He was heavy.    Heavy like the weight of a house.  Heavy like the stack of bills on the counter behind him.    His shoulders slumped.  His eyes were dull and pale blue.  He wasn’t the man that I used to know.

I had met him in college.  When my world was coming apart and shattering spectacularly around me, he was like a shooting star.  He was the light of the world.   He was enthusiastic and loving and free.  He had something I needed desperately.  That thing was Jesus.

We never talked about God though.  We didn’t have to.  When you are near someone that carries Christ, you don’t really have to label it.  It just is.  God just is.

Last night as I pulled up to his house after homechurch, I was nervous.   It had been 4 years since I had seen him last, and I didn’t know what to expect.   I had imagined watching him come bounding out of his house with all the enthusiasm that I used to know, arms swinging wildly, maybe an odd dance move.  Maybe a cartwheel or two.

But he stood calmly in the road and flagged me in like an air traffic controller.   I stepped out of the car, and he met me at my door.   He reached out to hug me and I felt it.   I felt the heaviness.

Walking into his home, it looked lovely.   There were neatly arranged couches, and lamps and a TV.  There were stacks of papers and magazines and musical instruments strewn around haphazardly.   The house smelled like bananas and peanut butter, and almost every surface was covered in a sticky note with translated phrases in Ukranian.   But there was something missing.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something had changed drastically.   We sat at the dining room table with glasses of water, and started to recap our lives.    Before I could stop myself, don’t go all crazy Christian I said in my head, I was kind of yelling at him.  Not in a mean way, but a concerned ‘What is going on?’ way.  I had to know what happened to him, what had changed.

He stared at me a little shocked.   “I did not expect that from you.”  Was how he replied.

“Well, I mean.  I know I’m here for a reason.  And I have to know.  You used to be the only light I could see, and now…. I don’t see it.   What did you trade that light for?”     I stared at him as he stared at me.     “Did you trade it for a house?  A job?  Some worries and some bills?  What has happened?  Where did Jesus go?”

“I don’t know. I just guess I am comfortable now.”    He looked at me for a long time.  I could see him puzzling something out in his mind.   He stared intently but not intensely.

“Well, is it worth it?”  I asked.  A silence set in between us as he thought about it.

“No.  No it’s not.”  He stated very plainly after a moment.

“O.k.   Let’s get to work then.”

We launched into a conversation about God, about provision, about the capabilities of the creator and identity.    He still loves the Lord.  But somehow, comfort came in – and the day to day crept up – to such an extent that this man forgot that God was capable of all the things he felt responsible for.   The world had started stacking flour sacks of worry on his back.  At first it didn’t matter, because he was strong.   But before long he wasn’t running at God, he was walking with the weight.  And then he wasn’t walking – he was just standing trying to hold everything up.   Stagnation is the devil’s friend.

So we prayed.   And he put the worry down.    He is now free to move as he pleases, and to listen to God and bring the Kingdom.     Over time, the extra five pounds of worry stacks on like holiday weight.  Until  one day when we wake up, lethargic and uncomfortable with ourselves and who we have become.  But we have no idea how we ended up there. 

Well, we got there five pounds of worry at a time.

It might not seem like much at first, and we learn to carry the load as we go – but it encumbers us.  It envelops us.   The small changes over time aren’t drastic.  But slowly worry can become your new normal without you realizing it.   And eventually it will shut out our light.

So if you are feeling a bit heavy today- remember that God does not require you to carry the world.  God does not require you to carry your worries.  In fact, He tells you the exact opposite.  “Do not toil and spin with worry.”

Put down the flour sacks.  Call them out for what they are.  Walk away and stop toiling and start enjoying.

God’s got you.

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So this morning, I was running.   And as I was running in my fifth mile, I found a dollar.  Not a dime, or a penny, but a dollar bill.   Crisp, new and lovely in the sunlight.  It jumped out at me against the green grass on the side of the road.

I was so excited about my dollar.   I held it up in the air, and waved a thank you to Jesus.   It was a special day!   I found a dollar!

I then began planning on how to use my dollar.   I came up with the perfect idea.

Diet coke.

What else?

What else could be better than a lovely cold diet coke after a long run?

I tucked it into my sports bra and picked up my pace and headed into the home stretch.   I was only about a mile and a half from my house.

After about a half mile I was crossing Woodmont Boulevard.  On the other side was a woman walking under the walk/don’t walk sign.   She was holding up a map and had an assortment of papers under her arm.  I bolted across the intersection, and she asked me where Lipscomb University was.   She was walking in the wrong direction towards Belmont.

I stopped running and told her to turn around.   She asked specifically where the bus stop was located.   After giving her directions, I continued on my way.  The second my foot started moving I heard Jesus.

Stacey.   Give her the dollar.

But I have big plans for this dollar Jesus.

Stacey.   Give her the dollar.

But I thought you gave it to me.

