(un)spoken word

Upon his head they set the thorns

the King of Kings

the Lord of Lords

and in his hands they drilled the nails

while his back still bled

from claws of the cat of nine tails

salt in his wounds, a pierce in his side

it was the sentence to a trial

so wrongly tried

he cried out and said “God, It’s finished, I’m done!”

though he saved the world,

many didn’t believe he was the true One

but when Life and Death did battle

with victory did win

Jesus Christ the risen Savior

seated in heaven now with Him

God the Father

our Lord and Creator

the Master the Maker

the Potter the Painter

Elohim and Adonai

Jehovah God, El Shaddai

The Great I Am

Father, Spirit, Son

the Trinity battles tooth and nail

He won’t quit on us

He cannot fail

so to Satan I say, “Let us fight you to the death!

And let the victor be the one who lives a second life.”  

I say “Let Christ fight you till the death!

And name as king the one who gives eternal life.”

see, we’ve spoken lies

and with the same lips kissed truth

we’ve knocked on hearts

and with the same fists broken through

we’ve pledged vows

but of promises, kept few

we deserve death as payment for our sins

but Christ stepped up and said “I’ll take the bill”

he gave up his spirit at the Place of the Skull

saved us on Golgotha hill

he crossed off my sin

and hung my sin on the cross

I am sought after and fought for

though I was but lost

my Jesus he came

to take away all my shame

to heal a heart full of pain

to cleanse me and disinfect me and make me brand new

it is his love and his light that brightly shines through

the window pane of my soul

he windexed and washed

the dust and grime in my life is gone

and the prince of lies has lost

absent is the heart aching

because my God is remaking

I am no longer suffocating

I used to think that

the breath in my lungs is what brought me to life

but the only oxygen that sustains me is called Jesus Christ.

poor word choice leads to moronic moments

You may chuckle every time you read a "that awkward moment when" description on Facebook or Twitter. I never chuckle at these. Instead, I feel the need to shake somebody, which is not a nice thing to do.

Here are my problems with "that awkward moment when":

1) It's not even a complete sentence. Can't you at least add a few extra words to make it a complete thought? Like, "You know that awkward moment when you realize you're trying to dodge someone, and you both step the same way... twice? " Or you could say "It was an awkward moment when..."  Please, people, if you must use the phrase, at least change it into a complete sentence.

2) Many times the mentioned awkward moment is not even an awkward moment at all. Find a more fitting adjective, people. I pulled some examples from the Twitter machine.

"That awkward moment when you drive past a Kia Soul and there's not a ghetto hamster driving it." This is not an awkward moment. It's a disappointing moment.

"That awkward moment when you finish a math problem and your answer isn't even one of the choices." There is nothing awkward about this. The answers of a math test have never made me feel awkward. A more fitting sentence would be "You know that frustrating moment when you finish a math problem and your answer isn't even one of the choices?"

"That awkward moment when you are scuba diving and see Adele rolling in the deep." This is not an awkward moment. It is an awesome moment.

"That awkward moment when you go through the metal detectors at the airport and your abs of steel set them off." Having abs of steel is not awkward. This is not an awkward moment. It's a proud moment.

Do you see what I mean? There are plenty of other adjectives to use besides awkward. Please use them. I'm going to start calling people out on this, if their poor word choice continues. I know that makes me sound like an anal jerk, but I just don't want you to sound like a moron.

5 Effective ways to stay single for Valentine's Day

Ladies and gents, I've been doing most of these tips for years, and they work. I am never stressing and thinking to myself on the afternoon of February 14th "What should I wear to dinner tonight? Should I straighten my hair?" No, instead I am comfortably at home in sweatpants with my hair up in a tangled mess, watching TV episodes of assassins.

Here is how to stay single:

1) Keep away from places guys go. Be home-schooled with your sister. Live in the boondocks during high school. Go to a college that is 60% female. Become a teacher. These are guaranteed ways to keep those pesky boys away.

2) When you see a guy you like, don't ever talk to him. Don't say hello (he'll think you're being too forward). You can smile if he looks at you, but do your best to ignore him (you don't want to look desperate). If he does speak to you, be sure to mention accidentally throwing your retainer into the garbage or forgetting to feed the 14 cats you have at home.

3) Don't tell your friends if you like a guy. That way they won't know, and then they can like him too and he can go out with your friends instead of you. Saved once again from having to DTR (define the relationship) with him. It needs no defining because you know exactly what it is: it is nothing.

