Every Christian has experienced a spiritual high. My goal is to experience a spiritual life.


Ahh yes.

That spiritual high.

I am confident when I say I think every Christian has struggled with this at one point or another. You go on that church retreat, that church summer camp, or even a missions trip. Your last day arrives and you find yourself changed. A new person with a new perspective on their faith. You find yourself stronger than ever in your faith!

A spiritual high.

Then you go home. Your friend says something that upsets you and you lash out at them. Or your parent asks you to do a chore and you moan and groan only to never complete the task. You go back to the real world where you aren’t being spoon fed Gods word. And you come down from that high. Disappointed that all that work was for nothing, but excited for the next trip so you can reconnect with Christ again. You tell yourself that the next time is for real, that this next trip is the one that will really change you forever.

I get it, I am on that high right now, only I am praying to never come down.

After recently having an amazing opportunity and growing much closer to God as well as those whom I spend my church time with I found myself in a new position. I spent a whole week in the middle of a forest with 10 other people.

No phone.

No flushing toilets.

No escape.

I was being fed the word of God daily. With fourth five minutes of devotional time and then a whole day centered around learning how to grow as a team that serves the Lord I left that camp ready for whatever God was going to throw my way.

I got home and I got my phone back. I got to take a nice long shower and a long nights sleep in my own bed. I got the hundreds of text messages that I had missed that week.

I got the latest scoop on who was dating who and what girls got in a fight, the group chats seemed to be never-ending pits of drama and bullying.

Hate.

Sin.

I scrolled through my Instagram feed only to see pictures of my friends half-naked on the beach with some guy they didn’t even know. I saw pictures of my classmates son. I saw everything I had been sheltered from for a week. And I felt weak.

Suddenly I realized that if I wanted to keep my “spiritual high” I was going to have to make it my life.

I realized that serving God means that I need to start serving Him in everything I do. In the songs I listen to and the words I speak. The friends I surround myself with and the choices I make.

I have been home for three days now and I have already sinned more times than I’d like to admit but I am still high up in the clouds. With a new point of view on my faith I have a newfound excitement towards the idea of teaching others about God. There is only one thing I am more excited about.

And that, is seeing His plan.

Everybody needs a stern talking to now and then. 


I’m a teenager.

Trust me, I’ve gotten my fair share of lectures.

Most of them coming from my Mom when I  broke curfew or when I disobeyed her by not doing the dishes before she got home. 

Most of them went in one ear and out the other.

As a teen I have learned that sometimes all you can do is sit there and nod your head, apologize and move on. The deed was already done and the only way to go is forward. 

While most of my lectures have been given to me by my Mom every once and a while I get one from somebody that doesn’t take care of me on a day to day basis. 

I shouldn’t say lectures. Reminders is a better word. 

Reminders that while I may not always care about myself fully, somebody out there does. 

Depression often causes me to not care about myself. I brush my teeth and take showers. I make sure my laundry is clean (maybe not folded, but clean) I stay on top of my grades and social life but I struggle with caring for myself. I often battle thoughts that maybe I deserve bad things. I have learned that those thoughts aren’t coming from me but straight from the pit of hell. 

I sit in my room every night and verbally remind Satan that he does NOT have control of me. But it’s a daily battle. A battle that I lose at times. 

Earlier today I went to chat with two people  whose opinions I value greatly. 

After discussing with them some of the choices I have recently made they gave me a reminder. 

A reminder that everybody makes mistakes, but that I need to be careful that I’m not making too many. 

A reminder that while I might not care about myself 100% of the time there are people that do. 

A reminder that God has given me strength to do all things, even the things I may not want to do.  

This reminder did not go in one ear and out the other. This reminder has been festering in my brain since the moment I heard it. This wasn’t a I’m mad at you and need to vent my anger reminder. This was a You are better than this reminder. 

Something I didn’t nessesarly want to hear. But something I needed to hear.

And for that I am grateful. 

You can learn quite a bit from a kid.


Yet another post about my job. Because I love what I do and I spend a large majority of my time doing it, being a babysitter has changed me in drastic ways.

One specific family that I have come to care for dearly has taught me more than I can type in one post.

This family did not get life served to them on a perfectly clean plate, to say the least. But they are a group of people that I look up to greatly.

A few days ago I found myself is the storm called lunch time. With children all around not wanted to eat their sandwiches, begging me to just let them enjoy their ice cream. I found myself getting frustrated. I looked at the little two year old boy, who was screaming bloody murder because I wouldn’t let him out of his high chair unti he had one more bite of his sandwhich, in my mind I wanted to give him my stern you better do what I say now or there is going to be issues look, but I didn’t.

He is only two, and while giving him a stern look and a serious tone might make me feel better it was highly unlikely to be effective with him.

I looked at him and In my ‘I’m talking to a two year old voice’ I said to him. “Daniel will you please eat one more bite on your sandwich for me?”

That little boy, without even blinking said, clear as day. “OK!”

He picked up that sandwhich and took a bite. I, sticking to my word, unbuckled him from his seat and off he ran to his next activity, happy as could be.

As I was driving home later that day I found myself reflecting on that sandwhich incident. I came to realize that often times in life we are that two year old, stuck in the high chair screaming and crying to get out so we can get on to our activities. And life, well. Life can tend to be that sandwhich. That one load of laundry we should fold before taking a nap. That one apology text we know we need to send to somebody we snapped at earlier that day.

We kick and scream bloody murder hoping God will let us go about our activities without finishing our sandwhich.

Little do we, that innocent litte two year old, know that that sandwhich holds all the energy and encouragement we need to get throughout the rest of our day.

As I go into a summer full of fun nights with my friends and great laughs with my family I encourage myself, and you as well.

To eat the sandwhich.