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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAHSHo7cSp7ImA9WhRUFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474</id><updated>2012-01-27T12:18:59.409-05:00</updated><title>Write the Vision</title><subtitle type="html">Habakkuk 2:2</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/TRmoV" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/trmov" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>blogspot/TRmoV</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcDRnc8fyp7ImA9WhdREUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-847995053413348244</id><published>2011-07-31T18:57:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T20:04:37.977-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-31T20:04:37.977-04:00</app:edited><title>Wildflower #2--My Mother</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZYHBmdk99o/TjXtUsFHKGI/AAAAAAAAEO4/ewUAKo6KGaM/s1600/14464_198317566188_500756188_4421274_4769674_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 304px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZYHBmdk99o/TjXtUsFHKGI/AAAAAAAAEO4/ewUAKo6KGaM/s320/14464_198317566188_500756188_4421274_4769674_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635671448409811042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So as you can see, my hopes for becoming a regular blogger have not exactly held up. But here I am to continue with another Wildflower in my life--my Mother.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imagine a woman with a gentle and quiet spirit, and very little tendencies to control or freak out easily. Imagine her in her fairly laid-back state getting married and proceeding to start a family. Now imagine that she has three children with semi regular personalities and dispositions. She is comfortable in her role as wife and mother, and she is happy. Imagine one day this wife and mother finds out she is to have a fourth child. This news, completely unexpected, somewhat takes her aback, but she pushes through her nervousness and anticipates the arrival of another addition to the family. Now imagine the inconceivable way that this mother's life was turned upside down from the day that fourth child arrived. She was nothing like the former children and necessitated seemingly brand new parenting styles in order to keep under control. 23 years later, I am here to attest to the good news that this fourth child was not put out of the house (barely) nor did she cause any untimely deaths or lost limbs (we hope). And here she is... but only because the womb that she first thrived in belonged to a mother different than most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mother and I are very different. Fortunately, it has helped us get along over the years much better than the average mother and daughter. But it's not always been smiles, giggles, and rainbows. Because of my strong-willed nature and extreme determination to push the limits, the challenges I brought to both of my parents were significantly different than my siblings. It has not been until recent years that I've been able to look on my mother with the perspective of an adult and see and understand at least a glimpse of all she went through being the mother of five. Contrary to my thoughtless assumption growing up, my mother is not invincible, nor is she unable to be hurt. She is soft, and tender. And I have finally been able to begin to appreciate the burden she bore for us all our lives and still continues to bear as the mother bird watching her little birdies turn into bigger birdies and flap their wings across the abyss of life the Lord has chosen for them. As she turns from child to child and gazes upon their young adult lives, she continues her post as prayer warrior and still has an occasional worry over how they are fairing away from the nest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last week my mom emailed me about something I got in the mail she thought I'd be interested in, and signed off with the usual "Love you!" after a few extra remarks. I was slightly distracted when I read it in the evening and ended up going to bed without replying. The next morning I found myself at work when I received a text from her. "How are you doing today? Did you get my email about the mail? Just wondering and a tad worried about you since I hadn't heard from you. :)" That smiley was fooling no one. It was a busy morning so I couldn't respond right away. She didn't waste any time and 32 minutes later in my work email I received this: "Is your phone working? ...sorry just being a mom right now." The email included two more smileys. I wrote back with something to the effect of "uh yeah... you &lt;i&gt;are&lt;/i&gt; being a mom!" :) She's not typically like that so it was laughable to see her get a little worked up after not hearing back from me in only about a 12 hour time frame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This summer has been more difficult than I expected. I am typically just fine on my own and away from people, but it has taken more of a toll on me than I thought it would. The thankfulness and heart of gratitude I have towards my mother for her intense care and affection for me is not lost in the kidding I may do about her tendency to over-worry sometimes. So many others have no mother to worry about them. So many have not been close with her or have only been manipulated by her to the point that they never experienced a truly loving mother's touch and sentiment, physically or verbally. And sadly those who fall into this category probably do not know they are missing out on such a poignant and piercing aspect of God's design for a family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For my mother I owe my desire to be gentle and affectionate for those I may take care of. I imagine my future as a mother and I long to learn the ways my mother held and comforted me so I may do the same for my children. There is something very emotional about a mother's love. To be 23 years old and many years past the last time I was held, the depth of the impact of that affection can still bring tears to my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is unimaginable without her present and active in my life. Thank you, Momma, for showing me a healthy life and raising me to follow in your footsteps toward what the Lord designed for a mother to be. May I never take you for granted. You are irreplaceable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-847995053413348244?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OEp4TSxYRNKnIy0GtmoCMZyDSN4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OEp4TSxYRNKnIy0GtmoCMZyDSN4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/wEIwwUixFfA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/847995053413348244/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=847995053413348244" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/847995053413348244?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/847995053413348244?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/wEIwwUixFfA/wildflower-2-my-mother.html" title="Wildflower #2--My Mother" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZYHBmdk99o/TjXtUsFHKGI/AAAAAAAAEO4/ewUAKo6KGaM/s72-c/14464_198317566188_500756188_4421274_4769674_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/07/wildflower-2-my-mother.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkABSH0zeCp7ImA9WhZbFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-6304394037725855317</id><published>2011-06-19T19:18:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T20:12:39.380-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-19T20:12:39.380-04:00</app:edited><title>Meet... My Father</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLZH4n3YMf8/Tf6PGnOQ5cI/AAAAAAAAEMo/QYwbBRGIxJI/s1600/DSCF0023.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLZH4n3YMf8/Tf6PGnOQ5cI/AAAAAAAAEMo/QYwbBRGIxJI/s320/DSCF0023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620086728775755202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;What better way to start off this blog series than with the most influential man in my life, Mark Cox. And on the most appropriate day of the year: Father's Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is this man? To most he's a pastor, a preacher, and a teacher. To some he's a friend. To a few he's a son, a brother, and a grandfather. But to me he's a father. A good father. Me and my dad are extremely similar. Growing up I always hated when people would tell me I looked like him. Both of my sisters look like twins and they are mini-me's of my mother. I got my dad's genes. I always wished I fit in with the girls in the family but I fit in better with the boys. I don't mind it much now, but I &lt;i&gt;hated&lt;/i&gt; it growing up. A few things we have in common are our sense of humor, our competitive nature, our tendency to analyze everything, our love for reading, and our passion for learning. Some of the best times I can remember with my dad growing up have been the intense theological conversations that have gone on for hours and hours. I love asking him questions and dissecting and analyzing and mulling things over with him. The passion that I've grown to have for spiritual things and yearning after the Lord I know I owe to him. He has a strong heart and a stable mind. His marriage to my mother has been an irreplaceable foundational security and stability in my life. I long to marry a man with a heart like my father's.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have found that the majority of girls I have come to know in my twenty-three years have mentioned that they have always been closer, or at least gotten along better with their dad than their mom. Oftentimes the dad is the softy and the mom is the strict disciplinarian, causing the girls to butt heads with their moms and run to Daddy for comfort. However, this has never been the case in my house. The disciplinarian is my father. If we ever really wanted something you never ask Daddy first, you ask Momma. Because then when you get the "I don't care if Daddy doesn't care" it was extra ammo when presenting the weapon of argument to Daddy... "Oh and Momma said she didn't care if you don't!" ...not sure if it ever actually worked but I liked to think it did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a Christian and a psych major, I've grown up knowing that the most important figure in a child's life, boy or girl, is their father. I've always found that interesting. The mother carries the child, births the child, and typically does most of the caretaking with the children, but somehow the father's role is the most crucial.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not going to lie and act like my dad and I have always had the greatest relationship, because in all honesty.... it's been really hard. Between the ages of 14 and 20 I would have told you ingesting kitty litter would have been more preferable to having important conversations with my dad (and my mom), and now looking back, I have to say I'm surprised they put up with as much as they did from me. To put it plainly, my teenage years sucked. Big time. For me &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; for my parents who had to deal with me. There have been many choices I've made in my life that have only constructed wall after wall after wall between me and my parents, but always most especially my father. The man who has loved me so unconditionally and has never withheld his love for a moment was continually pushed away by me. The further I dug myself in holes I was in the more isolated I became and the harder it was to receive any kind of love, particularly the love of a father. The past three years I have been trying to undo the damage I caused over a six to seven year period and I find it still to be a challenge to this day. Why? When so many of my friends are without fathers or with lousy fathers who don't take their role seriously, why would I ever push away one of the greatest father figures this world could contain?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't speak for anyone else, I only know my own life and that much I sometimes don't even know. But in my experience, when you have continued to mess up and continued to fall on your face over and over again, it becomes extremely hard to accept and believe that you are lovable. It is something I've had to choose to believe every day and allow the Lord to begin mending and healing in my heart so that I may&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;choose to &lt;i&gt;accept&lt;/i&gt; and not to &lt;i&gt;reject &lt;/i&gt;goodness. If God, who is my heavenly Father, would choose to love me and to &lt;i&gt;die&lt;/i&gt; for me in my sin, why would my own earthly father not also choose to love me and accept me in my sin? This is a lesson I have had to learn. I haven't known many people with my story and with the same familial issues I've had in this area. But this is the essence of my story. It hasn't always been pretty, in fact it's been outright ugly at times. But the love has outweighed the hate, and the light has overcome the dark. And I owe where I am today to a man who decided he would never give up on his daughter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I wish the world could know a love like yours. Thank you. Thank you for representing Christ to me. I love you, because you first loved me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-6304394037725855317?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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My Father" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLZH4n3YMf8/Tf6PGnOQ5cI/AAAAAAAAEMo/QYwbBRGIxJI/s72-c/DSCF0023.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/06/meet-my-father.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMGQHwzeyp7ImA9WhZbEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-6635629344210903623</id><published>2011-06-15T19:51:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T21:23:41.283-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-15T21:23:41.283-04:00</app:edited><title>Wildflowers</title><content type="html">In order to get myself into more of the writing groove I decided to write a series of blogs that would require writing on a semi-regular basis to hopefully establish a habit. The purpose of this series is to write about the people, few and uncommon. The wildflowers among the weeds. The lovely among the decent. The splashes of color on life's canvas of dull black and gray. These are the people in my life that have shaped me into who I am today. The people who are still actively investing themselves and pouring into my life so that I may grow and learn and be more teachable and moldable in the hands of the Lord.