JennieGScott.com

Category: Encouragement

The Gifts to Be Found in Seasons of Waiting
Sometimes our lives feel like quicksand. What we thought was solid ground turns out not to be so solid, and it unexpectedly grabs us and pulls us down. No matter how much we struggle to escape, we continue to sink. We want to get out more than anything, but we’re stuck. We are trapped in circumstances beyond our control, and there seems to be no obvious solution.

Where are you stuck today?

In a job you hate?

With a spouse you can’t change?

In a financial crisis you caused but can’t solve?

Maybe there’s no external situation trapping you – maybe you’re stuck in your own thoughts. Maybe you’re trapped in a cycle of self-hatred and depression. Worry and anxiety. Condemnation and doubt.

Maybe your life is a combination of internal and external traps. I’ve certainly been there.

It feels hopeless, doesn’t it? Like you’ll be there forever, and there’s no way out. Every second drags by, and you look around at everyone moving freely while your own feet are in chains. You’d do anything for a change, but you’ve tried everything that didn’t work.

You literally have no control, and there’s nothing you can do but wait. You are at God’s mercy, and you pray He will remember to show you some mercy.

I want to share a simple truth with you today if you’re feeling stuck: Your today is not your forever.

Your today is simply the space you occupy in this moment, and though it may not be what you planned or what you desire, it is a gift.

That sounds so glass-half-full, doesn’t it? It sounds like a feel-good message from a Pollyanna personality. But it is true, and I know because I’ve lived it.

Your today is a gift that needs to be opened. There is something valuable and precious enclosed in it, and unless you discover it, your today will continue to repeat into tomorrow. Gifts are always meant to be unwrapped, handled, and appreciated. Your task in your today, even if you currently hate it, is to unwrap it – handle it – and appreciate it. It doesn’t have to be fun or desirable to be valuable in your life.

When you’re feeling stuck, you have to listen to reality instead of emotion. Your feelings will tell you that nothing will change, you will feel this way forever, and everyone is happy except you. Your feelings will tell you your life is over, your future is bleak, and you are at the mercy of your circumstances.

Your feelings will lie, so you must replace them with truth.

What is the truth when you’re feeling stuck?
- “Many are saying of me, ‘God will not deliver him.’ But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord, and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. I will not fear though tens of thousands assail me on every side” (Psalm 3:2-6).
- “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope… In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials” (1 Peter 1:3-6).
- “The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love” (Psalm 147:11).
- “…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5).
The truth is that you are not stuck alone, you are not stuck forever, and you are not stuck without purpose. You are stuck with God’s presence, you are stuck only for a while, and you are stuck for a reason.

The question becomes, then, what will your response be?

Will you say, “Lord, show me,” or will you only ask, “Lord, deliver me”?

Will you say, “This is terrible,” or will you say, “This must be necessary”?

Will you pray, “God, use this to change me,” or will you only pray, “God, change this situation”?

Our responses in the stuck times will reveal the status of our hearts and determine where we go next. If we only want deliverance, we are unwilling to admit God can use anything for our good. If we only complain, we prove our hearts aren’t content unless things go our way. If we don’t ask for revelation, we show our pride in the knowledge we already possess.

Please don’t misunderstand. I am not telling you that stuck is where you should stay or that you have to love where you currently are. But I am reminding you that nothing in your life is accidental or lacking God’s involvement. Everything in your life matters for God’s kingdom and your role in it. Even seasons of stuck-ness.
November 28, 2016
To the Mom Who Thought She’d Be Better at Mothering

When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a mother. Sure, I played around with being a marine biologist (who knew you had to be good at science?!), and I would teach school to my dolls and stuffed animals. I dreamed of being an ice skater when the winter Olympics were on, and I toyed with the idea of being a journalist. I considered different careers, but in my heart, I knew my greatest desire was to be a mom.

And now I am.

I’m the mom of two incredible human beings, and God has given me the desire of my heart.

But man, is it ever hard.

Before I gave birth, I knew exactly what kind of mom I would be. I’d be patient all the time, my house would always be tidy, and I’d be a phenomenal cook. But according to these standards, I’m actually a colossal failure. I lose my patience daily, my house looks like a tornado blew through, and my cooking would make Rachael Ray grimace.

I am not the mom I thought I’d be, and I’m willing to bet you’re not, either.

