hats

I'm a college graduate.  I'm an employee.  I'm a daughter. I'm a step-daughter.  I'm a sister, and a step-sister.  I'm a cousin, a niece, a grand-daughter, and a girlfriend. I'm a sorority girl.  I'm an advice giver, and a spoon ring wearer.  I'm an aspiring mother.I'm a republican. I'm a renter.  I'm a friend.  I'm a Christian. 

Identities are found in so many aspects of our lives.  People in high school knew me as the girl who did everything.  Don't try it, it's exhausting.  The most fun I had in high school was when I stopped trying to be everything, and started being me.  Wearing a million hats, under so many different identities, is exhausting.  It's funny how our culture has accepted it.  It's not weird or wrong for me to have 18 identities, and wear 18 different hats; it's expected.  As a college student, I needed to be a student, an advocate, a worker, an active member of my university (in more ways than 5), family and church.  Now I'm not saying that we shouldn't thrive to be all of those things with a positive, persevering attitude (Philippians 4:8-9), but when our purity from that verse is affected by the fogginess of attempting to find ourselves in those identities, we, or at least, I start to lose myself in attempting to find the positive in those identities than in His identity for me. 

I can't wear 18 hats. I read once the statement "existence precedes essence." I want to wear 18 hats, because I want to give the essence that I've got it all together, and I can do it all with grace and poise.  In order to give that essence I have to be that way. And the truth is, God gave me didn't give me 18 heads. 

jwaye nowel

I don't cry in public.  My family would laugh at this statement.  As a child, my nickname, which is still obnoxiously used too much, was "Julianne Whiner".  I was constantly followed around with my family quoting my most diva-like moments as a child wanting my mother, my blanket, or red gumballs.   But now, I don't cry in public.  As I've grown older, my independence and pride just won't allow me to wear my emotions on my sleeve.  Only those close to me can tell when I'm frustrated, sad or uncomfortable.  It's said around my office that nothing can shake me.  My demeanor and actions would confirm that statement more and more everyday.  This Christmas was a different story. 

Two weeks before Christmas 2011 was life changing for me.  I got on a plane as an adult leader of 22 college students at age 22 destined for Haiti.  Fresh out of college myself, and only a stateside traveler, I was slightly nervous.  Once again, not much shakes me anymore, but being responsible for 21 other people was slightly nerve-racking.  Despite my minor reservations of my own abilites to be a world traveler, the trip was nothing short of awe-inspiring.  We returned with 22 healthy bodies, hamburger-hungry bellies, and without our hearts.  We left those with 74 of the most precious, loving, joyful Haitian orphans. 

We spent the week popping JiffyPop, watching the Polar Express on a sheet in a pavillion, decorating the kids' first Christmas tree, and paying a visit to Papa Nowel's lap.  I had heard over and over again how much I would want to bring at least 8 of them home with me.  The reality of these warnings hit me like a brick when I burst into tears at the meer sight of children jumping up and down on a rock wall when our bus first saw their smiling faces through the windows for the first time.  I tried once again not to let anyone see my tears start to flow, but I'm sure everyone that saw my eyes well up with water thought I was the biggest baby. When an 11 year old girl named Lumise grabbed my hand before I even made it off the bus, I didn't care who saw my tears.  This little girl had no idea who I was, where I came from, where I'd been, but she wanted to hold my hand, and only my hand. 

An emotional attachment greater than I've ever had developed for these kids in only 3 short days.  The day we left, I saw grown men break down in tears thinking about having to sit in the bus as it rolled away from these kids unsure of when we'd get to hear the word "mèsi" spoken in true appreciation of something as small as a water bottle from some of the sweetest little mouths. 

When I returned home, everyone wanted to ask me about my trip.  I literally was at a loss for how to explain what I had just experienced.  The only statement that could even skim the surface of how much I missed the children was, "I know now that I'll most likely never have biological children."  This was only because I never saw myself doing anything, but showing love to an orphan the way they showed me love. 

Agape love.  Or unconditional love.  I was an alien to these children, and somehow they still found it in themselves to show me a love like nothing I've ever felt before. I was white, first of all. They had no idea where I had come from, or how I had come to be in Haiti with them. I spoke a different language than them.  They could never have understood me. I wanted to do weird things like wash their feet when they just wanted to play. I'm sure that was as frustrating to them as it was to me to think that they might not follow through.  But when they did, and were ectstatic to clean other's feet after theirs had been cleaned even if they didn't understand why, I had another tearing moment at the sight of the kids washing their "mothers'" feet. 

This kind of love is the purest example of Christ's love for us that I have ever seen.  Even when we come from a place where we feel like God has no idea where we could have come from, or how we came to be in a certain situation, He loves us.  Even when we don't understand Him or what He's trying to tell us, He loves us.  When we try to reason with Him, it probably sounds like a different language, and He wonders why we just don't see that He knows what's going on and will provide for us.  Even when we want to do things that are so weird to God, because His weird ways don't make sense to us and vice versa, He loves us.  I'm sure God has the same feeling when we comply with His will as we did when the kids jumped at the opportunity to show His love to their mothers.  Agape love.  Unconditional love. 

I still can't full describe the love I was shown, and how my life was changed by those kids.  I wish I could so that everyone could see that extreme joy and trust that comes with agape love. 

