Confession #24: What God told me about friendships

"I don't know if I've ever been in a clique. The older I've gotten, the more I've realized what a true friend really is. So my friendship circle has changed a bit." 
-Aimee Teegarden

The quote above I came across in the most ordinary of ways. Honestly, I don't know who this Aimme Teegarden is (but as soon as I'm done writing this I will do my due diligence with my mad Google research skills) but she's right on the money when it comes to what I want to share with you today. I was looking for a deep quote on friendship and yet I found exactly what I'm about to say in a couple of sentences. See, a couple of months ago I was really struggling with this whole friendship thing. Trust me when I say struggling what I really mean was that I was hurting and hurting bad.

If you've known me for a while or read some of my other posts, you know by now that overcoming people pleasing has been a hard one for me. It was hard to admit to myself that I was placing people and relationships before God and though living to please God above all was a very freeing feeling and the best way to live, it came with many bumps and bruises along the way. When the Lord makes us new, it's up to us to lay down old behaviors and thought patterns and after years of being a certain way, it's not always easy.

Fear. It all boils down to the fear of rejection. Somewhere along the way I became so afraid to let others down that I aimed and strived to make everybody happy. This came at a steep price. Yet again I digress, back to friendships. So, a couple of months ago I found myself in a strange place. Convinced that I had overcome my people pleasing ways, I found myself feeling very, very alone. Now it wasn't an all of a sudden thing. It was slow, almost undetectable. Friends that I usually spent the most time with weren't around as much (or at all) anymore. There had been no misunderstanding, no blowout, or strife. It just seemed like everyone was off living their life, doing their thing and I was no longer a part of it.

Now don't get me wrong, I still had plenty of friends, invites, get togethers, and women I loved surrounding me but all of a sudden it felt like I had been abandoned by EVERYONE. Yes, dramatic I know but that's what it felt like. I'm not a high maintenance friend and my long term friendships have always ebbed and flowed. I have friends who I don't speak to for months or years at a time and then when we do connect it was like no time had passed. That made it even harder for me.I started to second guess myself, wonder what I had done wrong...I started believing the lie that I was being rejected.

Why do I share this? Why so much detail? I share because I want you to understand the place I was at when I finally gave it over to God and asked Him what He wanted to teach me in this season. You see, it wasn't about them, it was about me, the condition of my heart, and peeling the layers of my soul to discover areas where I still needed healing.And guess what? When I asked, He was good to answer. His answer made so much sense and gave me so much peace. It forever changed the way I look at friendships and all the people He places in my life.

I didn't realize the background part of this post was going to drag on so long, so I won't torture y'all any longer and split this into a two part confession. Before I go though, have you ever felt this way? How does rejection creep into your life? Is it through friendships, romantic relationships, family? I'd love to explore this with you as I share what the Lord has taught me.

Much love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #22: I should be writing Confession #30 today...but I'm a little behind

So today is the last day of October and that means that I should be publishing the last post of my write 31 days challenge. As you can tell, I'm only on confession #22 (out of 30), so I'm just a little behind. Normally I'd either 1) beat myself up over it or 2) ignore the fact all together and just leave this series hanging. Not this time though. I'm committed to finishing this goal even if it takes me a few extra days and rolls into November. There's just something about this challenge, this year, and this series that makes it more than just an ordinary goal or something to check off a list (I'm not a list person anyways).

Last year i think I did around 6 posts all together, and even that was huge for me. Starting this journey, I had no idea how this series would end up. I had no clue what God would lay on my heart or what I would feel like ranting about that day. I just committed to being honest and transparent and in the process I've learned and grown so much. I guess there's a freedom that lies in writing about yourself or your experiences and feelings. No one can argue or discredit you for your story and that's what I've realized I've been laying out there, my story. It's not always pretty, glamorous or uber spiritual but it is 100% me on any given day. This series has opened the opportunity for me to connect on so many levels with people I didn't even think were reading. Every comment, every message I get, all of it means so very much. Not because it meant someone read something I wrote but because it's build a bond between people who have said "me too". We've been there and we get it. 

We live in a time in history where people are quick to pick up their pitchforks and condemn and shame others from the anonymity behind the screen and our hand held devices. So, to see that some of us can come together and walk in each other's shoes even for just a few minutes means the world, a least to me it does.

So if you'll bare with me and give me a few extra days...I'll continue to write and we will end this challenge right where we started, together.

