Living Brave and Courageous
A life on adventure with Jesus
The Adventure Begins
It’s always fascinating to write about my year’s theme in January and then read what I write about it the following December. God has a way of growing us and changing the way we look at things. Different perspectives. Various vantage points. (That’s my way of giving you a disclaimer. You are pre-warned…what I think about COME TO HIS TABLE might be drastically different by December 2018.) That being said…
Come to His Table is my new theme. I’ve only tipped the iceberg…but already I’m thrilled at what these four little words mean to me. I used to think being at the Table was a sitting position. Then I began noticing the people I deeply respect and how the Table was not just a place to veg-out, but a place where they were “on duty”. That sort of wrecked my world, y’all.
I’ve come to believe that the four above words mean two major things:
- I must COME HUNGRY myself.
- I must CREATE HUNGER in others.
It’s not just waiting for people to join you there…it’s living your life-like an ongoing invitation to the Table where you eat every day.
God regularly gives me opportunities to take Him to places that need healing. Not because I am anything special or out-of-the-ordinary…but because all Christians are called to carry the Hope of Jesus around inside them and offer it to the hurting world.
I need His Hope. And I’ve tasted of it at His Table. I can now invite others to partake of His goodness. What a privilege!
It’s exciting to be a part of His Table. This is a place of all people, all backgrounds and all types of needs. It’s loud. There is laughter and tears. Best of all, there is JESUS. What could be better?
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Tomorrow I leave for another mission trip to the women’s’ prisons with my friend, MaryEllen. This time, we have a different perspective. We are sitting on the edge of our seat. What is God going to do? We can’t wait to see Him show up.
My prayer this time? My prayer is for the opportunity to invite women to His Table. To show them where to find Hope. To live my life as an invitation to Jesus.
Pray for us and with us? He wants His House filled, friends. And maybe…maybe these next 16 days will prove to fill some seats around His Table. Wouldn’t that be awesome?!
So, the adventure begins.
Best. Story. Ever.
If I could paint (which I clearly cannot), the picture I’d make would be like a fairy tale, only better. Full color. Absolutely enchanting. We’ve gotta talk about this guy.
Let me set the stage. I was hanging out in the book of Ruth for my Friday “date” with Jesus at the coffee shop. I’ve been over and over that story (what Christian girl hasn’t, right?) but I was asking for fresh perspective. Show me something new, Lord! What do you want me to see here?
I always focus on Ruth. Always. What’s not to like, right? I started by looking at Ruth and her qualities. Initiative. Loyalty. Kindness. She’s quite the gal. But this one thing stands above all else.
Faithfulness.
Ruth is full of love and covenant-faithfulness to her mother-in-law. She’s amazing! However, though she might be the leading lady, she’s not the star attraction or the best actor. Yesterday, my focus shifted.
His name is Boaz.
Boaz. You gotta take a load of this guy. He is a prominent figure in society. He is wealthy. He is well-known and has an honorable reputation. Kind-hearted. Gentle. And he’s also daring. Really, who else risks everything to marry a foreigner? Was he just in it to rescue her or did he actually love her?
This story slays me. Every. Single. Time. Right now…it’s my fav. It was one of the first real fairy tales. Talk about a damsel in distress…dragons and grain fields and peasants and everything. Who rescues like that?
Jesus. That’s Who. And of course, we see Boaz as the picture of Jesus…
I know this in my head. Yet, somehow, in that coffee shop that morning, it connected with my HEART.
Jesus is my Boaz.
When the world is pushing me to “get out there” to find a man…when my friends are all getting married…when my biological clock seems to tics louder and louder… Jesus is my Boaz. He sees me…poor and foreign as I am. I can echo Ruth’s words to Boaz—“Why are you so kind to notice me, although I am a foreigner?” (Ruth 2:10)
I find it interesting that Boaz already knew who she was and what her character was like. She was living her life well. Perhaps this is what it means to live my life as an invitation to His Table. Does my reputation proceed me? And if it does, is it God honoring or self-promoting?
Ruth– she was well-known by everyone as Boaz later points out in Ruth 3:11: “Now don’t be afraid, my daughter. I will do for you whatever you say, since all the people in my town know that you are a woman of noble character.”
I suddenly want to be like Ruth. She’s unbelievable.
Here’s the thing though…do you think Ruth always had that reputation? Hardly. I can imagine she was the subject of harsh words and town gossip for far too long in the beginning. A foreigner. At some point, a multiple-god-worshipper. She was a Moabite woman to beat all. (Moabites were forbidden to marry Israelites…it’s a very long story going way back to Genesis 19).
What we see in her is loyalty. Faithfulness. At some point, the neighbors noticed her unwavering love for Naomi, the bitter widow who had come home. Ruth took care of her. Loved her. Was patient with her moods.
Then, somewhere along the way, her reputation changed from “the foreigner” to “the woman of noble character.”
Faithfulness.
Isn’t faithful living simply doing the right thing over and over and over again? No matter who sees you. No matter the lack of attention. No matter if you’re unrecognized. No matter how mundane the task.
And maybe that’s how we build a Godly reputation.
In all things– especially at home and in the small things– we stay faithful. Loyal. Determined. Joy in the mundane.
Suddenly…with my vanilla latte in hand, I stare at the page. I hear His still, small voice: “When you think no one sees you, Faith, I notice you.”
He sees. Our Great Redeemer looks across His field and sees us– laboring in the small moments. Cheerfully. Kindly. Loyally. What if that’s it? What if faithful labor in the small things is what turns the head of our Redeemer? He sees us regardless…we know this.
I sat there enraptured by this thought…that perhaps in those moments of messy floors and stacks of papers and piles of laundry…He sees me differently. With new eyes. He is drawn to me in my mess. Plodding one foot in front of the other, thinking I’m doing nothing important.
Ruth was doing a very normal thing…she was gathering grain. By hand. Of all the times for Boaz to NOTICE her. But there he is. He watches her. Talks to her. And offers his protection and provision. He even speaks a blessing over her.
I wonder about this. How can he love her…just a servant girl, gathering grain day after day? Jesus did that for me. Just a regular, messy girl needing to be redeemed. Craving to be seen.
What if doing normal things catches my Redeemer’s attention in a special way? In all of the mad mundane, He comes to me and stoops to tell me—“I see you. I am here. I will protect you. I will provide for you.” And then He calls me noble. I don’t think anyone else has ever called me noble.
