What Friends Are For

This is my best friend Karly (left) and I hanging out at the Sundial Bridge in Redding, California two weeks ago. As a friend that I've had since childhood (we estimate about 10 years of awesome togetherness), it was hardly a surprise for her to fly all the way out from Texas to come see me. But still, a portion of me was surprised, because she isn't the type to go far from home.

This is because Karly fought cancer in her childhood and had half of her pelvic bone removed in 2012 to get rid of the tumor (and it worked! Woop woop!). Since then she's walked with a limp (one leg is about 2" shorter than the other) and has become used to severe pain in her damaged nerves, and so she doesn't really have the option to go far from home. Still, she came to see me, and God was talking to me all the while I anticipated her visit. "Don't put it on your shoulders," He constantly reminded me. "I will provide others to do it for you." What, exactly? Read on!

Weeks beforehand, I started feeling like something was going to happen to my dear friend--positively, of course--because she was going to come to Bethel with me and, as the meme says:

She was going to attend school with me for an entire week, and BSSM's atmosphere is all about healing and experiencing encounters with God. I wanted nothing more than for Karly to experience what we "Bethelites" would call a creative miracle. This is when God creates a new part of the body the person is missing, or even replacing dysfunctional parts with new parts. Karly's, of which, would be an entirely new pelvic bone.

So Karly had arrived, and of course we did all sorts of best friend things, like watching every movie ever from Ant-Man to foreign Korean and German movies (we love cultures so much that we fuel each other's fires). But the very next day after her arrival, I took her to church service with me which would be the first Bethel thing she'd experience from her week-long stay. I was nervous. I was afraid that God wouldn't heal her, and that all this time of me telling her about the endless possibility that He could fix her leg with extreme ease, would only discourage the both of us in the end if nothing happened (dumb thinking, I know. It's also human thinking).

We sat in service and near the end the pastor had called for anyone with bone-related issues to stand. Of course I wasn't going to ask Karly to, but she did on her own. Instantly, all the BSSM students around me, strangers and friends, surrounded her and prayed for her healing. God was right when He said He would provide others to do it for me. And then I began to weep. Crying isn't even the right word. Sobbing, weeping, cringing into the abyss of the most tears I've ever produced in my entire life--that's what I mean. I had no idea what was going on inside of me, except that God was doing something insane in my heart. The funny part was that Karly didn't cry at all, being the strong-willed person she is, and instead was the one comforting me. Hilarious, if you ask me.

I remained sobbing like this for at least half an hour (thank goodness I brought tissues), and students began pouring into me, praying for me unbeknownst to them that I was crying on behalf of someone else. Then a staff member came to me and prophesied over me, "You're feeling the compassion of Jesus for your friend. He wants this just as bad as you do. He's on your side."

Those are words I'll never forget, because he was very right and it made so much sense. So I mustered up my courage and did something I've never EVER done before with the intention of seeing it truly happen.

I walked over to Karly (she had been guided away by another staff and was still being prayed for because now everyone was seeing that she needed a creative  miracle), and I put my hands on her leg and asked God to heal it. I prayed about three times, though I can hardly remember because I was still sobbing, and nothing came to pass. I straightened up and smiled at her and she returned a smile to me, as we both silently agreed that this was an awesome experience for the both of us and this wasn't a failure.

Through the rest of the week, she had been prayed over several more times as nothing appeared to have happened, but she was not offended or discouraged in the least (this chick is seriously unoffendable. It's insane). She encountered God on a personal level that didn't have to do with her cancer-stricken leg at all, and that was enough for her to be moved and changed. Awesome.

So the story appeared to have ended when I dropped her off at the airport after a week of intense bonding. I knew God did something in her, and she was more than happy about the outcome of her stay. She was already planning her next trip out, if that says something!

But just the other day, she had texted me out of the blue. 

"I just realized I haven't taken any pain medication in at least two weeks. I'm actually officially off my pain medication."

I sat there and stared at the words in complete silence.

"No serious pain anymore?" I asked, trying not to jump the gun. And by gun, I mean several rocket launchers pointed at my life-pumping organ called a heart.

"I mean. Today on the flight home I got achy. But the seats on the plane sucked and that was more like normal arthritis/achy bone kind of stuff." Bravo for being real with the answer, Karly! But there was a whole lot more to this text, which continued: "Other than that, no pain. The biggest thing I've noticed is that the nerve pain is gone. There was a pill...that I had to take every 24 hours. It helped with the nerve pain, which that pain sucks so bad because it'll randomly feel like you're getting stabbed with a needle. But, while I was visiting you, it had run out...It was just now that I realized I haven't had that nerve pain at all. So, I'm gunna fill the medication just in case but I'm not even gunna bother taking it. That and my other pain meds...were the only subscription pain meds I was on. Now, I guess I'm not. Wow."

