Beautiful vandalism

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

G:

I think we saw it at the same time. The giant rock beside the park trail shrouded in spray-painted graffiti. The five-year-old boy in front of me stopped in his tracks and gasped.

“Look, mother! Somebody wrote on that rock!”

I could sense his mother’s hesitation at beginning to describe what exactly he was seeing. The wheels in her brain churning, trying to concoct a kid-friendly word for vandalism. Before she uttered a word, he uttered something surprising.

“It’s—it’s beautiful!”

There were words in neon paint that only Urban Dictionary could give a detailed account of. Numbers and names of people and activities you hear about at 10 PM on your local news. His mother gently patted him on the shoulder, attempting to appease his sense of awe at something awful. No, this wasn’t a good thing. This wasn’t a good thing at all. But he put his hands on his hips and proclaimed defiantly:

“Well I think it’s BEAUTIFUL!”

His comment stuck with me—like a movie or book that makes you think even long after you’ve read the last word or thrown out your popcorn. It stuck with me not only out of humor or surprise, but also out of truth.

I’m like that giant rock along the park trail. Living in a fallen world where unfortunate circumstances and difficult situations and poor decisions have left marks.

I’m a rock that’s been vandalized.

But yet You come to me, and you find me, colored by the troubles and trials of this world all of which are clearly visible to You.

And I see you stop. And I heard you gasp. And I hear you say, “It’s—it’s beautiful!”

I don’t understand it. What good is there to come from the bad? What awe from the awful? No, these aren’t good things. These aren’t good things at all.

Yet you say, in all things you work for the good of those who love You (Romans 8:28). You take all I’ve been through, in any circumstance or situation, and you bring good from it all.

You make beautiful things from the bad.

You make beautiful things from the broken.

You make beautiful things out of spray-painted rocks.

You look at all that was and is and will be, and with your hands on your hip, you proclaim defiantly: “well I think it’s BEAUTIFUL!”

Your child,

m

FEATURE STORY: POLICE FILES UNIQUE REPORT ON SPEEDING INCIDENT

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

cop

photo: cnx.org

PHILADELPHIA—State trooper Gregory Johnson filed a unique police report last Thursday during a speeding incident on the Pennsylvania turnpike. At exactly 9:27 PM he pulled over a young lady who he clocked at 87 miles per hour in a 65 miles per hour zone.

“She was driving a black Chevrolet Cruze. These kids think that if your car is black you can get away with speeding at night. False. Kids are stupid,” stated Johnson.

Johnson followed the young lady for over a mile and contemplated calling for backup on the chase before she finally pulled over.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect to be honest with you,” Johnson explained. “Could have been a drunkard, could have been a lady about to pop out a baby in the driver’s seat. The only labor I’ve ever been involved in was my own and I came out with the umbilical chord around my neck so I wasn’t conscious enough to remember what to do in those types of situations.”

Johnson approached the vehicle to the loud sounds of pleasant music. “It was a song about having reasons, a lot of them. I think a hundred, maybe a million. It might have been thousands even.”

Johnson found a young 27-year-old woman crying in the driver’s seat.

“When I asked her why she was speeding and why she didn’t pull over right away she blew her nose really loud into a Kleenex and looked up at me with her eyes all red and puffy. She said, ‘Officer sir, I beg your forgiveness. Please, sir. I was so busy jamming out to my worship music that I got carried away with the gas pedal because of the love of Jesus and didn’t even hear you following me,’” Johnson recalled.

Johnson saw a cross necklace dangling around the rearview mirror.

“Then the lady asked if she could pray right then and there. She was saying words like she hoped the big man upstairs would bless me in my job and that I would join her for her church’s BBQ after church on Sunday and then she started talking about her dog that had a tumor in his neck the doctors didn’t know what to do with and then she threw her hands up in the air and started singing an awful rendition of ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ and I just had to tear up her ticket and run away because her singing sounded like my cat when I accidentally ran it over with the lawn mower,” Johnson stated.

Johnson has seen a lot of interesting speeding incidents in his 35 years of service, but nothing like this. “I’ve had an 85 year old drug dealer propose marriage to me and a toddler that stole his dad’s BMW. I arrested all of them, including the stuffed animals the toddler had in the backseat. But let me tell you what—that BBQ from that church must have been made from pigs that came straight from a farm up there in the clouds.”

christian girl problems.

