Category: Faith

 

It’s time we stop lying to God, and it’s time we quit withholding the truth of how we’re doing from the One who already knows.

We’ve learned to keep our real emotions stuffed inside, haven’t we? When people ask how we are, we’ve learned they don’t really want to know. They want us to answer with the socially acceptable “Fine,” and we know if we dared to unload what’s really on our hearts, they’d run in terror and never ask us again.

You know what my “fine” was hiding this week?

• I feel like there’s an anvil on my shoulders pushing me into the dirt.
• I can’t shake the feeling that every decision I make as a mother is ruining my children.
• This nearly 37 year old body has seen its better days, and I need to just get rid of every mirror in my house.
• It’s hard to believe God could ever look at me and see anything worth loving when others who were supposed to love me forever didn’t.

 

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m keeping back the really good ones.

No, we don’t need to unload our deepest struggles on unsuspecting acquaintances, but we do need to take them somewhere… We need to take them to God. I’ve been realizing lately how often I don’t.

I’m learning that failing to voice my hurts to God is really just a lack of faith.

A lack of trust.

A lack of belief in his love and interest in me.

It’s such an interesting paradox. I have no secrets from God. He knows all and sees all, and nothing is ever a surprise to him. But when I assume He doesn’t care about what I feel and I keep it stuffed inside, I think I’m keeping a secret from him that would change how He feels about me. I think my secrets protect me from his disappointment – his rejection – his condemnation.

When I’m unwilling to be honest with God, it’s always because I forget his character. I forget there is no condemnation in Christ and that God is love. I forget that I am the righteousness of God. I forget that God looks at me and sees the blood of Christ, not the stain of my failures.

God doesn’t want a prettied-up version of our sadness.

He doesn’t want our minimized grief.

He doesn’t want our cleaned up confessions or our understated questions.

He wants the ugly. He wants the breakdowns. He wants the tears and the yelling and the shaking heads. God wants our doubts and our lack of understanding and our fits of rage at what we face.

God wants it all. God wants the truth.

Nothing – not even the honesty of your heart – can cause God to remove his love. Romans 8:38 says, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Nothing. NO. THING.

Nothing can separate you from his love – not even your ugly truth.

What is it that’s on your mind today? What heaviness is in your heart? What’s the emotion you’ve been holding at arm’s length that needs to be let loose?

It’s time to stop lying to God. It’s time to quit withholding the truth.

Tell him how you feel. Ask him to explain. Beg him to help you understand.

I can’t promise He’ll answer, and I can’t tell you He’ll take away the hurt. But He will always remind you He cares. And isn’t that we need most sometimes, to know someone hears and cares?

God isn’t weak. There isn’t a burden He can’t carry. He won’t be surprised by your honesty, and He won’t be threatened by your hurt.

God loves. He is love. And love always protects and perseveres.

 

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There is a risk God has asked you to take, and there’s an excuse you’re giving for why you won’t move ahead.

What is that risk? Will you give it a name and acknowledge its existence?

Less than a year ago, God told me to quit my job. He didn’t speak in a booming voice, and there was no literal writing on the wall, but through a series of gut feelings and confirmations from others – including people I didn’t even know – I had no doubt about what he was saying.

He was saying it was time for something new.

And I was scared to death.

 

The risk he was asking me to take was to quit my job and trust him, and the excuses I gave were varied and justifiable.

What about money? What about the house we just bought? What about the fact that I know absolutely nothing about the path you’re pushing me down? What will people think? What about my lack of qualifications?

Oh, I had a million excuses for not moving ahead, and even looking back now, they were legitimate and very pressing.

But they were also rooted in fear.

I knew what I was supposed to do. The wheels had been in motion for a few years, my passion for the new path building since childhood. The calling wasn’t the issue. My obedience was.

I was scared, deep in my heart, that God wouldn’t provide for me like he did for others. I was scared that I was leaving a career I excelled in for a calling I might fail in. I was scared that my lack of credentials and connections were a recipe for disaster instead of an opportunity for God to show that he provides when there seems to be no way.

My fears were begging me to stay frozen, to choose disobedience rooted in what my eyes could see rather than faith in what I could not.