I heard from a friend recently who said, “I always wanted kids and never knew how hard it would be. I feel such guilt every day.”

The difficulty of being a mom – a good mom – is that we always have a picture in our heads of how it’s supposed to be, and when reality doesn’t line up with that picture, we believe we’ve failed. We set the standard for ourselves, and it’s impossible to meet. We believe we’re supposed to enjoy playing Polly Pockets for two hours, cleaning up the thousands of tiny pieces from that mess, and whipping up a gourmet meal in a Joanna Gaines kitchen we remodeled ourselves. We think we’re supposed to have heart-to-heart talks with our children every night, memorize Scripture we recite in unison every morning, and participate in craft-time after making pancake breakfasts on the weekends.

We are not the mothers we thought we would be, and we want to be the mothers we aren’t. How often do you look at your friends and wish for the mothering skills they have? How many times have you watched another mother and wished you were more like her? How many nights have you tossed in bed bothered by your mothering that day?

Can we all agree to do one thing today? Let’s take a deep breath and regroup. Let’s quit the comparing and stop the condemnation and remember what’s most important.

We love our children, would fight to the death for them, and are doing the best we can.

Can we be better moms? Absolutely. But will we ever be what we picture in our minds? Unlikely. And that’s ok.

I love the Nester’s saying about homes, “It doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful,” and I believe the same is true of our mothering. We don’t have to be flawless to be what our children need.

Our children don’t need spotless homes decorated to Pinterest standards. They don’t need our undivided attention while they’re creating Lego cities. They don’t even need homegrown, organic produce to fill their dinner plates every night.

They need security. They need our belief in them. They need accountability. They need love.

And we need to give ourselves a break.

Our culture wants us to believe we can be masters of everything. It tells us we can run our own businesses, be fashionable and fit, be involved in ministry and service, and never miss a beat as wives and mothers. It tells us lies, friends. It tells us lies. We cannot be masters of everything, nor should we try to be. In different seasons, we can master these different tasks, but we cannot master them all at once. There is no such thing as perfect balance; something will always fall short.

I wrote in my e-book Buried that we have to learn to say no to some things so we can say yes to the best things. We were neither made nor meant to do it all, and I believe this to be especially true in the most intense years of mothering. We have to keep the main thing the main thing, and that is to love our children.

Sometimes we get the idea that invisible mom-spies are watching our every move, keeping a tally of all the mistakes we make and creating a file to give our children one day. We just know all our missteps and wrong moves will come back to haunt us and our children will be irreparably damaged, citing our store-bought cupcakes and chicken nugget-dinners as proof that they had damaging and deprived childhoods.

Y’all. We’ve got to get a grip.

Our kids adore us. (Most of the time.) They know we’re on their side, and we’re probably the first people they’ll call if they’re ever in jail. Our messy houses and moments of insanity don’t negate our love in their eyes, and our take-out meals and pleas for quiet are definitely not ruining them.

Here’s my self-imposed task for this week: Love my children.

Sure, I’ll fix some meals, and I (reluctantly) scrubbed their toilets yesterday. I’ll keep chauffeuring them to school and practice, and I’ll sign the thousands of papers they bring home from school. If they play their luck right, I might even help them with their school projects. But none of that matters as much as being present and being their constant source of affection and acceptance.

When that nagging voice of condemnation whispers in my ear, I will not-so-politely tell her to shut her stupid mouth.

When that temptation to compare wells up inside my heart, I will shut it down with a new ferocity.

When I hear the lie, “You’ll never be enough,” I will call it what it is and send it straight back to the devil from whom it came.

This week, I’m getting a grip. I’m not falling prey to the lies we moms believe. I’m loving my kids, keeping them fed, and keeping them clad in fairly clean clothes. And you know what? I’ll call it success.

If you’d like a FREE copy of my e-book, “Five Reason to Embrace Painful Times,” or you’d like to be notified of what’s going on behind the scenes, click here!

November 20, 2016
Making Peace with the Life You Didn’t Plan

I know it isn’t what you planned.

The life you’re living right now – the schedule you keep, the unexpected twists and turns, the dissatisfaction you feel – it isn’t exactly what you pictured, is it?

The child born with special needs.

The child you’re praying for but still haven’t conceived.

The job you lost without explanation.

The husband who left and gave another his name.

The bills you can’t pay and the house you can’t keep.

The family that’s imploding.

