It's not you. It's me. Promise.

I would love nothing more than to bring you to our church. A beautiful log cabin in the middle of the woods. A building so unique that a church is the last thing you think of. It's a home. A home for my family. A home for my children to find a real Jesus.

It's perfect for us.  We have had birthday parties, slumber parties, baseball games all in this facility.  I love to show it off.

So, if you come there are some things you should know.

First, the people are amazing. Our seats are full of the most wonderful, servant-minded men and women you can find. Humble hearts united to make our small body unique. We don't play church. These are real and imperfect people.  And, boy can they COOK.  Today we had the most amazing pasta dinner and in two weeks, FRIED TACOS.  You will want to come for that!

Second, the worship is powerful.  The team is very talented.  Every Sunday you can bet you will experience God.  It's not about the performance, it's about the moment.  The music and the atmosphere usher in an intimate time where you can let go of your junk and BE with the King.  Very powerful and always emotional.  The perfect opener to solid teaching.

Thirdly, if its your birthday you can bet we will make you stand on a chair so we can sing to you!  Growing up in a major denominational church, this was one of the hardest things to get used to.  We can stand on chairs!!??  GET OUT!  But this silly tradition is a way of telling you that you are family.  You are important to us.

Our church does a lot of things right.  I could go on and on about all the things I think we are good at.  But, if I could change one tiny little thing it would be our propensity to hold hands.  We are a body of believers that like to close almost every Sunday with a little cross the aisle hand hold.

And that's probably fine if you aren't me.  Sweaty McSweaterson.

My hands are always sweaty.  *eww*  For a long time I wouldn't admit that, but hey.  I like admitting socially awkward things on my blog.  I'm deaf and my hands sweat.  Hold down the jealousy.

So if you sit by me, please know that I won't hold your hand.  I will hug you, link arms with you, "rock up", but I won't hold your hand.  It's not you.  It's me.  I hope that doesn't make you feel awkward.  I promise you that it's not the fact that you coughed 347 times in 10 minutes.  It's not a germ thing.  It's a temperature control thing.

Trust me.  I am saving you from five minutes of embarrassing weirdness.  Not to mention significant wetness.  Apparently I am not the only one who thinks this.  You must take the time to read this post and all the comments. Hilarious.   

I love my church and I want you to come. 

Sit by me and we will knuckle bump for Jesus.

Passion.

First of all...WOW! You, my friends, are amazing women! So encouraging, honest and kind. It's a funny thing, honesty. You live your life, you do your thing, you think you are alone but after a little raw-ness you realize that YOU WERE NEVER ALONE. NOT EVEN CLOSE!

You blessed me. Thank you.

Second of all, if you are my pastor you are about to get a second shout-out today. But I feel pretty safe knowing that my pastor doesn't waste his precious time reading the wandering thoughts of a snot-covered mommy with elastic pants. Pretty sure he has a million and one OTHER THINGS to do.

(But, Joe, if you are reading...I think you are just great!)

Along with teaching about JOY, he has spent time encouraging and challenging each of us to find our PASSION in life. Over the course of a few months people have began to share their passion. Which, of course, triggers a deep sense of insecurity in me because I lack a passion.

Maybe it's not lacking in me...maybe it's just the word "PASSION." It's a BIG, SCARY word for someone who can't easily identify theirs. It conjures up guilt in me, selfishness even. My heart wants a passion, but my brain says, "how selfish to think about anything other than your family."



Of course, there is nothing more important to me than my husband and kids. But is that all I am? Isn't there something in me that is JUST MINE? Something that makes my face light up and my wheels turn?

Oh, here comes the guilt voice again.

"Your children, your husband and your home should be all those things."

God is funny about taking something and making a THEME of it. Since this passion series came up at church I have been in more conversations with people where I can easily identify theirs.

**A grandmother who devotes her time to learning how to take wonderful pictures.

**Lady at church has a passion for helping Hispanic women clothe and feed their children.

**Many families whose heart belongs on another continent waiting for adoption.

**Young woman who gave up an entire year of her single-ness to join a missionary race around the globe.

**Young man has a heart for traveling to Jerusalem and taking his baby sister.

**Mom who started designing clothes for her daughters and now has a booming business.

**Friend so committed to seeing others get healthy that she started a Boot Camp in her area.

I could go on and on, but the thing is a whole lot of people have a PASSION for something bigger than themselves. And in all of these cases I believe they are God-given.

So, that leads me to wonder about myself.

Heaven help me, here is my list of what I could be "passionate" about...

**sarcasm
**coffee
**napping
**watching every episode of Friends

But something bigger?

I just don't see it...

I hope to find it, and with it the WOMAN that God designed without a trace of insecurity, guilt or shame!

What about you? What is your PASSION? What makes your wheels turn?

Fragrant Aroma

A log cabin in the midst of a beautiful forest. A wraparound front porch with swings and rocking chairs. A place for gathering and celebrating. An imperfect church for imperfect people. My favorite place in the whole world.

There are so many reasons why I deeply love our church. One of them is that we are not like the majority. We are not stained glass and fancy clothes. We are not ritualistic and legalistic. We are not organ music and stuffiness. We are real people loving a real Savior dealing with real life. We are imperfect.

I never realized what having a personal relationship with Jesus was about until I stepped through those doors. Our pastor is a teacher. He makes God's Word come alive and teaches us how to apply the scriptures in a life-changing way. For me, our church is intimate and comfortable like a good pair of shoes. It is our home.

Last night we gathered together for a prayer service. The lights were off. Candles and oil lamps lit up our beautiful sanctuary. Walking in the room, an immediate sense of peace rushed in to greet me. All around I saw people kneeling and praying and crying and worshipping. It was beautiful. I found my place on the floor,and spent an hour in His presence.

I imagined all of our prayers drifting to heaven and God being honored. In a world that doesn't honor Him, I know in that moment He was soaking up our prayers and smelling the fragrant aroma.

As I sat there last night, I realized that there is nowhere else I would raise my children. I want them to know what a personal relationship is all about. I want them to feel what we did last night. I want them to love the Lord with all their hearts. I want them to feel safe when they walk through those doors. I want them to know that we are imperfect and in need of a perfect Savior. I want them to have a passion for the Bible.

The good news is that God wants that for them as well.