full circle...

As we sat on the cherry-wood table in the green room at church last night, I had to share with him how much my life has changed. Largely in part to a simple conversation we had late one night near the Dead Sea. He never knew how much my life's journey would be impacted by a simple question: Why do you do what you do?

In true providential and sovereign fashion, I got to share with him last night how profoundly my life has changed because of a simple conversation. Sonny inspired not only my direction in life, but this entire blog. I had to do something--I just didn't know what it was.

Today marks my 200th blog post and now I get to share with you why I do what I do:

L-O-V-E

Love is still the motivating factor in all I do.

At the 100 blog post, I said I would commit to 100 more. Now this day is here and I'm promising to commit to 100 more. I wrestle with this concept of blogging because I'm not a blogger. I don't want to be a professional blogger or a mega-blogger. I want to change lives. So I'm a speaker, teacher, and writer who happens to blog.

Thank you for coming here. Thank you for letting me be ugly and honest. Thank you for accepting the broken parts of me. Thank you for walking this journey together. I'm a better person because of you. Here's to 100 more posts...

*Edit to post: If you are attending the CCM retreat tomorrow, I want to meet up! I'll be in the cafe at 5pm if you want to chat :)

jumbo the elephant and me...

Jumbo was an elephant from the French Sudan who was so strong he could pick up trees from their roots, tow two tons, and stood over thirteen feet high. When I heard this on the radio this morning I didn't believe it. But my friends Wikipedia and Google told it was true. So it has to be. Duh.

In researching this elephant, I couldn't help but notice that he and I have two things in common.

1. We both hate PT Barnum and his lame circus.

2. We both were tethered to things as children which formed our outlook on life.

History says Jumbo was tethered to a 12-inch stake from the moment he could walk. The one-foot stake kept him in a certain position and disabled him to leave. Every time he tried to walk away, he couldn't. As the years passed and his size and strength increased, Jumbo believe that the 12-inch stake would not let him leave. Yes, the elephant who could lift trees from their roots was tethered to a 12-inch stake. He couldn't walk away.

I have a 12-inch stake in my life too. Since I was a child I was conditioned to believe I would have to accept a certain condition in my life. For years I would try to get away, but I felt trapped. I couldn't walk away.

As I heard Jumbo's story, my heart broke because I was believing the same illusion he was.

We have to stop believing the illusion that are problems or circumstances or childhood experiences have the power to keep us trapped. Through a divine power not of ourselves,we can pull up the stake which holds us down and move forward. We must walk away.

If you don't you have the power to believe you can walk away, think about this:

If you believe in Jesus Christ and his claims, you are essentially believing a man came to earth, lived a sinless life, went to the cross for sins he never committed, endured a horrific death, and rose from the pit of his grave three days later as a witness to us even today. If you believe in Jesus, you must believe he can pull you away from the things which hold you down.

But you must walk away. So the question remains, what is holding you down?

paulie, rocky, and fighting the fight...

We are created for purpose. Intrinsically we all have desires of accomplishing something far beyond our natural capacity. It boils down to a simple fact: We all want to do something significant.

In order to do something seemingly impossible, we need to possess a passion which will push us each day.

My passion comes in the form of Paulie from Rocky who sits on my shoulder like Jiminy Cricket. Com' on! You got this. Hang in 'ther! And I, like Rocky, sometimes feel like, Yo' Paulie, I want to do 'dis, but I'm gettin' hit on both sides by the Russian.

But we have a fight to fight and we can't be quitters! We must accomplish what God has called us to do. In loneliness of singlehood, in trials of marriage, in despair of sickness, in hopeless poverty, we stand and fight. Why? Because we aren't quitters. God has put passionate desires in our hearts for a reason. If your passions are in alignment with God's will for you life, is there anything too big for Him to handle?

Come hell or high water, loss of home or loved one, failure in job or ill-gained success, we can't stop from guilt or regret, fear or failure. When your face is on the ring floor, you're beaten up and bruised, and you feel like you want to quit, remember that Paulie is in your corner shouting, Com' on! You got this. Hang in 'ther!

FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT (1 Timothy 6:12) What's your fight? What are your dreams? Who is your Paulie?

the buried life...