The diagnosis that took your breath.

It’s not what you planned for, it’s not what you prepared for, and it’s certainly not what you prayed for.

How do you move forward at all, much less with peace and joy, when the life you thought you’d have looks nothing like the one you live? How do you trust that God is good when everything feels so very bad? How do you set your mind on things above when the things nearby demand your time and attention?

There is a way, but the way is never easy. It’s never natural. It’s never obvious.

The way is through surrender.

Deep down in our cores, we all know we aren’t in control. We know we aren’t the masters of our universe, and we know things will happen that we don’t want and didn’t plan. But while our brains know these things, our hearts have a hard time believing them. So when situations arise that catch us off guard and don’t fit into the visions we have for our lives, our very human response is disbelief.

Anger.

Denial.

We feel great disappointment, and we try whatever we can to make sense of what we’re experiencing. Our very human response is to work, watch, and wait for change.

But the change doesn’t always come. At least not in the situation. Sometimes the only change that happens is in us. When situations don’t change, people do, and I’m convinced this may be the point, after all.

I believe in God, and I believe my God is good. But sometimes I struggle to believe He is being good to me.

I often live in a black and white world, and I categorize things as either good or bad.

Enough money to pay the bills? Good.

A child sick in the night? Bad.

Multiple job offers? Good.

Divorce? Bad.

My good God has allowed some categorically bad events into my life, but from where I am now, I can see how they brought good. My good God sometimes makes no sense. He uses what I hate to bring about what I love, and He uses what I deem bad to bring the very best good. His is an upside-down Kingdom, to be sure.

The only way to thrive in the life you didn’t plan is to surrender to the belief that God is good, and He is good in everything.

Because He is good in everything.

When I am overwhelmed at the circumstances troubling my life, I forget the most important truth I’ve ever learned: “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Not only does He love as an action, but He is love as His identity. Who He is, He will not change, and what He is, He will always be. God cannot be or show anything other than love.

Do you really believe this? Do I?

If we really do believe this, then we must also believe His love controls all we face – even (and especially) what we didn’t plan and don’t want. If we truly believe love is who He is, we must trust what He allows. We must remind ourselves of who He is. We must surrender to His ways.

When I think of surrender, I think of my now 9 year old daughter who never slept as an infant. She cried constantly and was awake most of the time. Every once in a while, though, I could hold her just right in what we lovingly termed “the sleep hold.” I would press her little body tightly to my own, tucking her arm under mine as I swayed back and forth. After she screamed and kicked and fought, she would eventually go limp. She would surrender to sleep after fighting it with everything she had.

Is there a greater picture of surrender? It often looks like trying to make things go your way, fighting with every breath, resisting what’s best for you, pitching a fit, crying, screaming, and finally going limp as your strength ebbs away and you give in to stronger arms. Surrender is not passive. Surrender is sometimes the hardest work we’ll do. But when we do it – when we finally give in – we realize we can rest in the One who’s holding us close.

Where are you today in the journey to surrender? What situations are beyond your control? When was the last time you questioned if God was being good to you?

I don’t have a magic button to bring you to surrender, and I don’t have eloquent words to convince you everything will be OK. What I do have is experience with very bad things that made room for the very good in my life. What I do have is a testimony proving that surrendering to God’s plan is the only way I made peace with what He allowed.

No, it wasn’t what I planned. It wasn’t what I prepared for, and it was nothing for which I prayed.

But it’s what God used to break my stubborn will, and it’s what God used to convince me He is love.

It’s what God used to help me understand His kingdom, and it’s what He used to make my faith more than just words.

It’s what God used, and it’s what I needed. Even if I didn’t understand it at the time.

November 17, 2016
A Letter to our Veterans

To all those who have served this country:

I can’t begin to imagine the sacrifices you’ve made for me, someone you’ve never met. I don’t know what it’s like to leave a comfortable life for difficult training or to face your mortality on a daily basis.

I don’t know how it feels to say goodbye to your family and friends, prayerful but unsure of whether you’ll ever see them again.

I can’t imagine the physical discomforts you’ve endured or the anxiety that’s plagued your mind.

I also don’t know what it’s like to readjust to civilian life after coming home, a head full of images you can never describe and a heart full of stories you can never really explain.

And I cannot fathom, for the life of me, how it feels to be rejected, abandoned, and ignored by the countrymen you fought to keep free. Or what it’s like to need care and rehabilitation but be denied those things.

