Living Brave and Courageous
A life on adventure with Jesus
The Blank Check of Motherhood
Motherhood isn’t what most people say it is.
It’s one of the best choices I ever made…but it isn’t free or always fun or even a trophy. It’s sacrifice and hard work and a kind of love that can’t be explained.
I knew that motherhood would include sacrifice. As the oldest of my siblings, I had watched my mom throw up every pregnancy and how her body changed and her sleep was interrupted. I watched her give her time and energy. I watched her sacrifice her desires at times. She said NO to things like coffee dates with friends and going to all the family weddings because sometimes there wasn’t a babysitter and my Dad was self-employed so he had to work. She did a lot of things that required her to put our needs above her own…knowing that motherhood meant giving up things up for a time.
Her youngest now is 17. So now she can do coffee dates with friends again and if she and Dad want to get away for a weekend, they can do that. Everyone is self-feeding, self-dressing and self-entertaining now. But it took a bunch of years to get there. About thirty years of saying NO to her schedule and YES to raising a bunch of noisy, messy, and busy humans.
Now I see her sacrificing for motherhood in a different way. She has teenagers and twenty-somethings and four in their thirties. She also has three bonus daughters (soon to be four!), a bonus son and thirteen little humans who call her “Muh”, the name given to her by the first grandchild. So now she has even more people to pray for, sacrifice for and love.
But for all the beautiful things I watched six feet in front of me for my whole life, I never anticipated my motherhood journey to be like it has been.
I found out I was pregnant in the spring of 2021, four months after getting married. We were happily surprised. Five days later, I started vomiting. (Thanks, Mom for that gene!) While the severity of my sickness ebbed and flowed through out my pregnancy, vomiting never left completely. At my best part of the journey, at least once a week, I still hugged the toilet. Then came the acid reflux and heart burn. And the not sleeping. And the not being able to get comfortable. Most moms have some form of discomfort during pregnancy. But even in the intense throwing up and being weak from vomiting, I knew that it was a temporary sickness for an amazing reward. One day, it would be worth it. I’d be all better soon!
On December 16th, 2021 I gave birth to our Noah. Instantly, my acid reflux and nausea left. Now I could get to the good part!
A couple hours later we found ourselves waiting in the hospital room to schedule reconstructive surgery for the fourth-degree tear (Noah was broad shouldered AND got stuck on his way out!) I had during his birth. I had no idea what I was in for. I didn’t even know what a fourth-degree tear was. I’ll spare you the surgery details, but suffice it to say that neither I nor my husband had any clue what was ahead for us. I couldn’t even get up go to the bathroom without him half carrying me. It was a different level of pain than I’d ever experienced before. I had to have help changing, showering, and going to the bathroom. I was in bed for weeks trying to heal.
Two weeks into motherhood and I started developing some issues with nursing. It had always hurt like crazy but I’d been told that was normal. But two weeks in I started dealing with mind-blowing pain. I did all the things. Every random natural remedy you can think of, I tried it. Multiple times. I talked with lactation consultants on the phone. Tried more things. Eventually it moved to mastitis in my right breast.
Nothing cuts that kind of pain. I CRIED just thinking about nursing each time. I’ve had a high pain tolerance for most of my adult life…but this…this was a whole new level of intensity. It never went away and my baby still had to eat. I about went out of my mind every time I nursed. I wept. I prayed. I cried some more.
Finally, seven weeks into mommyhood, we called in another lactation consultant. This one came to our house and spent three hours with us. I’m so grateful for her time and experience. She is the one who alerted us to Noah’s extreme tongue and lip ties. This is why he was losing weight and my mastitis infection was getting steadily worse.
We immediately started supplementing Noah with formula to get his weight up and went to the Emergency Room to get checked out. They didn’t seem concerned, but referred me to a breast specialist and in the meantime, the pain continued to get worse.
A few days later, I sat on an examination table, praying that there would be answers. I was at the end of myself. I’ve never been so weary in body and spirit. That kind of intense pain day after day will take it out of you. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable. And with a newborn you nurse a lot…so the amount of pain per day was through the roof.
Two minutes and the doctor was direct and clear…the mastitis that had turned into an abscess from a staph infection. “You have to stop nursing right away and we need to schedule surgery this week. We have to clean out that infection immediately.” My world was already spinning too fast but this seemed like too much.
Fast forward a few more days to healing after another major surgery. Now I was in pain again, but differently. Both breasts hurt so bad that I couldn’t even hold my baby. That maximized the physical pain into emotional pain as well. And when I cried at night because I hurt and I just wanted to be a “normal” mommy and do normal Mom things like hold my baby and take him for a walk in the stroller, my husband couldn’t even hold me to comfort me. The pain wouldn’t leave. I was ten weeks out from having Noah and there wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. Most moms were back to work by ten weeks and I was still in bed or on the couch. I felt robbed.
The pain was more intense from my second surgery than from my reconstruction after the birth. I almost passed out several times during the healing part. To be honest, I don’t even remember much from those weeks of healing. They say trauma does that to your brain sometimes. Survival was my only thought. My husband and I are forever grateful to my sister, Hope, who kept extending her trip to help us. She had agreed originally to come for two weeks and she ended up staying for over two months. I literally don’t know how we would have done it without her. She ran the house, cooked, did our laundry and took care of Noah, plus looked after me during the days so that Tim could continue working and taking care of me at night. I rely on her memory for things during that time because I have very few from that period of time.
I’ve learned something about motherhood. Besides the fact that I have a whole new appreciation for my amazing mother, motherhood is like a blank check that you sign for up to the amount of your entire life. We don’t always know what is ahead for us when we say yes to being a mommy. We don’t know the challenges we will face for the sake of our little blessings. I have scars that will forever be reminders of the sacrifices that motherhood cost me.