Much Love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #20: Ministry was nothing like I thought it would be

A woman in ministry. What does that even look like? I know what I thought it was supposed to look like. And let me tell you this, when ministry found me I was in for a rude awakening. Yes, funny how that happens. When I surrendered my life to Jesus I had a very skewed, or maybe romanticized, view of what ministry was. You see, my whole life I loved children. I loved watching them, taking care of them, and playing with them. I even worked as a preschool teacher when I was in college. I love, love, loved it! You get the idea, right? So naturally, when it came time to serve the Lord I assumed that’s where He would call me to serve Him. I put on my rose colored glasses and my first attempt at ministry was a stint in the church’s children’s ministry. Though it was fine and fun, I never felt that children’s ministry was what the Lord had for me. Then one day, our youth pastor got on stage and talked about the need for volunteers on Monday nights and I eagerly decided to serve with the youth group. I was leading a small group of high school girls and I loved it. The Lord started preparing me for what would be my true calling and life mission through this season. Each week as I met with these girls, they would shape me as much as I shaped them. I was getting close, oh so close, but still when that season of serving was over I felt no loss or longing, just a sense of mission accomplished. 

So I continued to seek the Lord. I grew in my faith. I had no expectations or aspirations to pursue ‘formal” ministry. This was probably because I was not raised knowing anything about ministry. To be totally and honest I had never even heard of the word ministry until I started attending the inter-denominational church where I met and fell in love with the Lord at. Oh but soon I would learn. I would learn quickly and abruptly that there was a line drawn in the sand when it came to women and ministry. 

You were either in or you were out.

“Say what?!” you ask. I know, I know … I was a little confused too. So let me back up a minute and give you the background info. How can someone go from never even fully understanding what ministry was to feeling totally unqualified, excluded, and shunned from what I now call the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. It all started innocently enough, with a Facebook post. Like most modern day dramas, it all started with Facebook. I remember the day so clearly, that as I sit and type this I realize that my heart must still hurt over this. That there’s more healing that must need to take place. But I’m rambling, so let me get back to my story. I was scrolling down my newsfeed and a friend of mine (a pastor’s wife, lovely both inside and out) posted about an upcoming conference; she shared the details with the link. I can’t remember who the main speaker was at the time, but I do remember that it was a speaker I had told my other friend about. I was excited to share with my friend just to say, “Hey, this is that lady I told you about”. So without thinking twice, I tagged my friend in the comments with a note along the lines of, “so and so, check this out”. I proceeded to log off of Facebook and go on with my day. When I did this I didn’t think anything of it or the other women that might have been tagged in the post. Nor did I notice who was hosting the event. All of that was irrelevant to me because like I said earlier, I was just pointing out something to my friend, kind of like how I would point out a car, handbag, or beautiful house I like with no actual intention of buying it. No foul, no harm. Right?

Wrong. 

Oh boy was I wrong. Little did I know I was about to be schooled in the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. Later that evening I saw the red dot of suspense, I mean the notification dot. Facebook so kindly informed me that a prominent woman in ministry in my community had tagged me in a comment. I was curious to see what she had tagged me in, as we weren’t close but I admired her greatly. And then came the burn. She had pointed out very publicly and pointedly (remember she tagged me with my first and last name) that the event I had commented on was ONLY for pastor’s wives and “women in ministry”. Ouch.

I was confused, mad (fuming actually), and hurt. I had no clap back. All I had was the feeling of being sucker punched and the conversation in my head that went something like this:

1. Who are you to say I’m not a woman in ministry?

2. I didn't know there was a special club for these “special women” and the rest of us    were not invited.

3. If my place in the caste system was so low that I’m not even allowed to comment      on a post, why would I want to do ministry anyway?

4. I didn’t want to go to your stupid event anyway!!!!

These four thoughts went in and out, up and down, and around my head for hours, maybe even days. Then I realized something, my anger was just masking the very real and raw emotion that I didn’t want to face, REJECTION. I had come from a community of believers that were accepting and loved and celebrated me just as I was. A community where I didn’t even realize that what I was doing was “ministry”. I just wanted to serve the Lord and the church gave me the opportunity. Other than passing a background check to be able to work with kids and youth, nothing else was required of me. But now, now I found myself wading in unknown waters. I never in a million years would have thought that the Body of Christ would be so exclusive, elitist, and clique-y. So what was I to do? How was I to reconcile this rejection with my heart’s desire of serving the Lord? More importantly, how would the passion I had to help women discover their true identity in Christ, be affected by this? How when it was the same women who I thought were on my team were the ones to reject me? But God.

