's why we're here, folks: to look our scary stuff in the eye and know that our God is calling us to be greater than we think we are.

He is calling us to stand on the shoulders of the giants, those who have conquered things that once loomed over them.


Whatever you're committed to conquering this new year, whatever battles you want to fight and win against, fight with the assurance that you are God's and no one else's, because when you belong to Him, you can conquer any evil.

You can defeat any giant.

The Five Secrets to Leaving a Legacy

My grandma passed away a couple of weeks ago. Although she was 89 and "just a grandma", it felt much more tragic to my family and me than an ordinary passing.  Even though we knew her stage-four cancer was going to take her, could see her bony frame become more emaciated each week, could see her struggling for even the smallest breath of air... it still felt like punch to the gut when we found out.

And in the two weeks since her passing, I've been contemplating why.

Why does the death of an 89 year old woman feel so tragic somehow? Why do I feel as though the orbit of the planet has shifted?

It got me thinking about her, the amazing qualities she possessed, and what she contributed to everyone in this world.

And the inevitable follow-up questions were:

How do I live my life like her? 

How do I live in such a way that my death will feel like a tragedy, despite a hopeful old age and the possibility of failing health?

I could have come up with a hundred things Grandmom did to become such a legacy, because even the little things matter in a big way. But five, I know, she would want me to pass on. These five things are big ideas with an even bigger impact, things that we can all do to shift the orbit of other people's lives to give them a little more sunshine.

1) LOVE. Unapologetically and with a smile. Everyone, with no exceptions.

Greet family and strangers with a hug and a smile so wide that they can't help but smile back. 

Grandmom did this naturally. It didn't matter who was standing in front of her; they were always greeted the same way an old friend would be. I can still close my eyes and see her beaming broadly the first time she met my husband's parents, wrapping them in a hug so they knew they were not only welcome, but cherished. 

Her biological family benefited from her constant adoration, too. I always have been needy for affection (just ask my husband - ha!). As a child, I knew Grandmom's lap was always open and her arms would always be waiting for a hug.  I was borderline embarrassed about the amount of love she poured onto me until I noticed her lavishing my sisters and my cousins with the same attention, and then I was in awe of her. Who has the ability to show everyone that level of love? Even at a young age, she would show me a glimpse of Jesus every day by doing this. 

2) LAUGH. Allow yourself to be improper from time to time, and cherish the moment.

Good Lord, could Grandmom laugh.  She laughed at jokes, at memories, and even at herself.  Even as she struggled to breathe, she would laugh.  Two weeks before she died, my son was running circles around me. I made the comment that he was nothing like me (sarcastically, of course).  And she laughed.  It was followed with a cough that I'm sure was painful, but even in the darkness of her failing health, she chose laughter.

To her, laughter is what made life worth living. It was something even failing health couldn't take away.

3) EXPERIENCE. Value moments, not money. Value time, not treasures.

Granddad told us at Thanksgiving that he got Grandmom to marry him with the promise of a trip.  Their honeymoon lasted ten states and one month long.  For the rest of their lives, they traveled. They saw the magnificence that was God's creation.  They met people and expanded their family with each drive. Every year, they made it a point to go on vacation.  They weren't rich. In fact, they'd pack their food for the trip, and their family of four would all sleep in the pickup: my mother would sleep in the cab and my grandparents and uncle would sleep in the back on a mattress.

They didn't have much.  But they had the world.  And it's a gift God has given to all of us.

With Christmas coming up, it's easy to get caught up in the things.  We all have homes overflowing with toys, and all of them are things our children will outgrow. More importantly, if we're truly being honest with ourselves, they're all things that will spoil our children and their imagination, that will be yet another thing they receive without having the pride of earning it. Honor yourselves.  Invest in an experience, not an I-Pad.

4) SERVE OTHERS. Without expecting anything in return.

Grandmom was old school.  She loved taking care of her home, her husband, and her children. Later, she loved caring for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was a proud member of the PEO, a social organization that met regularly in the homes of their members. I loved watching Grandmom get to work when it was her turn to host. She would polish her silver and get out her cherished family heirlooms. When I was young, I thought she wanted to show off what she had, that these functions were a chance for her to gloat about her family's fine traditions. But when I was in high school, that changed.  I was helping her set out her china for a function. "Amanda," she told me, "I love anything with tradition. It's a reminder of who you are and your family's history. I feel like I've gotten the best from mine, and I want to share that with others."

She wanted to serve others.  She wanted to share her best. It was her language of love, and no one left her home without feeling that love.

Even with non-formal meals, she would do her best to create an amazing feast.  She'd set the table and always apologize for something - anything - not being up to standard.  As a teenager, I told her, "Grandmom, I'm in high school and usually eat at the cafeteria. I have no standards."

It didn't matter, though. She still thought I was worth her very best, and she never thought her efforts were good enough for me. Do you have any idea how valued that made me feel? That the most attention I was receiving from anyone wasn't even good enough in her eyes? I was rich with the spoils of her love.

What an amazing servant to my heart.  I am grateful.

5) KEEP THE PERSPECTIVE.

This life is tough.  I only told you about the good things that Grandmom experienced in this post, and honestly, that's all I'm going to do, because that's what she would want.  Not because she wanted to be perceived as being perfect, but she wanted to be happy regardless of her circumstance.

I saw Grandmom worried, and she would pray.

I saw Grandmom sad, and she would focus on what made her happy.

I saw Grandmom angry, and she would allow herself to be.  But then she'd get over it, and she'd do it quickly. She'd choose happy.

I saw Grandmom old, and she'd insist she never felt her age.

I saw Grandmom sick, and she would try and will herself to be healthy.

I saw Grandmom doubt life after this, and instead of letting those doubts consume her, she'd turn to her Bible, her devotions, and to us. She'd talk to Christians.  She'd ask for proof, and God would provide her with it.

My friend Kim calls it seeing life through different "perspectacles".  Grandmom did that.  Even when life told her she should be angry and bitter and sad and hopeless, she wasn't.  Her heavenly perspective told her to focus on the gifts, not the discrepancies. 

Grandmom did these five things, all day every day.  And because of that, she was magnetic.  Her personality drew people to her.  Her smile made their days brighter and her hugs and laughter made their hearts warmer. She's left this world, and all of us in it, in a better state because of her presence. 

Rest in peace, Grandmom.  And rest assured that I - among others - will strive to leave the same legacy you did.