WHEN THE “I’M SORRY OFFICER I DIDN’T REALIZE HOW FAST I WAS GOING BECAUSE I WAS LISTENING TO WORSHIP MUSIC” ACTUALLY WORKED

Image | Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

when the im sorry officer i didnt realize how fast i was going because i was listening to worship music actually worked

No, thank YOU, Chris Tomlin.

GIF via howimetyourmother.tumblr.com

I am NOT cool

Posted on by Meghan Mellinger

G:

Remember that phase I went through in elementary school where I would wear a blonde wig around with a black beret? I’m pretty sure I also tried to convince people I was Australian.

This would have been cool except that I have enough red curly hair on my head to make wigs for every man, woman, and child in Northern Ireland with enough leftover for replacement fur for Scottish Highland cattle. Also, apparently all of my attempted accents sound French. Which would have made more sense with the beret (alas, hindsight is always 20/20).

To everyone who was unfortunate enough to experience me at that time in life must have thought I looked ridiculous.

I was NOT cool.

At the tender age of twenty-seven, I’m still not cool. At least, in the world’s eyes.

Because I’m a Christian.

Movies, television, and songs all say I need to look like a model, love recreational and casual sex, and party like there’s no tomorrow.

Of course I’m not cool because as a Christian I’m called to do the exact opposite—stand firm in the promise God created me for a purpose, looks and all; sex, while awesome, is to be saved for marriage; and while we are to enjoy the life He has given us we aren’t supposed to be getting drunk and living recklessly. To the world, my life sounds awful. Void of all the things that are supposed to make you feel alive and happy. I’m swimming against the flow of today’s tide. I’m counter-cultural. Christianity is counter-cultural.

Christ was counter-cultural.

Christ wasn’t the cool kid on the block. He wasn’t the strong warrior everyone was expecting. He was a humble servant who said crazy stuff like “the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” He spoke in parables and answered your question with a question. He said if you want to follow him you have to deny yourself and pick up your own cross. He captured many, but lost many more. And he died the death of a criminal on a cross.

But he also did some really notable things. Like turning a few fishes and loaves into enough for five thousand people. Or casting out demons. Healing the sick. Raising people from the dead. Including himself. So that we could have eternal life.

Now that’s pretty cool.

Being a Christian may mean that my co-workers aren’t going to invite me to Happy Hour after work because they know I don’t want to indulge in gossip about everyone else at work. Being a Christian may mean I can’t have sex with my boyfriend until I’m married. Being a Christian may mean I’ll be playing board games instead of drinking games on a Friday night. Being a Christian may mean that people may make assumptions about me and my beliefs or judge me because of who I serve and who I believe in. Being a Christian may mean that a television show of my life wouldn’t make it to primetime—or even straight to DVD. Being a Christian may make me seem not cool.

But being a Christian also means I have a fulfillment from something, someone greater than myself, greater than anything this earth can afford. I was created and called for a purpose by a Heavenly Father who knows the exact number of hairs on my head. And who knows the plans He has for me even before I was created. While life isn’t perfect, and I am not perfect, God promises comfort, peace, and strength when I seek Him and seek Him with my whole heart because he sent His son to overcome it all. He forgives me when I screw up. Daily. His mercies are new every morning. Being a Christian means I make sacrifices for things of this world to pursue things that are of Him—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Being a Christian means my time, money, and life are not my own—but belong to someone who holds me in His Hand. I can choose to pursue Him and let Him lead me to His best for me. And He has a best for me. Being a Christian means I have the choice to accept Christ as the Savior of my soul and Lord of my life. Being a Christian means Christ gave His life for me so that I can live forever with Him. All I have to do is say yes, and follow with my heart, mind, soul, in words and in actions, denying my earthly self to follow You—my heavenly Father.

Being a Christian means I’ll look ridiculous to anyone who experiences me at this time in life because of the love I have for You—like a blonde wig and a black beret on a redhead. Like David singing and dancing when the ark of your covenant finally came back to the temple.

I’ll become even more undignified than this when living my life for You.

And I’m cool with that.

Your child,

m