Everyone has dreams. Everyone has desires. So why it is so hard to vocalize dreams and desires?

Perhaps it's fear. Perhaps it's failure. Perhaps it's fear of failure.

Or perhaps we don't even know what we want.

Last night my little sister called me and informed me she wanted to watch a documentary. (If you know my little sister, you'll know that it's nothing short of a miracle she wants to so anything educational.) I immediately jumped at the opportunity and laughed when I found out it was on MTV. Of course Zoe would watch a documentary MTV. Of course.

In the course of 30 minutes, I decided maybe MTV wasn't that bad after all.

The documentary series, The Buried Life, was so inspirational that I decided I’m going to create my own list. Yes, yes, I made new year’s resolutions, but I’m talking about things I must do before I pass into the pearly gates. Some will be silly, but all of them will be dreams I’ve never spoken of.

Here’s the premise of the series: when something is scratched off the buried list, someone else is granted or assisted in making their own dream come true. It’s moving. It’s real. It’s biblical.

So--what’s on your list? If I can help you achieve one of your goals when I achieve one of my goals, we’ll both be better because of it. Like James says, you have not because you ask not. What’s one thing off of your list?

Friday Video Post: youth ministry and the ONE...

I was new to youth ministry when the youth pastor asked me to oversee the junior high and senior girls. In my grandiose ideas of living like Christ, I decided to emulate the actions of Jesus. In my mind, it was going to be spiritual and holy and absolutely fantastically amazing!

But if you've ever done youth ministry, you know that there's always ONE kid who will mess up a plan, an event, or a moment. Yes, that ONE kid who believes they know everything, they're always right, and they could've done everything way better than you ever could have. And yes, that ONE kid came to my event.

The event was off to a great start. Tons of sugary snacks, greasy pizza, and cacophonous laughter from teen girls excited to sing karaoke and stay up all night. I gathered the girls up and explained to them that I would be leading them for the next couple years of youth ministry and wanted to serve them like Jesus. As an act of service to girls, our leadership team decided to wash their feet in basins of warm, sweet smelling water.

As worship played in the background, each leader washed and cleaned each of the girls feet while I shared the passage in John 13 where Jesus humbled himself and washed the feet of the disciples. It was emotional. By the time I finished reading and grabbed a basin there was only ONE girl left to be attended to. And yes, it was the ONE girl I didn't want to even get near to.

I looked at her feet and had to smoother the gag reflexes forming in my chest. It looked like she walked 10 miles in tar and her toe nails hadn't been cut in 40 years. Of all the girls here, I said to myself, I had to get this ONE.

As I touched her feet and slipped them into the bubbly basin, she began to weep uncontrollably. She buried her face in her hands and through painful sobs she apologized to me. She apologized for being negative and allowing her bitterness to over take her. She explained that she felt as if no one loved her... not even her mom. Yet as she heard the words of Christ read aloud and had her feet washed, she knew she was loved. Loved by God and loved by me.

Boy, did I feel like a schmuck!!! I started crying and confessed to her that I needed to apologize too. We were sobbing wrecks. But sobbing wrecks who felt the presence of Jesus in that room.

white flower speaks...

Behind the computer screen is a land far, far away where you can be as honest as you so choose. The blogosphere is a special place for people to speak about secrets deep within, give opinions otherwise ignored, or voyeuristically peer into the lives of others.

Two years ago I began to blog anonymously. I chronicled lame dating experiences, my struggles with the scale, and secrets only told to the blogosphere anonymously. Sharing the holy grail of my inner world was difficult but cathartic. Yes, it was an online diary of a funny fat girl who attracted the weirdest men known to creation. And seriously, it was my life.

Until one day everything changed.

Without going into details, I discovered my little secret blog wasn't so secret. In fact, it felt like the pages had been ripped out and posted all on the lockers at school. On one specific day, I knew something was off kilter. I knew something wasn't right. I knew that they knew that we all knew I had an online diary. Like a scene out of a teen movie:

Cue a teen version of Bianca to walk down the hall! Cue the angst-ridden teens staring at her! Cue the group of mean girls laughing! Cue the power-wielding jock who controls all public opinion!

And that my friends, was how it all went down.

