I Had One Job...

Maira Kouvara, freeimages.com

It’s December, time to reflect on 2016 and look ahead to 2017.

For the most part it’s been a good year and is ending well. My relationships are, as far as I know, in good places. I had the privilege of working on three short films. I’ve decluttered the house (including the boys’ rooms and bookshelves, excluding the basement) and that has done surprising things for my attitude. I’m learning to handle overwhelm in my life and heart. I’ve even learned and grown as a writer, with new systems and shifts in my thinking that will continue to grow me and keep me on task. All around I’m better than I was this time last year.

Except for that one thing.

That project that was my mandate for the year.

I’ve had one job.

One.

And I’ve blown it.

Every year I ask God for a word or a phrase, something to hold onto for guidance and focus. My word for 2016 has been Star, as in finish the screenplay based on the Star of Bethlehem, AKA Wise Men.

I started off great. I asked thousands of people to pray (that's not an exaggeration. Hurrah for the Daily Audio Bible community). I learned and worked hard. God provided ideas and techniques. I have succeeded in getting the screenplay done to the best of my ability.

The problem is that the best of my ability isn’t good enough.

It’s not only not good enough, it’s not even good (That’s a professional opinion, and I agree).

I don’t know what to do with that.

I’ve been climbing Mount Wise Men for five years. I gathered the best tools I could. I charted my course. I learned how to climb. I have friends and mentors to spur me on. Toe hold, finger hold, up. Research, type, edit.  And I believed I was within sight of the peak. I had almost done it! Amazing!

Then I realized that I’m not at the peak.  I still have to cross a dark, treacherous chasm and climb up even higher. The changes I need to make are so extensive that I will have to go back and learn a bunch more about how to tell a story and completely rework the entire thing, from Fade In to Fade Out. It's too much to simply plug into the story I already have. 

And I'm weary. I'm done. It's been five stinking years. In fact, the thought of gold, frankincense, and myrrh makes me more than a little nauseous. If tears were rain I'd have a nice little strip of flowers up the side of the mountain and a big old garden where I am now.

I could make the excuses that I’m a writer not a storyteller, that writing for a visual medium is completely different than writing to be read, that perhaps I haven’t studied the proper books on screenwriting as well as I could. All of that is true, but none of it really matters.

The fact is I just didn’t bring it.

The thought of climbing back down and starting over again shatters my heart. The thought of handing my gear and notes over to someone else shatters it even more. What I’d really like to do is take a few pictures of the scenery here at this pseudo-peak, throw it all in a drawer and never think of it again.

Only I can’t. I’m meant to tell this story. So I need to suck it up and press on. But when faced with where I am and how far I still have to climb, I can’t breathe (and it’s not from the altitude).

God and I have talked about this a lot. He’s not disappointed. I’ve done what He asked me to do. The plan for the past year has been to finish Wise Men, then this January move back into blogging (NEW BLOG coming!), and then go forward into some new, exciting areas. I have messages that I’m thrilled to get to share. I’m so ready. But I have no idea how not finishing Wise Men fits into all of this, or if it even does.

All I DO know is where I am today. This post is a selfie from one spot on my journey. I have to remind myself I won’t be here forever. God can take even my biggest screw ups and bring good out of them. All I can do is all I can do, until I figure out what to do next, and hope and pray that my December 2017 reflections include an amazing and finished screenplay.

Cinderella Slams the Mop

The Cinderella story captivates us in so many ways, but one aspect tends to be overlooked.

The house she cleaned day in and day out was rightfully hers, an inheritance from her father. What the wicked stepmother claimed by a marriage certificate Cinderella could claim through blood, but the strong took advantage of the weak.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

Jesus said, “How can anyone enter a strong man’s house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man?” (Matthew 12:29)

I’ve always thought of this as Bad Guy over Good Guy. The Bad Guy breaks into the house, ties up the Good Guy and robs him. The Enemy comes against us with shame, fear, and lies. As Cinderella did with her stepmother, we believe the lies and he ties us up, making us slaves in our own house, stealing our joy, peace, love, and truth.

But the reverse is also true. The Good Guy can tie up the Bad Guy.  We can tie up and rob the Enemy, take back our joy, peace, and truth. Take back our lives.  

The Enemy has no power over us except what we allow.