Fear is not always negative. We are right and justified to be afraid of physical dangers, and we were created to experience fear in order to be protected. Fear certainly can protect. But it can also prevent.

It can prevent you from experiencing all the things you can’t imagine that God has planned for you (1 Cor. 2:9).

It can prevent you from grasping how wide and long and high and deep Christ’s love is for you (Eph. 3:18).

It can prevent you from doing the good works God planned in advance for you (Eph. 2:10).

When we say “but” when God says “act,” we forfeit the great rewards that only come with great risks. We live in less than what God desires, choosing our own version of safety rather than God’s grand adventure.

Repeatedly in Scripture, God tells his people not to be afraid. What I love, though, is that he doesn’t just tell us to reject fear. He also tells us how and why. He reminds us that He is always with us. He has redeemed us. He will never leave us. He cares for us. He has given us a new spirit. He will come to our rescue. He will sustain us. He will never let us fall. He is our strength.

Every admonition not to fear is coupled with a reality of who God is and how He loves us.

Nothing comes more naturally than fearing what we don’t know. But God tells us to choose the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). He asks us to reject the emotions we naturally feel and rest in the promises of truth He has revealed.

What is the risk He has asked you to take? What is the fear that’s holding you back?

I won’t be the bossy blogger telling you what to do. I don’t know your situation or the reservations you feel.

But I will be the woman who’s walked this path before, simply saying to you, “It’s worth it.”

 

 

 

My cell phone rang, and when I glanced at the caller, immediately my heart began to pound. The illuminated screen showed the caller was the school district I had just interviewed with, so the news would be either very good or very bad.

Either they wanted me or they didn’t. This call would tell the tale.

I needed a job, and I needed it badly. Years before, I had taught 7th grade English full-time, but when my children were born, I left work to mother them full-time. I loved every minute of being home with them, but my impending divorce and new status as a single mother demanded a paying job. And it demanded it now.

I picked up the phone and squeaked out a “Hello” through my quivering voice. The principal I had just spent time with spoke, thanking me for my interest in their teaching position. Then he spoke the word “But,” and I knew I wasn’t their choice.

He kindly explained they had chosen a candidate with more experience, and he wished me luck in the future.

I managed to disconnect the call before I burst into tears. Then I wept uncontrollably.

The previous eight weeks had been the most excruciating of my life, filled with rejection at a level I had never experienced before. I had learned what it meant to start life completely over, and I felt the burden of rebuilding what once felt unshakeable.

And for the first time, I knew how it felt to be at a complete loss with what God was doing in my life. In my core, I knew he was in control, and I still believed he was good, but I didn’t understand how, and I couldn’t see why. Each day was a test of my faith, each moment a lesson in hope.

I had prepared for this job interview, prayed for the right answers, and proven my determination to give the job my all.

So to hear it wasn’t enough was devastating. To know time was running out was terrifying. And to have nowhere to go next was debilitating.

I was rejected, again, and my heart was completely shattered. It felt that at every turn I wasn’t someone’s choice. I didn’t just feel it – the evidence was in my face.

The despair and helplessness I felt that day sent me to my knees.

I was completely at the mercy of the God I professed to believe, and trusting that his timing would eventually bring provision was harder than I can explain.

What do we do when God’s timing seems off? What do we believe when we have a pressing need but his answer is, “Not yet?” How can we believe that provision will come even when we see no signs?

In that moment, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to turn. I didn’t know that God was working in ways I couldn’t see.

And that’s usually how it works, isn’t it? We look with our human eyes at our human situations and determine the outcome the way we humans would design it. We look at human calendars and feel the pressure of human needs and are unable to remember God doesn’t work in human ways. He is not limited by human timelines.

Trusting God’s timing means trusting God himself. Waiting for his action means believing he’s on your side.

Those weeks waiting for a job in the middle of my divorce tested everything I said I believed. Continuing to trust in God’s goodness was a choice I had to make, and believing his ways would eventually bring good demanded that I look beyond the current pain.

The easy faith of my childhood was giving way to a faith tested in the flames, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there were days I thought I’d be consumed.

But now, years removed, this is what I’ve learned, and this is what I know.