I drove home that night after church sobbing uncontrollably. I felt betrayed, crushed, and embarrassed. Then I felt angry--and wanted to slash some tires (I'm Puerto Rican--they're crazy!). But after a long conversation with Matt he assured me that it wasn't done out of malicious intent and people will always be shady.* Even Christians.

That was a turning point for me. I realized there was no power in anonymity and God gave me a literary voice for a reason: I could write.

We have gifts and talents that are bestowed upon us for a reason. Like the old Sunday School song says, why hide it under a bushel? Let your light shine! What are your talents? Do you write? Do you sing? Do you cook well? Do you sew? Don't live in anonymity!

Everybody has a talent. What is yours?

Matthew 25:22-23, 'Master,' he said, 'you entrusted me with two talents; see, I have gained two more.' His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things...'

*He didn't say shady. He's from the Mid West. But I paraphrased. Because I'm cool like that.

pleasing aroma...

In Leviticus we read about the importance of offerings. Some offered pristine herd animals, some offered flock animals or birds, and others offered grain offerings. But everyone gave the best of what they could.

...an aroma pleasing to the Lord.

This phrase permeates the first three chapters of the law laden book of Leviticus. Everything offered up to the Lord was a pleasing aroma. Everything.

Sometimes we can feel like what we offer is piddles compared to what she gave or he donated. But what is that to God? All we are required to offer is what we have. Don't believe me? A poor widow in Mark 12 gave two pennies as an offering and Jesus said her offering was out of abundance.

So what are you bringing? Are you tithing to your church? Do you volunteer? When what the last time you mentored a child?

Today we have the ability to be an aroma pleasing to the Lord. Let's do it!

lonely hearts club...

After my three-year dysfunctional relationship with Satan* ended, I memorized Psalm 34:11, The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. For six and a half years I was President of the Single Hearts Club. Yes, I was the self-professed Six Year Single. I joked about it, but inside I struggled with doing Life alone. I did everything by myself; shopping, eating out, studying, driving to holiday functions, hanging with groups of friends.

There were times where I didn't mind; other times weren't as successful. Many nights after youth ministry I would chill with my two friends, Ben&Jerry, while watching You've Got Mail as I never received any mail. Pathetic? Yes. Honest? Oh, yeah!

But here's one thing I took for granted: I called out to my one, true best friend 24/7*. When someone couldn't listen, when no one would care, when everyone was busy, I leaned upon the only one who was there. I would have honest and tough conversations with my Divine Love about how lonely I felt, how ugly I must be, how ridiculously pathetic I was for watching hours of television on Valentine's day so I wouldn't be seen alone. But He listened. And cared. And gave me peace. Was I alone? Yes. But I had someone who was close to me... because the Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

So, let's do some market research. If you're single, what's one thing you enjoy about being single? What's something you hate about being single? If you're married, what are things you miss about your singleness? If you're married, please be gentle! And as always, please remember singleness is not a disease :)

*Satan is a fictitious name to protect the [not-so] innocent.

*24/7=24 hours a day, seven days a week

because...

because you like to wash dishes...

because your laugh makes me laugh...

because your hands are weathered and worn...

because your hugs make everything right...

because you don't let me win...

because you believe i can win...

because you make the best top ramen...

because you like when i speak spanish...

because you let me laugh loudly...

because you like to dance with me...

because you give helpless people hope...

because you like pink, cotton candy jelly beans...

because you took me back--twice...

because your laundry smells amazing...

because you think i'm beautiful without makeup...

because you'll hug me when i'm really, really mad at you...

because you've been hurt by love yet still believe in the institution of marriage...

because words are all i have...

i.love.you

if all of this were to end tomorrow, i am a better person today because of you. thank you for not trying to make me happy, but to make me holy. you're a small reflection of the love christ has for me. thank you for loving me just the way i am.

Friday Video Post: clubbing...

Maybe it was a bad first experience. Maybe it was because my mother told me it was bad. Maybe because it was dark and smelled like sweaty feet. Or maybe because I felt convicted simply being there. Either way, I hated being at Los Angeles' Club Kiss that Friday night in 1999.

