Ready to Get Real?

Hello, friends!

If you are coming over from Lelia’s blog, you are in the right place! I am honored to have authored the featured book for Lelia’s newest on-line study, Behind Those Eyes: What’s Really Going on Inside the Souls of Women. Rest assured that as the facilitator of this study, Lelia has prayed over her decision and given careful consideration to what study to lead you in next. That girl loves you all so much! I am excited to get to know many of you as she already has.

And for those of you are stopping by and haven't come over from Lelia's blog, welcome to you, too! Glad you are checking in. If you are interested in joining this on-line study, please visit Lelia to link up. If not, I'd love for you to read on, anyway! I promise...this post is not nearly as long as my last one. (I know, I know...a collective sigh of relief.) :)

So...next question. Who am I and what is Behind Those Eyes really all about?

I’m so glad you asked. :)

Behind Those Eyes is the story of a woman who got tired of pretending and finally decided to choose what was real. It is about a woman who one day realized she didn’t have to have it all together to be loved by her Jesus. It is about being genuine…getting honest…and telling the truth. It is a book that’s impact relies heavily on the heartcry of its reader. It goes there, and if you take part in its study, you’ll have to…too.

But don’t let that scare you. You are in great company if you’re uncertain as to whether or not you are ready to face truth. The woman I write about didn’t start out wanting to be real. For some time, she wasn’t fully committed to truth. No, it wasn’t something that came easy to her. She was a born pretender, like so many who share her gender.

But one day, in a hair salon on the other side of town, she had a conversation with a hair stylist that changed her life. She didn’t go in expecting to find a story or get a spark of inspiration. She wasn’t looking for a light bulb moment or a “change your life” in a day scenario. But that’s exactly what happened. Because in a simple everyday interaction, Jesus showed up in the most unlikely of places and in the deepest places of her heart, showed her a picture of the game of pretense she had been playing. And it forever changed her soul.

That woman, of course, was me. I wrote the book for you. And most of all, I wrote the book for me. Because I am the first one to need to hear its truth. I didn’t want to tell on myself quite as much as I do or be as honest as I was in the 10 chapters of this book. (I hope you can handle my truth, friends, as you read it.) But I simply couldn’t ask you to go there and get real if I wasn’t willing to first go there, myself.

If you’ve visited my blog before, you know I have a passion for keeping it real. It is a passion that has burned in my heart ever since I learned the value of living and walking in truth. HE is truth, friends. Trust Him with your heart when you crack it open to see what’s hidden deep inside. And remember that when you do, Satan will fight you at every turn. Count on him to be up to his old tricks. He’ll likely try to convince you that being real isn’t really that important. He may tell you that your secrets can stay neatly tucked away, and you’ll never have to go there if you don’t want to. He will probably tell you that you have done all right so far without being authentic and genuine. But don’t believe the lies. The master of deception hates it when we get real, because he knows that at the end of all things true and honest stands our precious Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And his evilness would prefer that we never make our way to Him.

I am praying for you, friends, as you start this study. I will do so by name, and I will do so often. I am always open to your thoughts and comments, as God speaks to your heart and calls you to His Truth. I am truly honored to journey through this study with you.

Oh, and on a slightly lighter note (since the book has many funny and VERY TRUE stories in it to illustrate its truths), there’s a piece of interesting trivia about it that you may not know. (And those of you who DO know, you are banned from the competition. You know who you are. :) ) The title of the book was not originally Behind Those Eyes. When I submitted it to Thomas Nelson, it had a different working title. If you want to take a guess as to what you think it once was, leave me a comment and you could win a free book to begin your study! Since most of you have not yet read the book, I’ll give you a small hint. It is a two-word title that looks at the pretense of females in a completely different way. Get your creative thinking caps on and give it a guess.

I want to leave you with one thought to consider as you begin this journey through Behind Those Eyes. And it is that “the truth may initially hurt, but the truth may be the best thing that has ever happened to you.” And you can quote me on that. :)

On the Truth-telling journey with you!

P.S. If you read my last post you know that I am scheduled to be in the Caymans Island today. But due to Gustav, we were postponed until a later weekend. Obviously, Shari and I are disappointed (as are the ladies who were coming to the retreat), but God has a plan. I have to admit, I'm thankful that plan didn't involve flying into a Level 3 hurricane. But hey -- I was willing. :)

Open Palms

I almost didn’t go.

In fact, I said “no” the first time. It was right before bedtime when I called my friend, Shari, to let her know that I wouldn’t be able to speak for the event she was asking about in the beautiful Cayman Islands. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was able to simply leave a voicemail. I went to bed, certain I would sleep soundly with my decision having been made. I was sure God would approve, or at least, understand.