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those who know me very well at all know that I am not all about acquiring best friends. It takes a lot to be brought into my inner circle, and if I have spent a substantial amount of time with you or have shown explicit interest in spending time with you, you can take that as a sign that I value our time together, because I think highly of you. I'm not the type to fall all over everyone I meet and tell them how wonderful they are. When I do say it, I really mean it, wholeheartedly. And while I do love all people in a general sense, I save the intensity of my sentiments for those who mean the most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my own experience there are three types of people in my life:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The acquaintances--the people that I come in contact with on a regular basis but have little to no connection with. Sometimes an acquaintance will have a desire for a more in-depth relationship with me, but I am not a person who "humors" people in this way. If it's not there, it's not there. I won't be rude to you, but I'm not buddy buddy with &lt;i&gt;everyone&lt;/i&gt; and if you know me very well, you know this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The mentored--the friends that you and I have, not because of what they contribute to our lives but because of what we know we need to contribute to theirs. Any time I find myself with a friend like this I have always been able to credit the connection to God. I hear a whisper in my ear that goes something like, "it's not going to be easy, but you will serve a purpose in this person's life. They may hurt you, but I am using you. Do not give up and do not turn away." These could be the friends you are discipling, or those who have gone through something traumatic that you've been called to help them through. Sometimes it's messy, but there's always a reward in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The intentional--the relationships you set out to establish and to maintain. This would include anyone in your life that has value and meaning that goes beyond your initial appreciation for people. These are the people that have invested in &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; and for whom you show a great amount of fondness and deep sentiment. These are those whose presence calls forth the best in you. They are truthful, honest, open, and authentic with their relationship. These are the friends we all hope to find in this life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a start to a series of blogs on the third type of people. The ones who have taught me the most about this life and who I am becoming. The people who have awakened something within me that I did not know could come alive. These are the ones who have refined me. My beautiful wildflowers. They have shown up unannounced with a profound and furious loveliness unignorable. Springing forth unbeckoned and bearing a beauty, fierce and unyielding. All I am I owe to them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Get ready to be introduced.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-6635629344210903623?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tmqJwYGapShU6ol1VeU10S03QVs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tmqJwYGapShU6ol1VeU10S03QVs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/pJyYwPwXdV0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/6635629344210903623/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=6635629344210903623" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/6635629344210903623?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/6635629344210903623?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/pJyYwPwXdV0/wildflowers.html" title="Wildflowers" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/06/wildflowers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQMQ389eCp7ImA9WhdTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-2126392304809794833</id><published>2011-05-28T14:50:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T17:16:22.160-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-17T17:16:22.160-04:00</app:edited><title>Tangled in a Web of Glory</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;***WARNING*** SPOILER ALERT: If you have not yet seen Disney’s movie “Tangled” you might want to watch it before reading this. If you don’t mind knowing a few things going in to it, read on at your own discretion.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One of my favorite things to do in life is to find correlations between the trivial and the important. I love finding analogies between the physical and the spiritual world. And I love watching movies and discovering symbolisms in stories that also present an element of truth in my own life or in something I’ve seen in the real world.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I saw Tangled, I was immediately captivated with the representation of Rapunzel’s hair. If you’re still reading you’ve probably seen the movie but I’ll give a little recap to freshen your minds. Rapunzel, according to &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/"&gt;www.imdb.com&lt;/a&gt;, has hair seventy feet long and a little over ten pounds in weight (that’s one strong neck!) and is prohibited from cutting it because of the “magical qualities that it possesses,” in the words of Flynn Rider. All of her life her hair has had the power to heal wounds and reverse aging effects, which is why her “mother” keeps her captive in a tower and doesn’t allow her to leave.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A ways into the movie Flynn gets a cut on the palm of his hand, and for the first time Rapunzel shows him the extent of what her hair can do. Here’s the clip if you want to watch it:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;iframe width="460" height="292" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ee_sByBkms4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As Rapunzel sings the healing incantation, the hair begins to glow with a beautiful, magical radiance while wrapped around Flynn’s hand. When she’s finished, the glimmer fades and he unwraps the hair to find his hand completely restored. This scene is filled with mysterious wonder at the enchantment of this young girl’s gleaming long blonde hair. The song is beautifully mesmerizing and you can’t help but get sucked into this magical moment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Fast forward to the end of the movie. Now, if you’re still reading and you haven’t seen it, this is really going to give a lot away. So be extra forewarned. Here’s a clip for this part as well. Start around 1:30 unless you fancy watching Mother Gothel plunge to her death first:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ybEz98Iwho&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://youtu.be/-ybEz98Iwho&lt;/a&gt; (sorry, it wouldn't let me embed it).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Flynn has come back to the tower to save Rapunzel. Mother Gothel has stabbed Flynn in the side of his abdomen, and as he takes in his last few breaths in a swift move of heroic fashion he slices Rapunzel’s hair off before she has the chance to heal him. Mother Gothel freaks out then falls out the window to her very, very timely and overdue death (she was probably half a millennium old by then). Flynn and Rapunzel share a moment before Flynn breathes his last. Holding him in her arms, Rapunzel softly sings the healing incantation and a tear falls from her eye, landing on Flynn’s cheek.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here’s where it matters.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The tear seeps into his cheek and a tiny spark of light glimmers for a second. It lights up again into a sort of flower shape and then travels down to his side. Beams of light suddenly begin flowing out of Flynn’s gaping wound and in a display of brilliance and splendor it courses through the tower, filling empty spaces and flashing across the room up, down, and around them both. Rapunzel is in awe of what she sees. The beauty being poured out of the broken flesh in Flynn’s side is astounding. The scene is truly breathtaking.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The healing of Flynn’s hand was extraordinary and captivating. It was beautiful. It really was. But it was small. There wasn’t much to it. The song was sung, the hair lit up, and a small laceration was restored. No doubt the power of Rapunzel’s hair was experienced in that moment, but comparatively speaking, it was minimal. When the tear fell and an explosion of light burst forth surrounding Flynn and Rapunzel in brilliance and wonder and beauty, there is no doubt this was more glorious than the first. A knife wound to the abdomen brought more glory than a slight cut on the palm of a hand.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So what’s the big deal?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Christ is most glorified when we allow Him to shine forth out of the most broken and shattered places in our lives. Those awful hidden places in our hearts that we’ve buried deep down inside and want never to see the light of day… those are our knife wounds that He is longing to saturate with his healing touch, to claim victory over and to set up a fireworks display within and pour out the glory of His healing power. So often we just bring Him the little hand wounds, let Him wrap them in His proverbial hair, breathe a sigh of relief at the momentary glint of light, and then go on our merry way. But how many of us have been stabbed so deeply by life, whether self-inflicted by sin or circumstances out of our control, and we’re walking around with gaping wounds desperately needing His attention, but we refuse to come to Him. Why? If we try to handle it separately from the Lord, just like Flynn we will lie on the floor in that tower and slowly bleed to death. Maybe not a physical one but a spiritual one. How often we forget that He doesn’t just long to heal us for &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;our&lt;/i&gt; benefit. &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;He&lt;/i&gt; gets the &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;glory!&lt;/i&gt; Your darkest and most deathly area of separation from Him could be the most beautiful and bring the most glory to God, our Savior and Redeemer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;“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, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 2:9-10&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We should be &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;glad&lt;/i&gt; to bring Him our brokenness. God is glorified in our pain when we choose to bring it to Him. Not only does He promise healing and restoration but He promises &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"&gt;Himself&lt;/i&gt;. He is the essence of Beauty and all Glory that could ever be manifested in you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Let Him have your broken pieces.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-2126392304809794833?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/azHMkVCCpp6L4yA9VUigHBN62fU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/azHMkVCCpp6L4yA9VUigHBN62fU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/TcoOtgdbG10" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/2126392304809794833/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=2126392304809794833" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/2126392304809794833?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/2126392304809794833?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/TcoOtgdbG10/tangled-in-web-of-glory.html" title="Tangled in a Web of Glory" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/Ee_sByBkms4/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/05/tangled-in-web-of-glory.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cGQXo_fCp7ImA9WhZVFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-6991314341124424419</id><published>2011-05-27T12:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T17:17:00.444-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-27T17:17:00.444-04:00</app:edited><title>Clinging and Clutching</title><content type="html">After cleaning out my car a few days ago I began walking back to the house when a strange sensation came over me. I suddenly became very aware that my hands were empty. Such an odd feeling, both hands swinging by my sides with wind wafting between my fingers. What was I expecting exactly? I suppose my car keys in the moment, or my cell phone. But the moment of realization was glaring, as if to say, "look here, take note of this sensation." It shouldn't be abnormal to have empty hands. Should it? (Of course situationally one might argue I should have had my car keys since I had just been in my car, but this is not the point! Debaters, sit down.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is the day and age of technology. Everywhere we go there are gadgets in people's hands, held to the ears, captivating the eyes at attention. And if it's not a technological device, it's a purse, or a bag, isn't it? The last time I can remember sitting in one place having nothing to capture my attention was never. And it's not just that we're used to it, it feels &lt;i&gt;awkward&lt;/i&gt; without anything. The idea of waiting for a table at a restaurant or to board an airplane might not readily spark a concern, but if the moment comes and there's nothing to occupy my thoughts and focus, it's awkward isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what does it all mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's a Tenth Avenue North song that I love called "Empty My Hands."