On Christmas day, I realized once again how much I missed those kids.  A friend and I had talked about how coming back from a trip like the one we took, we needed to go through some kind of "assimiliation back in to our real lives and away from the kids" program, because for a while they're all you can think about: What are they doing? How'd they sleep? Who's playing with them?  Are they feeling okay, today? What's going to happen to them tomorrow?  Will I ever hear if something goes wrong? A million questions race through your mind about the children's present and future.  We had brought the kids stockings full of gifts that they opened while we were there, but also left them gifts to open on Christmas day.   Talk about thinking about what they're doing...you wouldn't believe the amount of tweets and facebook statuses from the students that went that were talking about how grateful they were to be with family, but how much they wished they could be with the orphans, and watch them tear through their Christmas gifts. 

An opportunity arose on Christmas night for me to go to the county prison with my boyfriend's family to hand out goody bags for the men spending their Christmas locked up away from their families.  Immediately, my Haitian trip had leaked into this experience before I had even made it through security when I forgot my license in my backpack with my passport from my Haiti trip, and wasn't going to be allowed to go through security.  Luckily, Jordan's uncle talked to the guard, and she let me go through with my Student ID from UT.  We went to two different cells with about 50 men in each giving them goodie bags, singing "Silent Night", and reading the Christmas story from Luke 2.  The second cell we went to we prayed for the children of the men that were fathers.  Cue tears.

As the men stated their children's names as we prayed, I couldn't help but think of what I've been refering to "my kids" in Haiti.  I thought about how much I missed them, and wished I could still be with them.  These men had all messed up in some way, but I couldn't help to pray for redemption in their lives for the sake of their children.  I am a failure that is only redeemed by the sacrifice of my Savior.  I mess up.  Even when I am a parent, I'll feel I am unfit for that job in so many ways.  I'm not a parent, though.  I spent 3 days with children that had the ability to break down any prideful wall I had by kicking a soccer ball my way.  I couldn't imagine what these men were going through.  They messed up.  Honestly, they weren't good fathers.  But there they were praying for their children behind bars on Christmas day.  They, just like me, wanted nothing more but to see their kids on the day that celebrated the forming of a family with the birth of a King.  I can't speak for how the families felt about their loved ones spending the holiday in prison, because I don't know all of their stories, but if they would have seen that moment, they couldn't help but believe the Holy Spirit was working in the hearts of that love one.   

Family despite mistake.  Family without tangible closeness.  Family in times of ultimate need.  That's agape love. 

The only thing that will make me cry in public is an outward display of unconditional love.  That's what I learned this Christmas.  Agape love is the only thing that has broken through my prideful wall.  I hope that never changes.  Because I will always remember this Christmas of true joy through love as we celebrated the birth of my Savior.  Jwaye Nowel, or Merry Christmas. 

macbook

June 28, 2011 marks the day of death for my little white MacBook that I've had since the end of my senior year in high school.  Macy was a dear friend and treated me wall for 4 and a half years.  I can't tell you the anxiety that ensued on my life when that little gray screen with a folder labeled "?" came up on my screen indicated my hard drive had crashed.  I am an extremely laid back person, but my heart started beating at an enormously fast pace.  Everything I needed was on that computer. Now, gone.  I started to think about how much I rely on my computer, and how I literally felt sick at my stomach when I realized I didn't have it anymore.  "Well, what do I do now?" was the first thought that crossed my mind.  I go to my computer for answers; I go to my computer for advice; I go to my computer when I'm bored; I go to store things that I need/want; I go to my computer to communicate.  My life in some--well, many--ways revolved around that computer.  I'm not saying we should all give up our computers, and be without technology.  (I'm blogging from a computer at school, so obviously I think it's somewhat useful...) But I am saying in our relationship with Christ, how many times do we truly get sick in the stomach to think of our life without Him because of how much our lives revolve around Him? The grace of God is the greatest gift in the world because we know we never will go without Him, but if we had to put our lives in a ratio of computer to God ratio, how much do we go to Him for answers, advice, when we're bored, to store the things we want and need from our heart, and use Christ as a means to communicate with Him and others? I love the Lord with everything I am. Macbook is dead, and she isn't going to be resurrected and save the day.  But He did. 

grasshopper

As you might be thinking I'm naming this after the delicious mint chocolate cookie because I'm me and I usually can't help myself, I'm not (although I am considering starting a bakery of sorts...wishful thinking).  Yesterday I was driving, and there was this little green grasshopper that was on my mirror to the left.  She was the most brilliant color green.  Like that color green you can only imagine happens in a rainforest.  I felt kind of bad as I drove off, and she was still on my mirror, because I knew she was probably scared.  Her antennas were blowing harshly in the wind, and she didn't know where to go without using them.  She was holding on for dear life.  I honestly thought to myself, "if I stuck my head out the window and my hair was flapping in the wind, it would feel good." So, in my mind, I thought she can't be that scared, I bet she enjoys it.  Isn't that sometimes how our compassion in this world gets skewed?  We start to justify how it can't be that bad for others with statements like: "It's all they know." and "If it were me, I would change my life in the following ways."  Isn't our job as Christians to change what they know to the love of Christ for them?  With a love like that, all they'll know is mercy and grace and kindness and faith.  Don't we want that for others? As Christians, we have to stop justifying why we're not compassionate.  We have to know that sometimes their antennas are blowing in the wind, and we've got to help them know where to go.

egyptian cotton sheets

Sheets are so expensive.  I had to buy some new ones last week, because I moved and had a different bed size.  I went to HomeGoods and bought some discount sheets.  Gray, Egyptian cotton.  Buying sheets is a commitment: you need the right color, the right fit, the right fabric, and for the right price.  We have so many commitments we make in our lives.  What schools to attend, what friends to have, what car to buy, what guy to date and eventually marry.  There's a commitment: marriage.  Marriage is a reflection of Christ's love for the Church.  That's a lot of love for the Church.  Christ gave his life.  GAVE being the key word here.  They say a marriage is a lot of give and take.  But in Christ's marriage, he gave more than anyone could ever take.

