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Category: Faith

#ListenLoveRepeat: A Book to Cure Your Selfishness

This blog post is inspired by the new book: Listen, Love, Repeat by Karen Ehman which releases today, November 15th! You can purchase a copy at http://listenloverepeatbook.com.

I won’t deny that I’m naturally selfish.

When life is in constant motion and I’m just trying to make it through my days, I become all about me. My focus is on what makes me happy, what is most convenient for me, and what is easiest for my schedule. My gaze is fixed inward, and my actions reflect my heart.

But my heart needs realignment.

You see, as a Christ-follower, I no longer have the luxury of being all about myself. I can no longer be satisfied with being selfish, and I can no longer be consumed with what is convenient for me. This world is not my home, and this world is not about me. My focus must shift to the Savior of my soul, and my actions must show His love to His people.

With the call to love others is the call to listen to their hearts, love them where they are, and repeat.

In her new book, Listen, Love, Repeat: Other-Centered Living in a Self-Centered World, Karen Ehman teaches what love in action looks like in our very real lives. She walks us through meeting others in their times and places of need and showing them love in the ways they best receive it. Her wisdom and experience are practical, and her action steps are doable.

Do you ever feel overwhelmed with how to live out love? Do you default to, “Well, I just don’t know where to start?” This book will erase those excuses and remind you of why it all matters. Karen will reassure you that small steps are significant to the ones being loved, and that no action with a pure heart will ever fall short.

This book has challenged me, convicted me, and changed me.

I will never forget the simple step a friend took when I was living in a devastating season. She showed up at my house one day with coffee and said, “Let’s go inside and pray.” It cost her a couple of dollars and 30 minutes of her time, but it meant everything to me in my sadness. It let me know I wasn’t alone, and it gave me hope on a day I had none.

This should be the picture of those following Christ – letting others know they aren’t alone, and sharing hope with the hopeless. It’s as simple as that.

Karen teaches about listening for “heart drops,” times when others mention what matters to their hearts. It could be a favorite candy, a painful memory, or a date they can’t forget. Regardless of what their heart drops, we should pick it up and use it to show them love. If your small group leader mentions hating Thanksgiving because it’s when her grandfather died, make a note of that and do something special for her on that day.

Listen to what matters, love right there, and repeat.

This book is full of wisdom in how to love, from noticing the necessary people in life and acknowledging their services to being present for devastated, grieving people. And as an added bonus, Karen shares some of her mouth-watering recipes. (It’s a win-win book!).

The subtitle of Listen, Love, Repeat is “Other-Centered Living in a Self-Centered World,” and the message at its core could not be more timely. Everywhere we look, people are consumed with themselves, and this is true perhaps most in our own hearts. If you are looking for a way to escape your own selfishness, look no further than this beautifully practical book. Karen Ehman is a master in making people feel loved, and her book will teach you her methods.

November 15, 2016
A Prayer for American Christians after the Election
Oh, God, the divide in our country has not caught you off guard. You are not surprised, and you are not powerless.

Across this land, some people are hurting, protesting, and afraid. Others are jubilant, excited, and celebrating.

The images on my television show people weeping, people burning effigies, and people blocking roads. Words on my social media show people taunting, people cursing, and people fighting.

It is a hard time in this country, Lord, and I’m sure hard times are still ahead.

My prayer today, God, is for those of us who profess your name. My prayer is for Christians – little Christs – to represent you in the hurt and to reflect your love to those who feel hated. My prayer is for your people to act like your people.

Here, God, is what I ask:
- Let our words be few, and let them be filled with grace. Let us think before we say or type anything, aware words have power and cannot be unspoken.
- Help us consider the perspectives of those with whom we disagree, never belittling or dismissing the concerns they may have.
- Let us do all we can, in our little circles, to be people of love and people of mercy.
- Help us be willing to have conversations, true dialogue, with those different from us and those with whom we’ve never spoken a word.
- Remind us that the Kingdom we represent is not of this earth.
- Let us look people in the eye and listen with our hearts.
- Teach us to trust you when we don’t understand, and teach us to stand on your unchanging truths.
- Let us be the peacemakers when arguments around us escalate.
- Keep us from clumping people into groups, stereotyping and assuming what we don’t know to be true.
- Help us to remember we are not our own, and our actions cannot be controlled by our flesh.
- Fill us with your Holy Spirit and let us act as those who are.
- Help us remember we don’t have all the answers, and we don’t have to have them all. We have you, and that is enough.
- Keep us from both prideful boasting and hopeless despair, as neither points the world to you.
- Show us your face, and let us show it to others.
God, our hope is in you. Our prayers are to you. Our faith is in you.

