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Why I’m A Baptist.

The following is the paper I wrote for the PH 305 Baptist Heritage class I just finished at the Antioch Bible Institute (ABI). I just finished my first semester (two classes) there and I believe I did quite well — thank God!

We just started the new semester this week and I am taking two classes again. Each class we are required to write a paper and turn it in with our course notebook on the last day of class. Here’s the paper I wrote for my Baptist Heritage course.

Why I’m A Baptist

Many people might say that I’m a Baptist by default. Being adopted into and raised in a Baptist home would definitely have an influence on which direction my faith would go. I was always taught about the fallacies of Catholicism, Lutheranism, Methodism, the Church of Christ, Hinduism, Mormonism – you name it and chances are I could tell you at least one reason why they were all false, or at least flawed, religions.

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Imposing a schedule.

Anyone who blogs regularly somewhere knows how much work it can be, regardless of how much you may enjoy it. Sometimes it’s hard to formulate into words what exactly you want to say. Sometimes it leaves your brain and emotions feeling absolutely fried. Sometimes it makes you want to pull all your hair out in frustration (although I’m 97.4% sure that the bald look wouldn’t suit me at all, so I’m trying to avoid that move as much as possible).

In the past I have shared my overly-booked, insane schedule with you all and most of you told me I was crazy (or something like that). Most of you also encouraged me to be careful not to stretch myself too thin, to pray about my schedule, to cut out the unnecessary stuff, or simply set aside the things the Lord hadn’t specifically called me to do.

Hence, this post…

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grace was that girl in school that was nice to everyone, regardless of who they were. but because she was so nice, she was also the girl that people took advantage of all the time and walked all over. but she never really seemed to mind because she would still be nice to the people who treated her with such disregard and disrespect.

she was the girl who everyone wanted in their study groups because she seemed to make everything better. she was the girl that was always voted to do the hands on, difficult, seemingly impossible projects at school because she always seemed to ace them without much effort at all.

everybody wanted her, but nobody wanted to be like her. because being like her meant that they would have to be vulnerable, exposed, used, overlooked, hurt. everybody felt they had a right to her time, but rarely did anyone give up an afternoon to help her.

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The Forgotten Lunchbox.

Thursday morning started out with the same routines… Rushing around while trying to get everyone ready for school.  I used to think that the older my girls got, the less I’d have to do.  Nope, I was wrong.  I do just the same or more.  I have no complaints though; it’s a blessing to be a part of 5 different lives.

I gave my 10 minute warning, as I do every morning.  They usually start to move a bit faster after the reminder.  I’ve come to accept that no matter how prepared we are the night before, getting 6 people ready and out the door can be a stressful thing.  Not just for me, but for all of us.

We loaded up into the mini-van, right on schedule.  Their endless chatter filled the van in the 3 minute drive to school, as well as their morning “lip gloss applications.”  Just as I was pulling into the parking lot,  I hear:  “Mommy, I forgot my lunchbox!”

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