Three easy ways to save the world.

Somebody on Instagram mentioned how things haven’t changed for us women.

And she’s absolutely right.

And they haven’t changed for the men either.

Or the children.

Or every person every shade under the sun.

We all live in a personalized hell. And Satan has an uncanny way of making us feel like we’re drowning in a pool of our own making.

He also does this cute little thing where he allows you to bob your head awhile to stare at somebody else’s pool. And there they are, lazily floating on their pool float, soaking up the sun.

Jerks.

Right?

I’m not a fan of the “-isms.” Which is a major 180 from the person I used to be. When I was twelve I asked for books about Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan for Christmas. I soaked up every ounce of their lives, their existences, what they fought for. I had no God, not really, so I needed people.

I needed people to save me.

My teenage years were very dark. I ran for miles and miles and miles in the incredibly chest crushing Houston heat. I hated my body, myself and in some sense, I wanted to disappear. I ate nothing but small portions of grapes and pretzels with a little bit of mustard (how I thought this was a brilliant idea is beyond me, well, this older version of me, but I digress) and every time I sat in my closet to read Cold Mountain (summer reading), I started to cry. But not just cry. Panic cry like someone was trying to kill me.

People talk about money and privilege like it solves everything.

It solves absolutely nothing. And I’m convinced it’s just another shiny thing Satan uses to get you to lift your head.

Like fighting for something you believe in even if that means fighting against somebody else.

I’ve thought about it for a long time. Prayed about it, too.

This world will not change on our own accord. We are not the brilliantly evolved beings we like to believe we are just because we have indoor plumbing.

The same issues that arose in biblical times arise now. And we still solve them the same way: with the force of our hands.

So how do we really solve the problem?

Here, let me help:

  1. Christ. Follow him. Give up everything else that is shiny and beckoning and makes you believe you’ll have it all figured out “if just.” If just nothing. Satan knows your heart and your mind. He’ll keep playing you. And he’s very good at it.
  2. Stop the pack mentality. Stop the -isms. Stop grouping yourself into a category and grouping everyone else into another. JUST. STOP. IT. I know you think you’re helping, and if we could just cut that other group down, then wow, we’ll really get somewhere! No you won’t. You won’t get anywhere.
  3. Instead? Look everyone in the eye as the individual they are. Look at every situation as a specific occurrence you can handle with God’s help. Otherwise, you’ll move through life like a mindless pack animal who starts to get twitchy every time somebody posts something on Facebook that’s counter-intuitive to your way of thinking. Nobody like twitching. Nobody.

And here’s one more I’ll throw in for free: don’t judge. I firmly believe our paths as Christians are highly individualized and even though we come together as one body, we all have separate purposes. Some of use might be missionaries, some of us might be called to stay right here. Some of us will be hanging out with the used and abused, some of us will be working with those who label themselves as the quintessential Christian and are under the impression their feces gives off the scent of fresh, cut roses (mmmm!).

So if you happen to be bobbing along in your pool, skin soaking in the sun, hop off your float. Get into someone else’s pool. And help them out.

Otherwise?

We’ll all start to drown.

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Maybe it’s more than just karma.

We’re moving soon, and I have no idea where.

I am quite the planner, and the fact that I can’t plan right now is pretty catastrophic. It’s right up there with having to wear pants every day.

Have you met pants?

Evil.

I realize now, however, that this is a test of my faith and commitment to God’s plan for me whereas before I would have suspected it was the universe firing down at me for the time I had my best friend break up with my eighth grade boyfriend over the phone.

I mean, I was tired and hate confrontation and pants would have probably somehow beeen involved so no thank you.

But my beliefs have been reshaped, and I’m no longer a lifelong member of the karma club. I think if there were a “universe” that doled out consequences, there would be a few more people hiding in their pantries right now (because that’s where the snacks are. Duh).

It makes a lot more sense to me to believe there’s a God that leaves some people to their own devices. They might be smiling now, but trust me. Life goes fast and with it? That smile.

So my heart knows that I don’t need to know or see anything to fully confirm my belief that God’s got this. And really, that’s such a relief to know.

For the majority of my life, as the beautifully budding humanist I once was, I put so much emphasis on my inner MEMEMEMEMEMEME! I thought I was pretty spectacular and could handle just about anything.

Which was hilarious if you’ve ever seen me attempt to open a jar of pickles. Or find a pair of pants in a sea of shirts.

It’s like when there’s ten thousand spoons and all you need is a knife. Beautiful imagery. Someone should write a song about that.

Anyways, what I’m trying to say is if you’re in a dire “what the frick??” moment and can’t see beyond two inches in front of your nose. Hold tight.

Close those eyes of yours because they’re not doing you much good right now, are they? Deep breath now. And a prayer, letting God know that you trust Him, you believe in Him, and you will let him guide you along this beautifully horrifying road known as life.

And that you will wear pants no matter how much it cuts to the core of your very soul.

Soul paper cut. Ow.