Jesus never intended for us be slaves. He came to bring us good news and God’s favor, to heal our wounds, and to set us free from the Enemy (Isaiah 61).  

It’s time we tie him up and take back what he has stolen (James 4:7).  

It’s time to seek out healing and freedom and abundance (Matthew 11:28,29).

It’s time to live as we were intended to – in Spirit and in truth (John 4:24); in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23) ; in power, love, and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).

This is your house, Cinderella. Take it back. 

I'm No Longer Chandler Bing

By Igore Konforti, Courtesy of freeimages.com

It took only one acting class to confirm what I already knew: I hide behind humor. What I didn’t realize was how much, and why.

The teacher said what I’m sure actors have been learning since the camera was invented, but it was a revelation to me: in front of the camera is a safe place, meaning actors must dig deep, be real, lay out their experiences and emotions in order to connect with the audience.

My immediate reaction was, “No it’s not. There is no safe place.” It was both a gouge and a light bulb to my heart. “Wow," I thought. "I’m Chandler from 'Friends.'”

I have believed humor to be the only safe place. I’ve spent my life bullied, belittled, anxious, and invisible except when I did something I shouldn’t (which is more often than not). The power in humor is that people can’t beat you up and laugh at the same time, so you’re safe, if only for that moment. Even if they are laughing at you, at least they are laughing.

I’ve been working on vulnerability in myself and my writing. It’s difficult on the best day. Chinks have been crumbling off the wall, but recently a huge hole was blasted out.

I read a post by Genevieve V.Georget and it resonated deeply with me. “I am and feel and fear so many of these same things,” I thought. “I must connect with this woman.” And I did.

It turns out I am not the only one. That one post has blown up so much that Facebook itself shut down her personal timeline.

Her words fresh in my heart, I was reading 2 Corinthians 12:9-10: But He said to me, “My Grace is sufficient for you, for My Power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses… For when I am weak, then I am strong.

That was the second light bulb.

By sharing her darkness, pain, and fear, Genevieve invited us into one of the most life-giving and powerful forces in the universe: “Me, too.”

Connection is the most basic need we all have, beyond even food, water, and shelter. We can have vast overabundance of those things, but without connection, the despair of loneliness will eventually triumph. If we lack food, water, or shelter, connection will eventually bring them, and much more.

By sharing her weakness, her story, Genevieve received the strength of connection, in an abundance she will be days or even weeks sorting through.

More than receiving, she also gave. 

Isn't it funny how that works? 

The Strength of Gratitude and More Yoda Quotes

Courtesy of Freeimages.com

I don't know if it's me or the mechanism of Facebook or life or what, but over the last several years I have gained and lost quite a few people from my life. Some have actually unfriended or even blocked me, but many are still around on the fringes. I'm sure there are a million reasons why they've backed off, not all of them my "fault," but it still hurts.

It doesn't help that I have a tendency to wallow, to mentally list off who they are and where they went and wonder why. 

Wallowing is replaying the losses, and "the fear of loss is a path to the Dark Side."  I know that it weakens me. Now that I'm getting comfortable walking into strength, I'm learning to gratitude my way out of wallowing.

When I find myself focusing on what was, I'm learning to turn it around to be grateful for what is. 

Many of these people I love, though stepped back, are still here. We are not sharing our lives as we used to, but they are still part of my story, and I am still part of theirs. That's what I have for right now, and right now is where my heart needs to be. 

Strength and Encouragement Courtesy of Yoda

Courtesy of freeimages.com

I struggle with people-pleasing and caring too much what people think (among the many other issues I deal with. I know, I’m in process.). 

One cause of this is that I'm petite. Everyone is bigger than me. They can outrun me AND beat me up. Staying on peoples' good side is necessary for my survival, but over the years it's gotten out of hand. 

Overcoming and moving on from these issues has become a major theme for me. When I'm afraid or heartbroken or weary I look for the strength to stand.

I’ve been looking for quite a while. I'm still looking.

I realize now that I've had it backward.

First I have to stand, then I have to trust that the strength will be there when I take a step. 

I need to fake it ‘til I make it. I need to think strong because “as a man thinks in his heart, so he is.”  (Prov 23:7 KJV)

I need to take a lesson from Yoda -- Do or Do Not. There Is No Try. 