I proceeded in saying:

"Do you know what this means."


Then she said:


And then I said, "Dude. Duuuuuude. Dude. I'm gunna say it. I'M GUNNA SAY IT. Jesus...Jesus healed that..."

And then she said:


The end.

Just kidding. On a more professional note, I see that God totally did something and is more than likely continuing to do something in her body because He really is on my/our side. He wants people to be healed. He doesn't cause sickness and He doesn't cause tragedies, but He sure does turn them into the most beautiful testimonies time and time again.

So be encouraged, my dear readers. God does the miraculous but in ways you can't even see. Be bold and have faith to pray for other people's healing, because faith is spelled R-I-S-K, and without it, nothing can happen.

Taking risk is definitely key to a fine life--full of sincerity, grace and miracles.

What Prophecy Looks Like

"I'm getting a picture of...a burnt orange room, like with a bunch of posters on the wall. And a bunk bed," said my friend to me in class this morning. We were both in the Prophetics class, and we were practicing how to prophesy over each other (BSSM is a very safe place to do that!). "Does this make any sense to you?" She asked and of course she would, because to her, she only knew what God was saying and had no idea that a burnt orange room, posters and a bunk bed would mean anything profound and encouraging to me.

"Yes," I said, with a growing smile. "When I lived in Canada, my room was burnt orange and I hated the color so much that I covered it with posters." Then I proceeded to tell her that when I was little, both my brothers had a bunkbed that revolved around some of our best childhood memories.

My friend was astonished, because clearly she had no idea that it actually did make sense to me, and more than that, it was very personal--only something God would have known. But prophesying isn't just about being accurate, but using those facts as a message from God to uplift and encourage a person. So my friend continued, and said: "No matter which room you're in and wherever you're at, Jesus wants to bunk with you."

That was an awesome prophetic word, because I was very encouraged about my relationship between Jesus and I. No matter where I am at in life, Jesus wants to be my friend and the bottom bunker. And he used someone else to tell me that, using a specific room and a very fond childhood object to get his point across.

If it weren't for my friend stepping out in faith, listening to God and simply telling me what He was saying, I would have never been encouraged.

So if you're new to the whole "Prophecy" thing, I can tell you a bit of what it is, just as the story exemplifies. First and definitely foremost, prophecy is meant to be used to edify and encourage the church. It isn't something to call out people's sins or condemn them. "But one who prophesies strengthens others, encourages them, and comforts them." (1 Corinthians 14:3 NLT) Secondly, anyone who knows God's voice can prophecy--even King Saul did while he was chasing David to kill him (1 Samuel 10:9-11).

The thing that scares people about prophecy, though, is whether or not it's accurate. If you're prophesying over someone, how do you know if you're hearing God?

Here's a mind-blower: God's first language isn't English. In fact, we don't know what His first language is--but I can tell you that the most common way He speaks to people is through dreams and visions. Visions (not just an epic experience you see with your physical eye) are most often pictures that you get in your head whenever you ask God about something. That's what my friend experienced! She saw a burnt orange room, posters and a bunkbed. The next step was telling me, and having faith in God that it would edify me somehow in which later He provided the answer.

God also speaks using creation/nature (Romans 1:20), numbers and letters (Genesis 41:26), your senses such as what you see, feel, taste and hear (Acts 2:2), and so many other ways. Never limit Him to one form of communicating with you! You can't put God in a box--trust me.

The red flag for receiving prophecy is when the word given to you is not encouraging. If you leave that person feeling worse than you came, then it was definitely not from God. God is good ALL THE TIME. He would never discourage you.

Lastly, prophecy should be used in the church to edify others more than tongues. "I would like every one of you to speak in tongues, but I would rather have you prophesy. The one who prophesies is greater than the one who speaks in tongues, unless someone interprets, so that the church may be edified." (1 Corinthians 14:5) Boom! Crazy to think that Paul would put one gift above another, but only because of how important it is to encourage one another!

So take heart, my lovely readers. Prophecy isn't scary. God speaks to you every day. He wants to encourage you, and more-so he wants to use you to encourage someone else! What a happy family of believers we'll be if we learn to do this more often!

And that'll make for a fine, fine life!

The International's Guide to the American Halloween

Hello foreigners (and fellow 'Muricans)! My name is Allison; I'm originally from Texas and am attending Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry (BSSM) in Redding, California.