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Empty my hands&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fill up my heart&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Capture my mind with You&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To put it simply--I need to walk with empty hands. I need to be content in a sedentary position without something to read, or to text, or to play, or to simply look occupied. This isn't merely about physicality. Why is it strange to walk twenty steps from the car on the street to the front door with empty hands? I feel naked. I find myself grasping at the air, looking for something to clutch, to cling to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yet I have been asked to empty my hands. The two most hated words my ears could hear for the past eight years would be "let go."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to let go. Ever. I am a clinger to what I grow to love most and that old familiar gut-wrenching pit-of-my-stomach feeling tends to rise up at the sound of those two words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In a world where virtually all things are relatively within our grasp, it's hard to say no, first of all. Second of all it's incredibly harder to let go once you've started holding on. Sign me up as the poster child of this concept.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we come to a resting place on this journey of life, our tendency is to pull out the cell phone and play a game while we wait. Something to occupy the attention span until life begins moving again. But I don't want just any attention-holder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Be still, and know that I am God." Psalm 40:10&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has called me to be still... and to know. This means I must drop whatever is in my hands and walk more swiftly towards the One who deserves my undivided attention, focus, and devotion. Walking with empty hands shouldn't feel weird or awkward. It should feel free, and liberating. Without the distractions I habitually return to, I am free to look only to Him, following hard towards whatever He places in front of me to grasp onto. Never clinging to any but Him, but accepting the cup He presents before me on a daily basis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Capture my mind with You, Lord. I empty my hands before You.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." Hebrews 12:1-2&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-6991314341124424419?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/frdtkFg1P9ImsDNi4NGZ2Y69Mik/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/frdtkFg1P9ImsDNi4NGZ2Y69Mik/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/u2JW1eK1_gw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/6991314341124424419/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=6991314341124424419" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/6991314341124424419?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/6991314341124424419?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/u2JW1eK1_gw/clinging-and-clutching.html" title="Clinging and Clutching" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/05/clinging-and-clutching.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4HQnc_cCp7ImA9WhZTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-7333306066836638164</id><published>2011-03-23T19:50:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T22:15:33.948-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-23T22:15:33.948-04:00</app:edited><title>SB '11</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;I'm really afraid this post will not even come close to conveying what actually happened during my spring break this year, but I hope somehow my words can formulate a little of all that was experienced.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The past several years I have spent spring break at home and working all the extra hours left to me by everyone else having a real spring break. This year I had wanted to do something special since it's my senior year and my last spring break as an undergrad. A couple of my friends and I had discussed a possible roadtrip to New York, or maybe a camping trip, and of course there is always that ever elusive longing to spend a spring break in Florida. But in the end we just went to my house in Indiana. I knew it would be fun because I was bringing some crazy, fun, and hilarious people home with me, but I definitely had no idea exactly what awaited us as I got in the car to drive nine hours through the night with my two wonderful friends Justeen and Rachel.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always considered myself a deep thinker. One who enjoys bending reality in a way that provokes philosophical thought and pondering. I love to marvel over the simple things and make a big deal about what is so easily taken for granted by all of humanity. I was afraid I was going to struggle at the wheel during the drive since we left at 10pm, but I have never been more energetic on a drive home before. Almost every sentence out of our mouths began with either "Isn't it weird how..." or "Have you guys ever thought of..." and the typical response to whatever it was would be something like "whoa... that's awesome" or "man... God is really amazing." And before we knew it, God had snuck up on us. From one thing to the next, everything we talked about somehow seemed to point back to how incredible our God is and how much we will never grasp or understand about His being. That ride home goes down as one of the greatest conversations I've ever had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We didn't know it at the time, but this was causing an unexpected shift inside each of our hearts. Instead of sleeping non-stop and watching movies all day, we discovered a new dynamic in our conversations and we were suddenly thirsty to know more about the Lord. We asked each other question after question... not really looking for actual answers but allowing our minds to be stretched and our hearts to be cracked open... just enough to let Him breathe a fresh breath inside of us and stir up the passions and longings we'd allowed to become dormant for so long. I can't really describe what was happening. But whatever it was... we definitely were not looking for it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent time with my parents. Justeen asked them so many meaningful questions every chance she got and I probably learned more about my family than I'd ever tried to know before. We laughed until we couldn't breathe. We stayed up until all hours of the night. But we didn't do any of the things we thought we would. And so many more things we never expected we'd want to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Without really meaning to, we ended up praying together every night before going to bed. Each night the prayers got longer and more intensely powerful. We began pouring things out in front of each other that each of us individually probably hadn't prayed by ourselves in a very long time, if at all. We went through names and names of people we longed to see come to Christ. We prayed for each other and for our relationships and for God to make use of us in our seemingly small lives. After we'd finish praying there was always this extra strong bond felt between us. Like we'd just fought a battle side by side. We began talking about things we could do to make an impact over our break instead of being lazy and unproductive. We made dinner for a family in our church and were told very specifically that we had been an answer to prayer. There's nothing quite like hearing someone say that you were the one God had in mind to use when that person prayed for something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I tried to explain every moment we experienced over this break it would take hours and hours of writing and hours and hours for you to read. The basic reality is that God showed up in a big way in our hearts this spring break. And the most amazing part about it is that we weren't even looking for Him. He just decided to show up and give us a good shaking up like only He can do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my greatest prayers during the week was that He would instill within me a desire for Him that goes beyond any emotion. I didn't want that break to simply be a spiritual high of sorts and to come back to school and forget all about it. It transformed a lot of how I pray and how much time I spend in the Word. As crazy as this may sound, it is almost April and I am three days &lt;i&gt;ahead&lt;/i&gt; in my Bible reading plan. Typically I am way behind at this point but I have been excited to get into it and really search out the Scriptures. Since we've been back Justeen has not stopped asking me to tell her Bible stories. It's been so amazing discussing the random stories of the Bible with my friends and just letting it soak inside us while we read and talk about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a reason for why God chose to invade our spring break like He did. I don't want it to be in vain and even when the emotion and feeling has died away I want to continue cultivating a deeper relationship with Christ and also with the incredible friends He has blessed me with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Neither Florida nor New York could have compared to spring break 2011 in Plainfield, Indiana.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-7333306066836638164?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A64F8w66wOJ71XbXWmYd-wu7yU0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A64F8w66wOJ71XbXWmYd-wu7yU0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/hpHfGA_3Db8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/7333306066836638164/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=7333306066836638164" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/7333306066836638164?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/7333306066836638164?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/hpHfGA_3Db8/sb-11.html" title="SB '11" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/03/sb-11.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8CRn09eip7ImA9Wx9UGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-7837335698180692358</id><published>2011-02-15T20:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T21:37:47.362-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T21:37:47.362-05:00</app:edited><title>Stretching Myself</title><content type="html">I'm feeling the pressure.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both of my best friends just started blogs and are blowing them up with posts. I've made myself a challenge to match each post of theirs with one of my own. Doubtful it'll actually happen but I'll make an attempt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been making a list of things I've decided to call weeklies. It's this idea I've come up with where I have a goal for each week to do something I wouldn't normally do for the entire week. This week's weekly is to pray only praises to God and not ask for a single thing. The only prayer I can pray beyond merely praising and thanking God for all that He is and does for me is to ask that His will be done. Even today I've been really tempted to ask for things, but instead I just simply say, "Lord, I want Your will. Let it be as You would have it." It's pretty hard to not ask for anything, but I woke up this morning and praises just started rolling across my mind. "God, You are so amazing to me. You provided me a wonderful place to live, You put food in my cabinets, You give me money to buy things that I usually can do just fine without, You gave me amazing friends, and You give me a second and third and fourth chance every day to follow and pursue after You." He is so merciful. I'm hoping this week's weekly will help me center myself on the Lord and reignite a reverence for Him that I've been lacking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who am I to ask things of the Creator of the universe? Who am I?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course He does &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; me to ask for things, which is why this is only a week long thing. But I know it's good for me to take the focus off myself for a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm kind of excited about this list. And what God is wanting to show me by doing all this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As much as I hate to even type these words-- It's good to stretch myself... I just hope I don't pull something....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-7837335698180692358?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXPUJQlsYwR0fl-cvChum7-7Jp4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXPUJQlsYwR0fl-cvChum7-7Jp4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/dY-QFIFnJKY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/7837335698180692358/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=7837335698180692358" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/7837335698180692358?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/7837335698180692358?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/dY-QFIFnJKY/stretching-myself.html" title="Stretching Myself" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2011/02/stretching-myself.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8MQX44eCp7ImA9Wx9QEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-323820709178614995</id><published>2010-12-23T13:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T15:08:00.030-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-23T15:08:00.030-05:00</app:edited><title>It's time...</title><content type="html">I am the world's most perfectionistic blogger. That's probably why it's been over a year since I last wrote on here. I write a paragraph and then I completely erase it. It's not that I want it to be absolutely perfect, but for some reason I'm just really picky about what I say.