Stacey, I want you to give her the dollar.

Why?

Because I told you to give it to her.

At this point, I am still running in the opposite direction from her.   I am trying to justify my way out of giving up my diet coke.   “But you gave it to me,” I whined.

And now I’m giving it to her.   

“But what about my diet coke?”   (I can be bratty about my soda)

Stacey.  I can do more with your dollar than you can.   I can buy a life with a dollar.    Which would you rather have?  A diet coke, or a woman entering into the Kingdom?

So I stop running and turn around.    She has already crossed Woodmont, and is walking quickly away from me.

“Really, Jesus?  I have to go chase her down?”

Yes.

I huff and start running up the hill I had just run down.   She was a good ½ mile away from me now, and my legs were getting tired.

I came to the intersection and played Frogger with the cars as they raced past.  As I got closer to her, God started speaking to me to tell me what to say to her.

I ran up the road and caught up with her in front of a large white church.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Oh yes, hey again!  Am I going the right way?”  She asked me.

“Yes, you’re heading in the right direction, now.  I know this is going to sound silly, but I was running and God told me to give you this dollar.  He wants you to use it for bus fare.   He said He was going to be the one to take you where you needed to go.   He said that He has big plans for your life, and that He is going to provide for you everything you need.”

She stared at me in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” She asked, slowly drawing out the words in a squeaky pitch.

“You know.  God?”  I pointed to the steeple on the church beside us.  “He told me while I was running to turn around and give this to you and to tell you about the bus fare.  He said He was going to take care of the new direction of your life.”

“Huh.”  She sucked in air through her lips and shook her head.   She just looked at me.

“So I guess, here you go.   Jesus loves you.   Don’t forget that.   He said He’s got great things for you in your future.  It is hard now, but look for Him because has a plan.  Be blessed today.”  I handed her my dollar.

She continued to stare at me.   I turned and started running back home.   Simple enough.   And as I crossed over Woodmont for the fourth time, I glanced over my shoulder to see her spread out in the middle of the sidewalk with her papers scattered around her, and her head in her hands.  She was praying

I don’t know what she was praying to God for.   But I now know that Jesus can buy someone’s eternity with a single dollar.

It’s not about what you have to offer- it’s about being obedient to offer it.

So I hope today that you give your dollars, whatever they are, to the ones that God brings you to.     You may be the only Jesus they ever get to meet.

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God hasn’t been that subtle in a few areas of my life lately.  He’s a pretty systematic and methodical guy… most of the time.    And He knows me.  So…. there have been some hard lessons on all fronts.  Work.   Money.   Community.   Men.

Inevitably, you realize, this post is going to be about men.

Three years ago when God said  Soon you will meet the one you admire… (you can read the story here)  I whined…. SOON?!  When is soon?!  That could be decades, Jesus.  And I begged him to move the timeline along.

Then a year ago, when he said This is the season of soon, I was excited!  That story is here.   I asked him to let me watch and see what He was up to.  I wanted to know everything!

And this month it appears that God is turning the soon into now.   And in complete contrast to how I thought I would act, I am throwing on the brakes.  NOOOOOOOOOO.   Not yet.  Not even close to ready for this Jesus.  NO.  No, no, no, no – do NOT want.

Now I’m not one of those crazies that thinks every man I go out with has to have husband potential, that’s for insane people.   That’s why dating exists… to determine someone’s personality and character.  But as I am waking up to the reality that eventually – yes – this thing called Love is going to happen to me, I am panicking.   It’s not some idea.  It’s not a fantasy in my head where I can control my imaginary perfect man.   There will one day be a person.  And this person will love me.  And we will probably fight and love and such.

And it’s scary.   Because when things go from a dream to a reality – the thing changes.   Just like any goal or hope you have.   But I also know that there’s more power in the real thing than could ever be in just a mental version.   It will look different.  He might be shorter, or skinnier, or more emotional than I imagined.  He may have a beard.  He may be bald.  I don’t know.

And the not knowing…. Is what is driving me nuts.   It’s also making me a gigantic scaredy cat.

So just so you know God.  No.   I will not put up with this secretive shenanigan.  I simply demand you tell me who this person is, so we can get on with it.

Sincerely,

Stacey

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Last Thursday I received an anonymous donation to help me with living expenses.  It was literally just enough money to cover the balance of this month’s bills and next month’s rent.  I was shocked.  I was floored.  I was elated.  And I spent about an hour on my face thanking Jesus that He provided just in time.    And as I tucked the cash into the very high-tech savings account that I have (a book on the shelf) I heard God ask:

Are you ready to do this again?

In case you were wondering what I have been up to since returning back to Nashville,  I’ve been writing a book.    8 hours a day, sitting at a computer, writing.   A couple of times a week I also write a blog – like this one – about Jesus popping up in the every day.

