Surfing for God review

Surfing for God provided the insight into the battle of temptation. It gave a safe place to openly, and yet in good taste, talk about the “How’s” and “Whys” behind sexual struggle. There is no condemnation. There is no shame. Mike’s stories, both personal and clinical, provide huge doses of grace and research, along with Scriptural truth matched with current cultural conditions. The topics included do not hide nor overexpose the realities of this war. Instead, with human frailty and authenticity, Mike gives an honest account of his own struggles, along with numerous years of his own counseling to those who once shared the struggle he overcame. I selected this specific title because I am a youth pastor who continually meets youth who are struggling to break free from these destructive and addictive behaviors. I feel as if through the pages of “Surfing for God” I was given tremendous amounts of insight and understanding. I feel better equipped to steer my students through the mazes of temptation instead of just saying “don’t go there.” I highly recommend this book for those who need understanding. I 100% recommend it for anyone who has struggled. Mike does such an amazing job with the content and has a relatable, vulnerable, and open voice. He gave us a gift when he shared his story. Dive into this gift today.

More Lost than Found review

I am a twenty something. I am young. I am passionate. I love GOD. And I am confused. I am not confused about God, who He is or the fact that I know He loves me, and redeemed me. But I do admit that sometimes I am unsure about the groups of people who claim to represent Him. There is a lot of people speaking on God’s behalf. And they don’t all add up. This leads to uncertainty, confusion and questioning. But this book allowed me to do all of these things. Jared Herd shared a relatable version of himself to the reader, and took us through his journey. Young people today have so much information about God, and little experience with Him. We are not always firm in the Word, or in our relationship with the Holy Spirit. We have a lot of family religious experiences. We have a lot of information. But in it all we feel lost. Yet this book allows us to feel that without a sense of shame which often comes with this season. The author encourages us that this period of time will not last forever. We walk away feeling as if we have more of an invitation to know God personally, instead of institutionally. And that is a freeing feeling. For those who feel “more lost than found”, just remember that we have a God who seeks each of us, personally, intimately, jealously.

Why Men Hate Going to Church review

Why Men Hate Going to Church. I never knew. To be honest, I never thought about it. I have been the young woman he talks about in the book…constantly asking, “Where are all of the decent young men around here?” But I never stopped to contemplate why.

For years I have led groups, mostly in teen and youth settings. I wish I had had the knowledge and skillful understanding of this book years ago. I feel better equipped to make sure that from now on I can capture the attention of more than one gender. I spent the past two years trying new angles in order to engage my entire audience, but I never broke it into using gender boundaries. Now, I feel fully equipped to speak a full language.

In addition, I feel extremely creative and awakened to a more thorough approach to engaging the hearts and minds of the groups I know I will lead in the future.

The points were clear and captivating.
The details were eye opening.
The information timely, relevant and NEEDED.

Thank you for showing me what it means to be a better author, speaker, and woman.

I think deep down all we really want to be is better. And I think you helped me to do that.

Perspective=JOY

Perspective is what allows for us to correctly choose joy or depression. We can look at the worst scenarios in life and either see blatant disaster, or promising potential. The difference? Perspective. Andy Andrews “The Noticer” is like a poignant drop of light, allowing a piercing division between sorrow and hope. Through the thorough character sketches, the carefully crafted plot lines, and exquisite craftsmanship of words Andy has rightly lain out a pathway, inviting us to follow perspective which leads to joy.

Personally, I gained the ability to see the wealth of wisdom from those who have gone before me. I loved how the main character was commissioned to study and pour over volumes of biographies. It reminds me of the old saying, “A smart man will learn from his mistakes, a wise man will learn from the mistakes of others.” Mr. Andrews delicately and creatively wove this truth through his main characters and bestowed the importance of surveying a life.

I definitely walked away from this title, coming away with fresh perspective, a renewed attitude, and a hunger to see both sides of the equation—yet enough insight to know how to choose the one with leads me towards life and not despair.

Yet another great read from Andy Andrews!

Waiting is not part of the curse--it is part of paradise

If you are like me—you look at the concept of waiting as if it is some sort of “cosmic time-out” or divine punishment.
It is almost as if you aren’t ready to handle the good you are expecting.
Either that or some character quality in us needs to be perfected until we are “good enough” for it.

Faith and promises can feel like a slippery slop leading to condemnation when waiting for fulfillment.

I have found myself a part of this club for a while. I even have the routinely assigned certificates of condemnation. With pomp and circumstance they branded me with their labels:
You don't have what it takes to receive your blessing
Something is wrong with you
You just need to be refined
When you have grasped enough courage or self-confidence---then you will get what you want.

But now—now something deep inside of me is outright irritated from this mental stronghold.

Waiting is not a punishment. It is not part of the curse—the price men have to pay to get back to Eden. Waiting was already a part of Paradise. It was a symbol of love—patience—perfection. And it began before Eve wiped forbidden fruit juice from off her lips.
And do you know who waited?
God.