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to say I'm sorry for not having blogged in so long, but I'm honestly not that sorry. Bloggerland is much better off having not heard all I could have written in the past year. Well, I partially take that back. God has done an incredible work in me this past year (more so than any other year, no doubt) and I know I could have let all of you in on the incredible ways He has revealed Himself to me, but this year has been about truly coming to know Him in a way that I never have before... and I think He has wanted me to keep it to myself. Until now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've had a compelling need rising up for some time now to start blogging again. But it's an easy thing to put off when you haven't written in so long. I used to write all the time, even before I started this blog. I've never done it to keep people "updated" but rather to put life into a better perspective for myself. And if it affects others in a similar way, I'm thankful. So there I was with this secret internal compulsion to put my pen to the paper, when an external confirmation made its appearance. My best friend decided to randomly ask why I don't ever write anymore and mentioned that she checks my blog all the time. Justeen Roy, I dedicate this to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here you have it. A blog about writing blogs. Probably a disappointment to some, but it's just what I needed for right now. I have many different subject matters I want to discuss here very soon. But I needed just a simple jump-start to get myself going. I think I'll put that here:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's time to write again.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-323820709178614995?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MPnJrLxNbkgiTzGVTh2WSM1S7Oc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MPnJrLxNbkgiTzGVTh2WSM1S7Oc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/pPFbluxE9Y0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/323820709178614995/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=323820709178614995" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/323820709178614995?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/323820709178614995?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/pPFbluxE9Y0/its-time.html" title="It's time..." /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4BSXY7fyp7ImA9WxNVEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-5480585422595195045</id><published>2009-09-05T20:40:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T01:45:58.807-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-21T01:45:58.807-04:00</app:edited><title>College Life: Part One</title><content type="html">Never before have I felt such a compelling need to blog. Ever since I got to school I've wanted and needed to update everyone on my wonderful life out East, yet I have not found ANY time to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some interesting things about the past two weeks:&lt;br /&gt;-I live in a hotel. That's right. A hotel. No it does not come with housekeeping. I have food right downstairs at virtually any hour of the night, and a pool in my backyard that is actually quite large and very nice! (I've already jumped in fully clothed).&lt;br /&gt;-It's interesting how much stuff you can fit into a hotel room with another person for living purposes.&lt;br /&gt;-The last time I rode a bus to school was in the 3rd grade. Now I'm riding a bus about 10 times a day, more or less. And I actually don't mind it. Every time I get on I hear that cash register sound in my head because I know I am saving SO much money on gas.&lt;br /&gt;-My very first class period in my very first class as a Liberty student, I was asked to open up in prayer. What a way to start the year! Yes!&lt;br /&gt;-I have known the girls on my hall for less than two weeks, but it seriously feels like years. We are together almost 24/7 and have gotten VERY well acquainted in a very short amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;-My most conflicting moments have been had on trips to Wal-Mart. Chauffeuring six 18-year-old girls to Wal-Mart and expecting to leave all in one piece and within a single hour has been proven to be absolutely impossible. I feel like a frustrated mother. It's ok. I love my children.&lt;br /&gt;-Within six days of being here I was made a Prayer Leader and part of Student Leadership. I have a group of girls that I lead in Bible study and prayer on Tuesday nights, and am basically their go-to girl when they need someone. I am called to be a spiritual leader, to love and pray for my girls and I do not take my job lightly.&lt;br /&gt;-It costs me $2.50 to wash my clothes. The bathtub is looking better and better.&lt;br /&gt;-I was sick with a ridiculous head cold the first week and a half here. Now my roommate has it, but worse. Testing times produce true, solid roommate-ship. We'll never falter.&lt;br /&gt;-Speaking of the roommate, I've recruited another to the cult of Redeeming Love addicts. I've been tempted to rip the book from her hands because I'm jealous she's reading it and I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;-I bought a planner today that is super cute... but realized when I got back that it starts January of 2010. What?&lt;br /&gt;-I really do LOVE learning more about God and the Bible every day. There's nothing like having your Bible as a textbook. Love it.&lt;br /&gt;-Words cannot express how much I LOOOOOVE the campus praise band!! They should record. So amazing. I have never felt so much freedom to worship like I do here. It is the greatest thing in the world. Can't get over it.&lt;br /&gt;-I'm spending more time in the Word than I ever have before.&lt;br /&gt;-Why didn't I come here three years ago?!?&lt;br /&gt;-There is literally ALWAYS something to do. Concerts, block parties, football games, intramural sports, beach volleyball, ice skating til 2am, swimming, skiing, tubing, snowboarding, white water rafting, mission trips, car-less drive-in movies, laser tag (which I'm skipping to write this blog), and a million other things that I haven't even found out about yet.&lt;br /&gt;-While I have crossed paths with many a good-looking guy, I have yet to have any guy friends, or prospects for that matter. Keep praying :)&lt;br /&gt;-I've really been looking for a job and trying to get on with the work study program. I applied yesterday for a Weight Room Supervisor position at the Student Union. I really want it!! Pray for that. Pray for a job, period.&lt;br /&gt;-A strange thing I have noticed about college life... all of our feet are always dirty. It's weird. Sometimes I feel like an orphan.&lt;br /&gt;-I knew it was going to be a happy school year on the glorious morning that I stumbled upon the Chick-fil-a on campus. When I am down, I know it will always be there to cheer me up.&lt;br /&gt;-The one bad thing about that Chick-fil-a is that it does not have the all-time greatest sauce that every noble Chick-fil-a has: Honey Roasted Barbeque. However, yesterday I received a care package in the mail from someone of great honor who saw a helpless soul in need, and provided. Inside that package was a full Chick-fil-a bag of... yes... that's right! Honey! Roasted! Barbeque! Sauce! Thank YOU, Mr. Lednam!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all. I love Liberty. And every single high school senior I come in contact with... I WILL be pressuring them to go here. No other school in the world I would recommend. This place is filled with the presence of the Lord at all times. I didn't really believe it til I saw it with my own eyes. But it's true. Jesus is number one in everything. Come see it for yourself!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Liberty!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-5480585422595195045?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pfmsf4EKWxH_IUbw3jdCi-QtudA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pfmsf4EKWxH_IUbw3jdCi-QtudA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/qeHRtrsrzsM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/5480585422595195045/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=5480585422595195045" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/5480585422595195045?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/5480585422595195045?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/qeHRtrsrzsM/college-life-part-one.html" title="College Life: Part One" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/09/college-life-part-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cBQXY7fyp7ImA9WxJaEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-8328352972755821662</id><published>2009-08-01T02:16:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T03:17:30.807-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-01T03:17:30.807-04:00</app:edited><title>A Milestone</title><content type="html">If you are a typical human being, you will experience at least several monumental moments over the course of your life. The first day of school. Learning to ride a bike. Graduating High School. Getting married. Having a baby. These are what we would call milestones.  Every person has them, big or small, public or private.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I reached another milestone in my life. One that some may not even refer to as a milestone, but for me it's been the day that I've been waiting for for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks from now I will be living in Lynchburg, Virginia going to Liberty University. My major is in Counseling Psychology and my goal is to be a Marriage and Family Therapist. Whether or not that actually happens, I'm leaving it in God's hands. But I've never had any question as to what my major would be. Counseling. A no-brainer. Never thought twice about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people view counseling, or therapy, as a last resort for the weakest of the weak. Only the nut jobs have to have it. A normal person is normal, therefore they are in no need of any sort of counseling. Right? This is what we tell ourselves, and even if we never consciously think those thoughts, society has us believing that if anyone ever knew we went to counseling, they'd think us a freak. Tell me I'm wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past seven months I, myself, have been in counseling. It was something I knew I needed for a long time before I finally admitted it and asked for help. And that's exactly what counseling is. Help. Sometimes we can't do it all on our own. Sometimes the most normal person actually needs a little bit of normality. And sometimes there is a better solution than avoiding your not-yet-dealt-with issues that are poisoning your potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all do things we regret. We all do things that affect us long-term, and when those issues are not dealt with properly, they become a thorn in the flesh. Stuffing something down further and further, refusing to bring it back up and deal with it will only hinder a person from growing and moving on. And that's exactly what was happening to me. The more time that would pass by, the better I became at suppressing. I was fine. Time would heal all things and eventually none of this would ever haunt me again. But I was wrong. Time made things worse. The further down I shoved my past, the more it ached within me. It's like needing to throw up. You feel so terrible, but you keep holding it in. You don't want to bring back up that awful taste. The awful smell. The terrible sounds. But the more you hold it in, the worse you feel. Finally it all comes up and as much as you hated the process, you feel so much better now don't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to face things again. I didn't want to deal with what I'd been avoiding for so long. Time heals all wounds, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first visit to see the counselor was one of the worst days of my life. I was scared beyond expression. I sat there with the biggest knot in my stomach and literally wanted to physically throw up. Nothing could compare to the first and second weeks. As the weeks wore on, it became easier. Once over the hump, I began to see gradual transformation in my life. And when I say gradual, I mean snail mail gradual. Healing comes slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But oh how worth it it is in the end!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday, July 30, 2009 around noon, I got in my car and drove out of a parking lot in Indianapolis leaving behind the biggest load I ever hope to carry in my entire life. No it didn't happen in one day. But the final session with my counselor marked an unbelievable end to an unbearable load carried too long and too far. It also marked an incredible beginning to a world not yet experienced and taken into my heart in full. A milestone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot tell you what counseling could do for you. But I'll tell what counseling did for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It brought freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give zero credit to the person in the chair listening to me, and 100% credit to the Savior of my heart who rescued me from too many years of bondage and captivity to my own regrets and self-loathing. Only He can remove those things from my heart and life and replace them with amazing peace, hope, gratitude and guidance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Maybe you're the person who has never thought counseling to be for the normals. Or maybe you've been exactly where I've been and can give similar testimony about the benefits of counseling. Or maybe... you're living in a prison with walls you constructed yourself. Maybe you know what it's like to be in bondage and unable to find freedom. Maybe you don't remember the last time you felt worthy of forgiveness and love. Or. It may be that you feel none of these on the surface, but deep down you know you're avoiding what needs to be dealt with. Whatever that may be. If that is you, please understand something: That was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider my experience in seven months of counseling to have been one of the greatest decisions I could have ever made, and I am so glad to know what it feels like to be on the couch. If it's what God has, one day I'll be the one in the chair saying, "I've sat where you're sitting, and I'm glad you're here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A social stigma may tell you that counseling is the last thing you could ever need barring some terrible life-altering tragedy. On the contrary, it is very much for the "normal" people. Don't be afraid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God so badly wants to change your life. He doesn't want you being held back by things since past. He doesn't want you held back by addictions no one else knows about. He wants you out of that double life and free from all hindrances. The feeling of freedom is indescribable. You can have that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; have that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-8328352972755821662?