The book of Song of Solomon is about a wealthy King who falls in love with an ordinary girl. That’s like Boaz and Ruth. It’s like Jesus and me. He is captured with one glance of my eyes. (Song of Solomon 4:9) That’s pretty amazing.
Maybe sometimes the Provider is waiting to see our faithfulness in the little things. He’s watching and we don’t even know it.
He sees us. He sees me.
You there, mama with little ones running around your feet. Your Redeemer sees you! Amid piles of laundry. The dishes. The dirty faces and snotty noses. When you can’t even get ten seconds of quiet reprieve. He sees you being faithful.
And He smiles.
Single gal, wondering where on earth your man is and if he’s lost somewhere riding a tortoise. Your Redeemer sees you…living faithful in all the things that feel mundane and less-than and weird.
Teen girl…wondering if school is really all they say it’s cracked up to be…wishing you fit in more…confused by the world, your friends and what you should do with your life…Your Redeemer sees you.
Maybe you’re a caretaker… and you wish someone would be there to notice your patient willingness to answer the same question a thousand times…or hold a withered hand in yours…or change diapers…or spoon feed soup…Your Redeemer sees you. He’s captured by your faithfulness in the mundane.
A poor woman of noble character. A prominent man of wealth.
If I could paint, I’d want to create a picture that depicts this scene: A mighty Man on horseback. Clothed in wealth. Confident. Authoritative. Looking down on His fields—His eyes drawn to a poor peasant girl. Her head is bowed in humility. Steady. Unassuming. Faithful. He sees her and smiles.
“One day, I’m gonna make her my bride.”
Best. Story. Ever.
The True Gospel
My personal study lately has found me in the book of Galatians and I have found myself basking in the beauty of the Gospel. This study has also brought up something else for me: the “other” gospel. Paul refers to it multiple times throughout Galatians and it has stirred in me a passion for presenting the TRUE GOSPEL correctly.
Let me back up.
Without beginning to beat a dead horse, I have to acknowledge that my mind has been consistently looking for any and all references of His Table…due to my 2018 theme. My biggest question to the Lord has been, “How do I live my life as an actual INVITATION to Your Table?” I want to see what this looks like in action.
Here’s the thing. The Gospel is inextricably tied to living my life as an invitation to Jesus. If we know what the Gospel really is, we can suddenly live our lives in a way that will point people to Jesus and His Table.
The Church is full of Christians who think the Gospel gets us saved and that’s where it stops. End of story. Once we’re in, we don’t need the Gospel anymore, right?
Wrong.
The Gospel never ceases to be our lifeline. Our Anchor. The tether of our hearts. We never stop needing it…instead we move further into it. We always need the Gospel. Every. Step. Of. The. Way.
Sadly, we have believed “another gospel” as Paul warns in Galatians.
I am amazed that you are so quickly turning away from Him who called you by the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—not that there is another gospel, but there are some who are troubling you and want to change the good news about the Messiah. (Galatians 1:6-7, HCSB)
We have added to the Gospel. We have adulterated it by our humanistic minds and selfish desires. Popularity, fame and Facebook likes have driven us to become something other than what God originally intended. On the other end of the spectrum, we have a whole groups of Christians who care for only ourselves and the people in our church walls. We might give a few dollars here and there, but getting out into the mess of everything? You can count us out.
The result? Our world is repulsed by our gospel. It’s been tampered with. It’s anything but authentic and real. Let’s face it…who wants to hug a porcupine? We are all pins and needles. This humanistic gospel seems more like anything but our Anchor. We are known more for what we stand against than what we stand for in Jesus’ Name. The gospel we are living is not an invitation…it’s a fake version of religion added to a worldly life. That kind of gospel isn’t good news to me, folks.
I’ve been guilty of living like this, so I’m preaching this to myself in the mirror, y’all.
We read it in the paper and hear it on the radio and see it on television: Christians are mocked and ridiculed. I’ll be the first to admit that media is most certainly against the moral and upright…but the truth is we are fake. We have traded an amazing Gospel of freedom, redemption and grace for a cheap version of religion that our world hates. There’s enough religion in the world. It’s time for some Jesus-followers.
I recently sat with a friend who had just come back from overseas. She visited a country that is closed to Christianity. You might be killed if they know you followed Jesus. Funny thing is, Jesus followers are THRIVING there. My friend commented about a local church there that has an extraordinary outreach to the hurting communities and people of the area. In my friend’s words: “Faith, this church is killing it.”
She also mentioned that the government has taken notice of this particular church because of their incredible ministry to the area…and get this…they are PROTECTING this church group. In a closed country. Why? The government can’t deny that this church is benefiting and loving and reaching out in a way that they can’t. If they crushed this church, the area would sink.
That’s Jesus in action…using hands and feet that look remarkably human. The result is that the hurting world stands and witnesses the glory of Jesus in action.
I sat there with tears in my eyes. What would it be like if all churches were like that? What if we were all “killing it” when it came to loving people and reaching out and totally crushing the head of the serpent? What if people knew that we loved Jesus so much that it motivated us to ACTIVELY get involved?
What if we were known for our LOVE, because of Jesus? Not love apart from Jesus as a philanthropic endeavor, but JESUS is the center of our existence so we are motivated to live differently? I’m thinking the result would be some a changed world for the Jesus we serve. Wouldn’t that be amazing?
The fake, humanistic gospel makes Pharisees. Prideful people who don’t want to mingle with the “untouchables”. It moves us to the position of control…that we need to try harder, do more stuff, be nicer, go on more mission trips, or be a better person to earn good standing with Christ.
The True Gospel makes disciples of the cross…willing to risk for the sake of Jesus. Instead of a check-list, we see Him as our amazing Savior. We are so wrapped up in His love and incredible gift that we want to please His heart. We are willing to get in the mess with the broken world and showcase His amazing grace….because it has changed us, personally and deeply.
The fake gospel repels people from the truth, because it’s been added to, taken from and manipulated.
The True Gospel invites all people to come to His Table and be healed. Pure and simple.
The fake gospel tells people to clean up and then come to God.
The True Gospel calls people to come to Him right now and HE will clean them up.
The fake gospel has been a poor substitute for the Truth. The True Gospel is FREE. We can’t earn it. We certainly can’t move past it. The Gospel is something we move into and set up our tents. We stake our lives on it’s promise and invite others, regardless of their differences, to join us.