But isn't it ironic and heartbreaking how quickly we will take our commitment from one Church to another.  We look more for what we can take from the Church than what we can give to Christ's Bride.  I was listening to a sermon the other day by Perry Noble of NewSpring Church, and he made a statement about how quickly we will sleep with a Church, but not make a commitment. Let that simmer for a while.

summer

I am spending my first summer away from beautiful Suburbia, Hendersonville, Tennessee.  I have never in my entire life spent a summer away from my house on the peninsula on Old Hickory Lake.  I have never spent the summer away from nights at the drive-in, Maggie Moo's porches, laying by the pool eating Taco Bell and listening to 107.5 the River with my sunroof open.  I was home this weekend for my brother's graduation, and I decided I would take my regular morning run around the loop in Ballentrae.  I realized I would even miss my runs...weird.  Running during the summer in Hendersonville CAN be awesome.  There's just something about running in the shade of 100 year old oak trees, but still feeling the sun on your face with the scent of honeysuckle and the sounds of the fourteen year cicadas rooting you on.  Summer has come every year whether I'm ready for it or not.  Summer will come even if I forget about it (I won't ever forget about, but I'm creating an analogy here, people. Stay with me.).  Summer will come even if I don't mention it.

I am fascinated with the story of Esther. What courage.  I can only pray I have the faith to be a woman that puts the Kingdom before my own comfort.  The book of Esther is the only book in the Bible that doesn't ever explicitly mention the name of God. That doesn't mean that you can't see the hand of God working. More like read the hand of God working.  Whether we mention God, are ready for God, forget about God, He's still there.  He's still working, and it's evident in every cicada, every piece of honeysuckle, every oak tree, and every act of faith. 

green light

A few months ago, some friends of mine and I were sitting at Cracker Barrel trying to figure out what we could adventure we could find on a Saturday night.  The result: a music video. It's star is Phil Stone, with a little help from his friends.  This started out as just a funny little video of Phil singing. It developed into a full production with different scenes, outfit changes, laying tracks, and many other ridiculous things that only made the video that much more entertaining to watch and create.  I was running the other day, and I was forced to stop at this cross walk to wait for the white hand to give me the go.  There was a collegiate male standing at the other side of the cross walk, also waiting.  He was trying to run in place, but I couldn't help but notice that he hadn't started running in place until he saw me.  From a far, I probably looked cute. Blonde hair, still tan from spring break, sorority tank top on.  Up close I was a sweaty, hot mess. But he was trying to impress me, and ran in place while looking at me.  I just stood and looked back.  I saw the light for the hand light up, and I began to run back across the street.  He just watched me.  I mean I think I'm a decent looking human being, but he looked awestruck and didn't move.  Just ran in place. I made it to the other side. He gave me a once up and down, I guess decided my sweat was more nasty than glistening, and then realized he had the white hand to cross the street.  I recently felt a call to go on an international mission trip.  I've been suppressing the feeling because I have so many things that I love and have going for me here, that I let them distract me and convince myself that I needed a sign.  I started to think about that boy.  He stood there awestruck at me.  That's the definition of worship.  To stand in amazement and respond.  His response was to run in place. Ignore the sign to go.  If I'm truly worshipping my God, I'll stop "worshipping" my distractions, and allowing me to  ignore God "giving me the green light."  Enjoy the video.  :D

twenty two candles

Today is the day that I am now "in my twenties." Man, time flies. I still remember fighting my mom in the fifth grade because I didn't think it was appropriate to wear anything less than a dress or skirt to school.  Welcome to my life.  Last night I had the absolute joy of sitting around a picnic table with my small group discussing our final thoughts on the semester, and how much we'd grown.  Not only did we grow individually, but we grew as a group.  As we grew closer to each other, we were nearing the heart of God with our passion for our relationships.  Our small group met ever Tuesday at 8:15 at my apartment.  It was warm and sunny last night, so we all took a field trip outside to end our semester.  Knoxville stays light until about 8:30 in the summer.  Needless to say, about fifteen minutes in, our flashlight apps on our phones became very handy.  Since last night was the day before my birthday, Magan brought a cookie cake.  When she lit the candles, all of the sudden we could truly see each others faces.  As women, relational reflections of the heart of God, we should always be willing to shed our light on others.  Because it truly helps us to see them, who they really are. When we're willing to share our light, that's when we can truly appreciate and love the people around us.  Each of those girls was willing to open up every week and share their light and heart, and that's when we really saw each other.  I heard a quote once about how love isn't finding a relationship or friendship that's perfect, it's about seeing how perfect they are in their imperfections.  None of us were perfect.  We all had wounds.  We all had a story.  But when we were willing to shine our light for others to see, that's when we started to understand and see each other more perfectly.  How much would the cadyness and competition among women to be perfect change if we were willing to be a light for each other?  If we were willing to say, "Hey, I'm not perfect. But I have a God that loves me anyways, and you do, too," how much would we truly start to appreciate the people God made perfect only in imperfections for His purpose?  Those candles, and those girls may be the best birthday present I've ever had. My "starfish".  ;)