No election, no President, no fighting can shake an unshakeable God. No results, no reports, no riots can change who you are. Let us move forward in faith, trusting you are sovereign over all, and let us – your representatives on earth – show the world what it means to love.

If you need to know how pain can be purposeful, I wrote a short e-book called “Five Reasons to Embrace Painful Times.” It can help you accept what’s happened in your life, even if it’s not what you planned.
November 10, 2016
Why It’s a Good Thing to Question Your Beliefs

My son marched over after the post-game huddle, shoulders looking too broad in pads and white jersey. “That last touchdown for them? The ball didn’t even cross the plane. It was only his head!” The outrage was clear in his voice, the disgust evident on his face.

The scoreboard showed a final score of 35-13, a bitter loss bringing their overall record to a losing one.

It’s been a fun season, one in which he’s learned a lot, but I think I’ve learned a lot, too.

I’ve learned that my boy, the one who was 6 pounds at birth and wore preemie clothing home from the hospital, can be hit without breaking. I’ve learned he has an infinite capacity for playing Madden Mobile, and I’ve learned I can be one of those mamas yelling a little too loudly from the sidelines.

But I’ve also learned that to my son, the world is black and white. The rules are the rules, and if you block him in the back, he’s going to have something to say about it. If the ref misses a call, he’s going to bring it up later. And by all means, if a touchdown is not really a touchdown, he’s going to lose his mind.

To my boy, no longer 6 pounds but nearly my size, this world is black and white.

I wish it really were.

You see, in many ways, I’m a lot like my boy. Or I suppose he’s a lot like me. I, too, have seen only two options for much of my life. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Black or white. But lately, and in so many areas, I’m seeing more shades of gray.

What I once thought were absolute truths have begun to be conditional. What I once believed were irrefutable arguments have begun to show gaping holes. What I once felt confident in has begun to leave me questioning.

The easy beliefs I once held so closely, I’m now holding at arm’s length, asking, “What do I really believe?”

I think of issues like abortion, for example. I have always been pro-life, and I certainly still very much am, but I’ve begun to see that being pro-life is not just being anti-abortion. It’s being for life in every way – all of life, for all people, in all situations. It’s for honoring and protecting the lives not just of the unborn, but the hungry. The homeless. The disabled. The refugees. The convicted killers. No longer can I see just two sides to the debate over the sanctity of life. I see more to the argument than just two opposite and opposing views. I see that my once-easy anti-abortion stance required only a vote from me on election day, but a pro-life mentality requires me to change my lifestyle and priorities. It requires loving and caring for those the world does not value. This is what I believe – but is this what I actually do?

I think of issues like the role of the church, for example. I once thought of the church as a place to go, a building in which to worship. But as I’ve grown in my faith and learned of true Kingdom-living, I’ve begun to see that the role of the church isn’t to isolate itself and practice distant self-righteousness and unilateral condemnation. Its role is infiltration and conversion. Its role is showing the hurting world there’s a better way. The role of the church isn’t to perpetuate an “us versus them” mentality; it’s to be us loving them. Helping them. Teaching them. Lifting them. Being with them, in the midst of their lives and their messes. It’s to be an invitation, saying, “Come join us. We’ll show you a better way.” It’s not finger-wagging and protesting and looking down noses. It’s love, in practical ways. This is what I believe – but is this what I actually do?

I think of issues like wealth and poverty, for example. I once thought having money meant you were a person of wealth, and being without meant you lived in poverty. But I have met the world’s poorest people whom I now see as the most wealthy, because they understand what matters and have a faith that is unwavering. Wealth, I have learned, is not a padded bank account. Poverty is not the absence of money. Perhaps we, the richest of rich in terms of our money, are actually the most bankrupt. I’ve begun to see that it doesn’t matter what I have – it matters what I do with it. I’ve begun to learn that my wealth is meant to lift others out of poverty. I’ve begun to see that my bank statement isn’t what matters most about me. This is what I believe – but is this how I actually live?

It’s easier to live in a world of black and white, because when you do, there’s far less wrestling with issues and with yourself. There’s far less pondering and pursuing debatable truths. There’s far less wrestling with whether your lifestyle really lines up with your beliefs. There’s far more of “I’m right and they’re wrong,” and there’s far more patting yourself on the back.

Living in black and white is so much easier. But seeing shades of gray makes me a better person. Considering what I once ignored makes me more thoughtful. It makes me more convicted in what I hold dear. It makes me more open to understanding the hearts of others.

Black and white isn’t all there is, for football-playing little boys or for me, and in a culture that’s increasingly divided, perhaps shades of gray are what we all need to see.

October 27, 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
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