I don’t know what it’s like to be you.

But I will not let my ignorance prevent my gratitude.

You, sir and ma’am, are heroes in every sense of the word. You have forsaken yourself and put others first, risking all you value for all we value.

You are selfless and admirable, and this country owes you more than we could ever give. You represent the best parts of humanity, and your sacrifices are NOT in vain. You have secured for the rest of the right to live free – free from fear, free from oppression, and free from persecution. You have secured for the rest of us the right to pursue our dreams, noble or not. You have secured for us the right to speak freely, to worship as we choose, and to become what God intended.

You, in every way, are the best of humanity.

Today, I consciously choose to thank you. I purposely write these words to express in a small way the immense debt I owe you and to explain, with words that aren’t enough, how grateful I am that people like you exist.

You didn’t have to serve, but you did.

You didn’t have to sacrifice, but you did.

You didn’t have to do anything for anyone, but you did.

And today, we all collectively say, “Thank you for what you did.“

November 11, 2016
Why It’s OK to Unfollow People on Facebook
Social media can be so annoying.

(I realize this may sound hypocritical because many of you got to this post through social media channels, but of course, I wasn’t referring to myself. I am never annoying. Just ask my husband. He loves it when I put my ice cold feet on his back or when I forget to close the garage door or buy food for meals. Nope – never annoying. Just rainbows and butterflies around here.)

Do you agree, though, that social media can stress you out and just plain get on your nerves?

Last weekend, I attended a conference where one of the speakers made a simple statement that liberated so many people listening. She gave us all permission to unfollow people on social media.

I almost stood up and applauded, because I have been doing this a LOT lately (election, anyone?) and it has been so freeing. Most of us are “friends” with people we aren’t really friends with, and daily we’re subjected to posts reminding us why we’re not really friends. I’m not talking about people we disagree with, necessarily. I have a lot of friends (in real and virtual life) I share vastly different views from, but I still follow them and see their posts. No problem. But I’m talking about people whose mission in social media-life seems to be to alienate people through highly offensive language, posts demeaning me for believing something different, and insults aimed at what I value.

Here’s the truth: we wouldn’t live with people following us around in real life saying inappropriate, offensive things repeatedly. We wouldn’t let a salesperson come to our homes every.single.day and never say, “You know what? I’m just not interested in your product.” We wouldn’t listen to a person demeaning the things we believe in and never speak up or walk away. So we don’t have to let these things happen on Facebook, either.

We get to be the filter for what comes into our lives through social media. We are not at its mercy.

The thing about social media is that we come to it with certain expectations, and because we have a streak of optimism inside us, we keep coming back after those expectations are broken.

Here’s what I mean:
- We expect to catch up with old friends and get a glimpse into their lives. But we end up comparing our lives to theirs.
- We expect to be entertained. But we end up being offended.
- We expect to kill time while we’re waiting for something else. But we end up wasting the time we should be doing something else.
- We expect to get ‘likes’ from our inspiring or witty posts. But we end up getting the cold shoulder and feeling like losers.
- We expect to be in the know with what’s going on. But we end up seeing where we’ve been left out.
- We expect to have our opinions affirmed. But we end up having our beliefs attacked.
Insanity is doing the same things repeatedly and expecting different results. If we keep closing social media feeds feeling worse than before we looked at them, shouldn’t we make a change? The change is simple: unfollow those who drain you, demean you, or damage you. You don’t have to block them – just unfollow them. They’ll never know and you’ll feel so much better.

It’s time we take our power back and refuse to let our free moments turn to sadness, anger, and bitterness because we feel obligated to follow someone else’s social media feed. We aren’t obligated. We can choose, and we forget we have a choice. That’s one of the beautiful things about being an adult. We can say no.

Here’s your challenge: edit your social media feeds. Keep only what inspires, uplifts, or educates you. When you come across something that sucks the life out of you, remove it. When you come across something that demeans you, delete it. When you come across something that offends you, unfollow it.

Be in charge of what enters your mind – and don’t be afraid to say “No. This isn’t for me.”

Are you interested in getting more encouragement like this? Click here to subscribe to my newsletter!
November 7, 2016
Two Things You Need to Know Today
November is here, people, and I can hardly believe it. Maybe that’s because it was 84 degrees yesterday and I had sweat running down my back as I walked from the parking lot to the car, but whatever. Stores have Christmas trees and carols are ringing, so the season is upon us.

