announcing: KatieKump.com

Well, dear friends and family, the time has come to announce a very fun and exciting new development! My blog is moving! And I would love for you to join me at:

www.katiekump.com

Today's Five Minute Friday post is up over there, as well as all my other posts, ever. So if you've been following via RSS or email, please do click through today and rejoin me momentarily.

A huge thank you to the lovely and brilliant K.C. Young for all of her work and time and patience in helping me with this project. I am so grateful. Please send money and flowers and gifts her way as a token of appreciation!

There will surely be more construction going on, but I'm excited for the move and hope you'll join the fun!

Love you all,
Katie

#firstworldproblems

For those of you on Twitter, or even just Facebook probably, it's likely you've seen people tag their posts #firstworldproblems.

And let's be honest, we have a lot of them:

"Too many concerts, not enough money. #firstworldproblems"

"My medicine doesn't taste good. #firstworldproblems"

"When your phone charger isn't long enough to reach your bed. #firstworldproblems"

"My 52 oz drink won't fit in my car's cup holder. #firstworldproblems"

The Twit-lists go on and on and on.

But I'm not about to bash those people who use the phrase. I'm not about to guilt you about things you've said or complained about.

Rather, I'm turning all the criticism on myself as I have noticed in our current and impending circumstances how prone I am to worry and complain and horde angst about matters that don't.

My recent qualms regard the weeks following Stephen's homecoming and a little bit of uncertainty there. It sounds something like this:

"Ugh, we just really need to figure out when we're going to move and where to so we can be closer to our friends! And we need to figure out how to go on vacation in the middle of all of that too! And where should we go? And what should we do when we get there??"

I've even jokingly added on, "I know, I know, #firstworldproblems"

Until one day I stopped myself.

Because really. 

Really.

That's what they are. 

And while my Father in heaven has His eye on all these details and does care about them, His ultimate goal in it all is for whatever comes to conform me to the image of His Son. And that should be my primary concern as well. 

Not to mention the fact that between seeking Jesus and planning vacation there are a lot of other priorities that require the majority of my time, prayers, thoughts, and strength.

So if you hear me griping about any of these things, or any others, that just don't matter, please do alert me. I want a heart of gratitude more than almost anything else in the world. 

That is all.

Five Minute Friday: Dance

Most Fridays in a month I head over to Lisa-Jo Baker's blog to join in the Five Minute Friday fun. And though today's participation got extended to the wee hours of Saturday morning (and broke a few rules in so doing), I'm so glad I jumped in. So, for five (and twenty) minutes...Dance.

GO!

Some days FMF is exactly where I am supposed to be.

Today is one of them.

Just a handful of hours ago I found myself dancing with my favorite 2-year-old to the Kidz Only Music Choice channel on Comcast. It's one of our favorite past times and I will gladly take a majority of the credit for her love for dance. She's been watching me goof off and love life through dance for nearly two years. And who can resist, now that she's talking up a storm, when she says, "Tadie, I wanna dance wiz YOU!!" Everything stops, all of life, whatever it is we were doing before, and we dance. We run in circles, we do ballet, we wobble our knees and we just don't stop. We dance until we're sweaty and thirsty and drag ourselves to the kitchen for a drink.

Glorious. Truly.

I cannot fathom how it's fair that I get paid to spend my days this way, but I do praise Jesus for it.

Today though my thoughts were drifting into tomorrow's dance party, the wedding reception of a dear friend from high school. I so look forward to cutting loose with my mom, old church friends, and maybe if I'm lucky my dear-old-dad too. 

But I have to admit that, unlike any other reception anticipation, I'm feeling just the tiniest bit anxious.

Ok, that's a lie.

I'm way more anxious than I want to even admit to myself.

STOP.

But clearly I cannot stop here. So if you wanted only a Five Minute read, feel free to abort now as I am unsure where this ship will land. My feelings won't be hurt.

But whether alone or with company, I need to dig this out.

It's not my dance moves I'm worried about. They flow naturally, and often uncontrollably, and tend to leave people smiling, a win whether it's laughter or awe-inspired.

It's not that Stephen won't be here, per say. I danced the night away at a wedding last Saturday without him. In fact, this will be the 6th wedding I've flown solo since he deployed last year.

It's not the forecast of outrageous heat. A stifling high of 106 is reportedly up and coming for us tomorrow.

Nope. It's not any of these things. It all boils down to one word, one tiny word, one high school word I wish I knew nothing of.

The beautiful, Christ-loving, glory-giving bride-to-be was popular.

There, I said it. And believe me it looks even shallower now than it sounded in my head all afternoon.

But she was...and is, I suppose, in that crowd of cheerleaders, football players, well-dressed, super-"cool" kids who called me Smart Girl if they needed to call me anything at all.

{Now, as a disclaimer, they were not all this way. Some were delightful altogether and precious friends to me.)