But no sleep came.

I tossed and turned all night, with little sleep and less comfort. I counted the hours ‘til morning and tried counting sheep. When my flock neared 500, I finally gave up and stopped counting. It was a miserable night.

The clock went off at 6am, but I was already awake. I slipped out of the warm covers and into the darkness of a quiet room. Shuffling into my bathroom, I flipped on the bright light. It was then that He took the opportunity to greet me. His words, clear as a bell, certainly woke me up.

Him: “Well, Lisa. What are you gonna do?”

Me: “Ummm…seriously, God. It’s pretty early. I’m not really sure I am following you. What exactly do you mean by that?

Him: “What are you gonna do?”

Me: “What am I gonna do? I did what I was gonna do. I hope it's ok with you. I didn't really have time to consult you on it, so I just went ahead and told Shari “no” that I couldn’t make it to the event.”

(Commentary: Funny how I didn’t have to ask Him what He was talking about before I answered.)

Him: “I know. But what are you gonna do?”

Me: “Ummm….ok, God, I know what you’re getting at. You want to know why I told her “no,” right? Why I’m not going to do this retreat? Well, you know why. I mean…you know I hate to fly and you know I don’t prefer to be away from my family and you know you can find someone else to do it and they don’t really have to have me. You know all that, right?”

Him: “I know.”

Me: “Ok, so…it’s just not my thing, ok? You understand, right? I did mention that the flight to the Caymans is over water, didn’t I? So that probably wouldn’t be a good idea for someone who is afraid to fly. Plus, the whole motherhood thing. I shouldn’t be away from the kids…so far away. Really, God. I don’t think I should go.”

Enter long, somewhat awkward pause.

Finally…

Him: “Open up your palms, Lisa. You’re closing them, again.”

Me: Silence.

I got the message, loud and clear. There was no need for a response. Really, I knew He didn’t want one. He had made His point.

He got me with the open palms thing. It had been just 4 years before that He had finally pried them open for the first time. They had been cracked open before…but never completely unlocked. Never stretched out flat. And certainly, never turned upward towards Him.

The day they became unclenched was a day I’ll never forget. Just 24 hours prior, I was sitting at a table at Outback with my good friend, Lysa TerKeurst, after having just experienced a wonderful conference together. I ordered chicken grillers but didn’t touch them. I don’t remember what she ordered. I was too busy thinking about the lump in my throat and wishing I could go somewhere to cry it out.

It wasn’t the food or the company that was making we want to cry. God had been dealing with me. From the front row of a conference I was partially serving to coordinate, administrate and implement (and speak for), He was dealing with me. I didn’t expect Him to. I really just expected to put on a beautiful conference for women. But He had much bigger plans in mind.

He wanted me to say “yes” to Him. After years and years, He was no longer willing to let my “no” stand.

I shared this with Lysa at the table at Outback that day, much of it spurred on by her powerful message at the conference. Though completely sincere and sensitive, she had a funny look on her face when I told her the news. I’m sure it sounded strange coming from a woman who had just helped to administrate a conference of 1500 women and all that comes with it. A woman who said “no” to God surely wouldn’t have done that. But that is exactly what I had done. And it wasn’t the first time.

Saying “yes” to coordinating a conference was something I could do without thinking twice about it. After all, with administration being a spiritual gift of mine, organizing, delegating and implementing was not a reach. It fit within my natural gifts and comfort zone to do what I could do with my hands and my talents. Though it took lots of careful planning (and a rockin’ team of women and tons of church support), it wasn’t that challenging for me. I could do it, and I could do it effectively.

And on top of all that, it would only require cracking my hands open enough to let God in, just a little bit. It was a “Maybe,” but not a 100%, “definitely.” And I knew He wanted more.

He wanted what I could not do in my own strength. He wanted my “way too hard” and “not within my comfort zone.” He wanted my “beyond my capabilities or wildest dreams” and “what does not come natural to me.” He wanted my trust. He wanted my surrender. He wanted my weakness, not my strength. He wanted the full affirmative from me, and nothing less.

I left the restaurant that day, convinced of what He was leading me to do. Exhausted from the day, I went home and quite literally, crashed.

Morning came early, and I knew what had to come next. I went to my prayer room, which doubles as my office. It’s a place where I have had many conversations with God. But this morning was different. As I eased down to my knees and onto the rough carpet, stained with juice box drippings and dirty shoe residue, I started to cry, finally releasing the lump that had been camped out in my throat. I closed my eyes and said only one word…

“yes.”

