All.

There is a song I have been meditating on today 

[as well as putting into practice the past week in prayer].

This was my favorite of the pictures I found - hands wide open. 

 

 

[It also reminds me of my sister Caroline - her arm bends like that because she broke it when she was younger].

How willing are we to open up our hands - are we too scared God will leave them empty?

How willing are we to trust in Him - are we too nervous to hand over complete control?

How willing are we to surrender e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. to Him - are we too stubborn, preferring our way best?

 How willing are we to admit - this is what He has called us to?

Give this song a listen - I promise it will bless you. Let your faith arise.

Salvation.

How to begin.....

When asked to give my testimony, I would often start at the beginning. "When I was four years old, I prayed with my parents and asked Jesus into my heart...." [Okay technically I was 3, but it was right before my 4th birthday, so I just say 4 to make the story shorter].
This is true. One Sunday night in 1992, I asked my parents some questions about what I had heard that morning in church. We talked and I prayed to receive Christ. I distinctly remember walking back to my room and feeling different - lighter somehow, more joyful.
Yet after looking back on my life and pondering, I have come to believe that I was not "converted" or "regenerated" at that time. You see, I was homeschooled until 5th grade. Once I went to public school, I quickly fell away from what little faith I may have had. I really liked what the world had to offer way better than what I was seeing/getting at church.

Through junior high and high school, if someone asked me if I was religious, I would've have promptly replied, "Of course, I am a Christian." But had you looked closer and peered into my life and my heart, I was the furthest thing from what a Christian should look like, inside and out. It was not just that my actions did not match my religious declaration, the reality was that I did not find my identity in Christ. That concept was foreign to me. My god was me. I was completely independent and self-sufficient.

I have come to see that I was not saved when I prayed that prayer when I was 4. I was too young to fully understand what giving my life to Christ meant. I asked for Him but I did not fully comprehend what I was asking for.

However.

God did something in me that night when I was so young. I have not been able to define it yet, verbally or theologically. It is crystal clear as I look back on my life before truly following Christ that I was protected in ways beyond my understanding. I rebelled. I wallowed in my sin. I turned away from God consistently. The little voice inside me got quieter and quieter until I was only left with my own voice. What a scary place to be.....And yet. Despite all I did, I did not reap the full consequences of all my sin. There were times when I hung around people who were seriously dangerous individuals. I can think of times where I could have easily been killed, physically abused, sexually assaulted, or harmed in a myriad of ways. I can think of decisions I made that were purely based on greed, lust, selfishness, or laziness. And yet....none of that happened to me. I stand here today alive and well. I was never sexually abused or physically harmed despite the situations I put myself in. God was protecting me. His angels were around me even when I was shaking my fist at him in anger and disgust. I can't help but think that is connected to that night when I prayed with my parents. Somehow God received authority in my life. He took me under his wing and He watched over His rebellious daughter.

So when did I become a Christian for real for real?

Well, one night in January of 2008 [I think, it's a little fuzzy...], I came to realize something. I had just gone through yet another break up. But God took this failed relationship and used it to show me something very important. I really sucked at living/running/planning my life without Him. I looked back on the wreckage that had been my life -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually -- and realized I was not capable of living a successful life in any definition of the term without surrendering to Him. That night, 16 years later, I consciously placed my life in His hands and surrendered my will to His. I eagerly desired His hands to control my life.

Every January I am reminded of this decision. I fully understood what I was asking and committing to (though there have been many surprises in store since then) in pursuing a relationship with Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. That night I was saved, converted, justified, however you want to define it. I no longer found my identity in my own works or strength but in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I no longer worshiped myself but instead worshiped the Maker of Heaven and Earth.

My theology is still growing....I may redefine or shape my beliefs about this post as I go.
Thoughts?
Do you remember a specific time when you gave your life to Christ?
What was that experience like?
Have you changed your beliefs about conversion or salvation since then? 

there is power - wonder working power - in the name of Jesus.

Named.

"Forgiveness is an act of the will, 

and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart."

-Corrie Ten Boom

The woman who I was named after is Corrie Ten Boom. Her birthday is on April 15th, three days before mine. I am honored to be named after such an amazing woman.

[Thus, the name for my site - bella10boom. Bella is my nickname from my husband...and 10boom is Corrie's last name.]

Corrie was born in 1892. She was a Dutch Christian who, along with her family, helped to hide Jews from the Nazi's during World War II. The Ten Booms had a hiding place built in Corrie's bedroom in the case of a raid- a small hidden room behind a linen closet. Beginning in 1942, they helped hide several Jewish refugees successfully.