4) Collect Precious Moments figurines. I've never actually done this, but I once knew of someone who did. If you are a college student living in the dorms, then bringing at least half of your collection to display is a really great way to keep those jocks from asking you out on too many any dates.

5) Post really pathetic status updates on Facebook. I try to stay away from this, but I know I've done it once or twice in a moment of weakness. Write things like "He doesn't know what he's missing" or "Sometimes people you love don't even notice you until you show up in their news feed."

Where's Joelle been?

So January was a wash. The writing instinct has just not been in my body lately. I blame it on Pinterest. But rather than post boring things that no one wants to read, I wrote nothing. It's a good thing for you, but a bad thing for me. Because I could have at least drafted something. Worked on something. Been inspired about something.

I don't think anyone reads this anymore. I don't. So that's sad. I never set out to be a blogger with hundreds of readers. The reason I started The Real Pretend was to share funny stories, moments that have really impacted me, and all around goodness. I guess part of the reason I haven't been writing is because there are so many other important things out there that I am trying to do. I'll tell you about one of them:

I started a Saturday Kids Club at my church for the neighborhood kiddos. There are a lot of apartment complexes, mobile homes, and a school within walking distance of the church, and I figured we should take full advantage of our building and use it on Saturdays. I've only got 5 kids so far. But I'm working on it. We've only met one Saturday, so I'm trying to give myself grace.

I thought about doing a Saturday Club in October. Back when I was trying to find a job, I said to God "Okay Lord, if I don't have to work Saturdays, then I'll do it. I will start a Kid's Club." But then November rolled around, I scored two part-time jobs, and I never followed up on my word. I started feeling really convicted about it. Not necessarily guilty that I had told God I would do something and hadn't done it yet, but more like starting a Saturday Club was important. I had this feeling that it would lead to something else, and I was supposed to do this because it was a stepping stone. If I've learned anything in the last year and a half, it is obey God when you hear Him. Obey immediately.

So yeah, I don't get to be lazy and sleep in on Saturdays anymore. But I know what I'm doing is worthwhile, even if it is for just five kids. They matter.

Happy Epiphany!

Maybe you're the type of person who ignites their Christmas tree on New Year's Eve and watches as it burns in a fiery blaze across some field. Maybe you're the kind of person who promptly takes down all Christmas decorations on January first. Or maybe you're the sort of person who leaves their tree and lights up until February. I'm not here to judge.

I'm the sort of person who weeps as they take the ornaments off the tree. I just don't want the Christmas magic to be over, and my house always seems so dull after those little colorful lights go away. I had to undress the tree yesterday for the boy scouts to pick up. It was my last chance. Normally I don't have the boy scouts pick up my tree; usually I just try to stuff it in my yard debris bin. But this year the tree I got was at least eight feet tall, and I knew there was no way the lid would close on that thing. If I didn't get the boy scouts to take that tree, I probably would have had it until May, carefully sawing off pieces at a time and shoving it in the yard debris bin.

I was really reluctant to take down the tree on Saturday, because it was only January 5th. I wanted to keep my tree up until today, January 6th, which is the Epiphany/Three Kings Day. I don't know anyone who celebrates this, but I wish they would. It would make for a really good party. Guess maybe I should move to Spain or something. Let me explain.

First off, did you know that the 12 Days of Christmas are not the 12 days before Christmas, but rather the days after Christmas leading up to the Epiphany, which celebrates when the three wisemen finally got to visit Jesus? So here we all are in America, trying to ring in the new year and be done with Christmas, but it's really not over.

Instead we could be celebrating on January 6th by making a King's Cake and hiding a bean in it. In the countries that celebrate Three Kings Day, that's when they give gifts. Just think if you made it a tradition to give presents on January 6th instead of December 25th. You would save a lot of money on those after-Christmas sales.

I think next year I will throw an Epiphany party and make this a tradition. I've just gotta get those boy scouts to pick up my tree on January 7th.

Shazaam! Bam! 2013.

It seems the year 2012 was kind of a bust for blogging. For whatever reason, I just did not write that much. I'm not going to beat myself up about it though, because writing to fill space is just noise. There is so much nonsense available to read that I hardly think the world suffered because I didn't contribute more paragraphs. But friends, I'm going to try harder to write more often this year--mostly because I want you to know about all the crazy goodness that is happening/will happen.