As I did, I cracked open my hands, like I had done so many times before. But then I did something different. I kept opening them…farther…farther…a little farther still. I opened them slowly until they were perfectly flat, completely horizontal. And even slower still, I turned them until they were exposing my cracks and creases, fingerprints facing upward.

Open palms.

I said, “yes” with my palms turned up, not knowing exactly what that meant or would mean for me. I just knew it meant that I was no longer saying “no” to Him. I simply couldn't deny surrender any more.

So when He told me to open up my palms in the bathroom on that early morning nearly 6 months ago, I immediately knew what He meant. I was holding back, again. I was doing what came easy to me. I was thinking about my preferences. I was giving into my fears. I was saying “no” in more ways than just through a voicemail to a friend. I wasn’t turning down on opportunity for a conference. I was saying “no” to Him.

And now I find myself leaving on Thursday for the Cayman Islands to go and speak with my good friend, Shari, to a group of beautiful women for the Barefoot and Breaking Free Retreat. I find myself preparing to fly over water and be scared out of my mind doing it. I find myself packing to leave my children for 4 days longer than I want to.

But I also find myself saying “yes” to Him. I find myself with open palms. And in the process, I find myself being completely filled with joy and ready to hear from God.

And the conclusion to my story? After my conversation with God, I called Shari back and left her another voicemail. This time, I said “yes.”

To her and to Him.

More Life Lessons

If you have stopped by for some inspiration or some spiritual life lessons, please see my last post.

But if you are all filled up today with your own spiritual insights from God’s Word (and I hope you are! :)), I would love for you to join me in pondering a few more life lessons I have recently learned…of the completely non-spiritual kind. They aren’t beneficial to my walk, ya’ll. But they just might be of benefit to my tennis game. And boy, do I need it! Just ask my tennis partners.

To catch a few of you up to speed, I have embarked on a new journey into the world of all things tennis. Every Wednesday, 3 of my girlfriends and I are waking up at completely uncivilized hours and heading over to the tennis courts at a local community in our area to learn the sport. There, we spend 1 ½ hours with our very sweet and longsuffering tennis coach, Jamey, who feeds us balls and encouragement, simultaneously. Oh, the poor man did not know what he was in for when he took our call. :)

But let me not lead you astray, as yesterday was our very first day of lessons. So I don’t actually know how long-suffering Jamey is since he’s only clocked 1-½ hours with us to this point. Long suffering would indicate that one will continue to put up with us after several more lessons with our motley crew. And the verdict is still out on that one. But don’t worry…I’ll keep you posted. I have already informed Jamey that he will, at some point, end up on this blog. :)

So after all the techniques were taught…all the tennis balls were hit over the fence…and all the girls in tennis skirts had bonded, I was left with a few thoughts to share with you about our first lesson in tennis, should you ever decide to embark on such a journey for yourself…

1) Never accept a racket that your husband says he found in the attic. That is, unless you don’t mind being openly mocked by your tennis coach when he takes a look at it. Note to self: broken rackets with dust on them don't impress tennis instructors.

2) Never discount the power of the 8am sun in August. Friends, I will NOT be doing the layering thing for my lessons, no matter how much it is in style. Nothing is worse than when your sunglasses slide down your nose and onto your face while you are trying to hit a small ball over a big net.

3) Never choose partners to take lessons with that can hit home runs in softball or smack volleyballs across the net at an alarming rate of speed. Common sense, huh? I didn’t get the memo.

4) Never become overconfident when you tackle one thing, as something else will likely arise to prove that you are truly the amateur you thought you were. After the foreswing and backswing drills, I was feeling like Venus or Serena. However, after the serving instructions, I was feeling more like…well…Lisa Whittle.

5) Never underestimate how out of shape you are before you start weilding a racket. Let me just put it this way...when one can not lift the coffee pot to pour oneself a cup because one's forearm is too sore, that means one is not hitting the gym enough.

Oh, and one quick question for you, my bloggy friends. When the tennis coach doesn’t constantly correct you on your swing, does that mean you are doing really well…or that he sees no hope in you whatsoever and chooses to spend his time on those who actually have potential? Not saying that was my experience, of course. Just asking…for a “friend.”:)

So those are my life lessons for the day. Look for more of them to come in the future. And yes, some pictures, too. That is if I can bring myself to be photographed in one of those cute tennis skirts that my home run hitting, volleyball-smashing friends look awesome in.

Ah, tennis.