banquets

As a member of a sorority, I attend banquets, frequently.  This weekend I attended two.  All the girls get dressed up, and boys put on a suit and tie, and we all sit around a table on our best manners.  There's usually some sort of program on the table that tells you what is about to happen during your meal, and people will stand at a podium, and talk about whatever it is you've gathered for.  I remember at a recent banquet I made the mistake of pouring my caramel dessert dip on to my plate, and dipping my brownie in it  with my fingers.  Unmannerly to the max, but I was being myself at the banquet amidst the attempts to act like we all had attended etiquette schools our entire lives.  I attended my last banquet for my sorority last night.  It was a recognition of the seniors.  I felt to weird, because my sorority career was all coming to an end, and I was oddly okay with it.  I watched the other seniors cry, and reminisce on the past four years.  Don't get me wrong; I will miss it.  I will miss constantly having companionship, J. Crew clothes, and banquets, but I had a realization when a non-Greek friend asked me how I felt about it all now that I was looking back on it. Here is my answer:  I'm thankful for my Greek experience.  It made me strong.  It tested my faith and values.  It gave me a deep trust in the plans the Lord has set before me.  It gave me an even deeper trust in following His Word and laws, because if I stay in His arms despite when conforming to the world seems like it would be the most comforting, I will be provided for.  So, it felt weird to be okay with it, because I didn't think I would be, but now I feel like it is my time to leave.  I learned more about myself and who I am than I ever have before.  I'm thankful for all I learned, but it wasn't always me.  I'm sure all of us have felt like that at some point in our lives with something; like we're sitting at a banquet dunking our brownie in caramel sauce against the manners of what the world would tell us is right.  I will cherish and love every person I've met along the way, but above all, walking out of that banquet I realized my most important lesson: it wasn't who I was; but it taught me even more about whose I am.

puppies

I want a puppy so bad, it's honestly an issue.  Every time I see a dog, I get so excited. I want a Husky. His name will be Ray.  I have to wait until I have a yard, because I'm pretty sure Ray wouldn't enjoy living in a college apartment, and my roommates wouldn't enjoy Ray taking up the couch.

I was sitting at an intramural softball game last night, and my friend Lauren brought her puppy, Lexi.  Lexi loves people, and loves to explore.  Jordan made a comment that what would the world be like if people loved each other like dogs love people? I got to thinking.  Dogs get so excited to see a person.  They genuinely enjoy their companionship.  Even if they don't know them, or are uncomfortable with them, they're willing to explore.  What would the world be like if we, as God's people, loved each other as dogs loved people? What if we were that excited about companionship? What if even when we were uncomfortable or weren't sure about someone, we still were willing to explore who they were? What if there was something so inviting about us that when people saw us, they wanted to be around us?  I see puppies and think, "Wow, they've got the life. Eat, sleep, and play." But now I don't wish to live the life of a puppy, I pray that the Lord gives me an inviting and contagious attitude.

e-mail

I got a smart phone my sophomore year of college, because as a new member of a sorority I received on average 25 e-mails a day.  Then, I got involved and had leadership positions.  At the peak of my collegiate career, I got on average (yes, I calculated...I had to have some figures to sell my step-dad on the idea of paying extra for my phone plan.) 42 e-mails a day.  Excuse me? It was unbelievable.  By the end of my junior year, I wanted to smash my smart phone to smithereens, because it never stopped.  I constantly had an e-mail to reply to, or read.  I joked with my boyfriend that I was going to take up a career in professional e-mailing. Get my BEE if you will: Julianne Poe, Bachelors of E-mail Execution.

As I pondered how much time I spent e-mailing, and the figures I had calculated to put myself in a position to be able to receive these e-mails even though they eventually bugged the ever-loving daylights out of me, I thought about how often I put myself in a position to receive the Lord's messages.  I love Jesus Christ with all my heart, but how often to I sit down and calculate the benefits of MAKING opportunities in my life to receive His message.  His message is what I love, it can bug me sometimes when I have days it feels like a chore, but by the end I'm at peace.  How is it that we constantly put ourselves in a position to receive news we don't want than allowing ourselves the opportunity to receive the news we do?

monograms

My initials are JMP.  Written in monogram form, they are JPM.  Everything I own is monogrammed.  It’s a problem.  My boyfriend’s last name starts with a P, and it’s an ongoing joke that I keep him around so I can keep all my monogrammed stuff.  Obviously an exaggeration, but I realized how narcissistic it probably comes off that I’m so obsessed with my initials.  People know what letter my last name starts with before they meet me.   And my middle name.  Most people you know pretty well probably don’t know your last name.  Everyone I know at least knows my middle name starts with an M.  If I walk in my bedroom door right now I can touch three monograms visible to the naked eye that are a part of my décor.  Obsessed? Maybe.  I just think it looks pretty, okay? 

I was reading Genesis and Exodus in the past few months, and I couldn't help but notice how important the lineages are to those who read and wrote these books.  They loved their kids, and wanted their reputations to be that they were the children of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  When I look at my monogram, I hope that one day when I have children, they realize they're not just in my family, but their monogram should be centered around the Cross.  That above all the lineage, my family brings glory to His name instead of that P. 

twitter

So, it's official.  I caved. I have a twitter. before yesterday afternoon, I’d never had a twitter account. I was proud of that statement as a 21-year-old lady. My friends are obsessed with this social phenomenon.  I often got tagged @juliannepoe in people’s tweets without even having one in sole pursuit that maybe I will jump on the band wagon.  I have a hard enough time getting engulfed in people’s status updates on facebook.  Now on twitter, I will be so concerned with everyone else’s daily opinions on nonsense, the site would be renamed to “LegalizedStalking.com”.  I now have my twitter hooked up to my iPhone. Two words: BIG MISTAKE.  I have already found myself looking at twitter in between classes when I used to look at scripture.  The terms twitter has coined as their definition of “friends” on facebook is so oddly honest.  You have followers and the following.  This is what our culture has become.  We follow each other.  We follow each other’s advice.  And above all, we want followers. 