Life is good and God is good. I did not always believe it to be true, but it is. I am pumped for this year because I just know that things are going to happen. Things I've been waiting for. Things you've been waiting for, and things neither one of us ever thought of.

I want to leave you with a new quote that's been my new year's motivation:

Action always beats intention.

So get off this blog and go do something that matters. Let's check in with each other in a few days. 

--Joelle

the Northewestern Man's hero

I never really understood why men put such high value on a good beard. To me, it was like growing your finger nails out. It didn't really matter. And then @jonacuff posted this picture on Twitter, and it finally made sense.

I was actually impressed. Couldn't take my eyes off it. Instead of wanting to throw the man a razor, I wanted to clap for him.

But if you are a man, I am going to break your heart right now. You can never be like this man. Don't even try. Don't think to yourself my beard is very similar to this guy's. Just a little more work and it will be equal. It won't be. You are not him and he is not you, and I hate to be a dream crusher, but you should prevent yourself from looking foolish. You look more handsome clean-cut.

She Said Yes

She said yes to him. It took a while. He had waited patiently. Every day he hoped she would see him for who he truly was: the one who would love her the best. He was jealous for her. Would tear the world apart to find her. He wanted to be the only.

They started out just friends. Went to the same Sunday school. Spent some time talking together. He would tell her stories and she would ask him questions. She thought it was like every other relationship. He would disappoint her and she would disappoint him. She broke promises she made. He would stop speaking to her.

But it wasn't really like that. He never stopped loving her, no matter what she did to him. He was always there, waiting outside the door, waiting for her fits of rage to subside. She didn't know, and he wouldn't tell her. He wanted her to love him on her own. He wanted her to choose him.

She grew up and went to college, and for a short while, they weren't on speaking terms. That's what happens after high school, right? People grow apart. He wasn't going to give up though, even if she wouldn't answer any of his calls. She wrote mean things about him in her journal and tried to block out what she knew was the truth about him.

One day he sent her a CD. She listened to it once, twice, a third time. It was then that she decided she wanted him back. The music had changed her. It had reminded her of the truth. She gave him a call and they patched things up. He took her back immediately.

Things were okay after that. There were the usual ups and downs, the roller coaster ride of relationships. After a while though, things started to spiral downward. He didn't show up when she needed him to. She felt all alone. She knew he had a caring nature, but she started to believe he cared about everyone but her. Pretty soon, she only looked for what was wrong with their relationship. She tried convincing him they should end it. He could go love someone else then.

But the truth was, he couldn't stop loving her. The truth was, he knew in his heart that they would end up together. And he wouldn't give up. "I will wait one year or I will wait five. Or even fifty if I have to. You decide." That's what he'd say. "You think a lot of things about me that aren't true. But one day you'll see me in a different way." It used to infuriate her. She wasn't convinced.

One day though, she was in a bad place. She called all of her friends, but none of them answered. Her family wasn't there either. She needed someone, and she didn't know who else to call. He picked up on the first ring. She blubbered all her problems to him. He showed up with warm arms and chocolate chip cookies. "Listen to me," he said gently. "I want you to do something for me. Do you think you could do something for me?"
"I guess maybe," she said.
"Let me love you. Look for the good. Just try it."

And then there was the day that she said yes. He popped the question, unexpectedly. People might have thought she was crazy. "Look how he's treated you" they might say. "Do you really think things will change?" She figured they had to. It had never worked when she asked him to follow her life plans. Maybe she should do this. Say yes. Commit, even if it was hard. It was the only thing she hadn't tried. It wasn't even necessarily that she wanted to say yes. It was that she knew she couldn't say no.

"You don't have to," he said. He made it so easy to back out and take the easy road. But she knew he cared. She knew he wanted this. So she fought for it. She said "yes, and I will change what I do to make you the first priority."

"But do you really want me?" he asked. "Do you want to love me now for reals?" He gave her time to decide in her heart. Her heart knew. In fact, her heart was burning for him. They weren't meant just to be casual acquaintances or long term friends. They were meant to be in love.

After some time passed, he told her "You know that time when we were fighting? When you thought I didn't care about you anymore? That broke my heart. I never stopped loving you. I knew you cried tears at night, and I wanted so badly for it to be me. I wanted it to be me with the salty pillowcase. I wanted it to be me with all the hurt. But you had practically given up on us. You wouldn't let me take any of it. I had to wait for you to reach the bottom, the very deepest pit of your soul."

