I have laughed and laughed at the idea of this post, but my husband very sternly reminded me a few weeks ago that it isn’t something to joke about.
And, he’s right. It isn’t a joking matter.
It is about the worst possible scenario of ALL TIME.
But, the good thing is, if you’re reading this, then I can probably get away with writing in some humor as we talk about it because it’s NOT TOO LATE.
You still have time to avoid that worst-case scenario.
So, jokes are allowed. Safe zone. My blog. My rules.
Today’s post is a little different, so I’ve included a map:
- Blog post ramblings and love
- Bible verses and instaphotos
- Billy Graham link
- Three Circles link
- Blog Playlist link
- Final credit surprise
Tonight of all nights, I walk in the kitchen and see the sign I needed:
I started writing this post on June 30, but after hearing a specific podcast sermon today, I really felt like it was time to finish it.
My husband then decided to grill for 20 people, but it’s just the two of us here tonight.
He got out real butter to soften for the baked potatoes. I walked in the kitchen and started laughing. I cannot even form words right now.
Here goes nothing.
It is very hard to admit this, but I discovered last month (thanks to my husband) that I haven’t been eating real butter.
For my whole life.
I know, I know…who is that dumb?
What if I say it’s not my fault?
I grew up with a Country Crock container being used as butter on everything from cornbread to pancakes.
Shouldn’t someone have educated me on the difference between fake and real butter?
What damage has been done to my life from fake butter products?
How would I have known otherwise unless someone took the time and TOLD me the truth?
Sure, I could have read the labels, but all of that ingredient stuff doesn’t make sense to me.
I would have immediately glazed over at the first glance of “Vegetable Mono and Diglycerides, Polyglycerol Esters of Fatty Acids (Potassium Sorbate, Calcium Disodium EDTA).”
And remember, I read cereal boxes for fun in 1985 and there weren’t any computers, so if I wanted to know the definition of those ingredients, then I would have needed a 10lb Webster’s Dictionary or one of the Encylopedia Brittanica books.
Never heard of those? Google it.
Now, stay with me.
The day the whole butter conversation happened, it reminded me there was one other time in my life when I thought I had the real thing, but it was WAY more important than butter.
Imagine me, little Keysha LaNaye, the granddaughter of a Southern Baptist preacher, in church since I was probably a week old:
Mawmaw played the organ.
Dad was in a singing group.
I was there 3-4 times a week, at least.
- Sunday morning and evening
- Wednesday nights (and this was when we still had to wear skirts or dresses)
- WMU or brotherhood breakfast
- a revival
- Bible school
- a meeting about any of these events
- or Mawmaw might have been painting one of a hundred baptistry murals in other central Alabama churches, and I always went everywhere with her.
Normally, the mural was a waterfall. I say that in jest (baptism, water, dunking), but my grandmother is an amazing artist. She’s still painting and quilting at 84. 👑
Around the time I was ten years old, I remember walking the aisle to be saved.
First, where does that term “saved” come from? Why do we call it that?
…and this one, which was the very first verse I thought if when the whole fake butter conversation occurred.
Back to age ten (1985).
I lived with my mother (and I think my brother) during this time and I had a terrible dream the week before.
My mother called my grandfather in the middle of the night about it because I was so upset. I won’t detail it here, but I do remember being under some serious conviction from that dream, and maybe my eyes were open to and aware of….something?
I’m not going to say that I didn’t know Jesus as a child (nor do I want to cause anyone to question their salvation if they did so at a young age). I just know from the fruit in my own life and the person I was outside of church, that I just did not have a (real) relationship with Jesus.
I never read my Bible.
I did not pray, although I was once elected as Student Council Chaplain at my 7th-12th grade high school. Before assemblies, I would lead the school prayer.
Yes. You read that correctly. I was a student-elected chaplain, leading fellow high school students, in a school-adopted prayer during school hours. It was:
Psalm 19:14 (KJV)
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.
We did this while pick-up trucks were out in the parking lot with gun racks hanging from the back windows, that held the shotguns used by the guys that came in from hunting before school.