Still, what was a fun and lighthearted dance party with my friend, JuBe, suddenly felt the weight of worldly insufficiency come crashing in in an instant. Not crippling, but still anxious. Not debilitating, but still present.

Ugh, insecurity! I should be over you by now.

But the facts I want to flaunt defensively against the onslaught of imagined inferiority have nothing to do with the issue, not at the root. Nothing I have accomplished solves the problem. Nothing I can show alleviates the shyness. Nothing that has changed in the last seven years gives me any sure footing on which to stand when Satan tempts me to despair. 

The issue is still comparison. And the answer is still that I am found in Christ.

Nothing else truly matters. Period. Paragraph.

I was then. I am now. Freedom.

Underneath my lingering people-pleasing, fear-of-man, self-loathing, underneath it all is truth. That everything about Katie died with Jesus, and I am raised in His new life, living His identity. At war with sin, oh yes! Sin is outraged by the turnover and fights against it constantly. But the truth remains.

I am found in Him

Complete in Him.

Validated in Him

Accepted in Him. 

Lacking nothing in Him.

Free in Him.

Full in Him.

Alive in Him.

Hopeful in Him. 

Loved in Him.

The joy of Truth is liberating and captivating all at once. My heart enthralled by the outrage of His love. My heart set free to live so fully.

The joy fuels the dancing. And all I want to do is dance this life in Jesus.

sharing Daddy

My dad is the best. He really is.

He is a humble servant--the most go-with-the-flow, others-before-self, always-there man.

He is a hard worker for good purposes--commuting more than one thousand miles each month to provide for his family, diligent in all his tasks, yard man, maintenance supervisor, sound guru, drummer, runner.

He is an encourager to the core--always uplifting, truthful and loving, an eye for what people do well.

He is a Jesus-loving man--knowing Jesus more each year, using those miles and miles of traffic war for prayer, and ever more concerned for the things that God is concerned for, generous to a fault.

He is a faithful husband, an excellent father--a good man.

He is the kind of father who makes it easy to understand why God is good, why He wants a relationship with us as a Father to His children. 

Verses like, "As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him,"

and like, "For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry 'Abba! Father!'" so easy to relate to. 

God's heart for me is like the heart of Mark Lawrence toward me...only perfect, and better, and all-knowing, and glorious.

But still, it isn't a difficult connection to make, no stretch there. And I am so grateful.

I listen to my friends and acquaintances (not all, but many--more than I would have imagined) talk about their dads and the wounds they have, the jilted worldviews they had thrust upon them, the passivity that leaves them suffering today. Although I hope I've never said it aloud, as I hear these stories my heart is always breaking as I think to myself, "I wish I could share Daddy with her...I wish she had my dad too...Let my dad be your dad."

And as I thought of this again yesterday, I realized it is my favorite thing about my daddy: he is so good he would be worth sharing if that were possible. If all my friends who are literally fatherless or are emotionally, spiritually, practically fatherless could be adopted by Mark Lawrence, I would sign them up in a heartbeat, start their paperwork, raise the money to pay for it, the whole nine yards.

Clearly, that is not possible.

But I know what is, and I am so grateful for the glimpse I get of it from my relationship with Daddy. 

My Heavenly Daddy is so good, so perfectly loving and just that He gave the life of His only Son so that I could be adopted into His family. Not only did Jesus take away the punishment for the natural state of my heart that chooses myself over God every single time, but He also gave me the perfection that He lived on this earth. He gave me His spotlessness so that I might wear it before my Father and find full acceptance and love and privilege. 

Jesus, precious Jesus, came to this earth to take our brokenness and lead us to His Dad, to say, "I want to share Daddy with you...I want you to have my Dad too...Let my Dad be your Dad." 

Come into the family, He says. All are welcome, all is taken care of. Let His favor and approval rest on you under Jesus' blood. Let His open arms embrace you with healing for all of those wounds, every sore. Let Him protect you now, let Him hold you now, let Him provide for you, let Him overjoy you. Come into Love.

How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,

The Father turns His face away

As wounds which mar the chosen One,

Bring many sons to glory...

Happy Father's Day, Daddy-Mark. Thank you. I love you.

letter to my decade-younger self

Dear Katie Lawrence,

Not Katie Lawrence of 15 months ago.

Katie Lawrence of 10 years ago.

One decade has passed, my self. Ten full years. 

Words of advice? How about a book full?! Someday soon. But for now, a blog post full...

Mommy and Daddy (yes, you'll still call them this on the verge of your quarter-century birthday) know a lot more than you think. And by a lot, I mean a whole freakin' ton! So much so, we have yet to be fully embarrassed by how much we don't know. It's true, my friend. They have, in fact, been there, and do, in fact, care about you more than anyone else. You won't run into this brick wall with all your might on a regular and painful basis, but trust me when I urge you to trust them almost as much as you trust Jesus. And please, please, PLEASE resist the urge to minimize their insight because they were making unwise decisions when they were your age--if anything, that only makes their wisdom more legit. I know it doesn't make sense right now, but try to embrace the fact that your world (and even your literal brain) are smaller than theirs, your perspective understandably shorter, and your hormones embarking on a roller coaster they have navigated for years. They love you more than anyone on the planet, and, if for no other reason, because they are your parents, God will use them to guide you in life.