At the beginning of last month God asked me to write full-time, which meant only taking odd jobs at odd hours.  I was thankful for them.  But, silly me.   I thought that my only month to write full-time was April.   Write?  Wrong.   (<– Get it, that’s a pun!)

Are you ready to do this again?  God asked.

“Yes God.  Yes.”  I reply to him as I start tabulating my current financial needs.   I was just going to scoot through with enough!  It’s amazing for God to be more the voice in my head now than that other not so pleasant dude.   It feels like an easy conversation with an old friend.   “I will write again this next month.”  I knew the book wasn’t finished and I needed more time, so it made sense to me.   I had a few more chapters to write, and then start editing.    It would probably take me a maximum of three weeks to do this.

However when I awoke the next morning and turned on my computer to start some drafting:

Gone.

The book was gone.

Utterly gone.

I panicked and called my friend Tyler to see if there was a way to recover it.

Nope.  Gone.  It’s gone.   He said.

I pulled out my external back up.

Gone.

It was gone there too.

I pulled up my browser to check for any other avenue of data recovery.

Gone.

The Internet was gone.

Completely not working.  At all.   Gone.

Are you ready to do this again?     God spoke a little louder.    All of it?

“You mean start over? Completely?!”

Yes.

  “Mother FU&#OR&*@…  I mean.  Ok.”

So I sat down at a blank word document.  And began again.

It’s been only 4 days of writing.   I’ve gotten almost 30,000 words out.  And wouldn’t you know it… this version is better.   So much better.   Unbelievably better.

Funny enough, that old rule…. If you let something go and it comes back to you, then you know it’s meant to be… well that rule applies to callings too.  It applies to books and people and jobs and houses and everything.

I’m grateful now that it was gone.   It’s been stressful at moments, but better every step since.   Sometimes the second draft of your life is better.  Starting over isn’t always a step backwards – it can be a great leap ahead.

So if something in your life goes a bit wrong, or if something comes up gone.   I challenge you to not to look at it for what it is – look instead for what it could be.

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Would I really go down this road again?

Would I survive it now?

I had gotten a call from a dear old friend of mine.  Someone that I’ve known for 10 years.  He was the reason I came to Nashville.  A producer and musician of the highest caliber: he is Nashville royalty.  It was a wonder that he ever gave me a chance as a bright eyed 16 year old nobody.   It was a shame that three years later I walked away broken and barely functional.   And now back in town, he called me.  And somehow I ended up in his house.   On his soft leather couch.  

As the speakers started up, I could hear the buzzing.  My heart stopped beating and I went deaf for a moment.    For a split second there was only dead air.   No sound.   No movement.   Just suspended nerves and a sudden urge to cry.

And then the song.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been a writer.   Pen and paper and pianos for years and years.   Little diddies, legato melodies, short, long, soft, loud, slow, fast…. everything.   But totally wrecked at 19, I feared I would never recover.   So I shoved everything into a closet in my heart.  I locked it up and threw away the key.   Doubt does strange things to people – and I was no different.   I put down the guitar and walked away towards prose and photography and more alcohol than was healthy.   Most of my friends never knew that I sang.  I deleted everything off my computer and marked big Xs through my journals.  I wasn’t just going to hide it – I was determined to destroy it.

But now, in this place with this person and this song – the door swung open and there in neatly labeled folders on his desktop were all the files I thought I threw away.  Songs I had written that I couldn’t even remember the words to.

Flooding out of some deep well there were tears.   And more tears.   Funny how a place that has been numb for so long can instantly throb when the blood rushes back.

“Ron.”  I stammered.

“Yeah, baby?” he responded casually.

“I think I’m in danger.”  Tears were freely coming now and my head was pounding along with the melody.  Ron knew.  It may have been four years since I last saw him, but somehow he still knew what I needed.

“Danger?  What do you mean?”

“In danger of needing music again.”

With all the finely honed steadiness of his words and with as much simplicity as he could state it, he replied,   “Sugar, sometimes we’re made to do things.  And not doing them doesn’t change the fact that we’re supposed to be doing it.  We’re still us, we’re just pretending to be someone else that we aren’t afraid of.”

The melody washed over me.  Every note, every word, every guitar strum playing out my heart beat.  Danger?  No.  Not really danger anymore.  I was already done – over the cliff again.

I should have known better than to come to this place. I’m smart enough to know that you don’t flirt with something you’re attracted to until you are ready to take it home.  So armed with a burned CD of my past life…

Here it goes.   Another open road.

Jesus…. Please.  Take the wheel.

At the end of the day I know that it isn’t about being famous.  It isn’t about having something to prove, or being the best songwriter in Nashville.  It’s about not being afraid to be who I was created to be.  And not being scared to share that person with the world.  So if you want to support this momentary bravery, you can listen below.   Laugh if you want.  Or cry.  Either way, it’s fine with me and Jesus.  And I’m throwing in a few old school photos for context because they made me laugh.

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