And I WOULDN’T CHANGE IT FOR ANYTHING.
Noah has been an amazing little image bearer to remind me of the God Who gave him to us.
I’m past the extreme pain now. I can drive myself places again and hike with my family and we’ve since had a little girl that Noah calls “Sissy”. So while most things are some sort of normal again, other things are forever changed because of those initial motherhood moments. There are lasting reminders that without supernatural healing, I will never be healed again.
“Now we have this treasure in clay jars, so that this extraordinary power may be from God and not from us. We are pressured in every way but not crushed; we are perplexed but not in despair; we are persecuted but not abandoned; we are struck down but not destroyed. We always carry the death of Jesus in our body, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body…” 2 Corinthians 4:7-10
Maybe this is what it means to “carry the death of Jesus” in my body. Why? So that the “life of Jesus may also be revealed” in me. These aren’t the favorite pages of my story, friends…but they are the very ones God has used most for His glory. Because in those moments of pain and sorrow and uncertainty, Jesus was there. Holding me when I couldn’t be physically touched. Whispering to my heart the truth I needed to hear when no one else knew what to say. With me when no one else could be. He is so faithful. So kind. He is the Great Comforter.
Motherhood is a cross in a sense. A tiny picture of sacrifice like Jesus did for us. Giving His life and body so we could live. Being a mommy is like that too sometimes. Beautiful and broken. And so worth it.
Four Years of Marriage…
“So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, man must not separate.””
Matthew 19:6 HCSB
An older friend asked me a couple months into marriage what I thought of it. Being single for many years (before marrying) makes people ask you stuff like that. I remember responding quickly but honestly: “it’s the most challenging AND rewarding thing I’ve ever done.” I could tell by his face and smile that my answer would likely always be those same words. He had been married long enough to know…Marriage is always hard work and when you put the time in, can also be extremely rewarding.
Four years into marriage and my heart echoes this again and again.
We smile and admit that our four years of marriage have been riddled with unknowns and difficult challenges. In fact, some have told us we’ve squeezed 10-15 years worth of trials into four. For starters we’ve moved over a dozen times, have spent 10 months of our marriage living out of a suitcase while we waited for a more permanent home, and have weathered some significant health challenges after Noah’s birth which required two major surgeries for me. It has been a time of growth in tension. Bonding through tears. Prayer in the face of uncertainty. Hope in the middle of fearfulness. Trusting when we couldn’t see the end result.
Marriage is hard work. It’s two very different human beings with different personalities, different backgrounds and different upbringings coming together and learning to become their own family with a unified front.
One of the biggest things I’ve noticed about marriage is that everything else you do will fade in comparison to how people see you in your married context. It makes me wonder about 1 Corinthians 13…you can do a lot of things that are amazing in life. You can be successful in business. Have an amazing ministry. Own a great house. Even have good kids. But if your marriage isn’t something Godly to behold…no one will want what you have. They won’t want to follow you.
Tim and I were both in full time ministry as single adults so we knew marrying would mean another target on our marriage. Marriage in itself is a target for the enemy who hates what God created it to mirror. However, being in ministry AND marriage is a double whammy. I think we knew the price and talked about it ahead of time…but nothing prepares you for the immense pressure that comes when you stand on the edge of uncertainty, problems and physical challenges and need to choose to trust the God Who gave you each other. And how do you trust someone who you are still learning to know and understand? What do you say to your spouse when you watch him handle crazy financial pressure from unexpected medical bills? Or how do you walk through random and rare physical trials that leave one of you in tremendous pain and the other one having to suddenly be the caretaker for both you and your son? What do you do when you learn you have to move in 20 days, have no place to go and have a 4 month old baby all the while still battling physical challenges?
How do you stay honest with the pain and the weight of it all and grow TOGETHER versus let it tear you apart?
In all the craziness, we’ve been able to do ministry together several times in prison or at events for ex-offenders and their spouses and/or families. What do they watch more than anything? Not how flowery we are with our Scripture knowledge. Not if we can answer their many varied questions. Not what we look like or what credentials we have in our back pocket. More than anything, they watch our marriage.
So I’ve seen how this covenant between the three of us: God, Tim and I, has the greatest potential to reach the world. When we live it right, it’s our biggest spotlight on the Gospel. When we live it wrong…no one wants our Jesus. Lived right, others see how a Christian marriage is supposed to look radically different than those of the world…not living separate, selfish lives but instead being in unity and upholding the name of Jesus together. I’m not saying that you can’t have different ways you minister to people as a couple. That’s the beauty of being a team and having your own strengths and weaknesses. But I’ve seen several couples in ministry who don’t have a clue about what their spouse is involved in. Pastors who are so unconnected to their wives that you would literally never guess they are married…like roommates who aren’t sharing life emotionally.
I’ve met youth leaders who have their own world that their wife and kids aren’t part of.
I’ve met couples who do ministry at church or other parachurch ministries who are so distant from each other, come and go at different times to their ministry meetings and are like two ships passing in the night.
I’m not being judgmental. Hear me when I say this: it’s the most natural thing for a married couple to drift apart and live separate lives. This is the way we will eventually go if we don’t work at it. We will easily shift slightly each day until we wake up hardly knowing the person we sleep next to. It’s the path of least resistance.
Tim and I have talked about this very thing- that we have to choose to FIGHT to stay on the same page. To know what each other is feeling and thinking and struggling with. To know how to serve each other and parent together and put each other first. We have to choose this. Every. Single. Day. And the one day we don’t we start drifting. It will happen if we don’t fight for our marriage.