Before we get caught up in the end of the year rush, there are two things I want you to know today, both of which will benefit you.

First, I have something to give you.

If you don’t know much of my story, the short version is that nearly 6 years ago, I went through an extremely painful time, one I wasn’t sure I would make it through. My life was turned upside down, and for a very long time, pain was a constant companion. Slowly, I began to recover, and although it was the worst time of my life, it was also the period during which I learned the most about myself, God, and the purpose of pain.

The gift I want to give you is a short e-book I’ve written called “Five Reasons to Embrace Painful Times.” It’s 18 pages full of the most important lessons I have learned about how pain is both necessary and productive in our lives. Satan intends it to destroy us, but God uses it to reshape us.

This e-book is my gift to you, because more than anything, I want to use my experience for good. I want to encourage others who are hurting – in any capacity – to look for the purpose in the midst of the pain. I am convinced that pain always – always – has a purpose, and I want you to believe that, too.

To receive the e-book, all you have to do is click right here and enter your email address. The e-book will be delivered to your inbox.

Second, I want to encourage you to join a community.

Several months ago, I heard about and joined an online community called Hope*Writers that has changed my writing life. I know some of you are writers (whether you feel legitimate or not!), and some of you have come to me for advice. The number one step I would tell any writer to take is to join Hope*Writers. For $18 a month, you get access to an unbelievable amount of information, training, and support. It’s headed up by 4 writing and tech gurus, Emily Freeman, Myquillyn Smith, Brian Dixon, and Gary Morland, and they generously share what they have learned about the craft of writing and the business side of publishing. Any questions I ever have about my blog, managing my subscribers, honing my craft, or facing the emotional components of writing, they answer.

The Hope*Writers website that you’ll get access to is an incredible resource full of articles, videos, podcasts, and encouragement. You’ll also be part of the private Facebook group, which is my favorite part. Here, you can pose questions, watch weekly Facebook live training videos, share your frustrations, and meet other writers who feel just like you do.

Seriously, I cannot recommend this group highly enough. I talk about Hope*Writers so much that it’s like they’re my best friends.

Since joining Hope*Writers, these are the things I have accomplished:
- I’ve made money from my writing
- I have guest posted on several other blogs and websites including TheBetterMom and ForEveryMom.
- Whoa Susannah featured one of my blog posts on Facebook.
- A Christian radio station in Australia asked for permission to feature one of my posts.
- I have published 3 e-books, two of which are on sale on Amazon.
I tell you these things not to toot my own horn, but to show you what is possible with a community of like-minded, supportive writers like Hope*Writers. Without the support and information I’ve gotten from them, I would not have accomplished any of these, and if you’re a writer, I want you to be successful, too. If you have any questions, email me, and if you’re ready to join, click here. You will learn so much!
November 1, 2016
That Time I Didn’t Eat Chick-fil-A for a Year

Chick-fil-A is like manna from Heaven.

The breading on the chicken, the waffle fries with Chick-fil-A sauce, and Lord, have mercy, the cookies. A trifecta of tastiness.

I could eat my weight in this fast food chain’s delightful fare. Once upon a time, that is.

Once upon a time I ate it a lot, but then I ate it the night my life fell apart, and I couldn’t eat it again for over a year.

The night my life fell apart, my husband left. I didn’t see it coming and I didn’t want it to happen, but it came and he went, and my life has never been the same. In that moment of extreme trauma, my senses were heightened, and I can still recall the strangest details from that night. I can close my eyes and be back in those moments. I can see what was around me, and I can hear what was said.

One part I’ll never forget is the physical sickness that came after the emotional pain. My body broke just as my heart did, and I wondered if I would actually die of a broken heart. I had heard it was possible, and it certainly felt so.

After that night, I couldn’t eat for weeks. Nothing would stay down, and nothing sounded good. Why nurture a body whose soul has been shattered?

Chick-fil-A was my last meal for quite a long time, and the very thought – or smell – of it took me back to that night. I avoided it at all costs.

But in doing so, I was holding on to what God was inviting me to release.

During our separation and after the divorce, I experienced more change than I had in 30 years of living. I learned more of myself than I ever wanted to know, and I learned more of my God than I had in 12 years as a follower. The night that changed everything really changed EVERYTHING, and simple things like what I ate – and didn’t – became lessons for me.