BSSM thrives within a multi-cultural atmosphere. People from all over the world (Sweden, Australia, Norway, Argentina, you name it!) come to Redding every year for BSSM.

So it has come to my attention that several of these lovely internationals are unaware of what Halloween is actually like in America, and most of all, why do Christians participate in it? Fear not, my precious heavily-accented unAmericans. I will reveal to you the secrets of our society.

First of all let's get straight to the facts! Did you know that Halloween was originally a Christian (possibly pagan) holiday? It's a yearly celebration on October 31st, the eve of the Western Christian feast of All Hallows' Day. It begins the three-day observance of Allhallowtide, a time in which to remember the dead including martyrs, saints (hallows) and all faithful departed Christians. According to many scholars, All Hallow's Eve is a Christianized feast influenced by Celtic harvest festivals, hence where you get the pumpkins and cinnamon spices and all the like! (Read the facts here!)

Crazy, right? So now that we know a little bit about where Halloween comes from, we can talk about the general disposition of Christian believers. How do they view Halloween, and is it okay to celebrate it? Before I give you my general answers, I'm going to let you know that the real answer lies within your own personal conviction and therefore I have no authority to change your heart on the matter (nor is that my intention)!

So, there are 3 types of views that Christians have here in America about Halloween. Generally speaking.

1. The Enthusiasts. The Christian who highly promotes Halloween. They normally celebrate it like any other American does, by dressing up as anything (even the scary things!) and going door to door for some tasty goodies. Often times (but this certainly doesn't mean every enthusiast) mischief goes down in the neighborhoods. For example, perhaps a fun game of throwing toilet paper on someone's house (also called TP'ing). The enthusiasts decorate their front yards with all sorts of jack-o-lanterns and black cats, and sometimes love Halloween more than Christmas or Thanksgiving! Woah!

2. The Opportunists. One of the most common views in America, the opportunists believe that Halloween is a great chance to dress up as your favorite anything (character from a show, a snack from your fridge, etc...) and not be made fun of! Halloween is also used, among these viewers, as a great opportunity to fellowship with events called Trunk-or-Treat, Harvest Parties or Hallelujah Night. These events are held at churches where pastors and leaders will coordinate fun games and hand out candy to anyone no matter the age! Again, this is the most common view of Halloween to the Christian American. Innocently fun!

3. The Shirkers. Those that shirk Halloween are probably those that view it as a holiday of evil. Given, it is easy to see this holiday as the "Day of Satan" while many people frolic around the streets as demons and witches and mindless zombies...The Shirkers avoid decorating their houses and leave the lights off to be sure no trick-or-treaters try to trick or treat them that night.

So these are the three main views of Halloween in the eyes of American Christians. Founded from the Christians that are Very Much Okay With It (Enthusiasts), Okay With It (Opportunists), and those that are Very Much Not Okay With It (The Shirkers). You may fit into one of these categories or you may not! But the point of all this is to let you know what it's like in America. Whether or not it should be okay is up to you and Jesus.

Either way, I will be dressing up as a ninja, frolicking around my friends trying to find KitKat bars and Reese's to last me an entire year. Because the point of life anyway is to have fun with Jesus no matter what day it is!

And that's a fine, fine life! (And a year's supply of goodies.)

Jesus Moves in a Pizza Place

There's a small pizza place here in Redding, California called Westside Pizza. I heard about this place from my BSSM (Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry) friends and that it was the place to go for all BSSM students on Friday nights. Last night was my fourth night.

So this small and totally unassuming place, when packed to the brim of hungry-for-Jesus students, quickly becomes a nesting ground for the manifestations of God and His miraculous signs and wonders. Yup. Pretty insane for an ordinary pizza business, eh?

So anyway, I was expecting something to happen last night. God reminded me that I had once wanted my eyes to be healed (pretty bad astigmatism in the left eye), and so I decided that if someone called out healing for eyes, I'd take it. Sure enough, someone did.

Now I'd never been the one to be healed before. I haven't really thought so seriously about it since I've never had any sort of serious sickness or injury. So to be on the receiving end of something for healing was the weirdest feeling. Will my eyes tingle? Will my eyelids heat up? Will I suddenly see angels shoving new eyeballs into my face?

I took my contacts out as, what they say, a "prophetic act" and had many people come pray for my eyes to be healed--but they didn't. Light looked obstructed and words were hard to read from only a few feet away. I was prayed for several times and everything still looked the same. By the end of the night, the staff formed a "Fire Tunnel" (this is where people make a tunnel and pray for you as you walk between them, and its the most epic thing).