People often ask me how in the world Tim and I can handle being together as much as we are. We are married and live together PLUS we work together. In fact, the first two years of our marriage the ministry offices shared our house with us…so Tim was home for every meal and could walk down the hall to see us or even look across the room from the office to the kitchen where I was making dinner. Some people can’t understand how we weren’t at each other’s throats all the time. We were rarely apart.
All I can say is we’ve walked through some hellish things already in our marriage and we’ve learned to walk through them together. As a team.
I remember a time when I was so sick with our first pregnancy that I could barely get out of bed except to vomit regularly and then head back under the covers. Tim would check in on me often bringing electrolyte drinks on ice with a straw, coaxing me to eat whatever sounded good…which was typically something like macaroni and cheese. 🙂 When he got home from work he would make dinner, do dishes and start the laundry. Eventually I got more accustomed to working while extremely nauseated so was able to live a slower life for the last 4-5 months of pregnancy. Still vomiting almost every day, but learning to cope with it better.
During that time, we ministered together in prisons and ALWAYS the women especially were watching us like hawks. They saw me speak up front and then run to the back bathroom to throw up. They saw Tim compassionately take care of me…making sure I drank often, putting my feet up on a chair and steadying me with his hand when I was standing for long periods of time. Those glimpses into our marriage far outweighed our words about love, trust and faithfulness. They SAW what it looked like for a man to serve his wife and for some of them, it was the first time they had ever met a man like that.
You’ve heard “actions speak louder than words”? A Godly marriage might be one of your loudest ministries to the world. It may just be the biggest way you can showcase the Gospel to a dark place where true love is absent and selfishness runs wild.
Four years of marriage isn’t long in the scheme of things. But it’s long enough to know that it is the most challenging and rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Beautiful and hard. And so, so worth it.
Your story matters
In the eleven years I’ve been in full time ministry…the first part working with teen and twenty-something gals and the other part in womens prisons….I’ve heard a comment several times from Christians I bump into. “I don’t really have a testimony”.
It’s the goal of the devil to make us believe this lie. Why? Because your story does matter. Big time matters. And if the devil can get you to believe it doesn’t matter? He doesn’t have to worry about you using it for God’s glory.
The truth? Your story is perhaps one of the biggest tools God has given you to connect with people. It’s one of a kind. Unique to you. And no one else can tell it like you can.
Not convinced? I just shot a video in my kitchen talking about this very thing. So grab some coffee (or tea if you prefer!) and let’s have a conversation by clicking and watching…
This video is raw and real. Filled with my own personal stories, a few laughs and a tear or two. The thing I know now is that the pages of my story that are most painful and awkward? They aren’t wasted. Sharing those parts of my story with others helps let the healing in.
I hope this encourages you to stop listening to that voice telling you that your story doesn’t matter and start listening to the One who calls you chosen. Loved. Capable. Courageous. You were made for this moment. For today.
So tell your story. It matters.
Carrying their burden…
They say you cant know someone else’s pain. But you can sure hurt for them in a big way.
You can see it in their eyes and ache to take away the hurt…only to have to sit there and listen without an ounce of ability to rescue. You can cry tears of sadness when you think of their stories. You can beat down the doors of people who might could help. People who can give. People who can go. People who have the power to make decisions that will right the wrong. But you can’t actually take the pain away. You can only carry it deep inside you like a wound that never heals.
It is a with you in the middle of the night when you wake and think of her appeal for parole being denied, three years in a row. All the while her babies are waiting for her, praying she can come home soon.
It is with you first thing in the morning when the rays of sunlight peek through the trees and you wish she could see the sunrise in freedom. You see her face, begging you to pray for her family to be reconciled when she hasn’t talked to them in ten years and they’ve disowned her since her imprisonment.
The ache is with you when you pour your morning coffee and think about the young woman you met who grew up on the streets of Boston and broke into cars during the night just to keep from freezing to death. You think about her smile and the warmth that now lives in her heart because of Jesus.
It is with you when you drive to the grocery store…the friend coming out of prison who can’t get a job because of her record. You know she would be faithful. She will work for peanuts…just to have a chance at an honest life. But her record speaks louder than her current character.
That feeling is with you again while you fold laundry and wash dishes…reminded of the gal who stood in that concrete room with tears streaming down her cheeks and proclaimed that she was a new creation before being baptized. That moment felt sacred.
It is with you again when you remember the woman in her 30s who told her story to you… the first person she ever told in 20 years…the abuse and trauma she endured as a teenager and torment of being silent about it all those years. And you remember the way she seemed lighter after speaking the words out loud…how she wept and then smiled through her tears with gratefulness. How beautiful freedom looked on her face.
This pain is with you again at every meal, your prayers turning towards speaking their names and asking for them to be helped while blessing your food.
This weight doesn’t leave your chest ever. It’s heavy on you. Always on your mind. Their names in your night prayers. Their faces scroll through your memory during the day. Their voices pleading for help. For mercy. For wisdom. For belonging and family. For a new beginning.
Some would say you can’t really walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. But you can carry their burdens in your heart. Your mind- always pregnant with the deep suffering they live…some by choice and others by someone’s else’s.
You give Hope through Jesus whenever you can. Truth through the Word. Encouragement and prayers. A letter when you can. And it always seems so little. Like putting a bandaid on the wound of a lifetime.
So you keep praying, keep sharing the agonizing stories and asking others to step in where they can. Raising awareness of prisoners needs. Encouraging others to take risk with someone they wouldn’t normally hire. Recruiting volunteers. All the while you’re heart burning for the ones you know behind bars.