The True Gospel is meant to be shared, friends. Not hoarded, stashed, or protected. It’s certainly not just for the people within your church walls and it’s not gonna fly away. There’s plenty to go around.
What if we stopped acting scared about being contaminated by the brokenness of the world and started fearing more for the souls in need of Jesus? What if we cared more about where our neighbors will spend eternity than if their bad habits might rub off on us?
I’m not saying be stupid and hang out in perverse places…I am saying trust that God is holding you. He’s not sending you to the wolves on your own! He is with you! Go and live your life full and free to love a hurting world. Don’t clam up and pretend you’re too good to have a conversation with people who aren’t like you. Talk to people as you go about the life God has called you to live.
SEE PEOPLE. Don’t just look at them. SEE THEM. They have messy lives and broken hearts and busted up relationships just like you do. Live your life with eyes wide open to the people around you.
Then…simply invite them to His Table. Give them the real Gospel.
The Truth about Jesus is beautiful. Let’s live like it is.
How Hungry are You?
The air seemed different behind prison walls. More sterile in a way. I stood there waiting behind the first gate, waiting for that distinct buzzing sound so I could move through the next one. Everything looked different from the “free” world. Lots of uniformed guards. Rows upon rows of wire and barbed fencing. Concrete as far as your eye could see.
I was jerked back to my senses as the infamous buzzer sounded and we moved through our next gate. Within a few minutes we were in the VP room setting up equipment for the day and getting ready for the inmates to come filing in.
It was only our second day “behind bars”. Ever. My friend and ministry team-mate, MaryEllen and I had taken the plunge into prison ministry. We had no idea what we were in for. What does that even look like? And just what were we to expect?
We had heard stories. Good and bad. Going through prison security, putting on a PBA (Personal Body Alarm) each morning and standing in front of a room full of incarcerated women was a completely different level. This was real.
Barely catching the swing of things by the second day, we stood waiting for the women to come in for class. We had prayed like crazy for these ladies. We had even wondered what on earth we could offer them…two gals from rural America who said YES to a daring call. What did that even mean?
Little did I know that day two behind barbed wire fencing would be life-changing. And it all started around a table.
We had been invited (and cleared by prison officials) to join the inmates for lunch. It seemed like a good idea. Mostly because we were hungry. We had no idea what lunchtime would be like in prison, and we certainly couldn’t have predicted what happened.
I’ll spare you all the details…but suffice it to say, we experienced a meal unlike anything we had ever eaten or been a part of before. In the history of our entire lives.
Much of it is normal life for the inmates but we weren’t used to the fast-paced and loud way mealtime is for these women. After being herded along through the line, we were given a tray of food and told to find a seat at one of the tables in the concrete room.
I remember feeling a little like a deer in the headlights. This was all new to me. One by one, the inmates helped me navigate the lunch line and “chow hall”. Where were the drinks? Another inmate motioned me over to some coolers with water in them and a stack of cups. I thanked her and breathed relief. Grabbing my water I found a seat at one of the tables. Each table seated four, so three inmates circled the table with me as I stared at my tray.
I knew they were watching me. I could make out what most of it was…but one pile of something looked unfamiliar. “So, what is this?” I asked one of the gals sitting next to me. She smirked and responded, “It’s supposed to be pudding.” Oh.
The room was loud. Very loud. There was a constant bustle of people, noises and guards yelling orders. Not exactly what my supper table at home sounded like. I tried to tune it all out and eat…chicken on the bone, and a bunch of other things on the sectioned tray in front of me.
Meanwhile, the women at my table fired questions a mile a minute. They seemed suddenly so open and they wanted to know about my life and tell me about theirs. I listened, tried to answer questions and still manage to eat my chicken. Finally, one gal leaned over and said, “You’re gonna have to eat that chicken with your hands if you want to get it down before they move us out of here.” She was right. I put down my spork and went to town with my fingers. When in Rome, do as the Romans, right?
Seven minutes goes by fast. In no time, we were in a line to dispose of our lunch trays and go back to our afternoon classes. I was overwhelmed by how fast lunch went. I’d never ate chicken on the bone that quickly…and may not ever try to again. An inmate stepped in front of me and held out her hands. “May I take care of that tray for you?” She looked about my mom’s age. I smiled and nodded. Truth is, I was clueless as to how they did that part too. She probably saw that in my eyes…mothering instinct and all. She kindly took my tray.
I thought about how crazy the scene was before me. I had come here to offer Jesus to these women…and they were offering Him to me as well. They needed what I was offering them…and I needed them too. Maybe that’s what the Table of the Lord does for us. It makes us aware of who is sitting next to us. We need each other. I needed to be taken care of by these inmates who knew the prison ropes far better than I did.
We need each other. God made it that way. On purpose. Hungering for Jesus draws us together…often, around at table.
Later that day, I would sit in my dorm room with MaryEllen and talk about our amazing lunch experience. What blew us away was their heart responses to our eating with them. They were so grateful that we ate with them. OVERWHELMING gratitude. Profuse thankfulness.
Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that we humans bond around tables. Kitchen tables. Banquet tables. Even prison lunch tables. Where there are people and food…there will be heart ties. God made it that way. Church potlucks. Back yard barbeques. Little girl tea parties. Coffee shop tables. The Table is a place of covenant. Partaking of food together bonds us.
This is why at least once during each of our Rural Queens Bible study semesters, we share a meal together. We make a menu, divide up who-is-bringing-what and gather in the kitchen to cook and prepare a meal as a team. There’s something about ten or twelve girls gathering in a kitchen to cook, laugh and eat a meal. What happens around the table is supernatural. God comes and meets with us. He ties our heart-strings together with Himself.
In a world of fast-paced craziness and busy schedules, tables are often empty. Sitting around a table is a thing of the past. We eat in shifts, on the couch, or on the run. We can’t sit so we drive thru and grab fast food. Table meals are relegated to holidays…mostly the ones when a big football game isn’t on TV. Our tables sit alone in the dining room, looking pretty but collecting dust.
Don’t you want more? I’m hungry for more than just an occasional snack at His Table. I crave real relationships. The kinds that are forged around the table…both in good times and bad. The kind of table conversations that leave me hungering for Jesus. The kind of meals around the table that lead me ultimately to His Table. I’m honestly tired of settling for nibbles of the world when I can have an amazing feast at His Table.