You see, it wasn’t about the food from Chick-fil-A. It was about what I associated it with, and it was about the memories I connected to that manna from heaven. Strangely, I let that food become a stumbling block for myself, a physical connection to a night I couldn’t let go.

I don’t believe God will ever ask me to forget that February night. He doesn’t want me to pretend it never happened. But I do believe He has asked me to release its position as the night that defined me. He has asked me to take it from a place of excruciating pain to a place of unrivaled testimony. He has asked me to allow him to redeem what was destroyed.

It seems so silly, but in holding on to Chick-Fil-A as an anchor around my soul, I was allowing myself to be held down when God wanted me to soar.

What are you holding on to today? What strongholds is God inviting you to release so He can take you to a new place?

Every day, it seems, God shows me another area of my life where I am greedily grasping at old memories and refusing to let go. It’s not the memories that are the problem – it’s their position in my heart. It’s their prominence in my life. It’s my pride that won’t let go.

King Solomon’s words were true thousands of years ago, and they still ring true today:

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Seasons change, like it or not, and our lives have seasons that come to a close. I have learned you cannot force into being what God has allowed to end. You cannot resurrect what God has allowed to die. His ways are higher, and though it may not seem true for a very long time, his ways are better. We will only find this to be true when we release with open hands what we have been grasping with tight fists.

Releasing is never easy. It means giving up control, being uncertain of the outcome, and trusting that your empty hands will be filled with something better.

They will be.

Examine your heart. Ask God for insight. Look at what you can’t let go and figure out why. Then uncurl one finger at a time and release that stronghold bit by bit to the One who can replace it with something far better.

No old memory is worth forfeiting new heights. God wants you to soar, but it will start with you letting go of old anchors.

When you do, your life will never be the same.

And what once made you cry will make you rejoice with new praise.

I promise.

September 21, 2016
Everything’s Not OK

The obligatory answer to the question “How are you?” is understood to be “Fine.”

Maybe a “Good, how are you?” or sometimes an “I’m OK, thanks.”

Nobody really expects (or desires) for you to say, “Well, truthfully, everything stinks right now. My kids are driving me nuts, my husband and I can’t seem to get on the same page intimately, and I kind of want to punch my coworker in the face.”

If we said such things, we’d get a whole lot more than we bargained for, and truthfully, we don’t need to share that much with acquaintances who innocently ask how we are.

But in telling most of the world we’re fine, do we unconsciously convince ourselves we are? Because if we’re honest, we’re often not fine. Everything’s not always ok, and we have no obligation to the world to pretend that we are.

But when our souls beg us to ask how things are, we must be willing to admit the honest emotions we’re feeling and the true conditions of our hearts. To do so, we have to face what’s really going on. Denial is dangerous. If it’s easier to pretend nothing’s wrong than it is to honestly analyze our hearts, we have a major problem.

I have become hyper-aware lately that when there’s a soul problem deep inside, when my heart is struggling and my emotions are unbalanced, my go-to is to check out. I avoid the core issue for days at a time, subconsciously pretending the problem away. I play a dangerous game of cat and mouse with myself, running from the problem so I don’t have to face it while simultaneously living every moment affected by it.

It’s insanity.

I don’t know if this avoider mentality is just a trait born of genetics or a product of my upbringing. Maybe it’s a combination of both. Regardless, I’m learning that it’s only ever harmful to me and those I love. My childish refusal to acknowledge my issues is an indication that I’m relying only on myself for their healing. If I keep them locked up inside, then I’m believing the solution is also inside. It’s not. We need other people to help us heal our old wounds. Hurts that remain hidden only fester. Dark places that are never exposed to light never lose their dark power over us.

I’m not suggesting we start telling others the unedited truth of our hearts if our hearts are not “fine.” But I am suggesting that we start telling ourselves the truth of our hearts. I am suggesting that we pay attention when our souls scream and that we listen when our hearts hurt. Avoidance never heals. Problems don’t just disappear. And in spite of our well-intentioned reply that we’re ‘fine,” sometimes we’re just not.

September 6, 2016
What Sacrifice Are You Not Willing to Make?

Think about what you want. What you really, really want.

I bet without much coaxing, you could make a list of things you’d love to have – or be. I bet you have dreams, both big and small, tucked away inside your heart. I bet you have goals, both lofty and mundane, on that list inside your brain. We all know what we want, even if we’ve never told another soul.