I was curious to experience what a cool Friday night felt like. You know, all the cool kids go to downtown to club. Of course I had to go! After being there for twenty minutes, I was over it! I thought a club was for dancing. Boy, was I wrong! Drinks offered, sleazy Guido-looking guys wanting to dance, and sauna-like dance floors have tainted me ever since.

So maybe I'm not the right person to discuss the question of clubbing. Here's where you come in. True learning experiences occur in dialogue. As we discuss the question of clubbing, what experiences do you have to share that would help people formulate decisions. Please do not smite people with your comments. Yesterday I got some AMAZING feedback from facebook. I love interacting with people on that page--let's keep the gloves on ;)

I would love to reconcile our personal convictions to what the bible says to be true :)

Here are some questions to help you check the intent of your heart:

• What are you wearing? Is it appropriate?
• What will you drink? Should you drink? [drinking discussed on the this vlog]
• Will your actions cause you to stumble? Will it cause someone else to stumble?
• What will your interactions be with the opposite sex?
• Why are you going?
• Will going to a club help or hurt your faith?

cutting: by his wounds we are healed...

She bled for twelve years. A nameless, faceless woman in Mark 5 pushed through the throngs of people all wanting a miracle. But she was different. She believed. Her belief healed her.

Suzie bled in silence. Behind her pixie physique and wide smile was a girl who was unaccepted, untouched, unloved. Youth camps, all-nighters, bible studies, and mission trips all hid the internal bleeding which was killing her softly. No one knew her.

Jesus stopped the world on it's axis to meet the need of one woman. A woman he knew had been unaccepted, untouched, and unloved. According to the halacha Hebrew law, a bleeding woman couldn't sit in certain places, eat with certain people, or touch anyone who was pure. But she knew, she really, really, believed that a man name Jesus could heal her. And he did.

In the suicide ward I sat with Suzie for hours. A cutter, a loner, a girl hemorraging from a broken heart who masked it with indie fashion and blonde hair. Unsure of what to say, the only words said for the first hour was, What can I do for you? She laid on the hospital bed; the red scars glowed like neon signs for help against the clean white sheets.

Just touch me, she said. Just love me.

In living Life out loud, we have the power to be the physical touch of Jesus. Though I didn't have the power to heal Suzie, I told her she didn't have to suffer any longer. Her scars and stripes are now going to serve as signs of rememberance of what was stated in Isaiah 53:5, by His wounds we are healed.

100 word wednesday: what does jesus look like...

A wildly famous pastor recently said, I couldn't worship a God who I could beat up. I wonder if this pastor thinks Jesus opened up beer cans with his teeth and drove a V8 truck with exposed chest hair. Why? Because he's the epitome of manliness and expects Jesus to have been the same way.

This got me thinking. If we created an image of God who is like us, this is totemic theology and a slippery slope.

So, what does Jesus look like to you? How do you envision Jesus to have been?

A vegetarian with soft hands who loved children?

A liberal who served up wine when the party got dull?

A beefy leader who overthrew tables to lay the smack down on haters?

What does Jesus look like to you and why?

dating 101...

Junior and I have been friends since youth group several years ago. Now he's super smart, teaches the bible to young minds, and found a BIOLA girl to marry him in spite of his hilarious antics. We've been dialoging for months about how difficult it is to meander through the labyrinth of Christian dating, so we decided to go to the masses of the world wide web and stand on our soapboxes. For more ramblings about life and culture, you can check out his blog. If you agree with him, leave a comment. If you don't agree with him, keep opening your soda cans with your teeth while singing Amazing Grace on your porch and throw stones at us [yes, that could be in the form of an anonymous comment]. Enjoy!

Christian dating has certainly become extremely complicated. I’ve heard sermons on the topic using the passage in Genesis where God put Adam asleep and when he woke up, Eve was there. Therefore, do nothing and “wait on the Lord.” I have never heard a sermon preached on Judges 21 when the tribe of Benjamin kidnapped the daughters of Shiloh and made them their wives as “instructive” for the same topic. They are both OT narratives. Why apply one and not the other?

I’ve read Christian dating books such as the popular I Kissed Dating Goodbye, by Joshua Harris. Although it should have been called I Said Hello to Bad Exegesis. The premise of the book basically was to avoid dating at all cost because it was somehow more spiritual. Then there’s Henry Cloud’s How to Get a Date Worth Keeping, which makes dating a commandment and to date everyone in sight.