God. G-O-D. My Father, My Redeemer, My Healer, My Vindicator, My Hero, and My Everything. He was so good to me. If He loved me, and I knew He did, I could face anything. I could move past this rejection. He could heal the wounds from that painful sting and use that very wound to start a fire in my soul. You see, instead of allowing that seed of rejection grow and fester into bitterness, He changed my heart. He gave me grace. Grace for me and grace for those who never realized they had hurt me. And that fire that began to burn that day was the fire that fuels the passion for my life ministry, helping women know their identity in Christ so that they may live the purpose and call God has for their lives. I learned something so vital and so essential from the moment of that pivotal Facebook post: 

Ministry is not something that you do. Ministry is not something that you are in. Ministry is a way of life.

You beautiful woman of God, child of the Most High King, have been called to a life of service, a life consecrated unto Him, a life of ministry. What does that look like? It’s not Wednesday morning Bible Study, it’s not greeting at the church, serving in the kid’s ministry, attending conferences, writing a blog, speaking, preaching, or singing on a stage. I mean it can be all these things but sweet sister, it is SO MUCH MORE. It’s the way you smile at the new girl who just walked into church for the first time, it’s staying up late to help your husband study for his Board Exams, it’s feeding the homeless, it’s taking your daughter shopping or drying her tears after her first heartbreak, it’s praying for your coworker who doesn’t know the Lord, it’s giving a check to the family in your community who just lost it all, it’s loving on the unlovable, and sometimes it’s just making it through the day when you think you can’t go on. 

We are not part of the Sorority of “Women in Ministry”. We are the community of women living our ministries. 

The other night, I was on Facebook and I felt the Holy Spirit wanting me to share on the topic of ministry. If I can leave you with one thought on ministry it would be this:

As I sit here I reflect on this thing we call "ministry". Man, this is totally not what I signed up for. It's harder, messier, more complicated, and absurd than I could ever imagine.

It's also the most beautiful display and dance of God's love I've ever seen in action. So now what? So now I dance. I dance in the sunshine. I dance in the rain. I dance in the storms. When I'm drowning I give in and dance in the water until He gently and so gracefully lifts me up. I float and bask in His presence until he gently brings me to shore. And then? And then, my friends I get up and dance again. But this time I find someone to dance with, someone who hasn't heard a song in a very long time, the one who needs to dance the pounding of the heartbeat God has placed in the core of their being. And then we dance and dance some more. We bring others along with us as the love of the Father shines down on us all. And this, this is the beautiful imagery of ministry in action.

It's not about a 501c(3). It's not about a building. It's not about a board of directors or trustees. It's about relationship. It's about love. Our relationship with our Father overwhelming us to the brink so that nothing but love can pour out to those around us. It can be your family. It can be your workplace. It might be your sick husband or the mother in law you think you hate. It's the smile to the stranger. The sandwich to the homeless man lying filthy on the street. It can be all of this and so much more. It is all of this and nothing less. 

Do not despise where you are at. Do not crave position. Do not orchestrate a platform. Just be. Receive. Dance. Love.

This is ministry my friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Don't love to be loved. Love because you are loved.

It’s messy, it’s rewarding, it’s complicated, and sweet. It’s not a club, sorority, or clique. It’s me and it’s you. Don’t give up. Keep on truckin’. Keep on keepin’ on. You are worth it. You are called. The world needs you because the world needs more women living in ministry, not just “women in ministry”.

Much Love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #13: It's all about the fight...song

So David arose early in the morning and left the flock with a keeper and took the supplies and went as Jesse had commanded him. And he came to the circle of the camp while the army was going out in battle array shouting the war cry.

1 Samuel 17:20

When I think about the battles of life, I think about how music and song have gotten me through some of the toughest battles of my life. One day as I was journaling the Lord revealed to me why this was. He showed me that throughout history, anytime a soldier went into combat, there would be a battle cry. Battle cry is defined as:

bat·tle cry

noun

1. a word or phrase shouted by soldiers going into battle to express solidarity and intimidate the enemy.

   synonyms:

   war cry, war whoop, rallying call/cry;  rebel yell "the army's battle cry"

Like the lyrics from the song by Rachel Platten, we all need a fight song. Something that reminds us and incites us into motion, into action. It gets you pumped up, it reminds you who you are, and that you can do it. I've had more than one battle cry throughout the years. Almost as if God gives me the perfect song right when I need it. 

Lyrics from "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten

Yesterday I discovered a new song. I half listened until the lyrics just shook me. This is the part that stood out to me:

We'll walk through fire and ice

Come out the other side with diamonds in our eyes

[Chorus]

So princess, hold your head high

Even if you have to cry

Don't let your crown fall

Don't let your crown fall

Your script is in the making

You can hold the aching but

Don't let your crown fall

The lyrics get even better, just take a listen for yourself...