And yet we remain without those things. What I want us to consider is why.

Naturally, we have no control over some of the things we want. They are out of our reach or are not meant for us. But just as clearly as some things are out of our control, some things aren’t. Some things we want could be ours today if we had the courage and drive to go for them.

But we don’t.

Many of the things we want are on the other side of a sacrifice we’d have to make, and when it comes down to it, we aren’t willing. It’s easier to dream and lament and complain about our lack than it is to work for all we could gain.

I want so many things I don’t have: a six pack (of abs, that is, not beer), a perpetually clean house with perpetually empty laundry baskets, home-grown produce to save both money and calories, flower beds with beautiful blooms and zero weeds…

Not one of those things is impossible, but all of those are things I don’t have. The reason is simple – me. I am the reason I don’t have those things, and I don’t have them because I’m not willing to make the sacrifices necessary. I could have a six pack, theoretically. I’d have to work out a whole lot more and eat a whole lot less, but it’s doable. I could stay caught up on laundry – if I’d rather catch up on it than episodes of Fixer Upper I’ve missed. I could have a garden – if I wanted to spend my time maintaining it… For every thing I wish I could have, I’d have to make a sacrifice to get it.

What I’ve begun to question about myself lately is whether my lack of sacrifice is a forfeit of my destiny. Are there things the Lord desires for my life that will only come if I give up what doesn’t really matter? Our best will arrive only when we relinquish our grip on the good. Good might prevent best. Comfort might block destiny.

What do you need to give up today to walk into what’s meant to be yours? Sleep? Food? Relationships? Self-hatred? Mindless television watching? A critical spirit? A job? Over-spending?

The interesting thing is that we all have something – likely many things – we could (and should) give up. The reality, though, is that most of us won’t. We want the comfort of what we know. We want the easiest option, which is to stay as we are. We say we’ll start tomorrow. We assume we’ll fail anyway, so we refuse to even start.

We make a thousand excuses, but we really just make the path we’re intended to follow that much further away.

I’m tired of sabotaging my own life. I’m tired of assuming the worst and settling for it. I’m tired of watching others achieve their goals and thinking they know some secret I don’t.

You want to know their secret? Hard work. Sacrifice. Giving up something now for something greater in the future.

It’s really no secret at all. It’s just hard. Today, I’m embracing hard.

July 13, 2016
The Cure for Blurry Vision

When I was a gangly-legged fourth grader with a bad perm and unbraced teeth, an optometrist diagnosed me with myopia, or near-sightedness. I had been squinting at school, unable to read white chalk on green board, so mother took me to the eye doctor to get the problem fixed.

I will never forget walking outside with my brand new eyes, able to see individual leaves on fall trees and crisp words on billboards.

It was as if I were seeing for the first time. Everywhere I looked, wonders were visible. I could tell who was walking towards me before they were close enough to touch. I could make out images on the television from across the living room. This being able to see was a huge deal – I was impressed!

No longer limited to seeing just what was in front of me, I became aware of what was going on around me that I had been missing. I was able, quite literally, to see a bigger picture.

My physical sight has been treated for over twenty years, although it needs tweaking every now and then. A slightly stronger prescription is sometimes necessary as eyes age and eye shape changes. Not too long ago, I went to the eye doctor for some new contacts. I had been carrying the prescription from a previous exam in my purse, but as is often the case in my life now, other pressing matters took precedence over my own needs. I finally made my way to the office, thinking the visit would be short – in and out with a new box of lenses in just a few minutes.

The receptionist glanced at my prescription and said, “Honey, this thing expired last month. You’ll need a whole new exam.” (Sidebar – I know I live in the south, but it irks me to no end when people call me ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’ and ‘sugar.’ You don’t know me. I could be as sour as pickles from a green-lidded jar. But I digress.)

Of course I needed a new exam. Such is my luck. Thankfully, there had been a cancellation for the next time slot, so I was able to go straight back to the torture chamber known as the exam room, where puffs of air are jettisoned straight into your eyeball in spite of your ridiculous blinking efforts to stop them.

As the doctor began to examine my eyes, he could not get an accurate reading. To begin with, I only got one answer correct on the ‘reading the chart’ test, and that’s because I cheated. I knew there had to be an E on the top.