With as much confidence as I could muster, I told God, "By the end of this tunnel, I am going to see." But...by the time I was halfway through, I changed my mind. I said to Him, "Even if I can't see by the end, I'm going to praise you and still love you just as if I could." By the time I reached the end, though, I definitely still couldn't see, and had cried in a friend's arms telling her the change of heart I had during the whole thing.

Then I went to one of the staff that works at Westside Pizza (seriously, these people are amazing Jesus freaks) and he had prayed for my eyes about four times before something started to happen. Completely regardless of my sight, I felt God's presence unexpectedly come upon me and I fell to the floor (it was more like a gentle...floating-like descent in slow motion. Pretty rad, Jesus). Then, I started to laugh on the floor like a lunatic because I thought it was funny God had done that to me, and then I started crying because I realized He was doing something in me, and then I was laughing because I was crying, and then I was for sure crying because I couldn't understand it and became overwhelmed (the human mind can't logically comprehend the emotions you feel when God is doing something in you, because God is entirely beyond your human understanding).

After about five-ish minutes, I sat up and an alumni from BSSM prophesied over me, asked what had happened and if I could see clearly yet (which was a nope). Then she said probably the most profound thing I've ever heard about any God encounter I've ever had: "Even though your eyes weren't healed, I believe that something happened inside of you to where you can now see spiritually."

Commence more crying.

Even though this whole thing started with the smallest thought ("Hey, maybe my eyes will heal tonight"), God had a completely different plan that had done so much more to me than what perfect eyesight could have done.

I would rather be partially blind the rest of my life if the eyes of my spirit-man would remain open to all the things God has in store for me.

Good thing is, God is a good God and He will heal me when I least expect it when it will be the most beneficial to me.

I look forward to that, and that makes for a fine, fine life!

What Bethel is Like

I've been in Redding, California for 25 days and in BSSM (Bethel's School of Supernatural Ministry) for about 11 days. It's about time I share my experiences. Put on yo seatbelts, homies! It's about to GET REAL.

I'll start out by saying that the atmosphere here in Bethel is charged with evangelism, healing and manifestations of God. I can't even begin to describe how real it is here. It's not at all something that's to strive for. This community knows God's love for them--and because they understand that they're loved, it is so easy for them to love others. Genuinely. Unashamedly. With great risk. Let me share an example, shall I?

I went to Starbucks the other day with my roommate and cousin Jessica (this is her 2nd year of BSSM so she knows what's up!), and we planned on chilling with coffee and books like normal hipsters would do, right?

But then a homeless woman walks into the store (something I'm not used to at all!), and she asks me for some quarters to buy coffee. I wasn't carrying cash with me, but once Jessica realized what was happening (she was inside her book), she didn't hesitate--not even a second--to show this woman that she was loved. I mean, genuinely loved. Jessica had her sit with us for about two hours, holding her hand and asking for her story and listening intently. Even though this woman refused to give us her name, Jessica continued to love on her anyway. Later she told me, "I didn't know her name but God did--and He was calling her by that name." ...Que heart explosions.

I almost started crying, watching her! Because this unfolded before me like it was ordinary to reach out to the homeless and to not be scared of rejection or what other people in the store thought. It was overwhelming.

Now getting back to BSSM! We have about 1,250 students in our class and the teachers have let us know that we are a class hungry for God. So it should be no surprise when the Holy Spirit starts moving all the time, right? Nope. I'm surprised all the time. I've grown up in a Holy Spirit church but I've never seen anything like this before. Time for another example!

Last Thursday we were allowed 15 minutes of a break session to catch some air, get coffee, go to the bathroom...So I went about and caught my break. When I came back into the building (which is huge, by the way, and always packed to the brim), there were people laughing together literally in a heaping pile in the lobby. Oh...I see, Jesus. They're laughing because of you! That's something I would see at my home church. Totally. But when I walked through the doors that lead to the main sanctuary (more like a giant auditorium), I immediately felt God heavily resting on the place and people were laughing, crying, shaking, falling over everywhere. All 1,250 students experiencing the presence of God--so much so that the last two hours of sessions were cancelled just so we could let the Holy Spirit move. I know that some people have lots of thoughts about the manifestations of God and whether people are being legit--but it's not about other people. It's about God. It's all about God, guys. And when you get to a point in your spiritual walk with Him that you are glad for those that are manifesting even when you're not--then you've done it right.

