Here we are again. Another day that is meant to be wonderful, but for so many, it’s just painful. I think the secret is out by now, isn’t it?

These days are hard.

Whatever the hole looks like, it’s there. Through intention, through loss, through death, through choice, through neglect. The hole is attached to pain, questions, and feelings of isolation.

And whether we’ve said it out loud or not, we wonder where God fits in this mix. He’s our Father, right? Why would He create this massive maternal role in our lives if it doesn’t relate to Him?

In the Bible, God is referred to as our Shepherd. He keeps track of us. He scoops us up when we get lost or wander away. He makes us rest when we’ve pushed ourselves too far. He protects us when stuff comes our way that should never have been there. He tells to sit down and eat when things get crazy. He comforts, He protects, He cares for, He pursues.

Sounds kinda like a good mom, doesn’t it?

Don’t allow the truth to be twisted in your mind. Yes, God is our Father. But He encompasses every role and attribute we would ever need. He is not tied down to what a typical “Father” looks like. He is all of it. Everything. Strong, kind, just, merciful, righteous, compassionate, forgiving.

Never knew your mom? He knew you before the creation of the world. [Romans 8:29]

Abandoned or neglected by the woman who was supposed to raise you? He will never forsake you even if everyone else does. [Psalm 27:10]

Experiencing grief from the loss of your mom? He heals your broken heart and He binds your wounds. [Psalm 147:3]

Mourning the loss of a child who made you a mom? God is the strength of your heart, even if all the rest of you is falling apart. [Psalm 73:26]

Wondering if you’ll ever be a mom like you’d hoped? God’s plans for you are for a future that is full of hope. [Jeremiah 29:11]

If you’re dreading Mother’s Day, I know you feel like you’ve been cheated. Cheated out of what every son or daughter deserves to have. You are looking around at what feels like everyone else who has a beautiful relationship with their mom. Or they’ve now become a mother themselves, and based on their Instastory, you just know that they’re totally killing it. And you wonder what you must have done wrong to deserve what you’ve experienced. But hear me: you have access to the One who has already gotten it all right as your parent. God doesn’t play “good cop, bad cop.” He doesn’t have to switch hats to be your mom on one day and your dad on another. When you screw it up, when you need someone to listen, when you got the job, when you need to be held… He’s the One. He’s already proven Himself so trustworthy. He knows you best. He gets you, even when you don’t get you. He knows what you need when you have no clue. He knows when you need to be comforted and He knows when you need a push.

This Mother’s Day, if you are mourning the loss of this role in your life in anyway, do me a favor. Don’t torture yourself by spending the day on your phone. Don’t fall into the trap of comparison with a life that probably isn’t even real on social media. But in same breath, don’t fall into yourself, either. Get with your people. If you don’t have people, find some. Remind each other that you are not alone, because YOU ARE NOT ALONE. The world is more full of broken people with broken relationships in need of a perfect God than it is happy family photos.

The truth is, the women in our lives will fail us, and we will inevitably fail those around us, too. Let’s prepare ourselves this time. We can’t protect ourselves from sadness or loss, but we can choose where we go when it happens. We can choose to look to the all-encompassing love of Jesus to totally overwhelm where they may have lacked. To step into the calling of a true daughter of God, who knows that her worth is based on His sacrifice and sufficiency.

He is so much more than enough.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore with loving kindness I have drawn you and continued My faithfulness to you.” [Jeremiah 31:3]

Ever get tired of normal life stuff?

Like traffic, mosquitoes, world hunger, cancer… it just wears you out?

Right now, I’m tired of people dying.

Sorry. That may be a little much for your morning but it is what it is.

Rachel Evans died unexpectedly this week. She was a well-loved author and speaker who challenged a lot of Christian ideas. I have to be honest, though, and tell you that I never read any of her books. But the community I follow was very involved with her. And I’m watching all of them grieve and live their days in shock. And I just hate it.

I hate how unexpected it all was and thinking about how her family will have to move forward without her. I hate how every death involuntarily reopens the wound of loss in my own life.

But. There are beautiful parts. My social media world is flooded with authors I follow and friends I’ve known who are writing paragraphs on how this girl changed their lives. I’ve read about how she’s challenged people in their faith and how she’s stood by her friends.

Throughout the past two years, I’ve experienced more loss than I would have chosen. And every time, I’ve been fascinated by how well we can find the best in people once they’re gone. We use all of our words to say the perfect thing. We want to honor them well. We find their best qualities. We evaluate their presence and their influence in our lives. And we say it. We kill ourselves making sure we say the exact right thing.

I’ve been so challenged lately not to wait. I don’t want to wait until they aren’t here anymore to speak out the massive difference they’ve made in my life. I’m afraid we hold back because of several things:

We definitely take for granted what’s in front of us.