Come to His Table.
Jesus invites us to dine with Him. His open arms are for us…but we also have seats at His Table. It reminds me of Luke 14 where Jesus says to prepare a meal and invite the broken of the world to your table. The poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind…offer them Jesus. Take Him to the hungry souls of the world and feed His goodness to them. Jesus says that when we feed those who can’t repay us, we “will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” That’s eternal rewards for earthly actions.
I’m hungry…and with me a whole world of dying, wounded, and broken people. What if the answer to the world’s hunger was at the table? Your kitchen table? His Table.
My Battle Cry for 2018
“Remember the Alamo!” It was the statement that was shouted in the middle of the iconic battle in San Antonio, Texas. Those words gave a reason to fight. A focus-point when all around them was crumbling. Battle cries are important. They become fuel for the fight.
Every January (since 2014) God gives me a theme to live by. A mantra for the year. A focus-point for the next twelve months. Some of them I’ve loved…and most have stretched me beyond myself.
In 2014: Do Hard Things
In 2015: Reflect the Son
In 2016: God Writes my Story
In 2017: Be Brave
Each year has perfectly mirrored what might go through your head when you read the above statements. I did hard some things in 2014. I learned that it wasn’t all about me in 2015…that I was only to be mirroring Jesus. In 2016 I had to learn to surrender my life story to Him and that He would write it better (not easier, but BETTER) than me.
This past year was a game-changer for me. I literally emerged from the other side of 2017 a completely different gal than the one who started it. It was truly, my year to BE BRAVE. For the record, it seemed like everything I did in 2017 was out of my comfort zone. My friend once commented that last year was like being inside a violent clothes dryer. You get out feeling sore, disoriented and a little out of sorts. Sometimes God calls us to seasons of “being in a dryer” for His glory and our good.
Which brings me to the year 2018. Anybody else wincing? Signal the drumroll, please…because my new battle cry is about to debut!
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I have felt the finger of God on my heart for the year 2018. His heart for broken and needy people has suddenly come to life for me. It’s His will that none would perish. That all would gather at His table. I’ve seen hungry women. I’ve been desperate for His living water myself. Time and again. So it only made sense when I felt Him drop this year’s theme for me…
COME TO HIS TABLE.
Both the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” Anyone who hears should say, “Come!” And the one who is thirsty should come. Whoever desires should take the living water as a gift. (Revelation 22:17 HCSB)
Come to His table. This means a variety of things for me. The table is a place of bonding and discussion. It’s a place to be filled…both your stomach and your heart. Mentoring happens at the table. Homework questions are answered. Family conversation is plentiful. Even more so at the Table of the Lord.
Come to His Table.
First, coming myself to receive nourishment from Him. I cannot persuade others to come to His table if I haven’t been there myself. I’ve seen women (and men) who are so FILLED with Jesus that you feel like talking with them is touching the hem of His garment. You know what I mean? You KNOW that she/he has been at His Table. They have been fed by His Word. They have received freely of Him and His truth. Somehow, every conversation points you to His Table…because their life is inviting you to go there.
Next, I need to be running to the dark and dying world and bringing others to His table. If I’m being fed at His table, I will naturally want to share His saving nourishment with others. I want to be a woman who invites others to His Table.
Saving a seat for my neighbor. For the gal in the grocery check-out line. For the girls I lead home Bible study with. For the little people at church I have in the nursery. For the women I minister to in prison.
Come to His Table.
His Table means healing. His Table means wholeness. His Table means restoration and redemption. Thirst quenched. Hunger filled. Worry erased. Fear melted and replaced with FAITH. Perspectives are radically changed. At the table, weariness is replaced with strength…HIS strength. I don’t know about you, but His Table is where I want to be.
My battle cry for the year 2018? COME TO HIS TABLE!
You’re invited, friend. Come to His Table.
What’s in a Year?
Sitting at the end of 2017 and looking towards the beginning of 2018 gives a unique perspective. One year closing up and another one…foggy in the near distance.
What’s in a year? Is it made up of merely hours, days, weeks and months…or is there more? Perhaps it’s made of experiences. Things that happen to shape who you are and challenges you to grow in your faith.
I have this thing I do when one year is wrapping up and another is staring me in the face…I rewind it and try to break it down. Then I ask some questions. This last year will be my hardest one yet to analyze, but today I sat down in one of my favorite coffee shops with my Bible and journal. I attempted to distill 2017 to a few paragraphs.
What was 2017? Here is my attempt…
Year-end Recap: This has been no doubt my most challenging and reshaping year EVER. God has literally remade me into a completely different person. He has left no ground unturned. I’ve been at the end of my rope. Tasted the deep grief and sorrow that comes with loss. Faced depression. I’ve encountered new things and seen Jesus in ways I never have before. While it’s been the hardest and most painful year I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. My foundation was tested and I’ve discovered that HE HOLDS ME TOGETHER! His Word is now my anchor and He is the lover of my soul.
Word picture of 2017: A roller coaster. (Note: I hate roller coasters both physically and metaphorically speaking!)
Major happenings in 2017: I wrote the bulk of my singleness book through the year. Started doing Friday morning “dates” with Jesus in March. I was caregiver for a sweet friend until she went to heaven in April 2017. I dealt with depression off and on from April thru August…and I learned to lean into Jesus. Both my parents had significant health issues in the summer and my mom was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease in June. PCM (the young ladies’ ministry I work with) had the best event ever in July! MaryEllen and I ministered in two women’s prisons in September and October. One of my best friends got married and I started a personal blog in November.
The cry of my heart in 2017: “Lord, show me Your glory! I want to see YOU!”
Things I learned this year… Brokenness is merely a catalyst to see Jesus clearer. My world was rocked to its core and I found Him to be my Lifeboat. Jesus is compassionate. We are all busted up, needy and broken. Jesus comes into our messes and enters our darkness. God with us. He is faithful and will never leave me. Sometimes our greatest platform to witness for Christ is in our deepest pain and suffering. Suffering is the glue of our hearts…both to each other and to Jesus. And…water slides aren’t as scary as they seem. Just saying.
My favorite moment in 2017: Meeting my newest nephew on October 26th. Bryson Lee is the cutest little chunk you’ve ever seen!