God said something similar when Israel was on the brink of conquering the Promised Land (this was the second time. They were too stupid/fearful/weak to learn the first time. Yay for second chances). Eight times Joshua and/or Israel were told,  "Be strong and courageous." Sounds like they needed as much en-courage-ment as I do.

God didn't command them, "Try to be strong and courageous." He didn't tell them, "Think about being strong and courageous."  He said to BE strong and courageous. If He commanded it, it must be possible.

I’m not going to try strong. I’m going to Do. 

And when I fail, as I surely will, there will be a second chance to move forward. 

We Are All Caught in the Act

From morguefile.com

The guardians of religion said to Jesus, “Teacher, this person was caught in the act of homosexuality.  In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such people. Now what do you say?”  

What? That’s not what the Bible says?

Oh I see. I copied those verses wrong. I apologize.

“Teacher, this person was caught in the act of lying”.

What? Still incorrect? I’ll try again.

“Teacher, this person was caught in the act of not keeping the Sabbath.”

*Sigh* Well, you go ahead then. Insert your own sin.

What is it for you? Stealing? Adultery? Murder? Coveting? Misusing the name of the Lord? Dishonoring your parents? Boiling a goat in its mother’s milk?

….But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger.

That’s not plural. It’s singular.

He didn’t point his first finger at her.

He didn’t flash his middle finger at them.

He didn’t give a thumbs up to anyone.

Whichever finger it was, He wrote with it.

When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at them.”  Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

He didn’t stand and stare them down. 

He didn’t pose with his nose in the air.  

He wasn’t commenting on a social media thread.

He stooped, below the level of their self-righteousness.

It was not what they expected, but it was effective.

 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the person still standing there.  Jesus straightened up and asked, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

 “No one, sir.”

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

Jesus doesn’t condemn the adulterer.

Or the homosexual.

Or the liar, the cheat, the thief, or the disobedient.

And He doesn’t condemn the condemners.

God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. (John 3:17…which is the verse after John 3:16...)

The only One who could condemn them -- who could condemn US -- doesn’t.

Why do we?

And what can we do instead?

Love because He first loved us. (1 John 4:19)

New Names, Making Movies, and Apples

Picked For You via freeimages.com

Your friend says to you, “I talked to God last night. He gave me a new name and I want you to call me that from now on.”

What would your reaction be? A blank stare? Nervous laughter? Check for a fever? Call their next of kin?

I can only imagine those were some of the reactions Abram’s and Sarai’s friends had when they told them God had given them new names (Genesis 17).  Abram “Exalted Father” became Abraham “Father of a Multitude” (in spite of the fact that he had one son. ONE). Sarai “Argumentative” became Sarah “Princess” (I like that. You can feel free to call me Princess any time).

I mean really, picture the conversation: “I’m sorry, we don’t answer to those names anymore. From now on we are Abraham and Sarah. Why? Because that’s what God calls us.”

In spite of the inevitable flak they knew they would receive (and surely did), Abraham and Sarah embraced these new names and the promises they contained. They called themselves, and each other, by these names. They spoke them. They walked them. They lived them. They owned them. And they were right. Within a year, Sarah gave birth to Isaac, the child of the promise.

God has given me several names over the years. Debbie of course, Wife, Mother, Dancer, Drummer…those were easy for me to own. A few others, Writer being one, have been more awkward to claim, but thanks to some amazing friends I’ve come to believe it. The latest new name, Filmmaker, is difficult for me to say with any measure of confidence.  

I mean, its’ easy to say I want to be a filmmaker. It’s difficult to say that I am one.

But, encouragement from friends and words like these help me believe:

An apple tree will produce apples because of what it is. When it is young, it will have no apples; but it still must say, “I am an apple tree.” Is it lying at those times? No. It would be lying to say anything different. (Steve and Wendy Backlund, Igniting Faith in 40 Days)

I know I am meant to make movies. I’m meant to write at least one. I’m meant to work on them, in whatever capacity that may be.

I am a filmmaker.

There. I said it. 

(Hmmmm. Better, but still a little shaky)

I am a filmmaker, even when I don’t feel like it, even when neither the world nor I can see evidence of it. It would be lying to say anything different, just as it would be lying for Abraham and Sarah.

So if your friend Debbie quietly tells you she is a filmmaker, don’t chuckle nervously or dial 911. Just hand her an apple. Then tell her your new name, and grab an apple for yourself.