I hadn't planned on blogging today. I've had a busy week, and frankly, I am tired. (And I have Barry Manilow songs running through my head, which doesn't make for a lot of creativity!)

But then I read that Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme was released from prison today.

You might need to read the story to recall exactly who she is. I would imagine that most girls and young women don't even recognize the name. I didn't until Jimmie Davis, who wrote The Girls' Ministry Handbook, mentioned her in the first chapter of that book. Since then, I've been fascinated by Squeaky's story. The details are a little dated, but the theme of her life is just as contemporary as it was a generation ago. Jimmie wrote this about her:

"After Squeaky attempted an assassination on President Gerald Ford's life, she was asked in an interview why she committed her life to Charles Manson. Her answer was plain and simple: 'I decided when I was 14 years old that whoever loved me first could have my life.'"

I read the story about her online and couldn't help thinking to myself, it doesn't seem like a whole lot has changed. She still seems to be searching for that thing that will give her life meaning and purpose. She still seems desperate for attention and love. The interviews she gives are evidence of that. She still seems lost. Spiritually yes, we all know that. But there's a lost-ness in her communication and in her actions that is so transparent that it's a little shocking in today's "gotta look like you've got everything together" culture.

I don't understand her—I don't understand any of the followers of Manson—but my heart breaks for her.

This story impacts me more deeply than others because there are so many women and young girls who are just like her. The only exception is that their desperation is quiet, unnoticed, and hidden. They suffer silently. But I am certain they are out there—in my own church, in my workplace (even though it's a Christian organization) and in my own family. They may not say it verbally, but their eyes say it: Whoever loves me first can have my life.

I guess that's why I'm so passionate about girls' ministry. I see so many girls who are giving their lives away to every false love that comes their way, and they pay the consequences for it. The results may be different than Squeaky's, but these girls are in their own prisons—shame, regret, fear, bitterness, rage, hopelessness, despair. Seeing Squeaky's story fuels in me the desire for them to know the Lover of their souls, to find their purpose, hope, and meaning in Him. 

Can their be any more higher calling that that?

I hate it when I get busted by my own four-year-old daughter.

This afternoon the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but the first three digits indicated it was from my small town, so I answered. That's where my busting began.

"Who is this?" the man shouted gruffly into the phone. No hello. No nicities. And then I recognize the voice. Oh man, I think, I wish I'd have let the machine pick it up. My mistake.

The man on the other end of the line is a harmless 50-something with developmental disabilities, the most annoying to me is his lack of social skills. He's a member of my mother-in-law's church (which is the church my husband grew up in), so every time we visit, I come face-to-too-close-face with him. Social skill issue #1--he doesn't understand giving people physical space.

Then, as if his face in mine wasn't bad enough, there is social skill issue #2--he hugs. A lot. Not side by side, but cheek to stubble-covered-in-spotty-places-because-he-can't-shave-well cheek. He holds on that extra few seconds too long, making you feel completely uncomfortable. And following the hug is the discussion, which initiates social skill issue #3--his speech.

Half the time I can't understand him. He barks instead of talking, and he has trouble pronouncing some words. The combined effect of his disabilities is my discomfort. And I often respond to him like many people when faced with a similar situation---I completely avoid him if at all possible.

Now that you know the background, on to the story.

I hand the phone to my husband as quickly as possible. They begin talking. And then my daughter asks the famous question that is asked whenever we're on the phone:

"Who is that Mommy?"

When I tell her, she squeals with delight and exlaims, "oh, daddy, can I talk to Keith? Pllllleeeeeaaassseeee, can I talk to Keith? Please? Please?"

I hate it when I get busted by my daughter. In that moment, she showed more love and compassion toward Keith than I ever have. She doesn't know he's socially awkward. She doesn't know he can't shave his face right. He doesn't know he barks instead of speaking. She just knows that he is a nice man from Grammy's church who hugs her and takes up the offering every Sunday. She hasn't been jaded by experience or socialized into treating others based on their external value. She just knows how to love people.