We have become a culture that turns to each other for earthly views instead of following the divine advice that the Lord’s word gives us.  We’re more concerned with everyone’s opinion on our life and their own, that we miss listening and seeing God’s perfect plan.  I was reading Luke 14:25-30, and it made me think of this whole twitter thing again.  Sometimes the cost to build a foundation in Him means we have to give up following or pursuing or even caring about other’s opinions.  If Jesus had a twitter, would you be willing to have only His insight on your home screen?

leggings

In my college days, there has been an awful fashion phase.  I think most people can say this in some way, but leggings are an undergarment.  And in 2010, girls think they’re pants.  Wear with a baggy t-shirt and some Ugg boots, and apparently, you have an outfit.  I beg to differ.  Leggings should not be worn in public unless something is covering your rear i.e. a dress, skirt or shorts.  Now, I do wear leggings around my house with a baggy tee and some fluffy socks, but not in public.  They’re not pants.  They’re a step up from tights.  Maybe this is just a personal fashion preference, but I think many people, including the inventor of leggings, would agree with me.  Their purpose isn’t to be pants.  And when they act like pants, they look funny.  They don’t flatter the person unless they're Adriana Lima and all they really need is a cheeseburger. The inventor of leggings didn’t mean for them to serve as an actual article of stand-alone clothing. They look like it.  They CAN act like it.  But it’s not their purpose.  I had a recent struggle with my purpose.  I felt called into ministry at age seventeen.  Little did I know the journey I was about to take when I made a vow to the Lord that I would follow wherever He took me.   He took me into three internships in student ministries.  He took me into a sorority. Weird, I know.  He lead me to friendships and relationships that I never would have imagined myself being a part of.  When he took me into student ministries, I thought automatically this is it.  I was good at it. I COULD do it.  That didn’t mean it was my purpose. I’m so comfortable in churches.  Leggings are comfortable, too.  God didn’t put me on this Earth to be comfortable.  He put me here to serve MY purpose.  He created me with specificity. My current internship is with this awesome college ministry that weekly touches lives through the spirit that brings me to near tears every week.  I watched the other people in my office work, and saw their passion and execution.  They were fulfilling their purpose.  I wanted to be fulfilling my purpose as well.  Being a part of this ministry allowed me to meet so many people, and fulfill my purpose by being uncomfortable and meeting new people. It isn’t that I was lacking the passion.  It was that I was changing my own purpose by making myself comfortable.  Then, I thought about the lives that God had lead me to touch the most while in college ministry.  Sorority women.  I had started seeing my life through my sight and not through His purpose.  We start wearing the leggings out of comfort and not for their purpose.  

lace panties

I know you’re thinking this has got to be the risqué blog on living a pure life.  Well, kind of, but not really.  I have lived a very privileged life.  I drove a Mercedes as my first car (it was a 1972, but regardless beautiful and a dream car),  I carry a Louis Vuitton purse, I’m in a sorority, I have enough clothes to clothe a small country, I have traveled all over the United States, I have been on many cruises, my family is a member of a country club, if I ask for something for Christmas, I pretty much get it. I am unbelievably thankful for all I have, and I guess it's sometimes makes me feel guilty that I love shopping for everything, decorating supplies, clothes, handbags, etc.  But my all time favorite thing to buy is underwear.  I can’t walk in Victoria’s Secret without buying a 5 for $25 deal.  There’s just something about having my own little secret under all my clothes that I look good and cute underneath it all.  No one really sees me in my underwear.  But I like knowing I look good in my underwear.  It’s weird. I know.  But then I think about it as a spiritual analogy.  Do we often worry about what we look like stripped down for the Lord?  We’re in this world where we put on a show for everyone around us.  It’s all about how we’re perceived by others.  But if we stripped all the fluff, all the stuff covering our true identity, would we look good? Do we shop for the underwear of our spiritual life when we’re trying to invest in our eternal life? Or are we just adding on the layers to flatter our spiritual bodies to the world?  Read Galatians 1.

cell phones

I can’t tell you how many text messages I send a day.  I have broken 3 Blackberry phones in one year, and my step-dad says they just give up because they’re tired.  They can’t possibly make a phone that can keep up with the amount that I socialize on my phone and keep in constant conversation with people throughout the day. I'm a text addict. It's a problem, I'm aware. I actually named my phone when I got a BlackBerry; it was "PinkBerry" (picture below). I always want to be in the know.  What’s going on with my best friend, my boyfriend, my family. I find myself often having to direct my conversations out of gossip to be in the know and into a godly mindset of wanting to be in the know out of concern.  

As women, we use about double the amount of words a day as the average male.  I know why.  We’re trying to keep each other informed, but we’re also trying to show each other up on who knows what about whom.  It’s about who is in the know more.  This guy I went to high school with had a conversation with me once about what he liked to call “prayer gossip”.  It’s when a group of women get together and talk about everyone else that’s not there, but they always end their gossip with, “well, we should pray for them.” It’s amazing how much word and gossip can travel in the name of prayer.  How would our prayer lives and actual lives change if our prayers and talk came from genuine concern and not a selfish need to know the latest?  I feel like we're called to look out for each other, to pray for each other.  But, there’s a fine line between telling your friends what you heard yesterday at the salon and really wanting to assist a friend through prayer.