We don’t think it’s necessary.

We think it’s too much.

And sometimes, it just feels awkward.

But whether we realize it or not, holding back our words of life chokes us – and it chokes them. It’s meant to come out. The things we see in others, the gratitude we feel for our people: it’s meant to be said.

“Nothing is more appealing than speaking beautiful, life-giving words. For they release sweetness to our souls and inner healing to our spirits.” [Proverbs 16:24]

Don’t wait. Don’t wait to use your most creative words to speak well of someone. Don’t wait to thank your village; publicly or privately. Build up your babysitter, your pastor, your neighbor, your aunt, the older woman who’s always been there for you. Post a quote from the book that’s changing your life, and tell your friends about it. They probably need to read it, too! Tell your husband that he matters. Tell your mom that she’s appreciated. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. You don’t have to write a five page letter (although who doesn’t love those?) Send a text right now. Post a picture on Instagram and tell your world, “My life is better because of you.”

“Discover creative ways to encourage others and to motivate them toward acts of compassion, doing beautiful works as expressions of love.” [Hebrews 10:24]

Have you believed the lie that you’re just not very good at it? You’ve convinced yourself that other people are just good at words, and you’re not, so why bother? Hey, it’s not true. God has literally created us to encourage. When he molded us and gifted us with language, He imagined us using them to change others’ lives. If we don’t lean into this opportunity, we risk regret and the heaviness that comes with holding onto our words of life. They are meant to come out of us.

Jen Hatmaker says it this way in Of Mess and Moxie: “I am so convinced that we reap what we sow here; sow seeds of affirmation and goodness and grace into others, and you will reap the devotion of well-loved friends. You will. You cannot love others genuinely and generously and have it return void for long… We have so much say-so in our own relational experience. Be the friend you’d love to have, call to the deep, and you will attract the treasured kind of friends like sunlight, like a lightning rod, like honey.”

Look for the good and say it. Now.

Look for ways to honor them, publicly and privately. Now.

Remind them that they are your people, that your life would never be the same without them. Now.

Speak over them the things that you see that they can’t see themselves. The God-parts in them that the have a hard time believing. Now.

And then watch. Watch as God takes the power behind your words and molds it, shapes it into identity and purpose. The life-giving words you speak align with His will in their lives and then suddenly, you’re a part of their life story. You get the privilege of reminding them who God says that they are, and that they matter. Don’t miss out.

 

 

“Fangirl Jesus, and fangirl your friends… Fangirl the flesh and blood around you, the ones you live by, live with, live for. Go gaga over your own people; that is well-placed loyalty. Overvalue them, over-love them, over-encourage them.” – Jen Hatmaker, Of Mess and Moxie

 

 

 

Dear Anxiety,

Let’s be clear from the jump. As much as I’ve wanted to break up, you’ve continued sticking around. Since you’ve made yourself so welcome, I’ve been forced to address your purpose in my life. But I would like to lay out some ground rules and just make some things clear.

The thing is, you are a liar. I know your job is to make me feel like everything you say is true. But you tell me that everything is wrong when actually, nothing is wrong. You tell me that I’m supposed to be panicking and that my body should react to a crisis when there isn’t actually a crisis at all. You string thoughts together in my mind in one continuous run on sentence that lasts for hours. You tell my brain that it can’t handle sounds and I need to physically react to them. After some time of just making my brain work overtime, you tell my body it’s time to get in on the action, so my heart races fast enough to make me feel like I’m not breathing right.

And as full as my head is of thoughts and words, I can’t respond or make sense of any requests that are made of me. You tell me that I am crazy and incapable. You use words like insane, unworthy, unsure. Your job is to derail me from purpose and joy. Your job description is to steal peace.

But you have one job that I don’t think you’re aware of.

You remind me of my need for God.

You didn’t know that, did you?

You force me to slow down and to reassess my priorities. You lead me straight to the place that God has intended for me to be all along: a spot of dependency and desperation.

And for all of the pain and panic and chaos, I’ll choose to thank you for reminding me that I truly am not enough. Although you use fear, your presence in my life is not pointless.

You are a tactic of my enemy but an opportunity for my God.

You have taught me that my body really is a temple. That I can’t just do whatever I want without any consequences. You reinforce my need for rest. You think that your only role is to sabotage me, but I’m not buying it anymore.

So when you tell me that I’m not enough, I will agree.

When you tell me I’m weak, I’ll let my God show you His strength.

When you tell me I can’t breathe and I can’t make it through, I will choose to pause. I’ll remind you Who gives me my breath and Who sustains me.