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YwBFVHG-4lpcCmcephjUvVZ-RIE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YwBFVHG-4lpcCmcephjUvVZ-RIE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/walGfnn0NTg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/8328352972755821662/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=8328352972755821662" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/8328352972755821662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/8328352972755821662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/walGfnn0NTg/milestone.html" title="A Milestone" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/08/milestone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YFQ3g9fSp7ImA9WxJUFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-4603365863761707955</id><published>2009-07-14T22:40:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T16:51:52.665-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-15T16:51:52.665-04:00</app:edited><title>Five Weeks</title><content type="html">Three. Whole. Months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a dedicated blogger, as one can see from the time span between now and my last post. For me writing is not something to be forced. That's why I hate English so much because I hate being forced to write papers. Don't force me to write!! It has to come. Freely flow from the depths of my soul. So now that I have successfully defended myself, I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago I remember having a conversation with my mom in our van one morning after church. It was wintertime and snow was on the ground. I have no recollection of what we were talking about, but she made a statement that I will remember and repeat for the rest of my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Things can change so fast it'll make your head spin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't sound too profound I guess. But it's been something I've held on to and reminded myself of in the times that I've looked for a change, and in times I've been comfortable and not wanted a change. And when we really apply that statement to the pattern of our lives, we realize the ultimate truth it holds for each of us. Think back on the last five years of your life. Are you where you always thought you would be? Most of us would never have dreamed of being where we are now. Our plans and intentions change as time goes on and we, ourselves, change as time goes on. At the core of it, however, God never changes, and He has known where you would be today since before you were born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them." -- Psalm 139:16&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Three months ago I had a plan for how my life would unfold this coming fall. Nothing too extravagant. Then what happened to me is what my mom had said. Things changed so fast, my head spun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at home one night, not really doing anything important, but feeling restless. That feeling in the pit of my stomach that said something wasn't quite right, yet I could not figure out what it was or why it was there. I sent out some texts to my closest friends asking them to pray for me and for my future. Have you ever said something that you afterward were surprised you said because you didn't know you were even thinking it? I've done that several times lately, and I did it on this night as well. I opened my Bible and prayed the Lord would show me where to look, what to read. Why was I feeling like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my Bible, got in my car and drove around for a while. Pulling into a parking lot, I turned on my light and began reading again. As time wore on I became more and more restless and my prayers became frantic and scattered. I needed answers. &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;God, what is the deal here? Take this feeling away. I don't know what You want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell asleep that night with no resolution, and went to work the next morning feeling the exact same way. My prayers were constant and I just knew I was getting a stomach ulcer. As my mind began to wander to my life and my plans, one thing became clear to me: All peace about my plans for school was completely gone. It was as if Jesus just shut the door in my face and said, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;No.&lt;/span&gt; I was terrified. I panicked. Standing in the Ivy Tech Bookstore, my stomach dropped and I wanted to cry. &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;What? Just like that? What is this?&lt;/span&gt; I couldn't understand what was happening. I tried to act like I had just conjured up this horrible feeling myself and that it wasn't real. But I got more and more scared the more and more I tried to swallow and forget it. In that moment I knew that I was not going to IUPUI in the fall as I had been planning. My next terrified thought: &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Then what??&lt;/span&gt; What is this supposed to mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain was going 90 mph thinking of every possibility for this revelation I'd just had, and as time went on I only became more confused and more insecure. The next two years of my life had just evaporated. I had no foundation, nothing keeping purpose in my every day routine anymore. I remember thinking &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Ok, if not IUPUI... then where?&lt;/span&gt; And then came every school I could think of. And when the name crossed my mind, I knew. And the fear that followed just about made me wet my pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past two years I've gone to Ivy Tech Community College in Indianapolis. I knew it was just a stepping stone but I hadn't any definite plans for a college afterward, until I finally decided I would just go to IUPUI since nowhere had an open door. Probably the most annoying thing about being in college is when every single school you've ever applied at seems to never lose hope that you will one day be attending THEIR university, so they call you at least once a week. One school in particular being Liberty University. Great school, but I never really planned on going there. Virginia is just too far away. I applied because that's what you do when you're in college. You see a school's name, you apply. It's a rule, isn't it? But seriously... do they have to call you every five minutes? It got old. Fast. So as you can see, the name Liberty University should have came and went in my mind without a second thought, as it had always done before. Anytime I would consider it... nope. That door just wasn't open. Closed. Locked. No key to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it happened, it was unlike any other time. Liberty University. And as the bright neon letters shone in my mind's eye, behind them was a door and it was wide open. I should have been ecstatic. I'd solved the mystery of the previous restless night, hadn't I? Breathe a sigh of relief and be excited for a brand new future. No. I was in denial and I was scared. Like you really don't understand. S-C-A-R-E-D. Immediately I tried to forget what I had just thought. &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;No, you made that up. That wasn't real. That feeling is fake. You're imagining things. That wasn't real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really hard to adequately explain what it's like to hear from God. I honestly had a very hard time even admitting that it was the Lord's voice that day, but there's no other explanation for it. It was definitely not something I could make up because I avoided it for two weeks before I would even say it out loud. Days went by and I was still scared. I'd pray that the Lord would take it away, that He would show me I'd made that up and it wasn't real. Or that if it truly was Him speaking that He'd choose another way, a more obvious way. Write it on the wall maybe? I really did ask for that several times. How can I just simply go on a "feeling"?? How made up is that? I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. After that I prayed again. Begging that God would take it away. That I wouldn't feel like this anymore. While I'd always wanted to go away to college, it always seemed like one of those things that would be cool but would never really happen. It was so much easier to just stay here and go to IUPUI. &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Why, God? Why now? It's almost May! I don't have time. You should have told me earlier. Too late. Sorry boutcha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came up with every possible excuse I could to not believe that was really God. I consulted a few people, and got some very sound advice that has stuck with me much in the same as the statement my mom gave me a few years ago. While talking to my friend, Olivia, I said "But how can I ever &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; know that it's God? I wish He would just write it on the wall. It would be so much easier" Olivia: (paraphrasing) "You're having restless feelings about your future, and then Liberty is the only thing you can think about. God IS writing on the wall, why won't you see it for what it really is?" It was the first thing that had given me comfort in consenting to believe it was truly His voice. Another instance was when talking to a new friend, Pastor Mike, and mentioning how uncertain I was feeling about the whole thing. He made a similarly profound statement: "Walk towards the open door until He closes it." I gained a peace from hearing that like nothing else because it said to me that God will let me know if it's not really His will. If I'm making a mistake, He'd sure make me aware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it still didn't go away, I asked that if it were really what He wanted, that He would give me the desire to go there. At this point all I'm feeling is fear. The days passed and gradually my fear turned into acceptance and acceptance into desire and desire into excitement. I wanted to go! But still, I had not voiced it. This is a huge deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A night came when my parents were about to go to bed and my mom told me goodnight, I blurted out the words "I don't feel peace about IUPUI anymore." The tears were hard to hold back. It's never an easy thing to have your world, your plans, your routine, your comfortableness completely shaken up by a God who has something better. Because at that time you don't see it as better. You see it as inconvenient and frustrating. A thorn in my side. A threat to my plans. It's not easy to hear yourself say it out loud for the first time. And it's definitely not easy telling your parents that you're changing your mind because "the voice said so." &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Oh yeah, it was God, I promise.&lt;/span&gt; Even with a pastor for a dad, it's not always easy to make a drastic life decision and try to convince him it's really God's will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm blessed to have the support of my parents in going and have never wavered from the peace I've gained in surrendering to go where the Lord is leading me. I am excited beyond expression and cannot wait to be there and see all that He has in store for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Early Orientation and my mom and I drove the nine hours to Lynchburg for my first time to see the campus. Gorgeous. There is a spirit about every person we came in contact with that we knew was genuine and lively and something I can't wait to be a part of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five weeks from now I'll be packed and ready to hit the road for my newfound home in the mountains of Virginia. Five weeks left to get some things right and say goodbye to Indiana the right way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five weeks. Oh, how you will fly by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-4603365863761707955?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ijPU_fCMlyThHhxVjmw-b59GHno/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ijPU_fCMlyThHhxVjmw-b59GHno/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/4Kdw8EcNwI8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/4603365863761707955/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=4603365863761707955" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4603365863761707955?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4603365863761707955?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/4Kdw8EcNwI8/five-weeks.html" title="Five Weeks" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/07/five-weeks.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUCRH4-eSp7ImA9WxVaFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-4196393030371758020</id><published>2009-04-11T23:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T23:51:05.051-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-11T23:51:05.051-04:00</app:edited><title>Death is Swallowed Up in Victory</title><content type="html">Every year this time rolls around, and every year I don't think much about it. I always realize the significance, but I've noticed that each year it becomes more and more special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year I experience in this world is another 365 days I've had to mess up. Age brings experience. The younger I was, the more innocent I was, so Easter never held a strong personal notion to it. But the older I've gotten, the more reason I've needed the cross. The more days I'm in this world, the more I mess up. But the opposite is the same too. The older I get the more knowledge and discernment I gain, therefore helping me make better decisions with my life. However, Easter always reminds me that I'm in need of a Savior. Before I ever even knew it... I was lost and headed away from Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year Easter is even more personal for me because I know the sin I've lived in and the selfishness I've held on to my whole life. I pray I can love Him more and more because He forgives me more and more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little" -- Luke 7:47&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow marks the day in history when the Son of God conquered death, and with it, sin. I love Christmas. It is my absolute favorite holiday. But Easter, Resurrection Day, is actually the single greatest day in history. No doubt. Better than His birth, without His resurrection the cross was in vain and we are still lost in our sin. But on that third day, a heartbeat began again inside of a lifeless body in a dark and cold tomb. And Jesus Christ stood up and walked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death.