What would I repeat? I would lean into Jesus through the pain of loss and heartache. I would be open about my brokenness. I would share from my life rather than my mind. I would bravely follow Jesus even when it doesn’t make sense. I would love fully, even if it hurts.
Theme and verse for 2017: “BE BRAVE” from Joshua 1:9, “Haven’t I commanded you: be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (HCSB)
Anchor Scriptures of 2017: Isaiah 40:28-31, Isaiah 43:1-5, 1 Kings 17:8-16, Genesis 32:24-32, Exodus 33:11-23, Philippians 2:5-11, John 1:14, 2 Corinthians 4:7-12 and 16-18, 2 Corinthians 12:9, Jeremiah 17:7-8 and the Book of Psalms.
Quotes from 2017:
- “It’s helplessness not holiness that is the first step to accessing God.” -Dr. Tim Keller
- “I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.” -Charles Spurgeon
- “Fear is temporary. Regret is forever. Be Brave for Jesus.” (I wrote this on a sticky note and taped it to my bedroom mirror)
- “The greatest opportunities are the scariest lions.” -Mark Batterson
I generally don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. In fact, I’ve probably made resolutions less than the fingers on one hand. I’m one of those who think that if I don’t make them than I don’t have to keep them. Which honestly, is pathetic at best. It’s just super discouraging to find out weeks into the New Year that I’m a miserable failure at holding to my word. So…my practical side decided to just not promise anything. Which, as I said before, isn’t really any better of a plan.
Then 2018 rolled around…and I started feeling kind of guilty. That was originally why I avoided New Year’s resolutions in the first place, remember? It got me to thinking…maybe having goals for the year really wasn’t a bad idea. Goals are great to have. They’re like targets to shoot for in life. The saying “if you don’t know where you’re going, any train will get you there!” can be so true. Don’t you think?! I began looking over my last year and marking the points I need work on and things I want to put on REPEAT. Love freely…even when it hurts. Laugh more. Jesus is full of JOY! Live full. Remembering that I’m not guaranteed tomorrow. Live purposefully. Live fully. Leave all out on the field. If this was my last year…I wouldn’t want to save anything back because I was too afraid or too busy. Invite others to His Table. I want my life to be an actual invitation to the Table of the Lord.
What’s in a year? Looking back I can tell you what last year was…but looking forward, I have no idea. My prayer: that I will see Jesus this year like never before and I will follow Him fully, without reservation.
What’s in a year? Truth be told, only God knows.
God. With. Us.
The name EMMANUEL. I’ve heard it since I was a toddler in diapers. It always connects me to Christmas…but I don’t think I fully understood what it actually meant until this year.
Growing up in a Christian home was a huge blessing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m forever grateful for the family and heritage God has given me. In the same token, teething on certain Biblical concepts and truths has given me a challenge: I sometimes miss the deep meaning behind them. My “Christian-ese” has given me a disadvantage. Thankfully, God is creative in helping me understand simple truths.
Emmanuel = God with us.
This year, God asked me to LIVE it and see it with my own eyes. Now it holds gravity with my heart and it’s forever changed how I see the name EMMANUEL.
*
It started when I was ministering in prison this past October. As I’ve mentioned before, this was a completely new experience for me. One of the things that took me by surprise was how grateful the women were to us. They kept thanking us for coming and sharing with them.
The wording they used was almost always the same. They would say things like, “Thank you for coming and being with us.” “Thank you for humbling yourselves and being one of us.” “Thank you for proving to us that you don’t think you’re better than us.” “Thank you for being real. I can get you.”
The phrases they used seemed out-of-place. My friend and I had come to prison asking God to speak to US…and use us for His glory. We didn’t come to offer them anything but Jesus. Why did they keep thanking us for “being with them” and “becoming one of them”? It seemed strange.
Until the morning of the third day.
We were standing in the courtyard early that morning, waiting to be let in for morning set up. The sun was rising over the barbed wire, making for a broken kind of beautiful. The rays of sunlight made the wire sparkle and the colors made everything glow. It was still. Quiet. Peaceful.
Then His whisper. “This is what I did for you, Faith. I came and got into YOUR prison. I didn’t have to, I CHOSE to. I chose to become like you so I could show you the way to freedom.”
It was like a flash went through my brain. Emmanuel = God with us.
God with us meant Jesus wrapped Himself in human flesh…a prison of sorts for the Creator of the Universe. God with us meant Jesus had to know pain and sniffles and skinned knees and the harsh realities of life…so He could get close to us.
He loved me so much that He chose to get into my world…broken and strange as it is…and get on my level. He chose to limit himself so He would have a voice with me.
Suddenly, I realized why these women were so grateful. They had been visited by EMMANUEL. They couldn’t fathom why two young women from the free world would come and share life for a week with them. While we weren’t walking out this truth on purpose…I now saw what it meant to the women behind bars. I had once been in their place, and the awe of my Savior still overwhelms me.
The gravity of what Jesus did for me hits me like a ton of bricks. He loved me that much. The name EMMANUEL suddenly feels weighty and real. I can see it in full-color in front of me.
*
Christmas is a time of reflection for me and the name EMMANUEL is where I’ve been camping out this year. I’ve been mulling over John 1:1-14 for several weeks now and verse 14 has repeatedly stuck out in my mind. It now has dimension for me…like a drawing on paper transforming into 4D that I can reach out and touch.
Whenever I want to see a new perspective on a passage I’ve read over and over, I sometimes cross-references from other versions. I grew up on the King James Version which says…
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.” KJV
That’s beautiful…but I don’t talk like that so I need some new vantage points. I started looking up the verse in a few other versions…I wanted to see EMMANUEL. What did some of these phrases mean?
“The Word became flesh and took up residence among us. We observed His glory, the glory of the One and Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” HCSB (Holman Christian Standard Bible)
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” NIV (New International Version)
“And the Word became flesh and tabernacled among us. We looked upon His glory, the glory of the one and only from the Father, full of grace and truth.” TLV (Tree of Life Version)
“The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish.” MSG (Message)
“The Word became a human being and lived with us, and we saw his Sh’khinah, the Sh’khinah of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.” CJB (Complete Jewish Bible)
I remember sitting back in my chair when I read these and my mouth dropping open. I shook my head in disbelief. Jesus—KING OF THE WORLD— lowering Himself, humbling Himself. The unlimited God limiting Himself so He could meet my deepest need. Salvation. Redemption.