I have come to the point, after some struggle of comparison the first two weeks here, that I am okay with not manifesting like so many other people--because there's nothing wrong with me or my heart towards God and there's nothing wrong with anybody else. It's simply my season to watch and to listen to God--Whom, by the way, speaks clearer when I'm not laughing or crying or rolling around the floor like a roly poly!

Another thing that's radically changed in my spiritual walk is that God is so very real, and he's become so present to me. I know when he's sitting with me in the livingroom, or what he's doing with me during times of worship. He's so there, and it doesn't take rocket science and 8 hours of prayer every day to see that. It's so easy to talk to him--seriously! No matter how long it's been since you've pursued him, he's still there with you, eagerly waiting to speak with you. He's not crying in a corner, upset at not hearing from you. He's waiting eagerly for you.

One more example of this--being so newly aware of his presence--is the other night when I watched Narnia for about the 5th or 6th time. I'm not a fan of watching movies on my own, so I asked Jesus to come and watch it with me. I had so many heart-throbbing revelations of God's love for me and His people while I watched this movie that I cried almost through the entire thing. So weird. I would have never done that if I hadn't been so acutely aware of God's presence.

So, this is what's been happening at BSSM (even though I've only been here for less than a month!), and what I've been experiencing. You can ask me anything about this place and what I've been experiencing, and I will gladly share it with you!

Oh, Jesus. You're the bestest-erest friend EVER. You make for a fine life!

Cliff Jumping for Noobies

I was well aware that one of the things I'd experience in Redding, California was cliff jumping. You know, finding some obscure location and jumping off three stories of slimy rock wall into the abyss of a raging waterfall and it's tundra-tempered waters. Of course.

I don't know why this is a thing for Californians (or in any place with waterfalls for that matter). It's as if cliff jumping is a sport: How many dangerous shapes can you make with your body before impact? That's what that is. Crazy people.

But for some reason, my brother and I decided to throw caution to the wind and do it. The water was a crisp -578'F (just kidding. Maybe 60'F.) and we were aching for adventure. I guess. So, let me start from the beginning.

This was our second day in Redding, CA--freshly moved from West Texas (where waterfalls don't exist). Taran and I were invited to this grand quest by our cousin, and we knew we'd be going with several "experienced" people we didn't even know, But they were from Bethel, so what's the harm, right? Haha...ha.

We traveled east into the mountains for about half an hour until we came to this really obscure lot by the highway. Following our trusted group of Christian strangers, we delved into a tunnel of trees and spiked vines and mud below our feet. We hurled over rocks and balanced over the fallen beams of trees across the creak. Where were we possibly going? I had no idea.

Until the waterfall came into sight. A beautiful, magnificent, raging water monster waiting to ensnare our company in it's frost-bitten fangs of DOOM.

Of course the manliest men went up first to show off their mad experience and anti-gravitational skills. My brother Taran followed thereafter, and upon seeing him climb the most impossible-looking cliff I've ever seen, I found my own courage.

"I SHALL GO," I exclaimed, having already adjusted my now-blue toes in the waters. "If you come with me," I quickly added, for my brother was my only source of courage left.

And so it was that I followed Taran up two logs stuck between the cliff in a perfect ladder-like position, and began my ascent on the cliff face. Now I'm being perfectly honest here: the cliff was slimy because water constantly flowed down it--and it was jagged like the face of death. It was not in the least bit pleasant. Taran had to pull me up to the top with his sheer strength because I couldn't find holding without plummeting into the arms of Jesus.

But alas! I made it to the top and shuffled my way to the jumping point of the cliff next to the waterfall. Other people watched and affirmed to me how great of a decision it was. I looked down and my knees buckled. I literally hadn't felt that much fear in my entire life, so I turned to the wise Bethel Schoolers and asked, "Does someone know a quick scripture that could encourage me right now?"

"Yeah," said one guy sitting on a rock. "And Jesus wept. Now jump!"

...Bless that boy's soul for his ill-placed comic relief.

I counted to three and jumped with my brother at my side.

My friends, I had never felt such a raw form of gravity before in my life. I mean raw as in--not from turning in a car or tripping on my shoe laces. It was simply from falling 35 feet. I made not a noise. I clenched my nose. My stomach flew into my pounding chest. I crashed into the freezing waters at such an alarming speed that my awkward I-Have-No-Idea-What-I'm-Doing position (which was a horrible position. I suggest asking someone how to jump before you actually...jump) as I fell actually spanked me right on my bum.

I remember seeing the light as the water beneath me slowed my descent, and I swam up vigorously.