formals

Prom, Formal, Wedding Day.  Not really an equivalent, I know. But when you were going to your first prom, didn’t you feel like it could have been your wedding day?  Like the parliament of Wales should role out the red carpet for you to walk in Princess Diana’s steps because you were just as pretty…if not more? You worried for hours and hours that your dress was going to fit perfectly. That no one was going to know you were wearing spanx.  You stressed out about if the ribbon in your corsage corresponded directly with the vest of your date’s tuxedo.  Every tiny detail was thought about.  Stressed about.  I’m a planner.  My junior prom I had planned down to the minute.  What time I was getting in the shower.  What time I need to be out.  What time I needed to be leaving for the salon.  I even Map Quested how far the salon was from my house.  And inevitably, my date was late.  Late.  On the single most important day of my life.  LATE.  I used to get the hiccups before big events. Not because I was nervous. But because I needed things to go according to my schedule.  I didn’t want to show I was worried, but instead I hiccupped.  I remember trying every remedy known to man waiting on my date to pull into the driveway.  Longest ten minutes of my life.  That’s how my whole life has been.  I have a plan.  It’s detailed. It encompasses what I think everyone else’s plan should be, too.  I remember reading in a Francis Chan book about how having stress and worry is disrespectful to God, because its showing that deep down inside, we don’t trust He can handle it.  My date pulled in the driveway twelve minutes late.   Me hiccupping and worrying about it for those few minutes didn’t get me anywhere.  I was still where I was going to be if I just drank some sweet tea and kicked my feet back.  It’s hard for us to trust God sometimes because we know our plan, and we’re still figuring out His.  We get stressed and worried when we’re not trusting His perfect plan for our lives.  I hate when people take that phrase perfect plan and twist it to think that if we’re one with God that everything’s going to be like an episode of the Brady Bunch where we all roast marshmallows and sing show tunes perfectly on key with each other and all any problem needs is a little discussion with Pops.  No.  It’s going to be hard.  God’s perfect plan includes obstacles.  It’s not about the worry you put yourself through and how YOU get yourself through them.  It’s about how you discuss with your Father how you can live and trust in His will for your life. Read Matthew 6:27.

sundresses

I love Sundays in the Spring in Knoxville.  There’s a warming feeling when you’re driving down the road with the sunroof open, sundress on, and church bells ringing.  Feeling the sun on your shoulders, seeing the happy people come out of church and rush to the local restaurants.  I was brought up in a home where we went to church every Sunday, no matter what.  I’m thankful my mother raised me that way.  God calls us to keep the Sabbath Day holy, and I’m thankful it was instilled in me to keep that as a priority.  It’s easy to make excuses not to go in this time in our lives.  We have so much to do, so little time in the day.  There’s so many new experiences to explore.  I remember my Freshman year outside of North Carrick Hall one Sunday morning, a friend of mine, Ben, saw me with my sundress on walking to my car with my Bible in hand.  He came and gave me a hug.  He said he felt encouraged by seeing me do that.  He told me a statistic of more than 70% of collegiate students losing or straying away from their faith or regular involvement in a church in college.  

And I thought to myself, “Wow, how discouraging.”  I, then, realized we often have this mind set.  We are more likely to look for the discouraging parts of faith than the encouraging.  We focus on the times we feel like God has failed us or someone else than look at the abundance of times He has blessed our lives and other’s.  I joined my sorority chapter because it was based on Christian ideals, and I knew those were the sisters that would come to church with me.  A year into it, things had changed.  Everyone got schooled.  College life had taken over.  And I was, all of the sudden, driving solo to church.  I started to ask other girls in other chapters to ride with me to church, girls in chapters with not so great reputations.  I found myself sitting in my seat at church worried more that my friends weren’t with me than rejoicing that the girls that I had brought with me had come! One of my biggest burdens if for the Church.  And as I grow older I realize how many times as Christians we can have a negative attitude about the Church.  How can we expect people to feel encouraged by coming to church and having that same warming feeling on Sunday mornings, if we are focused on the discouraging ourselves? 

spring break

Spring Break is the highlight of Spring semesters of my college career. In the fall, there is Volunteer football and tailgating. In the spring, there is Spring Break.  I went to Destin last with a group from my church.  We might have been the only college students on Miramar Beach to be sipping Diet Root Beer out of our red solo cups, in bed before midnight, and up before eight o’clock.  Sounds like a trip to a senior citizens center in Pensacola, I know.  But we had a blast.  We played Frisbee, Corn hole, Volleyball, Football, and everything in between.  We fellowshipped and enjoyed each other’s company.  I realized two things on this trip:

The first was on Tuesday morning.  I woke up in my California King sized bed that I was sharing with two other girls, to find one of the girls missing.  I hadn’t heard the door to the room open.  I got out of the bed and walked to the window to evaluate the weather.   I saw the girl sitting on the balcony with her bible in hand reflecting on God’s creation by the seashore.   I felt a rush of guilt.  I read my devotional every morning at home.  I said my prayers and reflected on the day in conversation with God every night.  In my mind though, this was vacation.  I was somehow justifying denying myself quiet time as relaxation.  I was more concerned with an investment in my tan skin than in my eternal life and personal relationship with the Maker of everything great I was seeing.  I was inspired by her.  Why didn’t I find enjoyment in spending that time with God, and WANT to relax in conversation with Him even on vacation?  Didn’t I realize I would find more rest and peace in His word than I could ever find laying on a beach towel? 

The second thing I realized was a new type of service.  I watched these young men and women enjoying their time just as I had my entire life, by just being their fun-loving selves.   I realized that in today’s world of extreme expectations, we often feel we have to be super Christians and be on our A-game at all times.  If we’re not serving in huge ways every moment of everyday, we have room for improvement.  I’m not saying we don’t all have opportunity for growth at all points in life, but we have become to wrapped up in being the “Best Christian”, we forget that just simple fellowship and connection with people is a service in God’s name.   Connecting with someone on a level that helps them to become comfortable and connected, will lead to the opportunity to be an assistant to God’s work in lives later.

