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One of my favorite episodes of Friends (Yes, I’m a woman in my 30′s…I know, I know…so cliche’…) was the one where they discover “perfect” Monica’s secret messy closet.

I mean that episode has proven to be 30 minutes of free therapy for what I’ve come to realize was one of my greatest sicknesses…

You see, the better half of my life has been spent living like Monica.
Organized on the outside.
Put together.
Good from far, but far from good.

I have tried, I mean SINCERELY tried to become like some of you who have every drawer, every nook, every cranny, every moment of your schedule- perfectly organized. Each January 1st I bust out my Franklin Planner and grab my boot straps and try to put first things first. But then someone calls and needs to talk, or I remember its my cousin’s birthday, or I decide its a perfect day to stop by H & M.

You see my dilemma, don’t you?
I’m a mess.

I have not hijacked Carlos blog to justify my laziness, or make excuses for why Proverbs 31 didn’t really mean ALL of those verses that haunt me at night. In fact, I’m still trying and growing and failing in my quest.

But what I am learning on this crazy journey of life is that being “good from far, but far from good” is really no good at all. Wrapping everything up in a pretty bow, doesn’t make it pretty.

And I’m learning that I’m not always pretty.

And these truths apply to more than just my ability to put my home together, or show up on time. Its roots go down into my heart.
My desire to live out an image of perfection is changing.

I’m learning to be okay with the mess, for now.

I’ve discovered that projecting an image of perfection only does a few things:

1. Reminds me that I’m living a lie.

2. Puts friends at a distance and keeps them from confiding in me with their struggles.

3. Keeps me from having a place to run when I struggle too.

I’m learning to be okay with the mess.

I’ve found freedom in the mess.

I’m loved in the middle of my mess.

I finally discovered that I wasn’t really fooling Him anyway.

And in the end He is all that matters.

He loves me in my mess.

And in that love, I’m transformed.

I know you probably have your stuff together, but let’s just say you don’t…

How do you navigate the messes in your life?

Do you hide them?

Do you embrace them?

You can read more from my assistant at her blog Metromom.org and at ScottsdaleMomsBlog.com

OMG.

Electric fences. Guard dogs. Snipers.
Yea. No.

I get it. Who wants to be crushed.
But I think that we are going about it the wrong way.
The time to guard your heart is BEFORE you get into a relationship.
Cause let me tell you, the books may say that he or she is gonna wait for the guard to take a vacation, but it’s probably not gonna happen.
In order to experience the truth of relational bliss you actually have to GIVE your heart.
Not guard it.

You have to open your chest wide, expose all the nerve endings inside of you, and be ready to either find the fullness of the satisfaction of true love or the burial of utter and total rejection.
And let me tell you, both of those make you truly alive as opposed to existing.

So open up your chest, past any aspect of self, close your eyes, sprint, feel the wind rushing past your heart, and when you finally find him or her…
You will curse me for the heartache before them…
But you will thank me for the truth of the fullness you have found.
And you will never find it with guard dogs and snipers.
You may find a safe existing love, but you really don’t want that.

Be Alive In Your Search.
Feel It All.
It’s better that way.
I’d love your thoughts…
Fire The Guard Dog.
Los

Critics.
They are actually valuable.
To the ones that say just ignore the critics and only listen to the supporters, I say you will become stale and irrelevant in no time.
But for every truth from a critic there is truth from a supporter.
It is how you see the truth in the critics that will move you towards greatness.
If everyone is agreeing with what you are doing then you are probably not doing it right.
Elevation Church has their share of critics.
When a church grows at the pace that they do jealousy begins to peek out of the most secure.

When The Code Orange Revival began the critics came out in droves.
And I would read their “reviews” (because you can review when God moves?) and see jealousy seeping out of all of them.
I would watch the revival online and watch what God was doing from afar.
Then this weekend I got to lead worship at Elevation, which I do every other month or so, and see what God was doing first hand in the life of that church on the final weekend of the revival.
A few observations.
1. The people calling Elevation shallow would DROWN in the shallowness.
2. The lives I saw changed directly in front of me will be with me forever.
3. It is when a church sits in the confidence of God that they walk as confident as Elevation.
4. The city of Charlotte is literally changed because of the hands and feet of Elevation Church.
5. When we begin to focus on how God is using US as opposed to how God is using another church, the beginning of revival can take place in our lives and in our cities.

No church is perfect.
And the second you find it and show up, you have screwed up the perfection.
God isn’t calling us to all do it the same.
He’s just calling us to do it.
Lets glorify what God is doing in EACH OTHER and try to repair OURSELVES as opposed to glorifying OURSELVES and pointing out flaws in EACH OTHER.
Thank you Elevation for growing in healthy ways and growing people’s lives in even healthier ways.
It’s better that way.
Los

I honestly would never watch a 9 minute video on YouTube. You don’t have to watch the video to get the point…

…But every 45 seconds, when I would try to close the window, I simply couldn’t.
I want to know what would come after your I’m or I statement…

The broadcasting squad at Liberty Middle School in Madison, Alabama produced this video. It was entirely shot on iPads and mixed with music by Sigur Rós.