So tonight, if you haven't yet ..find you're battle cry. Find your fight song. Life hits hard and you're gonna need it. And remember sweet sister...Don't let your crown fall.

Much love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #12: What I learned sitting in my dark closet tonight.

Tonight I sat in my closet and did something I've done so many times before, I sat and prayed and talked to some of my favorite peeps behind the screen. I was using the app called Persicope to livestream some prayer time with others. Truth is for a season the Lord had me wake up every day around 6 am for this very purpose. It has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. 

My prayerscopes were a crucial part of the birth of my ministry Women's Night of Prayer, also known as WNOPtribe. In all honesty Periscope was an amazing tool and vehicle that the Lord used to bring together some of the most amazing people I've ever met. We are family and friends in the truest definition of the word. After not being on regularly in months I wasn't sure if anyone I knew would be on tonight. But then all of a sudden a familiar face popped up, sweet Marlene.

We also had some new people on tonight. Some from Turkey, a lady from Chicago, and other lovely people that came in to say hi.One thing I've always done on my scopes is be truthful and honest. That honesty became a huge blessing. When Marlene asked how I was doing, I was honest. I was good, but I was exhausted. I am in a rough season where I feel very isolated. We talked through it, we prayed through it...and then all of a sudden:

THE LIGHT IN MY CLOSET WENT OUT.

Just like that, no warning. I opened the door to let some light in and prepared to hop off. Oh no! God had another plan. The light going off,instead of discouraging Marlene it reminded her of the scripture below.

When she shared it, it hit me. This is the season I am in. This is the lifeline verse that I've been asking for. God used this moment to remind me that yes, I have fallen...but I will rise. That I might be sit ting in the darkness, but that He is my light.

It gave me a sense of relief. It was a reminder of everything that is true. That I am not alone. The darkness on the scope tonight only lasted until I opened the door. Once I did that, the light flooded in. 

It's time to arise! It's time to open the door!

Much love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #11: I drive 4 hours to get my hair done...

Call it craziness, call it blonde ambition but every 3 to 4 weeks I travel about 4 hours to get my hair done. There's no logical explanation for this other than I haven't found anyone in my town or nearby San Antonio to do my hair the way I like it.

It hasn't always been this way. I actually stumbled upon the colorist hair genius that is Ana, very randomly. A trip to visit family and a casual conversation in a mall led me to elements salon. The rest is history. Well, maybe not history but certainly the most perfect platinum blonde hair to ever grace my head. 

.

This was a few years ago, before my wedding or having a baby. I continued to see Ana for a while, but as the wedding grew near, I had to find a closer option for my beauty ritual. After the wedding life got busy as a newlywed and soon to be mother, and platinum wasn't practical. My blonde ambition got shelved as I delved into motherhood.

Then one day, I awoke from the slumber and my soul cried out summoning the blonde that lived inside of me. I actually found another angel/hair stylist. Her name was Kim. She is  a pastor's wife I met during a conference. A woman who loved women and I was blessed to have known her. As she dyed and cut and styled my hair each month, we would share stories of our toddlers and the messiness of ministry. Until one day, the Lord called them back home...to Virginia!!! Ugh!!! I had finally found some one local I loved and the Lord sent her away. What was a girl to do?

It took me a while, but for some reason I felt like I was supposed to find Ana again. Go back to Houston. Crazy as it sounds, I knew that whatever it was that the Lord had for me at that salon, it was way more than my hair. See, I'm sure it might come across as high maintenance and pretentious to drive 4 hours because there's no one good enough here. I would think the same thing. 

But God. God had a plan.

I slowly got back into the rhythm. Ana got my hair on track and I got to know her more and more with each visit. Hopefully one day I'll be able to share a little bit of Ana's story and how it's blown me away and blessed me in so many ways. But it's not my story to tell. And since I'm the ultimate procrastinator, none of these posts are planned until I sit down each night to type them. In other words, no time for me to ask Ana permission to share a glimpse into her life.

I will tell you this...I drive 4 hours to get my hair done...I drive 4 hours because my soul gets filled with life, love, and laughter with every visit. It's not about the hair...it's not about my appearance...it's about the beauty that's created between the women that sit around Ana's table each time I visit.

Much love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #10: I have a tattoo...ok, maybe have 2

So I have a tattoo...well actually, I have two. Both of my tattoos represent very different moments of  my life but they have one thing in common, I got them to commemorate a life change. And that's where the similarities end. 

The one you see in the picture above, I got about three years ago.The anchor represents the security and love I found in my relationship with Christ. Having had gotten a tattoo while I was in college and in a different mindset, I struggled with the thought of wanting one as a born again Christian. I had no judgment towards Christians who did, I just wondered how God would feel about me permanently marking my body again. I was raised to believe that tattoos were a form of mutilation. So between those thoughts (though it didn't stop me before) and me just wanting to live a life that honored God, I found myself in a juxtaposition.