With so much unclear direction and different authorities saying numerous things, it’s no wonder why women have taken the subject so seriously, and I argue a little too seriously. When I first started attending Biola University as an undergraduate I thought I was in the Land of Milk and Honeys. I would casually ask out girls to coffee just to get to know them. To my amazement, every time the word “coffee” was mentioned the girl reacted like I asked her to bear my children. Why are women taking something so simple and making it complicated? (This is where I see older men crack a smile and have “the talk about women” with me.) Why does a woman feel if she can’t see herself marrying the guy on the spot, she can’t even have coffee with him? Is anything in life that instantaneous? Consider all your closet relationships. Did they happen over night? No. And yet you expect arguably the most important human relationship, your spouse, to happen that way? Baffling.

No matter how you pour it, coffee doesn’t mean marriage. If the guy has the intestinal fortitude to ask you to coffee it might be worth going. There are no obligations afterwards. Some coffee dates might be good and some not but at least you get to experience getting to know different types of people. As relational beings, we all benefit from it. Who knows, maybe you end up actually enjoying yourself. In short, don’t take dating so serious and simply enjoy getting to know people because you’re stressing all of us out.

monuments and memorials...

Exodus 26-27:21

Years of labor, tons of finances, and materials imported by majestic standards went into building the tabernacle of God. History tells us Solomon spared no expense when creating a dwelling place for the Lord Almighty.

I don't want to get mystical or ethereal, but Paul said we are a temple of the Holy Spirit. How much labor is put into building our temple? Are we investing in bringing majestic standards into our life?

The exterior of the temple was a monument. But the interior of the temple was a memorial; a place to dwell and meditate on the sovereignty and goodness of God. Are we only shells of what we should be? Does God have the ability to be worshipped and extolled in the interior of hearts?

In the words of @RevRun, this is real talk. So keep it real.

Friday Video Post: is gambling a sin...

Dear God,

If gambling is wrong please forgive me playing one nickle in a slot machine with Grandma in Las Vegas when I turned 21.

In Jesus name, amen.

Growing up in a conservative household was fun! We learned that Las Vegas is the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, tattoos are bad, and smoking is Satan's candy. Today I loathe Vegas, don't have any tattoos, and cringe at the smell of smoke. But it has nothing to do with my theology and everything to do with personal choices.

Though there is substantial argumentation for a stance against gambling [see below], in the light of scripture I want to be careful not to sow red letters onto the chest of specific vices.

The bible is clear on greed (1 Tim. 6:10), addiction (1 Cor. 6:12), and lust (1 Thes. 4:4-5), which are commonly associated with gambling. But there is also this freedom and liberty given to Christians to be responsible for our choices [reason #827,481 why I love being a Christian].

Conservative arguementation against gambling (and my two cents):

• Denies the reality of God's sovereignty. The whole discussion of sovereignty is loaded, so I will simply say that "chance" is contrary to Psalm 103:19.
• Builds on irresponsible stewarship. Matthew 6:19-20. With that being said, if I'm tithing, paying bills, and canceling debt before I use leisure allowences, I'm still a good steward.
• Driven by the sin of covetousness. Exodus 20:17. But this could be said for clothing, cars, and the opposite sex.
• Builds on the explotation of others. Exodus 20:15. If we're going to split hairs, Nike shoes are made upon the explotation of Chinese workers, our fruits and vegetables are picked by under-paid workers, and our coffee is at the expense of children's lives in South America.

Comments, thoughts, stones to throw?

two minutes and two points...

Twitter is a funny world full of #hashtags and @symbols. My mother is so confused by the entire concept of it. I pray for her. Just kidding. Well, half kidding.

The thing about Twitter I've liked is that I'm connecting with people I wouldn't have otherwise known. Like Andrew Burchfield. He's from Texas. And he has a heart bigger than the state he lives in. He's planning Realevate, a conference in Texas for young adults and asked me to participate--get this--via technology.

Mom and me don't really understand the cyber world, but we still think it's cool. Like electricity. I don't know how it works but I like it.