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Genesis three recounts God as walking through the Garden in the cool of the day. Scholars and commentaries note this as a routine practice for the Divine. He did not change this practice after Adam and Eve sinned. If that is so—then it speaks volumes to me.

Now I know this concept may seem elementary—but go with me for a second.
The cool of the day.
What is that all about? Commentary writers typically agree this meant late evening.
After all—the cool usually comes after the warm. The language just sort of suggests such logic.

So if God made this a routine and regularly came to mankind late in the day—to walk with them until the brush of star kissed heavens emerged—doesn't it mean he had to wait all day for that time to roll around?
In a sense—when God created the heavens and the earth and spun the galaxies into orbit he constrained himself with the same measures of time he gave to the humanity he created.
And the account of Genesis seems to hint that God placed himself under that same jurisdiction.

I doubt God waited in the garden for the cool of day because something was wrong with him, because he just needed to be refined, or he didn’t have enough courage and self confidence to get what he wanted (i.e. fellowship with his creation).

Waiting is a part of paradise—not a form of the curse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So this thought automatically brings up two thoughts.
1.) Why does God wait?
2.) Why is waiting so painful for me?
I believe the pain of waiting comes from the fact that after the fall—waiting got drafted into two mutually exclusive categories.
Divine
Human

Below is the human form.
What might be a form of the curse is the typical type of waiting we usually adhere to.
Anxious waiting.
Desperate wanting without current delivery.
Distant and lingering hope.

So what is the difference between Eden’s waiting and mainstream waiting?
I am highly curious what you might have to say…I would love your comments and thoughts on the matter, it is something I want to explore more and more.

What tears have I

What tears have I which fall like diamonds pure and clear
Evidence or a heart of brokenness
Evidence of a truth which penetrates
Further than any earthly fabrication or snare

If my heart were to be rendered
Would it glow as a ruby?
Free from the taint of sin
Covered in a liberating blood
Would it speak of a freedom purchased long ago

Would my broken cries echo a symphony?
Though they may be muffled requests and torn pleas
Perhaps they would testify of a depth I long for
Yet a vocabulary which can not contain

What tears have I which fall like diamonds pure and clear
Evidence or a heart of brokenness
Evidence of a truth which penetrates
Further than any earthly fabrication or snare

Trust=Dancing

She was on the dance floor.
She might have seemed out of place—some said she didn’t belong, didn’t fit in—but this was not her concern. She moved with her head held in confidence, yet stunning humility.
A pure light seem to flow from the edges of her flowing white skirt as it yielded to her ever turning movement.

She moved freely—barefoot—full of liberty to dance where few men dared and even fewer continued to follow.
And she danced the fullness of life. Her day to day habits, joys, motions were now here—present inside this life dance.
It was a symbol of her continuous yielding.

She took a step. Eyes closed—the music filled her ears, guided her steps. She was in perfect tune—awaiting the rhythmic leading which would light her next movement. The entire motion of her body came from the heart of Another.
His pulse was her rhythm.
His will— the motion of her steps.
His vision— the glint in her eyes.

Though her upward eyes may rain with crystalline tears—evidence of a pierced heart, which longs to trust, yet doesn’t understand—she kept dancing.
For she knew those moments allowed faith to step in as her dance partner.

And so she moved. No one understood “the why” behind her every step. Even she did not always know why. But who said you had to know why you danced before you did?
Besides— the song of life was already playing.
Are the feet ready? Is the heart?

The song continued. Life beckoned. The dancer yielded to the notes. Her eyes were open, her gaze focused. And then she saw him.
Jesus steps onto the polished hardwood floor. With a gesture, he asked for her hand—not to dance, but to go into something new.
But go where?

Her life had been about motion and movement for so long. But now, he stood before her and asked her to wait –to stop and grab the hand extended before her.

Her lengthened and flowing skirt halted its motion. She tilted her head. Now the purity of her abandoned love was called towards the loose black fabric hanging from his hand.
Why the halt? Why the wait?
She glanced as the fabric in his hand and knew.
No. Not my sight. Why would you take away my sight? How will I dance? How will I know how to move through life?
He gave her time to sort it out. He did not grow impatient or angered. His eyes steady on her—he waited for to decide. She glanced at his pure gaze and finished the battle of her will.

In the same way she yielded to the rhythm’s leading— she would yield to this. She drank in the sights around her for yet a moment more— closed her eyes—and melded her will to his.
He placed the fabric around her eyes. Blind. Un seeing. Not only were her eyes covered—but the fabric wrapped over her ears. Not a sound came in. All music vanished.
Panic rose inside of her—yet a reassuring sense fought it.
For he held her hand—and guided as they danced.
She ceased to trust a set pattern inside a songs composition—rather trust grew from the intimacy and connectedness of his touch.

He led her through many places she did not know—through a pattern of life she failed to grasp with her natural mind. Instead, she discovered she obtained a heart which could genuinely trust and a soul which surrendered to his slightest motion.
Within his touch— if she fell quiet within herself— she detected a renewed pulse. His heart beat.
Inside the rhythmic rush of his pulse, the journey of trust began.