"It worked," she said. "It totally sucked, but it worked. I don't want to ever do that again."

"I know," he said. "But you're mine. You're mine, and I love you, and that will never change. I will love you forever. I love to see you wake up in the mornings, and I smile when your hair gets all tangled up and you lose bobby pins in it and find them two days later, and I adore the way you care for children, and I want to be with you every moment of every single day. And then when the days end, I want to be with you forever after that. Someday I'm going to get you the most beautiful house painted with so much turquoise, and there will be typewriters everywhere and so many books it will put Belle from Beauty and the Beast to shame."

"I need you to know something," she said. "I don't think I've told you this before."
"What's that?" he said. But he already knew what she was going to say.
"You're mine," she said. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine. And I love you. I love you and you're mine."
He smiled. "I'm so glad you said yes."

Raking Leaves with a fork

When I was a child, I was tortured every fall with manual labor--the kind that made your back ache and puts blisters on your hands. Just when the weed picking of the summer ended, the leaves turned and fell to their death, waiting for me to take them to their proper burial ground. I would have preferred just to leave the crispy skeletons lying there, but my mother had this thing about not wanting all the grass to die. Pshh, aesthetics.

I was remembering all this childhood torture because I just came in from raking the leaves off my yard. I scooped up all the ones that were actually on the grass, but I left the ones on the edges in the bark chips. This is because I had no room left in my yard debris bin. I will have to wait until Monday afternoon (after the garbage gets picked up) to finish the job. Provided it doesn't rain on Monday, which it most likely will.

When I set out to rake leaves, I bundled up. I had on sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a coat, and rubber boots. By the time I had raked up three piles, I was sweating. I had forgotten how much exertion leaf raking takes. Also, it wasn't 40 degrees outside like I had imagined. The process of leave raking wasn't as gruesome as I had remembered it as a child. But then again, I didn't have over 4,000 square feet of lawn to rake this time.

Growing up, leaf raking was ridiculous. We were both blessed and cursed to have four lawns, one on each side of the house. I'm not Michael Phelps, and I've never swam in an Olympic sized pool, but I imagine that at least two of the lawns were each as large as an Olympic sized pool. Besides all this grass, we lived in an area surrounded by oak and maple trees, which are both deciduous, in case you live in LA and know nothing about trees other than palms. We also had many fir trees nearby, which are non-deciduous. Oh how I had wished our house was surrounded by Douglas Firs instead of Maples. Maple trees shed a lot of leaves, and they are big, heavy leaves.

Raking up the leaves definitely took a least a week, and on some days my sister and I were out there raking for three hours or more. We would rake the leaves into huge piles on tarps, and then carry the tarps to the beginning edge of the woods to a place called "The Pit." As far as I know, my family's been throwing organic matter into The Pit for 23 years, and it's still not full. The Pit is the place where we would dump grass clippings, horse manure, food scraps, weeds, rocks, branches, and leaves. You never wanted to get too close to the edge, for fear you might fall in.

It was a lot of work to shake out the leaves on that tarp. Dragging it there wasn't fun either. A year or two after my sister got her pony, we decided to put him to work. We rigged up this contraption with a rope around his chest, and Hawk would pull our giant pile of leaves for us. He had to work for his hay. Hawk was a good, sturdy pony, and he liked working with us. For a treat we'd let him nibble the grass. Hawk was the type of pony that had limited access to green grass, because he was greedy and would eat until he got sick. Kind of like me with a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

When I moved away to college I was secretly very pleased that I wouldn't be home until Thanksgiving. This meant that I missed leaf raking. No more hours of back breaking work. In retrospect, I was obviously a terrible person for being happy about this, because it just meant that my poor mother had to do all the work by herself. So that shows you what kind of person I really was.

those Christian stories you don't believe

Maybe you know a Christian who has told you a remarkable story about how they received a word from God. They just knew. Like, they were sitting across from a woman on a first date and the guy hears God tell him this is the girl he is going to marry. And two years later they're hitched. Or like, the person knew God wanted them to give $1,427 to a missionary, and two years later when that person is in their own financial trouble, an old friend mails them a check for $1,427.

I've heard stories like these. You want to believe them, but you have this feeling of "really? yeah right. That's cool..but for reals?"

