My family is sitting second row for a Clemson home game. I knew it was going to be noisy. I expected it. But, there’s a man behind us who knows everything and won’t stop yelling into the back of my head. Part of me wishes he’d just put on a jersey and show us all how the game should be played. And just when I don’t think he can get any more obnoxious—he does. The refs make a few bad calls against our beloved team, and he loses it! “What’s wrong with you, ref?” Then—at the top of his lungs—he yells a long-winded “Boooo!” at every play for the rest of the game. I agree with his assessment, but I’m more irritated with Mr. Boo Fan than the refs because he’s keeping me from appreciating my second-row seats!

Ever read something that changed your life forever? Bored in study hall one day, I had no idea what was about to happen to me.  I picked up a book, turned a few pages, saw the truth within, and tears began to stream down my face as I saw words that would change me forever.  As I let the truth of the words sink into my soul, they sank further and further.  

Friends, I am ecstatic because Nandi Roszhart is my guest blogger this week. She taught me so much in a 25 minute conversation that I couldn't resist asking her to give us some advice on how love people unlike us. I hope her vulnerability challenges you as it did me!

Has someone you cared about hurt you on a regular basis? How do we love them?  Or...should we even try to love people who don't love us back? 

I was once in a situation where someone close to me provoked me on a daily basis. I wanted to love them freely, but they were controlling, manipulative and insulting. I survived by adopting sarcasm as a second language, avoiding one on one situations with that person, and putting up walls to make me feel as safe possible. To other people, I appeared strong and confident, but on the inside I felt lonely and misunderstood.

"It's getting harder and harder for me to give," I confessed to myself. Clayton and I sat across the table from a couple who needed a listening ear. We listened while they talked. We comforted them through their struggles and tears. I was obeying my calling to ministry, but my inner soul wished I could be the one talking and crying.

It was in this moment I realized how dry and empty my own soul felt. I'd just become a mother, and it was proving harder than I thought. Because I didn't love my new calling, I was carrying far too much shame and guilt. I was desperate for help myself. Still, I sat listening and praying to the only One who could help these people because I felt completely incapable.

But, what is a testimony? Is it not the story of how we are broken and unworthy? Is it not the story of Jesus loving the unlovely. Isn’t my testimony a story of how Jesus showed a helpless, hopeless girl that he’d planned on redeeming and restoring her since before she was born? Isn’t my testimony a story of Jesus glorifying himself in spite of my inconsistent good intentions? 

Have you ever felt like your testimony was ruined? Have you ever felt ashamed that you didn’t perform better? 

We all fail our friends.  We say things we don’t mean.  We are habitually inconsiderate and rude, easily offended and hurt.  We withdraw and give up when we should pursue and work through a problem.  But this doesn’t mean we are bad people.  It means we are imperfectly human.