I’m just saying…
Anyway, I went to volunteer somewhere and the questionnaire asked how I felt about my role in the Great Commission.
Never heard of it.
GREAT COMMISSION. Really?
It might as well had said “Polyglycerol Esters of Fatty Acids,” because I didn’t know what it was. I probably knew more about football…okay, I DID know more about football, than I did about the Bible.
Oh, I’m sure it was being taught around me, but I wasn’t listening.
Sometimes, I would tuck a Nancy Drew book inside of my Bible, so when it was propped in my lap you couldn’t see anything but the leather, zippered cover of King James.
To this day, I believe I was just a Cultural Christian (a term I’ve just become to know and fear).
Southern Baptist, Independent Baptist, Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Church of God, Church of the Nazerene, Church of the Lake and Ballpark, etc. – you were labeled in faith like you chose Alabama or Auburn as a football team.
I had no idea that I was missing out on the Way, the Truth and the Life.
Upon my death, I would have unfortunately been confused and probably would have made a statement like,
“I can’t believe it’s not heaven!”
My next thought might have been, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
So, please, let me tell you…
It’s like growing up without a parent, only to discover they lived nearby and had been searching for you since you were born.
It’s like the adoption blog post. Just think of the great lengths and expense people take for adoption on earth…can we fathom what it took for our spiritual adoption?
Although I missed out on a lot with the Lord for many years, my deepest desire has been that my two daughters would know Him at an earlier age than I did, at age 28.
This includes all of their friends, anyone in their families, or anyone who calls me friend…that you would know the love of Christ.
It’s just easier to write it sometimes – rather than say it face to face. I’ve become a bit of an introvert. Maybe this blog is how the Lord will use me.
I do want you to know how precious you will consider that Love, even above riches like silver and gold.
My friend, I don’t want you to have some fake religion.
That fake butter can be bad for your heart, but the fake religion or fake god (and there’s only One God) – is a million times worse for your heart AND soul.
- Don’t pretend to have a relationship with someone you do not know.
- Wake up and read the label on your life.
- Do not say you’re a Christian, or Christ-follower, or “believer,” just because that’s how you were raised.
Do you REALLY know Him?
No, we do not go to heaven for just being a “good person.”
Think about it…
Why in the world would Jesus have needed to suffer so savagely, to the point that He asked God to “take this cup from Me,” knowing He was about to be falsely accused, judged, mocked, abandoned, beaten and crucified…just so everyone could go to heaven anyway?
What was your soul worth?
If appraised, what is someone willing to pay for it?
If ransomed, what would I get?
That’s why He died. To provide a way back to our Father, who was separated from us by sin and He desperately wants us back.
He is the only way. There is no coexisting with other gods…
For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors.
And it was not paid with mere gold or silver, which lose their value.
It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God.
1 Peter 1:18-19
I saved all of these in the last few days. It was cool to see two of the post-it note messages:
Where do we go now? If we are wise, then we will go and tell the next person and the next person, until they all know…
The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls is wise.
Proverbs 11:30 (KJV)
You wouldn’t let a friend do something that might be harmful, like drink and drive, wear spanx in the summer, or clog their arteries, right?
Why would we ever let them walk around, one breath away from eternity and not consider their salvation – a life filled with the peace of God – as the utmost importance?
I think I’ll end with this passage below. It came up in a conversation today and it was just unique timing based on what I had been writing.
It’s kind of a hard chapter and I hesitated, but I believe God will reveal what He desires to reveal.
This guy, the rich man, wanted some relief from his agony after he woke up in hell, but it was not possible for anyone to help him.
Nor was it possible for him to send word back to his family and warn them of this fate.
Read it, study it and consider it.
May it not scare you from the place called Hades (or any level of hell), but lead you, and your household, to the eternal arms of Christ.
The Three Circles
Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Psalm 126:5-6 (NIV)
07/12/18 Update: I woke up to this devotion today. ❤️🏃🏻♀️🗺
Disclosure: No representation is made that the quality of butter or margarine is greater than the quality of any other butter or margarine products, or that any product mentioned is actuallyfake. For entertainment purposes only. 🥞☺️🥞