I can't wait for Spring Break again in just a few ways, and opportunities to learn a few more lessons that He has in store when I'm least expecting it.   

kesha

Tik Tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop. The clock is always ticking, but the party of life doesn’t stop.  My collegiate career started with a rollercoaster of emotions my freshman year.  The University of Tennessee was complete culture shock.  Everything was the opposite of what I knew as life.  All the sudden, I had free time.  And I hated it.  So, my sophomore year, I stepped up my game.  I involved myself in so many organizations, TV became a thing of my past.  I always wanted more time, NEEDED more time.  Thirty-six hours in the day would have been nice.  Then, one day it hit me.  I wasn’t spending my time wisely.  I wrote a resume and saw that everything I did wouldn’t even fit on one page.  “Waste of time” was what I thought.  But then I thought about it again.  Was this how I was pursuing my life? Spending/wasting time for a resume.  There weren’t enough hours in the day.  But how would my life change if I actively pursued a life of “wasting” time in prayer, in His word, or living His will on earth by leading others to His word? 

pennies

I do most of my greatest thinking on my morning runs.  I have no distractions, no real goals ever, and no real train of thought.  But I think. This is going to seem completely unrelated, but I promise it will make sense in a minute.  The last few days I've found several pennies on the ground outside.  They've been everywhere, and I have no idea why.  But now I look for them.  So, on my run this morning, I saw six.  Six pennies on the ground. I just passed them by. And what do I do on my runs? Think.  I went to a middle and high school retreat this weekend called Disciple Now.  I had an awesome opportunity to hang out with seven incredibly encouraging tenth and eleventh grade girls.  There were about 300 students total at the retreat.  I started thinking about how when we plan retreats like this, we automatically cater to the numbers, and assume there's going to be a huge revival of every student in the place.  I'm proud to say this weekend wasn't like that, and that those in charge knew the value of each student's salvation. It's awesome that we know the capabilities of the Holy Spirit, and that that is a possibility.  However, we forget sometimes to rejoice in the one student that gave his or her life to Christ.  It was worth all the time and effort to save a life.  We see parents and families of kids that have life threatening illnesses that spend their lives trying to raise and save money for treatment for their child.  To save a life.  It's like the pennies.

When I saw just one penny, I thought, "It's only one penny. It's not worth it." If it were a twenty dollar bill, however, I would've picked it up immediately, and probably let out a slight yelp of excitement, and told all my friends about how I saved this twenty dollar bill from the treacherous happenings of the world. When one student is saved, it's worth telling the world.  It's a life. If I would've picked up all the pennies on the ground I've seen this week on the ground, I would be half way to a quarter by now.  A quarter is a fourth of the way to a Mickey D's sweet tea.  One life can save another life.  That's two lives.  Two whole lives that have been saved.  Those two lives can save two more lives. We're half way to an encouraging small group.  Building the body of Christ isn't always about huge groups of people becoming believers at once.  Sometimes it's the slow building of a community.  The saving of our pennies.  But when we're talking eternity, that life is worth far more than just a cent.

chick flicks

Being brokenhearted is every girl’s nightmare.  It’s the humiliation of thinking you weren’t good enough. We watch chick flicks so that our hearts flutter with every happy ending.  And when our situation isn’t a happy ending, we feel we have failed. It’s incredible how worldly views can affect how our heart’s break.  They break for a boy, or because we didn’t win the crown, or because we didn’t graduate with honors, or because we didn’t get that perfect car.  Once again, we’re selfish.  When we’re heartbroken it’s about our own failures.  There’s a line in a Hillsong United song that says, “Break my heart for what breaks Yours.”  God’s heart breaks for others.  Never for His own selfish agenda.  Yet, all we can do is focus on our own failures and feel heartbroken.  God also paves a way for us never to fail.  He sent His only Son to die for us.  Talk about heartbreaking.  He opened a door for our failures to be opportunity for challenges: obstacles in life which bring us closer to Him.  Often, it’s a way for us to help bring others closer to Him as well: for our hearts to break for those who need Him most.  I want to cry for those who need Him.  I want to feel the pain of their hearts yearning and breaking for the Holy Spirit to consume them and reign in them.  I don’t want to feel heartbreak for myself, because I know I am desperately in love with the Man of my dreams that will never leave me or forsake me.  He’ll never leave me brokenhearted.  But do they know that? Do they know that He can take their hearts and make them full and satisfied? Do they know that their broken heart can be put back together by letting go and letting God glue it back into one piece? Lord, break my heart for them.

cardigans

Girls. Girls. Girls. I lived in a sorority village type situation.  A 14-story apartment building, all girls, all sororities.  Each chapter has a different floor.  Move-in day was every father’s nightmare.  Just picture about 700 J. Crew outlet stores moving their entire inventory up fourteen flights of stairs.  Not to mention the shoes, toiletries and furniture (that’s cuter than the provided furniture) that all had to make it into 330 rooms.  I admit it freely.  I was one of them.  My monogrammed duvet cover had to match perfectly with the pink lamp shades.  Between my roommate and I, Ann Taylor had made enough money to stay in business for at least 3 seasons nationwide.  Living on the 11^th floor, I had 52 other closets to live out of, but yet I was always in the mood for shopping.  I am never satisfied.  It comes with being a girl.  And a woman.  It’s a constant battle between need and satisfaction.  “Julianne, do you NEED that adorable, embellished cardigan?” “Julianne, do you NEED those charming Coach flats?” 