When I broke the water and released my breath, the initial shock of having my bum spanked by 3 stories of gravity and 60'F water made me hyperventilate briefly. I think I was crying and laughing at the same time. My poor little bum...

Moral of the story is: Ask how to jump. Not for a scripture.

And Jesus wept? C'mon, guy.

So yeah. The experience is now my initiation into bible school with three huge bruises on my left leg to remind me how funny and horrifying my experience was :D I encourage everyone to get out and do something you've never done before, no matter the risk (except, you know...death), so that you can add those memories to you (because I will never forget this one)!

And that makes for a fine life! And a bruised bum!

How to Not Freak Out When Getting Your Wisdom Teeth Pulled

This is the story of the time I got my wisdom teeth pulled (exactly a week ago) and how I did not freak out. Despite the picture of my face before the surgery, as shown above. Isn't it beautiful?

I am the type of person to not freak out about a situation until the last very possible second, which could be considered a blessing. But there is nothing that can prepare even a grown man from having his wisdom teeth pulled spontaneously.

You see, I went to the dentist for a "preliminary appointment". That's just where you get X-Rays and the doctor says yay or nay. So he looked at them for maybe a minute and said in his Muslim accent, "They're in perfect condition to pull them out. You want to do it right now?"

...Right now?

I sat there on the seat that was in that awkward "Am I a chair or a bed?" position, and laughed. And when the doctor did not join me in the celebration of his jests, I realized he was quite serious. To which I finally respond, "Yolo. Sure." It was the most spontaneous thing I'd ever done.

The doctor told me to go have lunch and when we'd come back, he'd be ready. You know. To pull bones out of my face. So I went to have lunch with my mom and as I ate my chicken wrap I thought, This is going to be my last supper--kind of like Jesus, except I'm not getting crucified. And this is lunch. That may sound like I was freaking out, but I call it comic relief.

Anyway, so about 20 minutes later I was back in the awkward "Am I a chair or a bed?" seat in the dentist's cubicle thing, and he went straight to swabbing my gums with some sort of gel which tingled and numbed them. And then there came the needles.

My friends. My fellow readers. Those needles...were perhaps the worst part of the entire procedure, but I closed my eyes and tried to think about something else. Someone else, who was not me, who was better than me, who I could give my full attention to.

Cheesy or not, I thought about Jesus the entire time. I thought about how great he is, and imagined him in the room with me, and it was literally the best thing I could have done. Sure, it was a small surgery that almost everyone has some point in their lives, but it was a big moment to me--and therefore it was a big moment to Jesus. He cared about my pain and how scared I actually was inside, but I put all my faith in him (and the dentist. Thank you, dentist, for knowing what you were doing).

After about 5 minutes of being injected by the needles, I could no longer feel my bottom lip and jaw. Do you know how fat your lip actually is? It's gross. And how much peach fuzz is actually on your chin? You don't realize how important your nerve-endings actually are until they're numb and completely useless. You can't even tell if you're drooling or bleeding to death or something.

So the rest of the procedure took maybe 20-30 minutes while I sat their with my eyes closed thinking about Jesus as the doctor yanked my jaw this way and that. And the next thing I knew, all four nasty little wisdom teeth were out (they are a whole lot bigger than you think. My mom called them icebergs, which definitely makes sense).

I think the point of sharing this story though is that I am certain I didn't feel half as much fear (and even pain) because I was thinking about Jesus, who is much bigger than four needles and an awkward dentist chair. I think if Christians applied this to similar situations, the world would see how much peace Jesus actually provides to us. All we have to do is have faith he's got in under control.

And peace makes for a fine, fine life.

And four less icebergs in your mouth, thank goodness.

3 Reasons Why Canadians Don't Live in Texas

Hi, my name is Allison. I'm 20 years old and am part Texan (originally) and part Canadian (legally). You could say I'm a rare hybrid species, cursed with the fluctuating skin of a Frost Giant and Dust Devil. I am in constant conflict of self identity. Who am I? Even though I came from Texas, was I supposed to come from Canada? Should I be riding horses to work or polar bears? These questions are that which I cannot answer for.

What I can answer for is this: Why don't Canadians live in Texas? I've found that only I, being the freak hybrid TexaCanadian I am, can answer this. You see, I travel to Canada often. Very often. And I've come up with a short list of why the Frost Giants stay away from this beautiful, gun-abounding state-that-should-be-a-country. Let us assume that the following reasons all derive from the fact that it is so flipping hot in Texas.