The call you have isn’t empty words. It isn’t easy. You can’t pay someone to have passion and calling. And though you’re passionate about this calling- it’s more than just passion. Yours is a mission that has faces and names and real life stories that move you to tears. When you talk about them, you choke up because your heart is hurting. Part of you is locked up with them. And they know: you can’t forget them if you tried. They’re a part of you.
So no, you can’t feel their pain exactly, but you can carry it deep inside you like a wound that never heals. It’s not a vocation to you, it’s part of who you are. Woven into the fibers of your existence like blood vessels and bones and sinews. It’s what makes you excited to share Jesus and you can always find time to talk about them to others.
Maybe this is why you feel like an odd ball sometimes. No one wants to talk about prison and sad stories and the lack of freedom for hours on end. Except…you do. And the heaviness in your chest…this explosive love for these hurting people…it doesn’t leave you. Ever. So even in the happiest of occasions, you carry their pain. And it hurts. Your heart hurts for them.
This is what I’m thinking of tonight. My mind thinking of why I do this and how heavy this calling feels sometimes.
Maybe this is what Jesus meant when He said to “Carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2 HCSB) This is for sure: carrying burdens is gonna be heavy. Weighty. Hard. Tricky. Cumbersome. Awkward. It might even make me awkward for some people to hang out with. Cause I have seen another world. And it’s changed me. There is a wound inside me that hurts daily for the women I know behind bars. It’s not just something I know. It’s something I feel to my core.
Their pain has become mine.
Even Church Girls Need Jesus
The moment is burned into my memory. The conviction I felt in my little five-and-a-half-year-old heart as I listened to the revival service. I had been in church since in utero. I was there every time the doors were open. Why would I need to be saved? What could a five-year-old possibly need saved from? Here’s the truth…
Even church girls need JESUS.
Even church girls. The ones who grew up going to church all the time. They teethed on the Bible, went to every VBS program, won awards in AWANA and went on mission trips as teenagers. Those girls need Jesus. The Gospel isn’t about bad people being made good. The Gospel is about dead people coming to life by the power of the cross. And all of us are born dead in sin. Even church girls.
That revival service in 1994 was my moment of realizing that perfection is required for heaven and I wasn’t perfect. That’s why I needed Jesus. I walked the aisle with my dad, crying and feeling this weight in my chest. I was only five, but I can remember that crushing inside that I felt. Since then I have recognized that to be the Holy Spirit…so lovingly inviting me to a closer relationship with Him. I don’t know what I said, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s less about what I said and more about what Jesus DID. He forgave me. Washed me. Rescued me from myself.
February 26, 1994 was my reborn day. Thirty years ago. Still, it’s my favorite day.
As I got older, I had moments in time when I moved into the Gospel in other ways…realizing that it is for every day. Awakening to the truth that I need Jesus for every single day. When I get upset at how my world is spinning or people who treat me with disrespect, I need Jesus. When I am in the darkest days of depression, anxiety and fear, I need Jesus. When I am in the middle of excruciating pain and undergoing surgeries, I need Jesus. In my daily mama duties of making food for a toddler, washing laundry and nursing a 4-month-old, I need Jesus.
I need me some Jesus, friends. Every day.
No one is perfect, even if they pretend to be. We like to act like once we become Christians that all of life is right side up and we are good to go. There’s even some shaming that goes on between Christians who think you shouldn’t have problems after you have Jesus. I don’t know what planet those people are from, but they must not be reading the same Bible because in John 16:33 Jesus says, “I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world.”
“Consider it great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do it’s complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” James 1:2-4
It’s okay to not be okay. Somehow in our quest to be obvious followers of Jesus to everyone we have dismissed our need for Him. However, it’s okay to share your problems. It’s permissible to have questions and acknowledge that you need Jesus to answer them. It’s human to have needs that you ask God to meet. Don’t carry them all alone. Be honest.
The western world is full of fake Christians…but the unbelievers who surround us want us to be authentic with our faith. They want tangible evidence of Jesus being real. We need to admit that we are church girls who still need Jesus. Church girls with needs and questions and concerns…that we are daily taking to the cross. Church girls who admit our weakness and God’s strength. Church girls who aren’t prideful and religious but are so in love with this Jesus Who not only saves, but daily redeems our messes. A Jesus who steps into our mess and walks with us.
Why did Jesus come to earth? Two reasons. John 10:10, “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.” The Gospel is about salvation, yes. But it’s also about ABUNDANT LIFE. That’s the part we learn to live out each day. Our neediness for Christ speaks of His power alive in us.
We’ve heard this phrase all our lives: “I don’t mean to preach to the choir…” Let me tell you, sometimes the choir needs the most preaching to! I call it religious baggage…and people with it are the hardest people to reach with the Gospel, because they aren’t aware of their need. WE all need Jesus, even those in the choir loft! Y’all- we need to preach to church people. The second we think we are “safe” because we are in church, raised in the church and doing God’s work, we are dangerously UNsafe. I’ll be honest: I’ve met a lot of church girls in prison. Pastors’ daughters. Christian counselors. Youth group leaders. Homeschooled kids. Church secretaries. They thought they were safe doing all the religious things…but just a few wrong choices and they were suddenly sitting in a place that they never dreamed they’d be.
Sin is not a respecter of persons. Even church girls need Jesus. Every single day.
Before my current job in prison ministry, I worked mostly with the demographic of young women raised in the church. It later morphed into church women of all ages. I loved my job and really thought maybe that was my lifelong vocation. My biggest challenge? Pride. Because church girls think they are good. In comparison to “worldy” gals they felt pretty smug. And let me tell you…this attitude they came by honestly because the church ADULTS were saying the same thing. There were so many conversations I had with parents or pastors who said the words “we have everything our girls need, we don’t need any outside help.” Or “my daughter is doing so good. She’s so mature, I don’t think she needs this.”