&lt;br /&gt;Sin.&lt;br /&gt;Conquered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Death is swallowed up in victory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where, O death, is your victory? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where, O death, is your sting?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;" -- 1 Corinthians 15:54-55&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-4196393030371758020?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mj1BJJ0li15MfAFzUXlu_asdekI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mj1BJJ0li15MfAFzUXlu_asdekI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/Gmw1gXFpU6Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/4196393030371758020/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=4196393030371758020" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4196393030371758020?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4196393030371758020?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/Gmw1gXFpU6Y/death-is-swallowed-up-in-victory.html" title="Death is Swallowed Up in Victory" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/04/death-is-swallowed-up-in-victory.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcERHg6eip7ImA9WxVVGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-4603724268211382672</id><published>2009-03-12T00:41:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T01:33:25.612-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-12T01:33:25.612-04:00</app:edited><title>Car Rides</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SbieoTvnruI/AAAAAAAAC6I/-amxOTwWvnE/s1600-h/PIC-0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SbieoTvnruI/AAAAAAAAC6I/-amxOTwWvnE/s320/PIC-0013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312170175815462626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something very therapeutic about a car ride. Many times I have gotten out of a car a different person than when I got in. Even in short distances. There is just something about the open road ahead of you that knows no boundaries as to what might happen before your destination is reached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was on my way home from class, a 30 minute drive, and thinking about random things. The thought crossed my mind to do something nice for someone, and then immediately I wondered to myself, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Am I only loved because of the good things I do? If I never did anything nice or special for someone ever again, would I still be loved?&lt;/span&gt; The question came out of nowhere. I started wondering if people only really love and care about others because of the things they do or don't do. I think we are all guilty of it to a certain degree, but in this moment I was in a serious worrisome state. The question begged an answer. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Could I ever be loved simply because I am Christie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go out on a limb here and take a risk that it might snap off...&lt;br /&gt;I have been guilty of doing things for people for the benefit of being liked. I hate that. It's never a conscious thought I'm thinking, but in the back of my mind I know I'm wanting them to be pleased with me. I'm a people-pleaser. I wish I wasn't. I want no ulterior motives except to benefit someone else in any possible way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the car. I'm wrestling with this question for quite some time and it was a very intense thinking process. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Would someone like me simply because of my spirit? Am I delighted in? Does my heart make people feel better simply because they know me? What if I suddenly did terrible things? What then?&lt;/span&gt; All these questions just kept coming up. This car ride was so unlike any other I've had. I was seriously needing answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first question came up again. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Am I only loved because of the good things I do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a Voice at that moment that made my heart drop. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;People's love may be conditional, but My Love for you is for always. No matter what you do, I will always love you for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the times I have left Him, He has never left me. Christ loves me because I am me. And there's a place in His heart that only I can fill. Jesus knows when we need to hear something. I needed this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Car rides are an irreplaceable aspect of life. (Except when you take out a shopping cart in the dark. Now that is definitely replaceable).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-4603724268211382672?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PLzGSqitJKBePGVuHGD8oUY5xOE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PLzGSqitJKBePGVuHGD8oUY5xOE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/qWEi6_BxlwI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/4603724268211382672/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=4603724268211382672" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4603724268211382672?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4603724268211382672?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/qWEi6_BxlwI/car-rides.html" title="Car Rides" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SbieoTvnruI/AAAAAAAAC6I/-amxOTwWvnE/s72-c/PIC-0013.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/03/car-rides.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EMRXg8eSp7ImA9WxVREU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-734541659689980550</id><published>2009-01-16T14:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T14:54:44.671-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-16T14:54:44.671-05:00</app:edited><title>Isaiah 58</title><content type="html">As I am in the middle of another 101 adventure, I realize for the first time what I've gotten myself into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number eighteen on my list is "Fast for 3 days." And honestly, I put it there for no other reason than to get it accomplished, not thinking about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; I would be fasting for 3 days. Up until time for it to begin, I hadn't really given it much thought at all. The night before it started (2 nights ago), Bethany and I prayed together and I began to grasp the seriousness of what a fast is all about. All along I was just wanting to cross off another 101 project. Then it hit me like a blow to the head.... a fast isn't about a 101 list. It's something so much more serious and impacting. Relationship-altering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember when Isaiah 58 started to impact me, but it's been a few years now that every time I come across that chapter I have this desire to experience God the way He promises to be experienced through fasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Is&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; this not the fast that I have chosen:    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  To loose the bonds of wickedness,   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  To undo the heavy burdens,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  To let the oppressed go free,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  And that you break every yoke?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" id="en-NKJV-18790" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Is it not to share your food with the hungry &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  when you see the naked, to clothe him, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" id="en-NKJV-18791" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Then your light shall break forth like the morning,    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  Your healing shall spring forth speedily,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  And your righteousness shall go before you;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-- Isaiah 58:6-8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loose the bonds of wickedness.&lt;br /&gt;Undo the heavy burdens.&lt;br /&gt;Let the oppressed go free.&lt;br /&gt;Break every yoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord, that it may be so.&lt;br /&gt;I want it.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, I want You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-734541659689980550?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DugeahROHaiXTbRPnf2smtCGkn0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DugeahROHaiXTbRPnf2smtCGkn0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/kbyZ9Vk2mqg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/734541659689980550/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=734541659689980550" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/734541659689980550?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/734541659689980550?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/kbyZ9Vk2mqg/isaiah-58.html" title="Isaiah 58" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/01/isaiah-58.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUCRns9eyp7ImA9WxVSEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-3818773608976847832</id><published>2009-01-05T19:23:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T23:47:47.563-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-05T23:47:47.563-05:00</app:edited><title>#6... Yahweh, have it Your way</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SWKk1LXbwNI/AAAAAAAAC38/7Sy3IFP0rYE/s1600-h/DSC00150.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SWKk1LXbwNI/AAAAAAAAC38/7Sy3IFP0rYE/s320/DSC00150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287970145977483474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have finally accomplished another 101 task!! #6- get a tattoo :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A couple of nights ago I was talking to Heather on skype when I told her to come up for my birthday. She said she'd come if I got a tat... and since we have been talking about it for so long now, I told her I just might actually do it! (but there was no pressure! haha but really!) So... after much deliberation... I said, "Heather, get in your car." She left her house around midnight and got to mine around 2am. The next day, January 3, 2009, the day I turned 21 years old... I got my first tattoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Stef and Heather watched as the glorious name of our amazing God was imprinted into my skin, forever. I love it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My birthday absolutely could not have been any better. Some have said that since I actually remember my 21st birthday then it wasn't what it should have been. Horsepucky. How sad would it have been if I hadn't remembered this amazing day?? Seriously... it was awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SWKkxCssa2I/AAAAAAAAC30/R1wD0VjcFCw/s1600-h/DSC00177.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SWKkxCssa2I/AAAAAAAAC30/R1wD0VjcFCw/s320/DSC00177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287970074931260258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;According to the book, "Praying the Names of God," the name Yahweh occurs more than 6,800 times in the Old Testament, and appears every time you see the word "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal  {mso-style-parent:"";  margin:0in;  margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1  {size:8.5in 11.0in;  margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;  mso-header-margin:.5in;  mso-footer-margin:.5in;  mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1  {page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-family:arial;" &gt;Lord&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;" in small caps. The name Yahweh is most closely related to God's redeeming acts in the history of His chosen people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My prayer is that every time my eye catches the writing on my wrist, I will be reminded of the One who gave His life for me. And that every time it catches the eye of someone else, they will inquire, and give me the opportunity to tell them of this amazing God who saves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My redeemer... Who ever lives in me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Two down... ninety-nine to go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-3818773608976847832?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Yahweh, have it Your way" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SWKk1LXbwNI/AAAAAAAAC38/7Sy3IFP0rYE/s72-c/DSC00150.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2009/01/5-yahweh-have-it-your-way.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQCRHwyeCp7ImA9WhRWGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-4073755841079691561</id><published>2008-11-28T18:49:00.041-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:32:45.290-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-06T19:32:45.290-05:00</app:edited><title>101 Things in 1001 Days</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So I've joined the 101 hype! ... speaking of hype... everybody should get it! =) anyways, here is my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days. I've already accomplished a few too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Creating your own 1001 Day Project &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Mission:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Criteria:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Tasks must be specific (ie. no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (ie. represent some amount of work on my part).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Why 1001 Days?