1. Ventilation. 
Look. The first thing you want to do after work when you get into your car is to turn the A/C on maximum overdrive, right? WRONG. Do not do this. Time and time again, I've learned this cruel and unfortunate outcome: your A/C unit does not contain ice. It contains the dust of the earth, accumulated from 8 hours of nesting in the Texan dust storms. And it will pummel into your eyes at a thousand miles (or 1,609.34 kilometers) an hour until your sensitive retinas see only the Saharan Desert.

2. Driving.
The Texan motto is Friendship. Literally, that's what Texas means. Did you know that? (Thanks, Google.) But the Sun is not friendly to us ever so this brings us to the second reason why Canadians don't want to live in Texas: it is so blistering hot that our roads melt. Guys. Our tar melts. It gets stuck to your tires and it takes half a century of car washes to get that junk off. Tarmac starts melting at like 100'F (40'C for you special people out there). As we Texans like to say: That ain't right.

3. Allergies.
Sure, everyone has allergies to something. But what about the sun?! That's right. I thought this to be only a myth until yesterday when my boss came back from working outside in the mid-afternoon heat. She had rashes all over her neck and arms and called them "heat rashes". HEAT RASHES. Apparently, if you sweat too much, your skin pores become blocked and leak into skin tissue which makes your skin really red, bumpy and itchy. Not even a Texan wants to live in Texas after hearing something like that.

I think Canadians only need these three reasons to permanently decide to never ever ever live here. Which is a good decision. And I'm sure I haven't helped myself out much with my identity crisis. Because now I've horrified my Canadian self and need to quickly pack my bags and fly North for the summers. But my Texan self scoffs at the weakness of the opposing side and boasts of its thick skin and tough stuff.

But in the end, it's a fine life.

Even though I might need therapy now.

The Bubble Busters

Today, my church threw their very first Bubble Bowl Tournament. It's like soccer, except in bubble suits! I didn't sign up because I didn't want to get mowed over by people, but it turns out that my brother's team needed someone to fill in and I decided it might be a good story to tell people in the future. You know, of getting mowed over by a bubble.

AND SO IT IS:

Watching from the bleachers and strategizing a way to dominate our opponent was easy. But actually being on the gym floor inside a claustrophobic bubble the weight of a few hobbits was definitely not easy. I had to put my arms through straps and hold onto handles as I lugged the thing around. When the soccer ball dropped to initiate the game, I quickly found out how it felt like to depend on a plastic bubble to keep me from death. Have you ever done that? Put your complete faith in a bubble? That is a feeling you will never forget.

We lost both games, but I didn't mind because by the second go-around I was having fun. When my jams came on, you could see a blue bubble dancing with two wobbly feet. That was me. Totally me.

Shortly after the first game, though, one of our opponents barreled into the corner of the gym and wrecked his knees up pretty bad. I don't know what came over me as I approached him but I said, "Would you like us to pray for you?" I figured he would say no, and that was that. Or if he said yes, then we could just do that I'll-pray-for-you-in-my-head thing during the next part of the game. He did say yes, but I found myself kneeling over and praying aloud for his knees to heal because, well why not? People might think, "Why would Jesus care about an injury from a tournament? He doesn't even care about a silly bubble bowl." But here's the thing that I pieced together as I prayed.

The Bubble Bowl is fun. Like...really fun. And I think a lot of people forget just how fun God is. Yeah! He's fun! Where do you think the word comes from? Someone's had to laugh first for us to know what it even is. God wants us to have fun--the Christian lifestyle is not boring. And when there's an injury in the midst of said fun, why not just pray for it? God wants to heal us anyway, and what better reason to have fun in His name? Mowing over people with bubbles?

When I was done, I realized everyone that was in the vicinity of his injury came and prayed for him, too. There were at least five other people praying out loud with me, and it blew me away. Not in the sense that I didn't expect it, but just how much I loved how our church can pray at an out-of-church event with just as much passion as they would during praise and worship.

I quickly became inspired to write about it as everyone got up and continued on like praying was just a natural thing to do--just like breathing. I'm really proud of everyone in our church, and even anyone who simply prays out loud outside of church for anything. It's bold, it's inspiring and it's effective.

It makes for a very, very fine life!

Ernie and Me; The Time I Met a Veteran

This is Ernie Andrus. He's 91 years old and a World War II veteran, and he likes to run marathons.

Ernie here, who by the way is adorable (perhaps the strangest thing I've ever said about an elderly man but seriously--this chap is every bit of the word), walked into the Design Shop today to order some shirts for a marathon he's running. At first I was like, "Cool beans." And then he said he was a WWII veteran and then I was like, "COOL BEANS."