Who does that? Who leaves behind the beauty and splendor of His glory (Sh’khinah) to pursue the fickle hearts of human beings like me? Why did He love me so much that He would choose to “move into my neighborhood”? That kind of love blows my mind.
He’s Emmanuel. God. With. Us.
God living on our street. God’s tabernacle in our front yard. God taking up residence with us. He wanted us that much. He wanted us to be whole and healed. So He chose to be with us, have a voice with us and rescue us from ourselves.
Emmanuel is Jesus getting into our prison with us so He can offer us the key to freedom and Eternal Life.
Emmanuel is Jesus loving us enough to wrap Himself in the skin of a helpless, naked baby…born to a poor teenage virgin girl who was blessed and highly favored. Emmanuel is Jesus choosing to grow up in a small, unknown town and be raised by an ordinary carpenter. Emmanuel is Jesus walking dusty streets and healing people with bum legs and blind eyes and demonic oppression. Emmanuel is Jesus loving the people He lived with enough to bleed, endure torture, and carry His cross up Calvary…ultimately dying for their sins (and MINE and YOURS!) in a cruel, painful way. Emmanuel is Jesus rising again, defeating death once and for all…for the people “in His neighborhood” He loved so well.
Tell me that doesn’t make your jaw drop! Come on, now! That leaves me awe-struck. Amazed. Grateful. I love the part in the old Charlie Brown movie where Charlie is getting all confused and overwhelmed with the commercialism and to-do-list of Christmas time. He asks, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?!” Go ol’ Linus drops his blanket and decides to answer this question of all time by quoting Luke 2:8-14…“For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord…” (Luke 2:11, KJV) When he’s done recounting the story he quips, “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.” Few animated movies carry such powerful words. Emmanuel has come! Worship rises up in my heart…and it makes me want to Go, tell it on the mountain!
Here’s some more good news…It doesn’t stop there. He’s still Emmanuel. He is still living among us…His Spirit guiding and loving us and leading us to give HOPE to a dying world. We carry the hope of Jesus in our hearts…and are called to give it to those around us. The people in OUR neighborhood.
This Christmas, who does Jesus want you to give hope to? Give the gift of Emmanuel. Be with people. Listen to their stories. Love them through their pain and joys. Hear their hearts. Always…always give them Jesus. Give them Emmanuel.
God. With. Us.
He Makes Me Brave
Depression. There are days when it seems as if the world is coming to an end. You’re living on the edge. You feel like everything you touch is ruined. We’ve all had those days. The ones where you want to go into hibernation for several months.
A few nights ago, I wanted to crawl into bed, pull up the covers, and wake up to a different set of circumstances. I was tired of brokenness….my own and others, rubbing me raw at every chance. I was weary of being having to be gracious. Of forgiving. Of asking forgiveness for my own wicked heart. Exhausted from being so wounded and weak and human.
I heard my own whisper come soft and free, “God, I don’t want to be brave anymore.” He has heard me say that a thousand times this year…and I felt the weight of the world crushing out my joy.
This messed up world isn’t hospitable, is it? It breaks us and adds salt to our wounds and laughs at our dreams of peace and wholeness. There is no warmth. No courage, no healing…without HIM.
I sat there and wept. I cried for my own hurt and my pain. I wept because I am broken and the world is harsh. I wanted to breathe and all I could feel is the suffocating requirements, the to do list, and the glaring mistakes of my past. I felt small and swirling on a planet where no one sees me. Swirling like the snow outside my window.
Then…like another whisper, these words are dropped into my heart. “So we must not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t give up.” (Galatians 6:9, HCSB)
I felt the giving up part.
*
I’ve been here before. More than a hundred times this year. Sometimes more than once in a day. Depression hanging out at my door, waiting for an invitation to come in. To swallow me whole. I’ve lived with a cloud of sadness hovering over me, thick and threatening.
King David always seemed so dramatic to me…and weepy and complaining. Then I hit rock bottom this past year and the Psalms were like reading my journal. My heart bled those words, line by line. Somehow David didn’t seem so weird anymore, he seemed like the kind of guy I could get. I clung to those Psalms like it was my survival…and sometimes it was.
Depression was not one of the things I had ever faced before 2016. I’m not a fan. Still, it came back again and again, begging for a home. Life had some turns and twists that I wasn’t expecting…and I lost someone to cancer that I had come to love very dearly. The aftermath sent my emotional stability spiraling out of control. I couldn’t get my balance. I couldn’t seem to get a grip on my new normal.
There were many days I would pack my schedule to overflowing and not stay home much. If I kept super busy, it helped keep my mind off the pain. I couldn’t even string together a decent sentence some days. I lived in mental fog. Clouded thoughts. Deep grief and sorrow. The depression was debilitating. Then at night, I’d open my bedroom door and it would all come flooding back. The pain would envelop me. The hurt would be felt in every bone of my body. In the end, I couldn’t get away from the truth.
The truth was: I was broken. Needy. Desperate for healing. I was busted up. Wounded more than ever before. I felt invisible. Unseen.
Night after night, I’d cry myself to sleep. Begging for relief from the emotional and mental pain. Rest. Peace in the storm. Then morning would dawn and I’d repeat the same cycle over again.
How do you pick up the pieces of a life that seems to out of sorts? What does it look like to re-learn the basics? Where do you begin to find a new mission in life? How do you hold on when you feel the slipping away in your soul? The re-calibrating of life can be a beautiful and broken mess.
I’ve had people ask me how I made it through…and the answer? He made me brave. I couldn’t conjure up courage or manipulate myself to “get it together”. I literally couldn’t do anything but sit and cry, pray and read Scripture. So that’s what I did. Day after day after day.
I don’t even know how I made it through those long months. I have a supportive family, some amazing friends and great people at church…but even that isn’t enough to make you brave. It has to be Jesus. He alone can make us brave. We can only be courageous when we cash in ourselves and take on His strength in our own weakness.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 HCSB)
When it happened, I don’t even know. There were days when I would cry out to God the only words that I could…simply, like a child. “Lord, hold me. Hold me.” The truth is, I could feel my soul slipping and I wasn’t strong enough to hold onto Him. I was questioning…why? How could God be good and how could He really love me? Did He even see me?