Trust me when I say, I didn't take the decision lightly. I knew what I wanted and where I wanted it. I wanted an anchor, based on some scripture I loved.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, ~ Hebrews 6:19

I knew I wanted it on my wrist because I wanted a constant reminder. I knew the day would come when I'd need to look down and be reminded of God's goodness; reminded that when the waves of life crashed on me and tried to sway me to and fro, that God was my anchor. I knew my faith would want to waver, or that I'd forget in the moment how much He loved me and that I was secure.

I know not everyone needs permanent ink on their body to be reminded of this, but I did. So how did I come to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do [for me]? I asked God and then, I waited. I waited for weeks before that one day at the beach when I finally felt it was time.He gave me the okay and so I went. It's nothing fancy or special but it means so much to me.

Let me tell you a little something about this tattoo. While my other one is hidden and was never meant for the eyes of anyone, this one is just visible enough for the right people to notice. When I get asked about it, it's an open invite to speak life into a person through scripture.See, people can argue about many things but they can't argue with your story. As they ask me, it's because they want to know the story behind it, my story, God's story. 

About my other tattoo...well that one would get me attention when I wore two piece bathing suits on the beach. What story did it tell? I was young, I loved butterflies and the sun (I know...so cliche), and I thought it represented freedom. How silly I was, I didn't even feel free enough to have a tattoo in a visible place. Funny how the enemy and the world deceive us. I had a tattoo that supposedly represented freedom yet I was too ashamed of it to show it.

Yet when I found freedom, I chose a tattoo of a symbol that represents security and being grounded.

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**

Confession #23: My Story...My Why.

This post was originally a Facebook status from January 14, 2015. The Lord had me share  bit of my story in that post and this is what I shared:

About two years ago I was at a really dark place in my life. From the outside everything looked good, Facebook fabulous at its finest. I was recently engaged with the man of my dreams, I had friends, I loved Texas, yet I was a mess. I couldn't understand why I couldn't succeed career wise, why I felt like a failure, why I was depressed, and anxious. I was paralyzed on my couch literally one day and cried a desperate prayer. I was going to church because it was "the right thing to do". I found a great job and started planning my wedding to be let go on the day of my birthday. My income was supposed to pay for our wedding. I had no answers, life didn't seem fair. So we came to the decision to stop trying to find a job. It should have been a huge relief but it wasn't. You see my identity was wrapped around achieving academic and career success. It was where I placed my worth. Without that I was lost, a nobody. Yet deep down I knew that that distant God I prayed to would come through and I would have some sort of celebration and small wedding. I was angry, I felt useless, and alone. And guess what? When I gave up and surrendered my will, my expectations, my vision...I found God. See I always knew He existed but I didn't know Him. I was going to my church every week to talk to the ladies I had "nothing" in common with (or so I thought) to talk and work through my issues. See I thought I was there to fix myself. But no, God placed me there so He could fix me. These women loved on me, prayed for me, cried with me, became my sisters. And along the way...well, my life changed. Was it instant? No. Was it life altering, irrevocable, overwhelming, and mind blowing yes. You see, that year when I thought was a waste and I was doing nothing...I got to know God. Not only know Him, fall head over heels, madly, and insanely in love with Him! Something that would've never happened if I had had my dream job. I'd would've been too busy to find Him. Did my life circumstances change overnight? No. Did all my hardships disappear? Not at all. In many ways they got harder. But since then I've changed. I KNOW THAT I KNOW who I am. I know where my worth, strength, and beauty come from. They come from God, the most High King. I am His daughter, His heir. I know joy like I've never known before. I've faced circumstances that would've destroyed me in the past and have come out of it with more joy, strength, and faith. I still don't understand it all, I still get impatient and wonder why bad things happen to good people. But I know that God works all things for good. I've seen my family be blessed by him, I have family in people I've known for so little time, I've seen miracles, healings, but above all ...I've seen God's faithfulness through it all. He will speak to you through the storm...you need just to call on Him. This is what I speaking of earlier of building an altar. This is one of my altars. When my faith is tested and I am weary, when I feel like I've deviated from my calling, or that I'm not hearing from God I will come back to this holy place. This moment in time when there was an exchange between Heaven and earth.

That's my story...what's yours? Have you built your altars of faith? You don't have to do this alone. That's why I'm here...we're in this together. Today can be the day everything changes.

Much love,

Cristina

**This is part of the 31 day series: Confessions of a Faithonista**