Nope, I never do.  But sometimes I feel like society tells me I’m not good enough.  I need that Louis Vuitton handbag so that people will notice me.  Pay attention to me.  Isn’t that what it’s all about? Attention?  We want the cutest room so all of our friends will come sit and admire, and want to spend time in it.  We want those cute flats so that everyone will compliment them and ask to borrow them.  I’m not even sure it’s about the flattery. But I’m positive it’s about the attention.  We throw ourselves at that boy regardless of whether he tells us we’re fat or ugly, because at least he’s paying attention.  Too many girls, and women, forget that they’re never  forgotten.  They feel forgotten because they’re not the mold.  We’re told constantly we have to be a certain way.  And when we’re not that way we feel no one pays attention.  That’s why girls often purposely attract negative attention.  We’re all like Britney.  Any attention is good attention.  We’re selfish.  We want all the attention.  We want all eyes on us.  We want to be noticed.  So, that’s when I have to tell myself, “Julianne, is that spray tan really going to be bringing attention to the things you want to bring Glory to?” Why don’t our actions want to bring attention to God’s light instead of to ourselves? 

• 1 Corinthians 10:23: “Everything is permissible”—but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible”—but not everything is constructive. ”
• Romans 1:21: "Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened."
• Revelation 4:11: "Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created."
• Isaiah 43:7: “Even every one that is called by my name: for I have created him for my glory, I have formed him; yea, I have made him.”
• Philippians 1:9-11: “And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgment; That ye may approve things that are excellent; that ye may be sincere and without offense till the day of Christ. Being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto the glory and praise of God."

sorority

I’m a Christian. And I’m in a sorority. I’m so used to people saying it the other way around. I’m in a sorority. And I’m a Christian. It’s almost like the fact that I’m a Christian is the surprising part.  It’s sad, really. I’m defined by my Earthly involvement. It really upsets me when people see me wearing Greek letters and think that I have to fit some mold as a party girl.  But it upsets me even more when people think that because I’m a Christian, I have to fit some mold of really conservative and judgmental.  Isn’t that exactly what God calls us to do? To break the mold and make a new one in His name that anyone can join and be a part: A mold that is accepting and loving no matter what you do with your Friday night? Sure, as brothers and sisters in Christ we should keep each other accountable, but if we're truly living in Christ's image, wouldn't we reflect the mercy and grace that He so freely gives with that accountability instead of making an exclusive group that only people with socially acceptable sins can be a part of?  One day, I was riding in a car with my best friend from college and her mother, who might be one of the most comical people you’ve ever met with the biggest heart.  Robyn, Shelby’s mom said, “I think if Jesus were alive today, He’d be a sorority girl at a state university.”  We laughed.  What in the world was she talking about?  Then, I realized she was talking about how Jesus didn't fit the mold of what people thought were the stereotype of the religious.  I often get judged by other Christians for spending some of my nights at mixers or hanging out with frat boys.  I’m not saying I’m anywhere near the perfection that was and is Jesus, but Jesus hung out with people that fit a stereotype. But He showed how they too were God's children, and individual people that God had created in His image.  He didn't just turn away and say that their sins weren't as acceptable as others.  He showed them His Father's grace, mercy and love in order to gain credibility to keep them accountable in their faith in the future. There's a story of Christ in Mark 2 that talks about Christ eating with the sinners and tax collectors.  The Pharisees saw Him, and immediately judged Him for His associations. His response :"They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." He walked this Earth breaking barriers, and looking past stereotypes.  He came to be a light of God in a world full of sin that needed it most. When I joined a sorority, that’s the burden God put on my heart: be a light in a world that gets a bad rap for stereotypes,  learn to look past those stereotypes, and be a part of the world, but not of it by doing His work despite what people would say about me.  Not to say that every sorority girl meets the stereotype, but let’s face it: stereotypes come from somewhere. Which means, that stereotype that bothers me most about what people think of me when they hear I'm a Christian has to come from somewhere, too.  It's about time we break the barrier past that stereotype, and be the light in the world He created us to be: showing our faith above all else. It's about time we make our own mold in Christ’s name by being a reflection of Him in a world that needs it most, despite what stereotype you get stuck with along the way.  I will always remember Robyn's quote, and get a little giggle out of picturing Jesus walking around in Greek letters, pearls, high waisted skirt and cardigan.    

• Romans 8:1: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."
• John 15:18-21: "If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also. But all these things they will do to you for My name’s sake, because they do not know Him who sent Me." 
• 2 Corinthians 2:14-16: “Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are saved and among those who are perishing. To the one we are the aroma of death leading to death, and to the other the aroma of life leading to life. And who is sufficient for these things?" 

cupcakes

Now, you may be asking yourself, why cupcakes? Let me tell you. Besides the fact that I love cupcakes for their novelty and brilliance, and the fact that I have served them at every social event I’ve hosted during my entire life, I find that young women are like cupcakes.  We were all made from similar batches, but the Baker made us to be individuals. We may have similarities in flavor, maybe more to one than another, but we were all made to be unique.  We’re sweet. We can be simple. We can be complex.  Cupcakes bring a little bit of joy, even if just for a moment.  Women have this encouragement and endearing factor towards the people they care about.  They can bring joy.  I also think women resemble cupcakes, because, for the most part, they were born to be in social settings.  Sure, there are those cupcakes that are made just for you and your chick flick, but most the time they come out for parties.  Women are social beings.  It’s finding the balance between being in the world, but not of it that is our challenge.  We have to find the ability to be at the party bringing joy, but reflecting the capabilities of the Baker through our flavor. 

• Romans 5:1---"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."
• 1 Corinthians 12:27---"Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it."
• 2 Corinthians 1:21-22---"Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come."