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Many people have created lists in the past - frequently simple goals such as new year's resolutions. The key to beating procrastination is to set a deadline that is realistic. 1001 Days (about 2.75 years) is a better period of time than a year, because it allows you several seasons to complete the tasks, which is better for organizing and timing some tasks such as overseas trips or outdoor activities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Some common goal setting tips:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;1. Be decisive. Know exactly what you want, why you want it, and how you plan to achieve it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;2. Stay Focused. Any goal requires sustained focus from beginning to end. Constantly evaluate your progress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;3. Welcome Failure. Frequently, very little is learned from a venture that did not experience failure in some form. Failure presents the opportunity to learn and makes the success more worthy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;4. Write down your goals. It clarifies your thinking and reinforces your commitment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;5. Keep your goals in sight. Review them frequently, and ensure that they are always at the forefront of your thinking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;101 Things in 1001 Days&lt;br /&gt;11/28/2008 – 8/26/2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol style="margin-top: 0in;font-family:arial;" start="1" type="1"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Learn      to crochet, and make a hat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Make      a huge "Yahweh" sign for my wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go to      Africa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pay      off my credit card debt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pay      off my car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Get a      tattoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go to      Aliquippa, or somewhere like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Place      verses in random places (i.e. car, mirror, computer)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;" &gt;Read      the Bible from cover to cover.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Read      140 books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;" &gt;Buy a      pair of toms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go to      the DR.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Eat      sushi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go on      a camping trip and sleep in a tent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      hiking in the mountains.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Take a      completely impulsive, spur of the moment road trip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pray      with a friend on a regular basis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Fast for      3 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Order      a t-shirt from Feed Just One.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Move      out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;" &gt;Make a      list of all the words and definitions that I look up in the dictionary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go two      weeks without facebook (while not on a trip).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Run      through an open field.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go an      entire day without talking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Stay      up all night praying and reading my Bible. And not sleep until the next      night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Give      up eating out for 1 month (excluding family outings).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Drink      only water for a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Finish      cross-stitching the one I started years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Watch      the sun rise on a clear horizon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Lay      under the stars in an open field.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Climb      up in a tree and read a book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Take a      trip on a Greyhound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      snow-skiing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Learn      the trick to solving a rubik’s cube.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Recycle      in my home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Spend      a day and night on the streets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      fishing in a boat, and catch something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      hunting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Get my      wisdom teeth out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Patch      up the holes in my jeans myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Create      a t-shirt design and wear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Throw      a surprise birthday funeral/eulogy for a friend (ok, I came up with this idea and it sounds terrible but if you're curious just ask).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go to      bed early every night for a week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Get up      by 8am every day for a week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Have a      consistent quiet time every day for 2 weeks straight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Make a      bracelet and anklet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Make      all my Christmas gifts one year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Research      clothing brands and don’t buy anything from those with sweatshops (1 yr at least).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Drive      a motorcycle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Start      a prayer board and use it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Buy a      nice camera. And take way too many pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Take a      trip to surprise a friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      through a tollway and pay for the car behind me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Wash a      stranger’s feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Plant      a tree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Grow      some tomatoes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go a      month without texting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go a      week without a cell phone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      mushroom hunting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Reach      1000 friends on facebook that I legitimately know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Learn      to like natural peanut butter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Eat      breakfast every day for 2 weeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Give      up sweets for 6 months. (4 is close enough)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Take a      picture straddling a state line.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sponsor      a child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Work      70 hours in one week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go on      a cruise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Stop      using credit cards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pay      everything in cash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go on      a video scavenger hunt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Document over half of these things in pictures and/or video.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Make      20 free throws in a row.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Make a      half court shot (not off the backboard).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Learn      an entire dance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Do a      fundraiser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Have      no more hangnails on my fingers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;See      the Grand Canyon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go to      NYC.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Meet      Beth Moore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;See      Shane and Shane in concert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Grow      my hair long enough for braids/pig tails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Visit      a homeless shelter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;" &gt;Donate      blood and/or plasma once every 6 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      whitewater rafting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;When I      get good service somewhere, tell the manager.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;" &gt;Write      another poem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pay      for the person’s meal behind me in the drive thru.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Give      10 “just because” gifts. (3/10 completed)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Try      Japanese food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Become      an organ donor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Send a      recovering soldier a Christmas card.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Take      vitamins every day for 1 month.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ride      in a limo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Save      $1 a day for 1001 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Kiss      someone on New Year’s.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Go      AWOL for 24 hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Share      Christ with an unsuspecting person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Stay      up for 48 hours straight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Buy a      new pair of sunglasses that I love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Give      up going to the movies for a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Create      another 101 in 1001.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-4073755841079691561?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqGzNO9FQ1qQyPqiuE4SjTxDevI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqGzNO9FQ1qQyPqiuE4SjTxDevI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqGzNO9FQ1qQyPqiuE4SjTxDevI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZqGzNO9FQ1qQyPqiuE4SjTxDevI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/V8-jiVd3qHs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/4073755841079691561/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=4073755841079691561" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4073755841079691561?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/4073755841079691561?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/V8-jiVd3qHs/101-things-in-1001-days.html" title="101 Things in 1001 Days" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2008/11/101-things-in-1001-days.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkECQ3c5eCp7ImA9WxRbEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-8200130131089319300</id><published>2008-11-21T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T17:37:42.920-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-30T17:37:42.920-05:00</app:edited><title>This Should Never Happen</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SSYN0mw_LgI/AAAAAAAAACg/hzs7dHZ3XCU/s1600-h/venecialonis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SSYN0mw_LgI/AAAAAAAAACg/hzs7dHZ3XCU/s320/venecialonis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270915611294117378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;It shouldn't matter what country you live in, or how much money you make per year, or the color of your skin. A human being should never ever have to go without food. This is a picture of Venecia Lonis, a 4-yr-old living in Haiti and suffering from malnutrition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was skimming through the ads on my desktop when the word "starvation" caught my eye. As soon as I opened up the article, anger shot all through me. You can read it for yourself &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27826184/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one... not&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; one&lt;/span&gt; human being... should ever have to be chronically hungry. There is too much abundance in this world, and in this country especially, for this to have to happen. As I read through this article my heart absolutely broke. Immediately I thought of the refrigerator and pantry I have downstairs with so much extra food that my household of four will throw a good portion of away. What did I do to deserve to be born in America where there is an abundance of practically everything?! Why does this 4-yr-old little girl have to be the one starving to death? These kids are barely even reaching 20 lbs. Does this blow anyone else's mind besides me? Seriously. I'm getting an ulcer right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that gets me most about this article is the very last line:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I hope the government will hear about us and bring more support.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27826184/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;Who will help these people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The wealth of the rich is their fortified city&lt;/span&gt; -- Proverbs 10:15a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word fortify means to surround or protect as with a military system. A fortified city has walls built around it to protect. Walls protect, but walls also isolate. We are isolated from the suffering of the rest of the world. I have never been to another country, so pictures like these are all I can go by. But it is enough to tell me that there is a crazy imbalance in this world and it is not okay. Sadly, the vast majority of all Americans who will read that article and see that picture of Venecia in the worst of conditions will simply read it and go on like nothing ever happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus said, "Why are you calling me good? No one is good, only God. You know the commandments: Don't murder, don't commit adultery, don't steal, don't lie, don't cheat, honor your father and mother." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p  style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "Teacher, I have—from my youth—kept them all!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;Jesus looked him hard in the eye—and loved him! He said, "There's one thing left: Go sell whatever you own and give it to the poor. All your wealth will then be heavenly wealth. And come follow me." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The man's face clouded over. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he walked off with a heavy heart. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark 10:19-22 (The Message)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"&gt;Has not Jesus called us to be willing to give everything away to those who need it? Does this mean I should literally sell all that I have? Well, I don't know. Does it? Ask your God. He might just be saying that. But would I really admit to hearing it if that's what He says?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;The more earthly possessions I have, the easier it is for me to be distracted from the Lord. Honestly, I would literally love nothing better than to pack up all my food in the fridge and give all my stuff away to a little girl like this. Jesus has instilled this incredible fire within me to love the oppressed. To reach out to the hurting and the dying. And I've never even been anywhere to make me feel this way. I read passages like this one above where this man is so shocked to hear Jesus tell him to sell all his things. And I wonder.... why am I not more surprised at the things the Lord is telling me? Am I listening? God is not a conventional God. He's not all about what's safe and secure in this world. He's all about the true Safety and the true Security--that is Him. Not my bank account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span id="en-MSG-10280" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom. It's been ready for you since the world's foundation. And here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hungry and you fed me,&lt;br /&gt;I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,&lt;br /&gt;I was homeless and you gave me a room,&lt;br /&gt;I was shivering and you gave me clothes,&lt;br /&gt;I was sick and you stopped to visit,&lt;br /&gt;I was in prison and you came to me.' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span id="en-MSG-10281" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span id="en-MSG-10282" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Then he will turn to the 'goats,' the ones on his left, and say, 'Get out, worthless goats! You're good for nothing but the fires of hell. And why? Because—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hungry and you gave me no meal,&lt;br /&gt;I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,&lt;br /&gt;I was homeless and you gave me no bed,&lt;br /&gt;I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,&lt;br /&gt;Sick and in prison, and you never visited.' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span id="en-MSG-10283" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Then those 'goats' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or homeless or shivering or sick or in prison and didn't help?' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" id="en-MSG-10284" class="sup" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"He will answer them, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matthew 25:31-45 (The Message)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p face="arial" style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus, I long to love you better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 204); font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;~C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-8200130131089319300?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Azi6ho59vKLoAXBJTiJBPeEcikI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Azi6ho59vKLoAXBJTiJBPeEcikI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Azi6ho59vKLoAXBJTiJBPeEcikI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Azi6ho59vKLoAXBJTiJBPeEcikI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~4/HYzU0PD-VhA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://christiecox.blogspot.com/feeds/8200130131089319300/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2917654741314397474&amp;postID=8200130131089319300" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/8200130131089319300?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2917654741314397474/posts/default/8200130131089319300?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/TRmoV/~3/HYzU0PD-VhA/this-should-never-happen.html" title="This Should Never Happen" /><author><name>christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17712058100346480839</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="29" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/Sl1U9AkU_YI/AAAAAAAAEDc/oVqKIqdnAy4/S220/twitterpic.bmp" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o6dA9T2qnZ0/SSYN0mw_LgI/AAAAAAAAACg/hzs7dHZ3XCU/s72-c/venecialonis.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://christiecox.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-should-never-happen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkINQnk6fSp7ImA9WxRbEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2917654741314397474.post-7090551143995487689</id><published>2008-11-06T23:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T17:36:33.715-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-30T17:36:33.715-05:00</app:edited><title>The Written Vision</title><content type="html">&lt;p style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;The Lord had me, so I went into my closet with my bible and notebook and shut the door. After getting everything out of my system I asked the Lord to speak to me through His word and that His words would pierce my heart. Hebrews 4:12 says “For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, &lt;b style=""&gt;piercing&lt;/b&gt; even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” I wanted to be pierced.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;I began to read from Nehemiah. After that I turned to Habakkuk. I started from the beginning and read out loud so I could stay focused. Just to give a little background on Habakkuk, this guy is a prophet, and he’s asking God a few questions and God is answering him back. He is asking for God to show judgment on the enemies of the children of Israel that are dealing with them treacherously and keeping them in bondage. Habakkuk asks God why he allows such things to happen. His people are hurting. Then God answers him. This is when I couldn’t read out loud anymore. I was stopped…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal" face="arial"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Then the Lord answered me and said:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘Write the vision.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And make it plain on tablets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That he may run who reads it.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;--Hab. 2:2&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;The silence was ringing in my ears and I felt that piercing through my heart.&lt;br /&gt;“Write the Vision, Christie!” Write the vision. What does that mean?&lt;br /&gt;But it goes on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“For the vision is yet for an appointed time;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Though it linger, wait for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It will certainly come and will not delay.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Hab. 2:3&lt;br /&gt;(That was a mixture of the New King James and the NIV, just for the record.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" face="arial" class="MsoNormal"&gt;God has a vision for my life. He has a vision He has placed within my heart. Write the vision. The vision is for an appointed time! There are plans He has set! Jeremiah 29:11. But what are those plans? I still don’t know. But what I do know… is that I have to write the vision.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" face="arial" class="MsoNormal"&gt;So what is the vision? Off the top of my head… here is what I see as the vision. The vision of my own heart. The revelation, the dream, the desire I’ve been given by Christ. Free-flowing and raw as can be.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" face="arial" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" face="arial" class="MsoNormal"&gt;The vision is to be voiced.&lt;br /&gt;The vision has no rules, it has no boundaries, nothing by which it is confined&lt;br /&gt;Except that it is a slave to Christ.&lt;br /&gt;It exists by Him and for Him.&lt;br /&gt;For no other purpose than Christ.&lt;br /&gt;The vision is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;. Love unashamed and unleashed.&lt;br /&gt;The vision speaks wonders of the Creator to the creation in its path.&lt;br /&gt;The vision of my heart is that the broken are put back together.&lt;br /&gt;Cracks sealed and bound by the blood of the Lamb.&lt;br /&gt;The vision speaks hope to its hearers and grace to its doers.&lt;br /&gt;The visionary is no longer visible. But serves only as a servant, a shell of a man in which the Spirit of the Living God dwells.&lt;br /&gt;The vision shows the starving being fed. And the thirsty drinking the Living Water… and never thirsting again.&lt;br /&gt;This vision holds a passion that is of no man, but Divine.&lt;br /&gt;A love that could never be faked.&lt;br /&gt;A compassion that flows like blood through veins and pumps a heart that beats only for a gracious God.&lt;br /&gt;The vision is a call to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;A hope that satisfies.&lt;br /&gt;A hope that does not disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;A hope that the captive will become captive in Christ and be set free from this world!&lt;br /&gt;What love is known to man, but that of a man who bore his sin and gave His life?&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for insecurity of the body depending on security of the Savior.&lt;br /&gt;Self is knocked off the front of sufficiency and replaced with grace.&lt;br /&gt;Joyful strength will override physical weakness and make it matter no more.&lt;br /&gt;The vision is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;radical&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;He is a mover and a shaker, that God of Abraham.&lt;br /&gt;A radical if there ever was one.&lt;br /&gt;Radically calling me to change my lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for less.&lt;br /&gt;Less stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Less clutter.&lt;br /&gt;Less busyness.&lt;br /&gt;Less distraction.&lt;br /&gt;Less wasted time.&lt;br /&gt;Less SELF.&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for more.&lt;br /&gt;More love.&lt;br /&gt;More hope.&lt;br /&gt;More smiles.&lt;br /&gt;More compassion.&lt;br /&gt;More hugs.&lt;br /&gt;More joy.&lt;br /&gt;More trust in Him.&lt;br /&gt;More OTHERS.&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for more of Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;Scratch that.&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for ONLY Jesus!&lt;br /&gt;Christie is dead to this world.&lt;br /&gt;Alive in Christ!&lt;br /&gt;For I am crucified with Christ and I live NO longer.&lt;br /&gt;It is not I, but Christ who lives in me.&lt;br /&gt;That means my pride is surrendered.&lt;br /&gt;My arrogance humbled.&lt;br /&gt;My agenda ripped to pieces and thrown in the fire.&lt;br /&gt;My cares of this world... laid at the feet of Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;As far as I’m concerned, I no longer exist.&lt;br /&gt;Merely a tool, a means, a piece of flesh and skin and bone that the Spirit may inhabit, take over, rule and reign to reach in this world the hurting…&lt;br /&gt;The broken-hearted.&lt;br /&gt;The maimed.&lt;br /&gt;The lame.&lt;br /&gt;The disabled.&lt;br /&gt;The diseased.&lt;br /&gt;The abused.&lt;br /&gt;The terrified.&lt;br /&gt;The hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;The homeless.&lt;br /&gt;The hungry.&lt;br /&gt;The little children.&lt;br /&gt;The forgotten.&lt;/p&gt;                                    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The vision is a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;risk&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;There is a risk you will be hated for it.&lt;br /&gt;Your friends may not understand it.&lt;br /&gt;Your family might disagree with you.&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for extreme measures to reach a world in need.&lt;br /&gt;Physical safety is not promised.&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; not seem practical.&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;does&lt;/span&gt; not seem logical.&lt;br /&gt;All odds are definitely against me.&lt;br /&gt;But I have God on my side.&lt;br /&gt;And that’s all I’ll ever need.&lt;br /&gt;Lying in the arms of the Father is all the safety I need.&lt;br /&gt;And I have it.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I have it!&lt;br /&gt;Praise the LORD, He is mine!&lt;br /&gt;Even now and Forever! He is mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vision calls for a change of heart, and a change of life.&lt;br /&gt;All that I have, all that I was, all that I am…&lt;br /&gt;In Jesus’ hands I lay.&lt;br /&gt;In Jesus’ name I pray.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;You who have read, now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;"&gt;run&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2917654741314397474-7090551143995487689?l=christiecox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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