Two years later, in 1944, an informant betrayed the Ten Booms. The Nazi police came and arrested the entire family - Corrie, her father Casper, and her sister Betsie, as well as her other sister Nollie, brother Willem, and nephew Peter. Nollie, Willem, and Peter were all released, but Corrie, Casper, and Betsie were taken to Scheveningen prison. The beloved head of the Ten Boom family, Casper, died 10 days later.

Corrie and Betsie were first sent to the Vught political concentration camp, and then finally to Ravensbruck concentration camp in Germany. Betsie survived several months, but died in December of 1944. A few weeks later, Corrie was released, New Years Eve of 1944. She later found out her release was an error, and all the women her age were killed shortly after she left.

After the war, Corrie returned to the Netherlands and set up rehab centers for concentration camp survivors. She traveled the world as a public speaker and wrote many books, the most famous of which is The Hiding Place. That book was also made into a film. If you haven't read the book or seen the movie, I would strongly recommend both. They are extremely moving examples of the love of Christ, which is capable of shining in the darkest of situations.

I will never forget one scene from the movie. Corrie and Betsie are working in the camp, doing manual labor. Betsie is weak and she falls. The overseer beats her and tells her to keep up with her work. As Corrie rushes over to help Betsie back up, you can tell she is furious. Betsie, bloody and weak, looks up into Corrie's face and says, "Corrie, you must forgive them...."

Betsie, though younger than Corrie, provides an amazing picture of Christ-likeness in the book and movie. She constantly astounded me with her words and thoughts. I am more like Corrie....angry and furious at those who abuse my loved ones, ready to strike back in an instant. And yet, I must learn from Betsie.....to love even those who persecute my dearest friends and family.

Ah, now that is a tall order.
To quote Betsie, "There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still."

One of my favorite pictures of Corrie.

   

Fluffy.

This is my sleepy 5 month old kitten, Callie. As you can see, she is very flexible and adorable. We got her when she was 6 weeks old, aka a tiny fluffball. Since then she has grown up way too fast, as they always do. She also loves to eat (and trick either me or my husband into thinking she is starving when she really just got fed about 30 minutes ago). For this reason, she has been nicknamed The Fat One, The Fattest, The Fattest of Them All, The Fat, etc.

Callie was originally named Muffin (seriously?) and was rescued with her brother in a nearby city. She was feral. Her brother was a beautiful tuxedo, but I had already fallen in love with Callie from her picture online. If we hadn't already had a cat at home, we would've adopted them both.

When we got home from adopting her, I confirmed my suspicions. She had fleas. (Ick!!!!!). Callie was promptly quarantined to the bathroom until we could rid of the fleas. We couldn't use Frontline until she was 8 weeks old and there was no way I was letting her suffer for two more weeks (as well as risk infecting our apartment and other cat). Thankfully, the vet told us to give her a bath in Dawn dish soap (the blue kind) and....it worked! Dawn kills fleas dead! (Funny side note: My husband thought Dawn = shampoo and went to a few stores, very confused about why no one had Dawn shampoo...until he realized it was actually dish soap. Haha!).

Callie and Kiwi (our other cat who is much older [14 this month!] and proper) have an interesting relationship. Callie loves Kiwi. She also loves to bite and tackle Kiwi. Kiwi does not find this amusing in the slightest. There have been some epic cat battles. Thankfully, Callie has come to realize (unless she is in one of her crazy kitten moods) how to play nice. Most of the time. As I type, Kiwi is sleeping next to me on the couch on top of her second favorite blanket (her favorite blanket is in the office. Don't judge me for ranking her blankets - if you could see, you would understand). Callie is sleeping on her favorite chair across the room. Ever since she was little, she has loved our wooden rocking chair. Originally a gift from a friend who was moving, it now sits by our bookcase. Callie used to wrestle with its legs and play with its dangling cushion strings. Now she climbs the back of it, uses it as a launching pad onto Kiwi's back, and takes naps on it. 

It's wonderful to have them around.

Procrastinationizationage.

As I sit here designing my new blog (wishing I could use my own picture for the background instead of a stock one, but the site keeps telling me my pictures are "too big"), I am avoiding a paper....that is kind of due Saturday night....that is kind of not even started yet. (sigh). I have been researching buuuut lacking in focus. Which, if you know me, is pretty typical. Especially when it comes to papers. However, I always (mostly) get them done (depending on your definition of "done") sooo...I should be fine.

Since this is just a test, I will end here. More later.

P.s. I am well aware that my title is not a real word. It's an inside joke between my husband and I. You should try it - put "ization" or "ationage" on the end of lots of words and see what hilarity ensues. :)