I know there were days I would have the song “He Will Hold Me Fast” by the Getty’s on replay. Or “He’ll Hold You” by Selah. I needed those words. I prayed those words.
Suddenly, I NEEDED Scripture to make it through the day. I craved the truth to make sense out of the pain and pressure. Verses that were once only words on the page had become nourishment to my spirit. They were literally the key to my survival.
“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…Therefore we don not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9, 16-18, HCSB)
There are a thousand things I learned through those months of agonizing pain and wrestling with God. I could write a whole series of what I learned through that time…but right now, this one stands out in my mind: He loves me and He sees me.
Jesus. Sees. Me.
He knows my hurt. His heart is toward me. His compassion is for me. In all the craziness of my busted-up relationships, and death, and cancer, and wounded heart, He sees me. Not who I think I am or who others think I am, but who I really am. And somehow…He still loves me.
That takes my breath away. He sees me. He sees ME! Suddenly, the crushing power of the world vanishes and I’m standing in awe of His beautiful, overwhelming, unconditional love.
Somehow…that kind of overwhelming, unconditional love gives me power. It is the courageous feeling that wells up in my trembling heart…enough to step forward in belief. It is the wind beneath my wings.
“He gives strength to the weary and strengthens the powerless. Youths may faint and grow weary, and young men stumble and fall, but those who trust in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:29-31 HCSB)
Depression is real. It can be debilitating. It can be consuming. I’ll be the first to say that depression is hard. I’ve had days when I can’t even function and I’ve wanted to stay in bed all day. It’s the pits.
Just remember this, friend. His love? It’s deeper than your deepest depression. His power? It’s stronger than your sadness. He sees you. Trust Him with all your brokenness. Trust Him with the things that don’t make sense (and there will be plenty of things that won’t make sense in life). He DOES love you. He DOES see you.
Corrie ten Boom, a Nazi prison camp survivor once said, “No pit is so deep that He is not deeper still; with Jesus even in our darkest moments, the best remains and the very best is yet to be.”
You right there, trembling in your shoes. You, living under a cloud of guilt. You, seeking relief from your sorrow and grief. You, trying to navigate through the fog of depression. His love conquers fear. One step at a time, He can make you brave.
His eyes are on you. He sees you. He loves you. His compassion is for you. He makes you brave.
Rehearse it over and over. Write it on the bathroom mirror. Stick it on your car overhead visor. Put it as your phone screen-saver. Slap it up on your refrigerator. Believe it in your heart.
His eyes are on me. He sees me. He loves me. His compassion is for me. He makes me brave.
THAT Single Girl
It’s 2017. December 2017. I can remember when I was writing 1997 on my school papers. It seems like yesterday: jumping off the shed roof with my brothers, painting my face with dandelions and mulberries, and trying to do wheelies with my bike. Then just like that… twenty years is gone and with it some of my more daring tendencies! Trust me, I have to talk myself into a water slide nowadays.
A few months ago I turned 29 years old. Y’all…I’m around the corner from 30. (Remember when 30 seemed old?) What happened? Where did the time go?
There was a time when I had my whole life planned out. I would be married by 20 (or at least by 22!) and have a bunch of kids. We’d live in a house with shutters and a white picket fence. By 29 my life was supposed to look a lot different…according to my own blueprint.
Then life actually happened. Somehow all my plans went out the window and it turned out way more beautiful than I had planned…not that marriage and children aren’t beautiful…I’d love to be married and be a mommy! But God’s plan for ME at this stage of life was FAR MORE beautiful than my plan.
They say hind-sight is 20/20. We can see where we’ve been easier than where we are going. My life has certainly proved that theory.
Singleness is sometimes that way. Some people aren’t single very long. Some marry right out of high school, unlike me. Eleven years ago I graduated and began my single life. I had plans. I had dreams. I had ambitions.
Then there is Jesus. He had other plans. We had very different ideas about how my life would go down. Surprise!
I’ve totally become THAT Single Girl. You know what I’m talking about…the single gals that are just downright strange. They have car seats in their cars for children they don’t even have…or better yet, a minivan. They insert themselves into nearly any or all of the Sunday school classes…because hey, there’s really no special spot for them anyway! Or they hang out with fourth-graders because it’s just simply fun…or the teens because, why not? I have embarrassed my siblings more than once on my singleness weirdo-ness. I have threatened to wear pig-tails and chomp gum at Walmart…but they’re sure I’ll never do it. Or so they hope.
Looking back, I can see some of the WHYS of my singleness up to this point…and it’s not the chomping gum or pigtails either. I could never see it ahead of time, but there have been obvious moments when I have understood God’s plan to be beautiful.
The last few years have been full of those “AHA, that’s why I’m single!” moments. I’ll tell you about five of my biggest ones…
- Four years ago, one of my best friends (and cousin!) got married. Now trust me, single or not, I would have been there! But there was something different about me standing on the single side of life and watching my friend and playmate of yesteryear walk down the aisle. I had prayed for that moment! I had prayed for that guy to show up and be the man she needed…and there he was and she was walking down to meet him. I was there for all the wedding plans and saw her in her beautiful dress BEFORE the wedding (lucky me!!!)…and then it all unfolded before my eyes. When she came walking down the aisle, I can’t even describe what I was feeling. Intense love and pride and excitement that all her years of waiting (and my years of praying) were here! The bride coming to her bridegroom. I’ve never felt the Presence of God like I did in that holy moment. I saw her…but I also saw myself and Jesus. My Bridegroom was coming for me…and the intense love He had for me overwhelmed my soul. I felt Him there, standing next to me and whispering to my heart… “My Beloved”. In that moment, I was grateful I was single.
- Three years ago I became an aunt for the first time. I’m the oldest in my family, so there’s something special and sweet about watching your “baby brother” become a daddy for the first time. I remember getting the call “She’s here!” and rushing to the hospital. I watched that sweet little two-hour-old bundle be passed around and it made me smile. Nothing prepared me for that moment. The moment when they put her in MY ARMS. Now people, I’ve held babies since I was one myself. I’m the oldest of nine, with tons of cousins and millions of baby hours under my belt…but this. This was different. This was my younger brother’s baby. This was my niece. And I just couldn’t help it, folks. I cried. Correction: I bawled. It was a holy ground moment. I remember looking up at my brother’s tired face all beaming with pride and even now I can recall what that felt like. Holding Olivia like that…I breathed thanks. Thanks for my singleness. Gratefulness that I could be there to witness that amazing moment.