Anyway, I'm posting the video shout out here so we can participate in heart, but not presence. If you know anyone near the Texas Bible Institute (satellite campus) or the 10 and 71 freeways in the Lone Star state, check out the conference this weekend.

Realevate Conference from Bianca Juarez on Vimeo.

how to save a life...

It's my first official monthly post at (in)courage, so I decided to talk about David Hasselhoff, Wendy Peffercorn, Conan the Barbarian, and me. Yes, somehow I fit into a story with those characters.

You can click on the (in)courage link to read the full story. The comments have been turned off so you can join the conversation there!

:B

I held my whistle loosely on my lips, I donned black ray bans, and my candy apple red toenail polish matched exactly to the color of my swimsuit. I totally looked like a lifeguard.

Unbeknownst to me a seven year-old girl by the name of Emily was drowning right beneath my candy-apple colored toes. Six weeks of lifeguard training went out the window when I saw Emily's blue eyes the size of saucers from under the water.

To the shame of David Hasselhoff and hundreds of Baywatch episodes I watched, I impulsively reached down into the water like Conan the Barbarian and pulled her out by her hair. Yes, her hair.

To read the full story, click on the icon below:

sally field, 184, and gratitude for the journey...

I won't bust out a Sally Field, You like me, you really, really like! But nine months and 184 posts later warrant gratitude and appreciation for the journey blog readers have gone on with me.

Without those who stop here and encourage me, I am nothing. I'm a voice speaking to no one, I'm a message unheard, I'm a hypocrite behind a facade. So, thank you.

At the beginning of the year, I was approached by Outreach, an amazing organization meeting the needs of those in Christian ministry. Outreach is company who has woven ministry into their philosophy. At all costs, I want ministry to trump business. But in doing so, I've been taken advantage of on many occasions. Many occasions.

Chad Cannon and the folks at Outreach have extended a hand of friendship to represent me on a national level. I'm humbled and honored to be part of their team for the next year and beyond! Now that everything is official, I wanted to share the news.

Also, the lovely ladies at (in)courage have so graciously invited me to be part of writing team. Monthly I'll be posting on their site and connecting with them to (in)courage people across the nation and beyond. Tomorrow is my first official post with them [read: I'm nervous]. It would be lovely if you stopped by to check out the site. One day I'll write a very interesting blog about my first post with (in)courage, but for now, I'll laugh to myself and hope Lisa the office secretary from church keeps our secret safe!

Arigato, gracias, merci, salamat, grazie, danke, toda, THANK YOU! Internet, because of you, I'm a grateful girl who feels perforated, pock-marked, broken, yet accepted by those who are willing to continue walking. Limping, jacked up, tore-up-from-the-floor-up, and all. I love you.

:B

be an EMT...

Standing in line donning Hawaiian print shirts, sandals, and straw hats, travelers from across the nation waited in line at LAX to board a plane to paradise. The usual noise cluttered the terminal as excitement wafted in the air.

A shriek pierced the noise and a call for help brought the airline check-in stations to a halt. The body of an adult man laid on the ground helplessly as someone yelled for a doctor. An average looking man with a small carry-on rushed to the body. He flung off his jacket, tilted the victims head back and instantaneously begin rescue breathing and CPR.

I watched in horror as the friend of the victim tried stopping his mouth from touching the mouth of the victim, but I couldn't understand why until I heard, He has AIDS!

The air left the room as the doctor sat on his knees, held a lifeless head in his hands, and questioned if this man's life was worth his own.

Five years later, I'm still asking the same question.

The doctor took a vow to hold Life sacred. So have I. No, I'm not a medical doctor, but I'm a spiritual caretaker as a lover of Jesus Christ. When rushed to a hospital in dire need of care, no one asks if you're Christian or Buddhist, gay or straight, legal or illegal. The primary focus is to save life.

As a spiritual EMT, my job is to get people to the Doctor, not ask questions. Why? Because Life is important whether you're White, Black, Gay, Straight, Asian, Haitian, or not of this nation. I never want to grab my carry-on, put on my jacket, and leave the airport terminal without trying to save a life. Why? Because I don't want to live with regrets like the doctor on his knees at Los Angeles International Airport five years ago.

Are you emergency medical technician? Do you want to be? If you were the doctor, how would have you responded?