God’s goodness always comes.

He always provides.

Trust placed in him will never disappoint.

Hearing “no” from that principal was, in the moment, another rejection to my already tender spirit. It was a denial, a wound, a very crushing blow.

But weeks later, I was offered a job 20 minutes closer to home and in the district my children would be attending. Suddenly the previous “no” felt like protection and provision. Suddenly I realized my timeline hadn’t allowed for God’s perfect plan to unfold. Suddenly I was humbled to understand God had been working on my behalf all along.

Nothing tests your trust like waiting for God to move. But nothing reaffirms it like the moment when He does.

Whatever waiting period you are in right now, I know it’s painful. I know you might be like I was, on your knees with tears pouring down, begging God to give you the thing you desperately need.

He hears you.

He will provide.

But He will do it in the moment He deems best.

As his child – his follower – you are charged with trusting him until then. You are asked to believe good is coming despite the bad that you see. You are commanded to be still and know that He is God.

When we have a problem, we want it fixed immediately and with the solution we devise.

But God wants our heart.

We want an answer.

God wants our trust.

We want to know the plan.

God wants our faith.

If I have learned anything through my seasons of waiting, it is that I am amazingly impatient and God is unbelievably good. Always. His timing tests my faith, to be sure, and his ways confound my understanding, but his faithfulness takes my breath.

Always.

 

 

Maybe I’m the only one who has days where I feel ugly, fat, and stupid. But I’m guessing if you arrived at this post, you probably feel that way too.

Some days, for no particular reason at all, I wake up in the morning and just feel blah. Inferior. Incapable. Unable to move past the voices lying to my heart.

Ugly.

Fat.

Stupid.

I try not to compare myself to other women, and I avoid the ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ game as much as I can. But my enemy knows where I’m most vulnerable, and my Achilles heel is not feeling good enough. My weakness is wondering whether I’m doing enough and whether I myself am enough. So that’s where he attacks. His plan to defeat me often involves degrading my appearance, and he’s done it since I was 12. I know this about him, but knowing doesn’t always prevent believing.

Where does Satan attack you? Maybe he doesn’t tell you you’re ugly, fat, or stupid, but maybe he tells you you’re a terrible wife. A distant mother. A sub-par business owner. Maybe he whispers that your personality is boring, or your giftedness is a joke. Maybe he reminds you of a decision you made eight years ago, or perhaps he whispers fears to project into your future.

One thing I’m sure of, though? He’s whispering, and you’re listening.

Did you know that listening doesn’t mean you must agree? Did you know that hearing a lie doesn’t mean accepting it as truth?

Sometimes I forget. 

Right now, think of one whisper you’ve taken to heart. Just one. There are probably more, and you can name them later. But for now, focus on the loudest lie and bring it to the light.

Here’s what I want you to say about it:

Satan, you say I am _____, but God says that in Jesus, I am the righteousness of God (2 Cor.5:21). This means that despite how you want me to feel, my reality is that I’m accepted by my Maker. I am cleansed by my Creator. I am made new by my Redeemer.

Satan, you want me to feel ______, but God says, “Do not be afraid, for I am with you” (Isaiah 41:10). My feelings are strong, but my faith is stronger, and my faith is in the One who will never leave me. I’m rejecting the fear you’re trying to make me feel, and I’m choosing instead to focus on the presence of Christ in me.

Satan, you point out my ____, but God only sees me as “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession…” (1 Peter 2:9). I am deeply flawed, but I am miraculously chosen.

Friends, if you’re hurting and feeling inadequate in who you are, can I remind you that you have nothing to prove? God has not asked you to be enough of anything. He has not demanded that you look a certain way, have a certain IQ, or succeed in everything you try. He has asked you simply to confess him, follow him, and share him. These are the things that really matter, and your enemy will do all he can to distract you from their supreme importance. He will attack wherever you are most vulnerable to prevent you from being greatly used.

Don’t give him that pleasure. Don’t let him have his way.

When difficult days come and lies are loudly ringing, combat them with truth. Remind Satan of his defeat, and remind yourself of your truth. You are loved. You are new. You are forever God’s.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.