- Nearly two years ago I began taking care of a friend with cancer. She was a beautiful woman who loved Jesus and was an amazing friend to my mom and I. Cancer is a painful thing…especially when you see it’s work three feet in front of you, for months on end. Walking that year out with her and her family was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Cancer…it eats away at the souls of the people watching it too. And it hurts. In the end, my friend went to Jesus and I stayed here. That hurt too, because I missed her. I still do. And in one of those moments of stillness, driving in my car one day…I cried. It didn’t seem fair. Then I opened my mouth and the first thing that came out surprised me: “Thank you God that I’m single.” Singleness gave me the opportunity to be available to my friend and her family.
- Five months ago I sat in front of a group of dedicated young women who were preparing to minister as staff and speakers at a womens/girls event. They sat there and told their stories…they were limping to this event (as I was!) and asking God for strength to make it happen. I remember kneeling and crying from my own pain and weakness. We prayed for each other. When the weekend was over there was one thing on all our lips: Jesus did it. He showed up. He showed His glory to us, to the attendees, to the set up crew and kitchen staff. He revealed Himself. Again, I breathed thanks. Singleness allowed me to be involved in something so amazing that I had to lean only on Jesus to get through.
- In prison two months ago, I stood in front of over a hundred female inmates and shared about Jesus and redemption. I told them how He is drawn to us in our weakness and how He had mended my broken heart. And when I crawled into bed that night I said, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world today.” Singleness allowed me to drop everything and spend two weeks behind bars to share truth with hungry women who needed Jesus.
Life isn’t always as we plan. Sometimes God takes an unmarked course (at least from our perspective) that is far different than we’d like. Things don’t always work out like we think they should. But in the end…in the end, they are much better than we could have imagined.
In the end, cancer doesn’t win. In the end, there isn’t suffering or sickness or pain. In the end, there isn’t brokenness. There is only Jesus.
Can I just say this? Where there is Jesus, that’s home to me. White picket fences are pretty, but they’re overrated. I’ll take singleness and Jesus any day if that’s where He wants me. I’ll be THAT Single Girl. The one whose eyes sparkle with the love of her heavenly Bridegroom.
Brave Family Love
White flour poofing in the air. Sugar all gritty on the counter tops. Empty egg shells and measuring cups everywhere. The hum of mixers, Pandora Christmas music and laughter in the kitchen. It was cookie making day at our house today.
We decided to gather all the gals of the family (and the four littlest boys) for a day of baking cookies…in six different varieties. It was a full, all-day event. The older boys/dads floated in and out for meals and random cookie tastings. Two meals and 22 dozen cookies later, we were tired but happy. Short-lived as it may be, sprinkles and frosting can give you a beautiful sugar high that can double as happiness. Memories were made today. Three generations of ladies in the kitchen…including a three-year-old little girl with sparkling eyes. What could be better than that?
Family. They see all of our corks, don’t they? Our family see our good days and our bad. Our weepy times and our mountain-top experiences. They are there for our sour attitudes and our glee-filled surprises. I’m sometimes amazed mine still loves me through it all!
I’m grateful for my family. I have awesome parents, great brothers and sisters…plus two amazing sisters who I gained through my brothers getting married. (Who, by the way, feel every bit my blood sisters as ever could be!) Then five little people who call me “Aunt Faith”, and baby #6 on the way in March! I’ve been blessed in the family department.
What ingredients make a BRAVE sister, daughter, auntie, cousin, niece and granddaughter? As I stirred cookie dough, washed greasy spatulas, and retrieved toddlers from hot ovens…this was the question on my mind. How do I live BRAVE at home?
The truth is, home is where it’s sometimes the hardest for me to live courageously. This is where people know me the best. They have seen every angle of who I am. They know when I’m faking it, when I’m depressed, when I have something up my sleeve, or when I’m struggling with one of them. When I think of being brave at home…it usually amounts to apologizing.
I’m a work in progress, y’all. I say stupid things that hurt people. Sometimes those things are said in innocence and my statements or questions get perceived otherwise…and then things spin out of control and I’m left with picking up the pieces of World War 3. Why on earth don’t I THINK before I speak?
Other times I just say crazy, mindless things…caring little or nothing about the other person’s feelings. Then I see the pain on the faces of my family members and I wonder— how did I get here? What makes me be so ugly or inconsiderate? I’ve cried many times over the senseless words I’ve spoken to the people I love most.
“If possible, on your part, live at peace with everyone.” Romans 12:18 (HCSB) “Pursue peace with everyone, and holiness—without it no one will see the Lord.” Hebrews 12:14 (HCSB)
It takes a brave heart to ask forgiveness to those we wound. Believe me, I know…I’ve had to eat a lot of humble pie. Way more than I’d care to admit.
Maybe you know how it is. You feel that little prick in your spirit and you know Jesus is telling you to fess up and repent for your wrong words or attitude. On the way to apologize, you can think of a thousand reasons why you really weren’t wrong after all. You feel justified in your sin. I’ve probably tried on all the same excuses. I’m a pro at trying to get out of apologizing.
There have been times I’ve turned around and decided to walk in my own justification. Can I just tell you…those where among the worst decisions I’ve ever made? I took the easy way out. The coward’s road. It costs to take the path of least resistance.
Some of the most pride-hurting moments in my life have turned out to give me great freedom. The burden lifting off my heart when I repent is worth the 2-3 minutes of discomfort.
Family. They can bring out the best and worst of you, can’t they? I wouldn’t trade them for the world, but I’d be lying to say that I always LIKE them. I love them dearly, but they can rub me wrong. They can push my buttons. They’ve seen Faith Walker in the bad and the ugly.
Family. They are my life. My reason for keeping on in the hard moments. I wouldn’t want to be without them. They make me laugh. They bring me some of the greatest joy and memories. Like today.
Today was a whisper from heaven about what really matters. I want to live courageous EVERYWHERE. Especially at home, with my family. I want to live full…with lots of frosting and sprinkles. I want to live free…free from a clouded conscience. I want my biggest cheerleaders to always be the people closest to me. The people who REALLY know me.
Family. They know what we’re really made of, don’t they? I’m grateful mine loves me anyway. I guess that’s Brave Family Love.
Living Brave and Courageous 