For context, our ministry hosted weekend retreats for girls who wanted to go deeper in their walks with God. We talked about relevant topics like identity, beauty, personal relationship with Jesus, witnessing, friendship, etc. It was always discouraging because I knew as a twenty-something their girls weren’t safe. They were only two steps away from being in trouble. I know this because all of us are only two choices away from being in hot water. The first offense we may get off on but the second one will land us in jail.
Then in 2017, I volunteered for the first time to go into a prison and share about the Bible. Within two days I knew this was my calling. Like stepping into the light of what I was CREATED to do. One of the biggest epiphanies for me was the hunger for Jesus I witness behind bars. The desperateness for God. The obvious neediness.
“It’s helplessness, not holiness that is the first step to accessing God.” – Dr. Tim Keller
I came home from that two-week trip into Florida prisons forever changed when it came to ministry. I wanted to go to people that have that kind of hunger…not just of their sakes but for mine! Watching God redeem and step into the messes of other women day after day renews my hope in the Gospel. It strengthens my hunger for the Word of God. It challenges me to dig into Scripture for answers to my life answers.
In a way, prison ruined me…because I was instantly tired of going to those who thought they were good and instead craved going to those who know of their need. Just to be clear- not all church girls/women pretend they don’t need Jesus…I just found it not to be the normative, in conservative culture especially. Like the difference between ministering to the older brother versus the prodigal in the parable of the two sons found in Luke 15. The truth is, I NEED JESUS and sometimes I forget this. I want to be constantly reminded of my dependence on the Creator of the Universe for my very breath. I literally wouldn’t even want Jesus or be drawn to Him if it wasn’t for the Holy Spirit. My hunger for the Word is awakened by Him. I need him for every single part of my Christian walk.
Thirty years after saying YES to Jesus for the first time, I’m in awe of His faithfulness to me when I am prone to wander. Predisposed to forgetting my need. Inclined to doubt His goodness. This is why…
THIS church girl needs Jesus. Every. Single. Day.
Faithful Saints
Is it worth it? She didn’t actually ask me that question, but it was the underlying tone in her discouragement. I could hear it her in the words she used. This teacher who was up to her neck and feeling like it wasn’t panning out how she hoped.
For anyone working in ministry, teaching children, leading a Bible study or preaching at a small church…these sentiments have likely been on your radar at one time or another. There are plenty of unseen roles in life that often leave us wondering if we are making a difference. If our effort really matters.
Her words were honest. Raw. Real. And somewhere in my soul, they struck a chord. How many times I have felt those same emotions, because I care. People who feel these things generally feel them because they really love those they are ministering to. They just wish they could SEE the progress. See the fruit. See the difference.
A mother wondering if her teenagers really see the sacrifice she’s been making for their whole lives…including sleepless nights and wearing spit up for the first year of their lives. A preacher wishing his congregation would show some life change after years of teaching the Word. A teacher wondering if she will ever know how the little kids will turn out as adults while she’s currently helping them learn to read. For me, I’ve spoken in women’s prisons and talked to ladies one-on-one and wondered if I’ll ever see them again and hear if they’ve made lasting life changes for Jesus.
There are hard days. Days when everything we do feels like an uphill climb with no positive results on the horizon.
Does it matter?
Is this worth it?
The words took me back to a time I hadn’t thought about in years. My 5th-6th grade Sunday school teacher, Mary Smalley. She was old even then in the late 1990s. Beautiful white hair. She was a short lady with a gentle spirit and soft voice. What made her keep teaching girls for YEARS AND YEARS? I’m not sure the actual numbers of years she taught that age group of girls, but I know it was way up there…like DECADES and DECADES.
Let that just sink in. 5th-6th grade girls aren’t an easy demographic. I don’t care if they are church girls. They are hard work. They have identity issues and don’t listen well. They are more concerned about their looks and how they fit in than being a Biblical theologian. But deep in their souls, whether they know it or not yet, they desperately need the Jesus Who can save and redeem.
Does it really matter? Do those teachers really make a difference?
I can imagine Mrs. Smalley felt the same way. Years and years of teaching fifth and sixth grade girls who didn’t pay attention. Didn’t give her respect. Didn’t act like they cared. For all the lessons she taught- I can’t remember one. But I knew two things- she loved Jesus and she loved us. She had to. Why else would she keep doing it?
In a world where 10% of church members do 90% of the work, Sunday School teachers are a meager bunch. A small group doing eternal things. Faithful saints like Mary Smalley.
I think about her sometimes and wish I could tell her now the impact it made on shy 6th grade me…her faithfulness made a difference. And I’m reminded of it on days that I might want to quit ministry myself. There are days it’s tough. Living in an entitled world that doesn’t seem to see you. But Jesus does. And there might be one shy girl that notices. She doesn’t say it now. Yet deep inside, she is storing away the moments of love and being present that you are gifting her. She might be the one who goes and does this same thing for scores of others one day. Because you were faithful today.
When I was about 20 years old, I wrote Mary Smalley a letter telling her how grateful I was for her investment in my life. At the time, I wasn’t in full-time ministry like I am now…my fruit wasn’t in yet…but I was grateful for her time and effort. She later told me in all her decades of teaching Sunday School, no one had every come back and thanked her.
You may be someone like Mary Smalley. Someone who faithfully invests in others and have no one thanking you. Your heart wonders…does this really matter? Am I making a difference?