Forget about boys pursuing you. Really. It'll be the better part of the decade before you meet the man God made you for. Your head is on straight right now, but that's because it's easier when you're not allowed to date. Just get ready to give yourself grace. Relationships with boys are hard...mostly because they should and do end before the one that will start in 2010. Take your heart back to Jesus every time boys creep into your thoughts, and trust that He is working something beautiful in you in the meantime. Namely, His image, His heart, working it into and in place of everything about you.

Stop judging people. I know you don't think you do it, but you do. Keeping the rules is not making you better than anyone else around you, and it certainly is not showing them love. I'm not saying you should break the rules, but recognize that Jesus kept them all and find your identity in Him, not in how well you are doing.

Don't go for the second round of braces in 11th grade. Or maybe do. Cliche as it sounds, it will build character. I mean, who needs friends really?

Spend more time with and fighting to deepen your friendships with Katie Houghtaling, Sally Anderson, Brittany Barnard and Laura Jane Miller. Those are the top four you'll care about 10 years from now. Go narrow and deep in relationships--that's what Jesus did. You're on the right path to narrow, but be sure to go deep too.

When college rolls around, find a small, Bible believing, simple church to go to, maybe even a new church plant. Decide to love, serve, learn and live with the people there, and fall in love with that congregation of Christ's bride. Don't look for trendy, for loud worship, for all your friends going there. Those are great secondary benefits, but not good starting grounds.

Consuming alcohol is not sinful. It is going to take you most of the decade to figure this out, but you'll love more people and know the heart of Jesus more if you can inch your way toward it a little sooner. God bless the Southern Baptist Convention--you learned a lot of Jesus, Truth, love there. But they missed the boat on alcohol, and that's a big deal for a Jesus-loving sorority girl.

Speaking of which: Alpha Chi all the way! Jump in, head first, love hard, give it all. You won't be using your major much after college (at least not in the first three years), so go with your gut and prioritize people. Well, let me clarify. Prioritize your sisters. The boy will fall into place whether you like it or not (and actually, you won't like it until it's time), so pour your little heart into loving those women to Jesus. 

Always start with grace. The Law, the rules don't draw people to Jesus. Start with what He already did: kept the rules for us and died in our place. God now sees us not only as though we had never sinned, but as though we had always obeyed. Start there. That radical, nonsensical, glorious grace is sticky and satisfying and irresistible. Let God speak His whole message through you, not just the parts you think are important.

Spend all of yourself on other people. Don't shy away from opportunities to pour into young believers who are eager. Find a way to make it work no matter what. If you can't do it by yourself, find a helper, someone else to step in.

Go ahead and stop highlighting your hair before you start. Mommy is the one who truly prefers it on the blonde side, but by now we don't care. Save them the money so they can't give you grief when you decide you love your dark brown hair the first time the highlights come out of your pocket.

GO GET TESTED FOR ALLERGIES TODAY! Seriously. Do it 5 minutes ago. Don't wait until you're 19. There is a whole new world out there for you to discover and enjoy. One in which the other kids don't make fun of you for being allergic to the grass when you ask to borrow their jackets to sit on at recess. No one else uses tissues every single day--it really is just you. And if you start now, maybe you'll have good enough medicine so that Mr. Bradford won't call you a snot factory later this year...

Pick a favorite color. Just do it. Home-making will be so much easier if you do. Trust me. And if people know your favorite color, you're more likely to be given gifts throughout your life that you actually like.

Start guitar now. Stick with it.

More later,

Katie Lynn Kump

crawling over the hump of the week

I don't want to be good,

Don't want to and can't

Failure feels better

My natural slant

So many tasks

Each slips through these hands

But am I allowed

To ignore life's demands?

Where can I go?

Where perfection is banned?

Where failure is standard

And admitting it grand?

Into the arms

Running headlong

Instant relief

My heart hears His song

"When all seen is failure

You're ready for Me,

Sit down in My perfect

Where I finished for thee."

Five Minute Friday: Expectation

On Fridays (well, some of them for me) we write for five minutes without worrying whether or not it's right. Today's prompt: Expectation.

ReadySetGO!

Summer warms the air at last

Praying days rush quickly past

Hope is just within my grasp

Fill me up inside

Not just to cross them through in red

But to feast on manna, bread

All my founts, in You I'm fed

Fill me up inside

Love each day sans reservation

All is grace and transformation

Jesus be my expectation

Fill me up inside

On to life in what is True

Abundantly when view is You

No earthly fare will ever do

So fill me up inside

Whole and wholly Yours alone

STOP.

Yes, please Jesus.