Life Lessons in Love and Lip Gloss

Sometimes the best way to learn life lessons is to eavesdrop on a conversation. Especially if that conversation involves a petite 5-year old with the highest pitched voice one has ever heard.

“Do you want some lip gloss?” Her similarly high-pitched friend asked her from the back of the car.

“No, I don’t like lip gloss.” She answered, matter-of-factly.

“Why not? Lip gloss is pretty.” Said the friend.

As if considering her statement, she paused, then answered.

“Well, I look really good without lip gloss, so I don’t need any.”

And I just smiled.

If I hadn’t been more pleased with her statement, I might have exhorted her with a little lesson in humility. But I was just too thrilled that she thought she looked good enough without a greasy, bubble-gum flavored substance caked on her lips to comment.

I sent this same petite 5-year old with the highest pitched voice ever heard to school this week for the very first time. She proudly entered the large brick building, wearing her backpack securely on her tiny back. She walked with my hand in hers, unaware that her presence makes her mama’s heart nearly palpitate out of her chest. I was glad she didn’t know how much I didn’t want to let her go. Thankfully, she showed up to her first day of Kindergarten with enough confidence for both of us. Between the sight of the backpack and the thought of sending my child through the doors of the large brick building, I was fresh out.

You’d think that I’d be used to the first day of school by now, after sending two before her. But it’s just one of those life things you just never get used to. At least, I haven't.

Like any mom, I want a lot for my baby girl. I want her to be safe and feel secure. I want her to be liked, and I want her to be accepted. I want her to be more than I have ever been…have more than I have ever had…and love more than I have ever loved. And I want her to know some things that will matter much more to her in the future than whether or not she looks good in lip-gloss. In sending her to school this week, I have been reflecting on some of these things I want her to know. Here are a few of my “life lessons in love…”

~Who she is…is not what she looks like.
She is beautiful, but not because God gave her the prettiest hair I have ever seen. She will never be more beautiful in her life than when she is serving God. And that will not require her wearing a certain type of shoes or a really cute pair of sunglasses.

~Who she is…is not what she does.
God may lead her to become a wife and mother one day. Maybe she’ll teach school or become a professional pianist or decorate homes or be a church secretary. But those are just ways she can fulfill a life call. They don’t make her who she is. God took care of that at her conception. She is His beautifully created daughter. Period. End of story.

~Who she is…is not what someone expects her to be.
She doesn’t have to say yes to someone when she really means no. She doesn’t need to think gaining someone’s love means compromising who she is or what she feels or thinks. Her value is not measured by the influences of others.

~Who she is…is good enough.
She was purposefully crafted…lovingly designed…and is dearly treasured. Her worth is immeasurable to a God who cherishes her every thought and movement. She is good enough without winning trophies or ribbons or tiaras or awards. Those things have nothing to do with who she is.

I don’t want her to think she has to wear lip-gloss to be pretty. I know as she grows older, it is nearly inevitable, but I wish it weren’t so. I know she may…at some point…believe what society tells her about her worth and value. I know she may spend time trying to please everyone around her and think it has to be so in order to be loved. I know she may sometimes forget how important she is and that she is cherished and treasured. But I wish it weren’t so.

How about you?

Did you wake up today knowing that who you are has nothing to do with how you look? Do you understand that working harder and trying better doesn’t make you an important person? Are you living with the mindset that the only expectation you have to live up to is the one that says you are to love God with your whole heart? Do you know in the depth of your soul that you are good enough, just because of your Heavenly heritage?

If not, then maybe you are in need of a life lesson in love from the Heavenly Father. The One who doesn’t expect your perfection because He knows you can’t deliver it. The One who doesn’t ask you to work harder, just love Him more. The One who values you immensely, loves you intensely, and pursues you wholeheartedly.

The One who thinks you’re beautiful, even without your lip-gloss.

Now there's a life lesson in love.

Taken Back

(First, a quick shout out to my sweet hubby, who went back with me to Houston this past weekend, in more ways than one. And in the process, shared his love, encouragement, strength and pizza with me. Oh, and his arm on the flight home, as I squeezed it to death with every bump and rattle of the plane. And also…his leg for me to sleep on, too. And for a few minutes…even his IPOD. Yeah, he is really that cool. :) Thanks, honey.)

At not quite noon on a crisp, fall day in the early 70’s, one very small, but stubborn girl came into the world to a set of very expectant parents. She would grow up to like things that smell good like Italian food and fresh honeysuckle. She would prefer hugs over kisses, be grouchy in the morning, and appreciate a person with a great laugh and honest bones. She would adore music in a way that should be illegal and detest anything that didn’t seem fair. She would spend her elementary years hiding under tables at restaurants, just in case someone might want to talk to her on the way to the salad bar. She was just that shy.