Let me be the voice whispering the truth to your heart in moments of discouragement: YES. Your faithfulness matters. Like daffodils coming up again and again in the spring, you are there. Present. Faithful. Trustworthy. The steady in someone else’s unstable life. Your investment matters.
And somewhere out there, though she is silent now, she is watching. Waiting. Soaking in the love and Word you are pouring in. One day she will minister to others that you’ll never touch but you are invested in because today you showed up. Today you are faithful. Today you love when it’s not easy.
Don’t stop, friend. Eternity will be different because of you.
Mountains and Base Trails
“I’m tired of doing life my way.”
Her words seemed to echo in the concrete room. I could see it in her eyes. She was done with her old life. She was weary of the string of bad decisions that landed her in jail. Tears streamed down her face as she held my hand and spoke those words. She was only a few years older than me…but with a long history of heartache and sadness. Some from her own choices, and some from the choices of others. Her words cut to my heart.
“I’m tired of doing life my way.”
If we’re honest, life isn’t always what we’d like it to be. It’s not supposed to be this way. Or at least that’s what we feel deep in our souls. Life should be easier. It shouldn’t feel like walking through molasses with knee boots. There shouldn’t be things like cancer and death and broken relationships and divorce. We feel that things like disability and child illnesses and premature birth shouldn’t be okay. The affects of a broken world cut deep into our souls.
We want our lives to be easier. Simpler. More understandable. The map of life at times seems shrouded by clouds of uncertainty and pain.
Our paths are all different. Sometimes we make the trails more difficult by trying to blaze our own way through things God never intended us to. Sometimes we wimp out and miss the view.
Several years ago I went to a state park with Tim, who is now my husband, but at the time just a friend. It was a cold time of year and because of the chance of rain, we decided against climbing the mountain and instead chose the base trail that wound around the bottom. The base trail was simpler, less climbing and huffing and puffing, as per usual. There was a calmness about taking the base trail that I hadn’t experienced before. It was steady and slow. There wasn’t any huge physical exertion and other than crossing a cold creek, I didn’t have any difficulties.
We could walk and talk without me having to stop to gain my breath. Since we were in the trees, we didn’t have the chill of the wind and I didn’t have to be as careful with my footing.
I realized that life is like that. Sometimes we take the base trail and wind around the bottom of the mountain. We can’t see the beauty much, but there’s stillness because the trees block the wind. Other times we fight to climb the mountain. The hike up to the top is colder and windier, but the beauty is worth it in the end.
We have base trails in life that we need to hike. We have mountain climbs that we are called to do as well. We need one to appreciate the other.
I see it repeatedly in the eyes of women I meet behind bars…the craving for more. For something that satisfies the longing in our bones more than the temporary thrill of sin. Something that is steady and unchanging in the face of a shifting world. We all want security amidst all the instability.
So we run and chase things that don’t measure up. Most often we run from the very thing we are seeking…truth.
“I’m ready to face my demons. I’m tired of running,” another woman told me at the same county jail. Tired of running. Tired of doing life our way.
We need the map and we need the Guide. The One Who can tell us which trail to take…sometimes at the base of the mountain to appreciate the stillness and other times the tough climb up the mountain side to appreciate the view. Both are important at the right times.
I don’t know about you, but I’m weary of creating my own path to where I think I should be going when I have a capable Guide Who knows where I need to be and when. He is trustworthy. He is kind. And He is certainly the best Companion to walk with along the way. When we are tired of our own way…He has the map, He has the experience and He has the wisdom to help us face our pasts and stop running away from, but TO Himself.
This year, I’m starting out with new goals and dreams…but ultimately, I know the path He chooses might turn out different than I expected. That’s okay. I’ve hiked enough with Him in life to know Jesus is the best Navigator. I’ll leave the road to Him and just follow His footsteps. 2024 is going to be a great year!
What Makes Me Healthy
My first tangle with depression was in April of 2017. It lasted for months. I had never encountered such darkness. Such sadness. The cloud hung over me 24 hours a day and I couldn’t seem to shake it.
Depression is not something that everyone deals with. However, if you have, you’ve likely faced it more than once. I tell people I meet that depression sometimes acts like pneumonia…once you’ve had it, it’s easier to get it again.
What I learned in those months of depression have helped me tremendously in life. I know this for sure: I don’t want to have to deal with that level of darkness ever again. (And I know there are people out there that deal with depression far more than I ever have…even tending towards suicidal thoughts. I’m not minimizing those serious feelings. Just speaking from my own experience.)
I’m not an expert of defeating depression. But I know it’s voice. And I’m actively trying to silence it.
I’ve learned my “triggers” and how to recognize when I’m in an unhealthy place. When I’m in my “healthy space” my chances of depression are almost nonexistent. So I try to stay in the healthy spot- emotionally, physically and spiritually. So this begs the question: what makes me healthy?
In one of my unhealthy time periods when I felt depression hanging out at the door, I asked myself this question on a yellow sticky note. I kept adding to it as I noticed things in life that made me stable, grounded, full and happy. I posted the sticky note at my work desk where I could see it every day.
In the years that followed, I’ve typed snd printed it out and have it stuck there at my work desk. Often, women visiting my office have asked about it. It’s opened a lot of conversations about depression and staying emotionally, physically and spiritually healthy. Because of the talks I’ve had with people I wanted to share my list (exactly how it’s posted at my desk!) and how it’s helped me over the years recognize and spot depression before it gets a foothold.
What makes me healthy?
Bible time. And studying.
Prayer. Through the day.
Writing. Journaling, blogging, etc.
Exercise. Best in the morning.
Worship. Both thanks and in song.
Mentorship. Those pouring into me.
Friendship. Those who sharpen me.
Serving. Output! Me mentoring others.