You’re Turn…
I or I’m _________________

Los

It happened so fast.
We were in the Memphis airport getting off one plane and walking on another.
I’d just spent 22 days straight with my kids.
I was tired.
We were almost home.
The 9 year old… “Daddy? Will you read this to me?”
“Can I do it on the plane when we get settled in?”
“OK” she replied.
We got on the plane, got settled in, and I fell asleep.

We got home and she said…”Dad?  Can you read the book to me now?”
“YES! I can.”
She cuddled up in my gut, like she used to do when she was 3.
I started reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid Part 3524.
She got settled in.
She fell asleep in 10 seconds flat.

The grace she showed me in my sleep I treasured in hers.
She wanted no story from me.
She wanted me.
And when she got me.
She dreamed of me.

Your nine year old wants you more than whatever they are asking you to do.

Fill their heart with the pace of your voice and the rhythm of your breath.
It’s better that way…
C

Hey kid.  Quit looking at me like that.  You know it works…

You were only 7 months old.
So small. So tiny. So perfect.
It was cloudy outside and the roar of Korean diesel trucks was louder than our failed attempt of thanks happening inside that fluorescent lit room.
There were a few things hanging on the wall and a tv in the corner of the room.
The intensity of what was happening in the room made the room warmer than it actually was.
My mind was spinning and my heart was racing.
“What if I screw this kid up?”
“Can we back out now?”
“OMG. He just cried when I held him. He hates me.”
“I cuss sometimes and I’m a pastor. I didn’t tell them that. Shit. I wonder if they would take him away if they could read my mind?”
“I’m Mexican. My wife is white. He’s Korean. He’s doomed.”
The thoughts kept flying.
I gripped Heathers hand a bit harder than normal and she looked at me with that look I have grown accustomed to…
RELAX.
So I did.

The moment that your Oma placed you in Heather’s arms and released you from hers I saw so much.
Your brother and sister were standing 4 feet behind Oma. They were as respectful and serene as the old lady I sat next to on the bus the night before.
Almost reverent.

When he came to shake my hand he gripped it strong enough to show strength and peace at the same time.
Within the serenity and peace they provided there was a flicker of hope.
A flickr of hope that I am in no way going to mess you up.
That I’m actually only getting to borrow you for a lifetime to watch the amazing thing that God is going to do with you.
It was the glimpse of peace I needed in order to not crawl in the corner and suck my thumb.
When we walked to the lobby doors we saw the cab.
It was the first time I saw any emotion from Oma.

She placed her hands on her head for a moment.
A single moment of “This is too much. I love him so. Please don’t go.”
Then when we got in the van I noticed something.

You never took your eyes off her.
Not until she was out of sight.
And as we pulled away I saw one more thing.
A single tear.
Gathering.
Waiting.
Gliding.
Falling onto the hand she had covering her mouth as to not let us see the intensity of her cry.

She had cared for you alone all day and night for 6 months and she was strong.
Strong enough to let you come with us.
And it is the strength of that moment…
The strength of her sacrifice…
That will press me towards reminding you that you have been loved with a ferocious intensity by those in front of you, those behind you, and Him inside you.

And I thank your Oma, for allowing me to be… beside you…
Dad.

Tim Tebow makes no apologies about it.
He is a believer of Jesus Christ and even has his own patented prayer move.
He makes a lot of Christians happy.
He makes a lot of Christians nervous.
I’ll admit, I have said a few times things like…
“Take it down a notch Tebow.”
My friends and I sometimes watch what he does through our fingers, as if watching a scary movie.
He sings Lord I Lift Your Name On High on national television.
He gets mocked on SNL for pulling the God card in every single thing he says.

He prays to God to win a football game, as if somehow God cares about the outcome of the game.
[stepping back from lightening bolt you real football fans think is about to strike]
Kurt Warner, the former highest level offender, even took opportunity to tell Tebow to turn it down a notch…

Then yesterday happened.
I was suddenly proud of Tebow.
I was like… “Look at that great Christian role model! I’m a fan!”

I’m such a #$@@* hypocrite.
So no. I’m not embarrassed by Tim Tebow.
I should be embarrassed by Carlos Whittaker.
My embarrassment is not about Tim Tebow. It’s always about ME.
What people will think of ME.
Because no matter how cheesy…
No matter how brash…
He is 100% more open about his faith on a daily basis than I am.
The nervous feeling that we get is not wanting him to embarrass US as opposed to Christ.
Truth is…Christ is more embarrassed by Christians who are embarrassed by Tim Tebow, than anything Tebow will ever do.

What is your take on athletes/celebrities and their God talk?
Are actions louder than words?
Or can words be enough since we truly never see the lives behind the words anyways?
Los

If a church is to steward the resources that God has provided, they must implement business principles in order to pull that off.
Especially in the society in which we live.
Money is complicated.
HR is complicated.
Things break.

But if a church is to steward the resources God has provided them, they must place the business principles behind the relationships God has provided them.

Revival is waiting.
Don’t let principles and process stand in the way.
Let them bring revival.
It’s better that way.
Los

When you were a kid…
What was the worst trouble you EVER got into?
1…2…3…
Tell.

I lie more during Christmas season than I do any other season.
But it’s for the greater good.  Of’Course…
What was the last Christmas lie you told?
Los