So how does this apply to girls' ministry? (my husband asked me that question when I told him I was going to blog about Keith.)

There are lots of Keiths in our girls' ministries. Girls who are socially awkward. Girls who are physically awkward. Girls who are petrified to pray outloud. Girls who haven't been taught how to put on makeup or how to make and be a friend. Girls who are starving for attention and cling to you out of desperation. Girls who don't own an iPod, cell phone, or designer clothes. In fact, they own hand-me-downs. They make us uncomfortable because we don't know how to relate to them. And if we're brutally honest, we treat them like I treated Keith.

We avoid them. They're the last ones we call when we are checking on our girls. They're the last ones we want to sit with at the restaurant. They're the ones we secretly hope don't come early because we're not in the mood to sit down and listen to them.

Being busted today reminded me of that passage in Scripture that says, "For I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you took care of Me; I was in prison and you visited Me." (Matt. 25).

I think if Jesus were alive today, He might say something like, "I was different than you, so you looked the other way."

If it weren’t for Jesus, I’d probably sleep later.

Let me explain. I have my time alone with God in the morning. It’s quiet in my apartment (my roommate isn’t up yet), my tea is hot, my breakfast is eaten, and it’s just us—God and me. I love that time of the morning. Those words on the onion-skin-thin pages are old, but they still turn out fresh meaning to me most mornings. But if Jesus had never come to earth and turned society’s ideals upside down, the Bible as we know it wouldn’t even be around, so I wouldn’t feel compelled to read the Word, to dig into His words every morning, to pray and be heard.

But after sleeping in, where would I get up and go? I’d definitely have a different job. I work for LifeWay. My whole line of work is completely pointless without Christ. If Christianity didn’t exist, then neither would the corporation I work for nor building in which I work. There’s no telling where I’d be working. It probably wouldn’t even matter much. I wouldn’t be concerned about making an impact for Christ. Let’s be honest here. I’d just be concerned about climbing the corporate ladder and making as much money as possible.

So at the end of the day, when I left whatever job I was working, maybe, just maybe, I’d have more free time. I wouldn’t be at church three days a week. I’d sleep in on Sundays, like several of my unbelieving friends. The Sabbath would just be another day of the week.

Whom would I hang out with in all that free time? Without the body of Christ, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet like-minded people or to mentor that group of high school girls. I wouldn’t have met most of my current friends—our paths simply would have never crossed outside of church.

I’m frightened at just how different my life would be. So much of what I do every day is filtered through my faith (how I dress, where I go, whom I date, what I read, watch, and listen to, etc.). And that’s just my life.

It baffles my mind to think about how the world would be affected if Christianity had never existed. Without the higher purpose in life of living as Jesus taught, our sense of love, justice, and mercy is skewed (or non-existent). So our society would look a lot different. The concept of social justice comes from Christ’s teachings: Jesus elevated the poor’s status (and women’s too!). Our concern for them comes from what He taught.

Yes, our lives and the world would be a lot different had Jesus Christ not come to earth so long ago. But I forget that. I’m from the South. I was raised in the Bible Belt. I definitely take my faith for granted, as it has (thankfully) been a part of me for as long as I can remember.

What aspect of your faith do you need to dust off and reexamine? (How coincidental that Michelle blogged on this theme earlier this week! I wrote this post months ago, but decided last week to post it today.) Have you let some part of your relationship with Jesus or your view of God get stale? It’s easy to get caught up in all the busyness that is ours as we minister to our families, church families, friends, and communities and then forget why we do what we do. And it’s easy to start to think about how much more pleasant our lives might be if we did a little less for the Kingdom.

BUT, Christianity doesn’t make our lives or living in the world easy, but it does make our lives purposeful—in this life and the next. Think about your life. In what ways has Christianity made an impact in your life? How would your life be different if Jesus hadn’t come? Are you grateful for those differences?

Answer our poll (or if you’re feeling wordy, leave us a comment) and let us know how different your life would look if Jesus hadn’t decided to come down here in person 2,000 years ago.