Little people time. Kids help me tremendously.
Rest, water and decent diet.
Your list may look different. It may not have kids on it and have painting instead. It may have swimming as a huge part of your well-being. That’s not something you’d ever find on my list, but hey, we are all individually unique!
I posted this at my desk because when I feel depression trying to creep in, I can look at these things and figure out where I’m “off”. 99 times out of 100, one of these areas aren’t being kept up on. When I reposition myself for health, the darkness leaves.
Obviously, this is not a prescription against 100% of depression. There are a thousand other factors that can contribute to feelings of depression including childhood trauma, hormone imbalances, and other things. Sometimes you need professional help, and there’s nothing wrong with that! I’m grateful for people who do that kind of thing and the wisdom from God’s Word they have to deal with sensitive and deep issues or doctors who can tackle tricky things like hormones. I just know from where I sit, I can guard against most of my personal attacks by staying in a place of health in spirit, soul and body.
I believe we are each a spirit in a body with a soul. We are made in the image of God as spirit beings. Our souls are made up of our mind, will and emotions. When all of these things are well balanced and healthy, we are better equipped to handle the attacks of the enemy or sickness. For example, if you have a healthy body, when sickness comes your way, you will be more likely to fight it off without much ado. If you’re unhealthy, it may lead to infection, prolonged healing or further serious injury.
The same is true of our spirits and souls. If our spiritual person isn’t staying healthy and taking our “spiritual vitamins” and doing “spiritual exercise” to make our inner man strong, we are more susceptible to the enemy’s attack. Our souls can be made healthy too- what we feed our souls (mind, will and emotions) can help or cripple our souls. What are you watching? What people are you hanging around? What are you reading? What activities are you involved in?
“Guard your heart above all else, for it is the source of life.” Proverbs 4:23 HCSB Interestingly enough, the word for ‘your heart’ in Hebrew is translated to mean, “the heart, the feelings, the will, the intellect, center.” So the mind, will and emotions- the soul! We are to guard our souls because out of them, the center of our beings, flow life.
One thing that has really helped me to stay in a healthy place is gratitude. I look for the beauty in every day and breathe thanks for each thing. I have times of writing those moments down in my “gratitude journal”. Sometimes I voice them out loud in praise. Just the LOOKING for God in the ordinary things of life has helped me have a more positive attitude. Like this photo…taken early one morning when I got up to feed my baby. The sunrise was streaming through the dirty window. I snapped a picture. Ordinary grace is beautiful, isn’t it?
I’ve had times of sadness and heartache since my bout with depression in 2017. But by God’s Grace, it’s never hit anywhere near as severely since then. I’ve had days of sadness or times of significant loss and pain…but nothing compared to that depth of darkness several years ago. I’m learning to constantly lean on the Lord and the wisdom of others to counteract the wiles of the enemy. Keeping healthy is key…in spirit, body and soul.
Lost and Found
The shrill scream caught my attention immediately. It was the kind that would turn any mother’s head…and even though I wasn’t a mom yet, I had lived enough life around little people I knew that particular kind of scream meant terror. Someone was freaking out and it sounded to be a child around five or six years old. I looked for the little one making the noise and saw her over the heads of a few people in the crowd. My guess was right…she was around five years old and was terrified.
My husband and I were about a week into our honeymoon. It was the very end of November and the air was quite chilly, even for the south. We were spending a few days in Branson, Missouri at Silver Dollar City and watched a viewing of “Noah” at the Sight and Sound theater. This particular evening, we were at Silver Dollar City walking around and admiring the Christmas light show. I remember it was freezing, but the lights, Christmas music, hot cocoa and being with my favorite person made it worth it. We were at the base of a hill in a more crowded area when we heard the infamous scream.
Even though this was pre-motherhood days for me, I was already a kid person. And the sheer panic in this little girl’s scream made my heart go out to her. She was lost. I could tell. I instantly recalled the time I got separated from my dad in a department store around that age. Moments like that aren’t easily forgotten. The dread. The feeling of my heart pounding out of my chest. The way my little legs started walking faster and faster while my eyes searched for a familiar face. I could feel all of those emotions as I heard this little girl’s cries and screams. She called out for her dad.
We continued walking toward the girl as a few folks gathered around her trying to calm her down, ask questions, and search for her parents. She tried to answer between sobs. A man with a walkie-talkie started radioing about her. Apparently, he worked there. Some kids clambered up to the top of a rock wall next to the pavement as a look out for any potential parents on the horizon. People started pulling together, trying to help this little girl.
It seemed like an eternity. The little girl, sobbing and screaming at different intervals. My husband and I watched all this unfold in a matter of five minutes… even though it felt as if it was forever. My chest tightened with pity. Poor thing. This little girl was so scared. Somehow she had lost track of her parents.
I remember how it happened to me years ago. I was with my dad looking at clothes in the store. It was the part of the store where there were racks of shirts hanging that you can walk around. The racks were taller than me, so I couldn’t see over them. I had gotten bored of whatever Dad was looking for, so I started looking around me. I wandered further and further away, unknowingly. Then I randomly decided I needed to tell my Dad something. Or maybe I needed something from him. Either way, that’s how I discovered he was gone. I was lost.
It’s interesting to think about how often this same scenario has played out in my life with God. I get sidetracked and lose my sight of Him. He doesn’t move away from me, I move away from Him. I drop His hand and wander off, sure that I can turn around at any time when I need Him. Truth is, He can always hear me. But by the time I realize my need for Him, He usually isn’t within my eye sight and I panic.
The scary part about being lost is the fear of never being found. Pastor and author David Platt wrote, “There’s really only one thing worse than being lost. What’s worse is being lost when no one is trying to find you.”