Recently since after watching the incredible true story on big screen, Unbroken (I recommend all humans to see that movie), I've been ensnared by the stories of WWII survivors and soldiers. After seeing the movie, I immediately prayed to meet a veteran in person and to talk to him about his experiences. I've no idea why it was so suddenly important to me, but all I knew at that time was that the chance was slim because these chaps have lived a long life and are waiting for Jesus to pick 'em up for coffee one day. So my time was running thin.

Little did I know that on this day, a WWII veteran would walk right into my workplace. I didn't have to go anywhere! Silly as it may sound, I think God knew I would be overwhelmingly blessed to meet Ernie, so He made it happen. What an incredibly loving God, down to the very last detail of our lives!

Anyway, as I listened to Ernie from afar (for the first time in my life, I was shy), he said he's running a marathon from California all the way to Florida. People. This man is 91. I can't even run two miles at the gym without falling off the elliptical.

He continued by saying it was for raising funds for an old WWII ship he wants to bring back to Normandy in 2019 to celebrate the 75th anniversary of D-Day (How cool is that?!).

1,051 USS LST's were built during WWII. The LST 325 (seen above) is the only one left that has been restored and is still operational.

And somehow, somehow, his trail lead straight through our tiny little town in west Texas where he just happened to want shirts for his marathon where I just happened to work.

After sheepishly watching him talk, I courageously (and very childishly) asked if I could take a picture with him. I blushed feeling so embarrassed to ask like he was a celebrity. But he was so kind in response and happily took the picture with me (as seen at the very top). What more, without me even having to ask, he told me what he did in the war and gave me a piece of paper that explained the intention of his marathon.

Ernie was part of a medic team in WWII and sailed on a boat called the USS LST, just like the LST 325 shown above. Who knows what sights he saw as a medic, but his job was sailing across the ocean to Saipan to pick up the wounded soldiers and aid them. He told me about how the Japanese would kill themselves for the sake of honor, and that it was perhaps the worst area where it most often occurred.

Of course I didn't have enough time to sit down and hear his stories for days and days (because I really would have listened to him speak until the cows would come home), but I will never forget having met such a kind, strangely athletic and elderly adorable man like Ernie Andrus!

And it would be cruel of me not to urge you, my fellow readers, to check out his website for his marathon at Coast2CoastRuns.com! This man is only trying to follow his dreams even at the age of 91 (which screams at the rest of us to pursue without waiting or giving up especially due to age), and if you could donate to help him reach his goal, then I'm sure he'd have a mighty swell time telling Jesus all about his success over a fine cup of coffee.

God knows he's sure lived a fine life, and a finer one yet to come!

Thank you, Ernie!

Why Jesus Man is Best Superhero

Dear fellow readers,

Today I am going to tell you why Jesus Man is Best Superhero. Some of you may be asking, who is Jesus Man? Well...

Jesus Man is a superhero. He is feared among all his enemies and is known to be the undefeated champion of Justice!

His abilities include (but are not limited to): Instant Teleportation, Invisibility, Lightning-fast Speed, Danger Senses, Enhanced Memory, Fire Resistance, Flight, Rapid Cellular Regeneration, Levitation, Nova Force, Phasing, Precognition, Resurrection, Seismic Power, Summoning Power, Super Strength, Time-frame Control, Telepathy, and Weapons Master.

Although Jesus Man is obviously the most decked-out superhero to ever be (yes, that means he's got more superpowers than Deadpool!), the world hardly knows his true name. Jesus Man's true identity, when he's not being a superhero is actually being a superhero but without a cape on, and he calls himself Jesus. Jesus Man's daily occupation is saving the planet though, so he hasn't hung his cape in a good two thousand years or so.

But! There is one very important thing you should know about Jesus Man.

It is that, for every single superhero you have seen in the comics and movies, he gave a little bit of his superpowers to that hero. Where do you think Captain America got his courage, and his stifling good looks? Where do you think Iron Man got his scientific genius, or the Hulk's desire to smash all the bad things? Superman could have never been so super without Jesus Man. And Batman wouldn't be so "Where's the detonator?"-dark-raspy-voice-kind-of cool if it weren't for him, too. 

You see, there is a little bit of Jesus Man in all the superheroes. And there's a little bit of him in you, too! That means...you are a superhero, and you know what? Since Jesus Man gave away a good portion of his superpowers to everyone, he now needs your help to make this world a better place.

And this is why Jesus Man is Best Superhero.

Because He wants each and every one of you to help Him save the day! 

So don't let Him down, SuperPeople! LET'S GO SAVE THE DAY!