As he asked, ‘this one, or that one?’ while turning the dial on his prescription-finder, I honestly answered, “Are you even changing it? Because they both look terrible.”

His eye-scanning machines failed miserably, his last and final attempt to get an accurate reading.

He finally said, “You know what? We’re going to have to do this another day. Your eyes have small abrasions on them from those old contacts, and they are too fatigued to focus properly.” He ordered me to wear my glasses for the next few days so that my eyes could rest and heal.

As I walked out of his office, self-conscious in my glasses and feeling like that awkward fourth grader again, I immediately thought of how myopic my spiritual eyes are and how damaged and weary they become, too.

Slowly, subtly, without me even realizing it, my once 20/20 spiritual sight begins to lose sharpness and its focus lessens. When I allow the daily struggles and overwhelming task list to take precedence over time spent with God, eyes of the spirit become damaged and I see only clouded distortions. What I see is not what is.

What I see is improperly refracted. It is only through the lens of God’s Word that I will see everything around me – every condition – in its true form. Without a daily – even moment by moment – adjustment, I become near-sighted again, seeing only what is closest to me, not the bigger picture.

So many variables give me an inaccurate picture of my reality. When I allow my emotions to be the barometer for my life, I give in to self-pity and only believe of God what I currently feel from Him. Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things…” Deceitful, in case you (ok, I) have forgotten, means misleading, lying, being anything but the truth.

It is not sinful to feel what you feel, but so often emotions are inaccurate. I might feel like I am worthless and unwanted, but that doesn’t mean it’s so. Our hearts deceive us, because our hearts are sinful. They are tainted by the evil one, not yet made perfect in glorious permanence. Emotions cloud our view of the accuracy of God’s words.

My spiritual eyes are also, more than I’d like to admit, blinded by what others say about and do to me. To this day, I can remember a hurtful comment made to me by a guest speaker in elementary school. I hoard others’ comments like squirrels do acorns. I hang on to them, storing them in dark, secret places, uncovering them when I see they’ll be useful (like in my poorly-attended but all-night pity parties).

Sometimes what we believe about ourselves (and our God) is so deeply rooted in the opinions of others that we are not even aware of their influence. I want to live by these words and dwell on them alone – “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God” (Ps. 139:17). Only Yours.

The intricacy of the human eye is mind-boggling. Scientists argue that the eye is more complex than any other naturally occurring mechanism, and that it would take a supercomputer 100 years to process what the eye does in 1/100^th of a second. But in order for this complex organ’s rods and cones to work properly, light must first enter the iris. Read that again. Light must enter. Without light, there is no vision.

You likely know a verse that speaks of light. Jesus spoke to people gathered around Him, those who were desperate for accurate vision in the midst of Pharisees’ clouded sight. He said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). Without the Light of the World entering, we will never see the bigger picture. We will squint at foggy distortions instead of marveling in crisp clarity. We will miss the visible wonders and never grasp the beauty of new eyes.

It is not just accepting Jesus that focuses the eyes of our spirits, though. I had been carrying the prescription for new contacts in my purse for weeks, but had not used it. I had in my grasp, daily, the cure for my poor vision, but it was tucked away and useless. How often do I do the same with my God? He is the cure to my every problem, the lens for my myopic sight, but I leave Him tucked away while I curse headaches that come from squinting at preventable blurs.

Charles Darwin, the agnostic scientist that Christians love to hate, said, “To suppose that the eye, with all its inimitable [incomparable] contrivances for adjusting the focus to different distances, for admitting different amounts of light, and for the correction of spherical and chromatic aberration, could have been formed by natural selection, seems, I freely confess, absurd in the highest degree.”

If the human eye, which we can see and touch and study, contains “inimitable contrivances,” how much more complex must the spiritual eyes we were given be? How many more methods must there be for “admitting different amounts of light, and for the correction of . . . aberration[s]?”

We are not condemned to a lifetime of blurry sight or spiritual eyes that are wounded and in need of rest. God has given us “everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness” (2 Pet. 1:3). We already have ‘everything we need.’ We have it! It’s time we live like it. We ought to be on our faces, begging the Lord daily, “Open my eyes that I may see . . .” (Ps. 119:18).

Where there is cloudy vision, there is a healing lens. Where there are weary eyes, there is curing rest. Jesus is longing to give us eyes to see, but He is waiting for us to want them badly enough to ask.

November 17, 2012