This life, by the way, started in the great, warm city of Houston, Texas. Home to the Rockets and the Astros and very large roaches and one very small, but stubborn girl.

I’ve been taken back, ya’ll.

To places I’ve known and people I love. To silly stories and meaningful moments and familiar feelings from underneath a restaurant table.

I’m 36 years old, friends. But I’m still that same (once) very small, but stubborn girl.

I fight my urges to hide under the table every time God asks me to stand up and deliver His message. I want to crawl under the safety of a covering and become invisible until the clock says it’s been 24 hours. I want to run to a corner somewhere and be alone with myself as I snuggle up to my security blanket of what feels good. I want to say words with my lips but not mean them in my heart and for once, for it to be ok. I want to serve and I want to be safe, all at the same time. But mostly, I just want to be safe.

And that’s when I’m taken back.

To the place of surrender and the urge to obey. To the love and the purpose and the faith and the conviction and the power and the presence of God. To the knowledge that the Christian life has nothing to do with my preferences. To Him before me…courage over comfort….death in place of self.

It’s a familiar story for me.

It’s the story of one Texas-born very small, but stubborn girl who didn’t like attention and was shy enough to hide under a table to prove it.

Of one much older but still stubborn girl who fights her fears every time she gets on an airplane and stands before a crowd and delivers a message to a group of people who are hungry for Truth.

It's about someone who has be taken back to her roots, having nothing really to do with physical location.

It's about a very small, but stubborn girl, who after being taken back -- gets to go home to her very safe and neat little world and start the surrender all over, again.

Back…and back…and back…and back…and back…and back…and back…

And back, again.

P.S. The weekend was incredible. I can't possibly put into words how much God did His thing! I stand amazed. And humbled. And grateful.

En Route

Hi Friends!

Scotty and I are flying home today after spending the weekend with family and friends in Houston, TX. I had the privilege of speaking at awesome Champion Forest Baptist Church and returning to my Texas roots, all at the same time! I'm sure I'll have much more to share with you when I get home to my computer. :)

Look for a new post on Wednesday. By the time I write that post, I will have met a few of you in person! Thanks for coming to see me in Houston. What a blessing this blogworld is!

Present Obedience

Let me set the scene for you.

We find Gideon in a hole somewhere, getting grains for his starving family to eat, minding his own business. Keenly aware of the needs of his “community,” he works diligently at a job that will pay off in dividends for his hungry crew. And boy, are they hungry. After doing evil in the sight of God, the Lord had removed His powerful hand from them and given them over to the cruel Midianites for seven long years to do with them what they would. A complete free-for-all, the Midianites had been stealing from the Israelites and driving them out of their land, resulting in a serious lack of food. It was for that reason Gideon was in a hole, threshing away, in the first place. Which is exactly where we find him in Judges 6.

He is simply doing what he knows to do to where and when he knows to do it.

Present Obedience.

Things had been ok for a while in Gideon's world. Actually, for a good long while. Under the direction of rockin’ Judge Deborah, Israel had known peace for 40 years. That is until they fell back into their flesh and started sinning, again. When it finally dawned on them that they needed help (somewhat of a “duh” moment after being run off, stolen from, attacked, and left with nothing), they turned to the Lord. Enter help in the form of the grain getter himself, Gideon.

Surely the "man" who showed up, sitting under the tree, would not have been what Gideon was expecting to look up from the hole and see that day. Surely Gideon wasn’t expecting his conversation with the "man" to take him from a grain thresher one day to a nation deliverer the next. Surely he wasn’t looking to pick a fight when he did as he was told to do and tore down the altar of the little g “god” his community was worshipping. Surely he didn’t expect to be mentioned with all the greats in Hebrews 11 one day because of his faith and convictions. Surely.

But he was doing what he was supposed to be doing where and when he was supposed to be doing it. And that’s when the Lord showed up and changed his life forever.

Present Obedience.

…Faithful in the little, but prepared for the much.

…Living in the world of now, but open to the world of more.

…Committed to being content, but ready to be radical.

There’s no contradiction in the terms of this present obedience, ya know. It is not an either-or situation. It is a both-and state of being. It’s about where you are. It is about who you are. It is about who you are where you are.

It's about being ready, just in case a "man" shows up under one of your trees one day and you’ve never seen Him before, to be found doing what you are supposed to be doing where you’re supposed to be doing it when you're supposed to be doing it.

You never know when something like that just might change your life forever.