Thankfully, a good father never gives up a search for his child.
Before I noticed I lost my dad in that department store as a five-year-old, my dad already knew I had wandered off and was looking for me. Although it seemed like a never-ending, terrifying eternity, in reality it was probably all of five minutes. Being lost for five minutes can feel like a world of fear and trepidation. It can feel endless. Your life can flash before your eyes. And you wonder if your dad will ever find you.
We all want to be found. This young girl in Branson was no different
After what seemed like forever, we heard a man’s voice yelling out a girl’s name. He was running down the hill and calling out for his daughter. We all snapped to attention. Almost immediately, the little girl jumped up, recognizing the voice and ran into the man’s arms. There wasn’t a question in anyone’s mind: this was her daddy. She was found. The father had found his lost little girl.
The relief in the air was palpable. People clapped. The kids on the rock wall cheered. The guy with the radio was wiping away tears. I was choking up too! It felt like a Christmas miracle you’d see in the movies. The emotions and excitement we all felt for this little girl we had only met moments before was beautiful. Everyone was smiling, laughing, cheering, congratulating the reunited family. We felt a part of her story.
Just then my husband said out loud, “That must be what it’s like in heaven when a lost soul comes to Jesus.”
MIC DROP.
And just like that, I’m in tears because the parallel is flawless. It WAS a perfect picture of Jesus and each of us being redeemed.
“I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous people who don’t need repentance.” Luke 15:7 HCSB
In Luke 15 we have three parables that mirror what heaven is like when someone is “found” by Jesus. The lost sheep. The lost coin. The lost son. These stories have always stirred my heart in a special way, but they have never struck me as profoundly as they have in the last five years working in prison. These verses come to LIFE in front of me every day I’m behind razor wire and concrete walls.
“I tell you, in the same way, there is joy in the presence of God’s angels over one sinner who repents.” Luke 15:10 HCSB
When someone is found, those who participate in the story get to be part of the rejoicing. That’s what I get to do every day in prison. Watch Jesus “find” His lost child, one at a time. I get a front row seat. I’m like the kids standing up on the rock wall cheering for the little girl. I’m like the guy with the walkie-talkie, wiping away tears. I’m filled with joy like the angels in heaven watching the Father run with open arms to welcome a daughter who has been lost for what seems to be forever.
The hero of the story isn’t the kids on the wall, the man with the radio, or even the little girl screaming for her daddy. The Hero of the story is always the Daddy. The Abba Father. The One Who never stops searching for His wandering child. The Father Who is always waiting with open arms to comfort His little girl when she’s been stuck for far too long. He is the Hero for forgiving. For healing. For saving.
So today…If you’re wondering if He’s looking for you, friend. He is. He has never stopped. Turn and call His name. He is coming down the hill right now to meet you.
And if you’re wanting to see Daddy and child reunions, stand on the wall and get ready to party. Don’t let the angels out shout you. Lost and found kids are something to cheer about.
Part 5- YOUR PEOPLE
Over the last several weeks, we have been discussing the importance of having three certain relationships in our lives: Paul-coaches, Barnabas-friends and Timothy-mentees. This is the final part in our five-part series.
In order to find all of these relationships in your life, you need to also BE all those relationships to someone else. You need to be a Paul to someone. You need to be a Barnabas to someone. You need to be a Timothy to someone.
There may be times in your life when you don’t have all three working strongly in your world. But to be well-balanced, and fully living out your spiritual, emotional and mental potential, I believe you need all three.
If you have most of them but not a Timothy, you’ll be spiritually obese…a taker and not a giver. A stagnant pond. I’ve been there before and it’s miserable. We are designed to be givers. Find a Timothy.
Or maybe you have all three but not Barnabas friends. That will lead you to be legalistic and inhuman- looking for friends who are carbon copies of yourself and shying away from people who aren’t like you. People without Barnabas friends are often self-obsorbed, self-focused and prideful. I’ve been there before. You need friends who are DIFFERENT than you and can file down your rough edges. Find a Barnabas. Or a FEW!
Or maybe you have Timothys and Barnabas friends, but no Pauls. You’ll become cancerous. Giving but not receiving. Before long you will think you don’t need a mentor and you won’t except advice from anyone but the person in the mirror or people online who don’t know you. That’s how to run your tank dry… it’s miserable and will stunt your growth. You NEED to be filled. Fed. Taught. Coached. Trained. Corrected. Disciplined and discipled. Find a Paul.
Simple put: YOU. NEED. YOUR. PEOPLE.
This isn’t an optional way of living if you want fullness and fruitfulness in Christ. We just aren’t wired to be loners and self-sufficient. We need each other.
Evaluate your friends and the people closest to you… What category would they fall into? Which kind of relationship are you most lacking in? Where can you grow and learn more? For example…maybe you have a Paul in your life…but there is one area you just WILL NOT take advice in. From anyone for that matter. Are there areas you could become more teachable in for your growth and the benefit of those around you? Maybe you are resistant to the idea of a Timothy because you don’t want to spend the time and effort. Maybe you often say the words “I don’t have any friends”…that’s a good sign you might be too picky on who you’re befriending. The main things are good to see the same on- like Jesus. But beyond that you can be friends with people who aren’t like you. You will GROW that way.
Friends are important. Vital to our growth and spiritual walk. Accountability and feedback are the ways we process and learn. So, don’t be afraid to step out. Invite someone to coffee. Introduce yourself to the new person at church. Be a good friend and look for your Paul-coaches, Barnabas-friends and Timothy-mentees.
YOU NEED YOUR PEOPLE.
Living Brave and Courageous 