Here is my Christian story that you might not believe. It's a little story, but it's still weird.

Tuesday night I came out of the gym. I was walking in the parking lot to my car when all of a sudden the name Malik came into my mind. I got the feeling that I needed to pray for the name, whoever it was.

I said something like "God, you know who Malik is. You know what he needs. I pray that you are with him right now and you take care of him. Take care of Malik. Actually, take care of all the Maliks in the world. You know him."

I normally don't do weird things like this. Names don't just pop into my brain on the typical Monday afternoon. God doesn't call my cell phone after dinner just to chat.

Thursday night I had the TV on and the news was going. I wasn't really paying attention because I was busy looking at things on Pinterest, but after I heard the name Malik and looked up instantly. I heard this story. An 11 year old boy in Georgia was attacked by pit bulls while trying to save his little sister. It happened Monday, the day before I said my prayer.

Maleik Carr saved his 5 year old sister Jalia.

I just stared at the screen. And then as soon as the news clip was over I googled his name to find the story. Was this weird? Yes. Does God do crazy things? Yes. Do I feel kind of strange sharing this with you? You bet. But I also thought it was cool and things like this don't happen to me. So I thought you might want to know.

Do you have your own Christian story people don't believe?

you suck it up and LIVE

Dear Dreamer,

What do you do when your hopes and dreams take a face plant into the concrete? When some one pulls the rug out from beneath you? When all you wanted with your whole heart (or at least 80% of it) laughs in your face and says "it won't happen to you"? This is what you do: you suck it up and LIVE.

You don't get angry. You don't hate. Because letting those nasty feelings overcome you won't do anyone any good. Instead, you show love. You have integrity. You smile and you mean it. You don't let this thing that has happened to you--this hurt that seems so unfair--you don't let it win. You fight with grace.

During tough times it's hard to remember the truth. Let me remind you.
You are brave.
You are strong.
You are beautiful.
You are loved.

There is goodness to be had, and it's coming your way. There is joy in this world, and you are fully capable of capturing as much of it as you want. Get your butterfly net out and go catch some.

Some of your plans will come true, but it will be the unexpected, outrageous, crazy goodness that you will remember the best. The never-could-think-of-it suprises are what will be your favorites.

Now go live.

Your someday is coming.

Love,
Joelle

take my heart and seal it

Maybe you've heard this song called Come Thou Fount. We sing it at my church sometimes.

A part of the lyrics go
"take my heart, Lord
take and seal it
seal it for thy courts above."

I'll tell you what that means to a letter writer. If you know me, you might know that I am on the writing team for moreloveletters.com. We write anonymous letters to people who need love and encouragement. It's important and it changes lives. Besides writing to complete strangers, I like writing letters to people I know in actual real-life. 

A few weeks ago I realized I've never written a love letter to God. Sure, I've written down whiny prayers in my journal, but I have never written the Lord of Creation a letter like I've written to a stranger or friend. It's something I labor over. It's choosing just the right kind of paper and the right kind of design for the envelope. It's thinking over the words I use and tasting them on my tongue. It's a carefully thought out process--one I've never done for the Man Who Saved My Life. 

This must be rectified.

Now when I sing   
“take my heart lord
take and seal it
seal it for thy courts above”
This is the picture in my mind: I am writing a love letter to God. Professing how amazing he is. Describing all the ways he is good. Pouring out my heart to the One who matters the most. I'm using my best cursive, my fanciest paper, and my favorite pen. I'm putting my heart in that envelope. I'm handing the envelope to God and I say "Lord. Take my heart. All my love. All my passion. Take it. I want you to seal it. Seal it for when I'm with you. I want this to be saved for only you." 

Because how often do we give our hearts and our devotion to things that don't matter? I give devotion to so many worthless things. Pinterest. YouTube. Status updates. Hair. Cupcakes. Sleep. I have passion for watching episodes of Alias and Lost, for correcting spelling errors, for recycling, and for literacy. They're not necessarily bad things, but I'm not giving enough passion to the One who matters.  

Above anybody, He's the one who loves me the most. He adores me even more than my own mother. God's got baby books full of pictures. He knows the exact date I lost each of my baby teeth. He gave me the moon as a night light. 

The Lord of heaven and earth loves me so much, the least I could do is write him a proper love letter.

So take my heart, Lord.

Take and seal it.

Seal it for thy courts above.