When you tell me that I am in need of control in order to have peace, I’ll be reminded to surrender myself one more time to the One who has all control.

When you tell me that you separate me from the acceptance of God, I will remind you that absolutely nothing can separate me from His love.

When you tell me that I’m crazy, I will remind you that I have been given the mind of Christ and that my thoughts obey Him.

And when I fail in the moment and I listen to you, believing that I’m insane and that things will never change, I will remind you that His grace is enough. That my God forgives me every time I believe what you say over what He says. That shame isn’t a part of His holy vocabulary. That even when you try to convince me that you have me chained up, I’ve been set free. And unlike what you tell me, I can’t free myself.

The jig is up. I’m done fighting and just trying to push you out because the thing is, I live in this crazy and broken world. I’ve asked God to take you from me, and yet, here you still are. So instead of giving in to shame or failure, I’ll acknowledge you as the appointed thorn in my side that leads me closer to ridiculous grace of Jesus.

So, thanks.

 

 

“…There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three ties I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” [2 Corinthians 12:7-10]

“I’m tired of hearing myself whine!”

This was what I sort of yelled at my counselor during one of our sessions.

I came in anxious, almost panicky. I was tired and overwhelmed and it just felt like no end was in sight.

Have you ever been there? Things just feel so overwhelming, you’re actually bugging yourself with how much you’ve been complaining about it? But somehow you just find yourself stuck in this place of exhaustion, frustration… just blah.

I’ve learned the value of rest and self-care and all of the things that I was supposed to do, and yet, I just found myself at zero. My energy level, my capacity, my patience… I had none.

So my God-given counselor listened to me whine, told me she didn’t really see it as whining at all, and said super gently, “…But zero isn’t really zero with God, is it?” (Insert my regular reminder that if you are struggling and aren’t seeing a counselor, this is your invitation. It’s a straight up gift from God.)

I know what the truth says. And I remind my soul of it practically daily. God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness [2 Corinthians 12:9].

But what I fail to recognize is that really, unless I allow myself to be drained of me, I’m relying on myself still. The world tells us that strength is self-sufficiency and independence. But true strength comes from dependence on God. 

If we dig deep enough, I’m pretty sure we’d find that when we feel overwhelmed or stressed or drained, it really comes down to discontentment. Somewhere, we are discontent with our circumstance, with people around us, with ourselves. Things aren’t lining up with the way we hoped they’d be. We aren’t measuring up to the kind of person we keep striving to be. And the truth is: that’s where we’re failing ourselves. We’re striving to be someone. Instead of relying on the One who created us so perfectly, with everything we’d ever need.

1 Timothy 6:6 describes contentment as a sense of inner confidence based on the sufficiency of God [AMP].

So really, when we find ourselves at the end of us, it’s what God intended all along. It’s in this space that God teaches us who He really is. It’s here where we actually learn about His sufficiency, His sovereignty, His goodness and faithfulness. It is not his design for us to be weary and worn down, but he uses those emotions to remind us that He’s been waiting all along.

Is this where you are? You find yourself with nothing to give, just trying to make it through the next few minutes – forget the whole day. I know it’s so tiring. I know it doesn’t feel like strength to repeat every few minutes: “His grace is sufficient for me“, but it is. When we don’t find ourselves relying on his grace every second of every day, we’re leaning on ourselves. And I don’t know you, but I know me. And I am not steady enough to lean on. I am not consistent enough.

But He is. So in the spaces that feel ugly and desperate, you’ve got to know: God sees them as perfect. In fact, it’s really the only thing God asks of us. He doesn’t ask for perfection or strength like the world asks of us. “The sacrifice. you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God” [Psalm 51:17]. The moments we want to shy away from us most often where He’s trying to lead us. It’s only there where we truly learn that He is enough.

So let’s flip it. Words like empty, desperate, drained; instead of burdens, we view them as gifts. When our emotions want to tell us that we’re failing, we will remind our souls that we’re in the perfect spot for God to move.

We won’t fall into shame: believing the lie that we aren’t enough. Because we aren’t. But in Him, we have everything.

If you’ve believed the lie today that being not enough is your weakness, hear me today: accepting that you are not enough is what paves the way to God’s sufficiency. You are enough because He is enough. You have enough because He has given you everything.

It happens way too often.

Weekly, probably daily.

This panic-kind of feeling that I’m just not getting it right. I wonder if I’m feeding them right. I wonder if we’re praying enough. I wonder if I’m discipling them so that they really learn integrity and honesty. In the weeks leading up to Easter, I began wondering if we were teaching our kids enough about their Savior.

And then there are the moments that I don’t wonder: I know I’m not getting it right. When she slams my finger in the door and I yell instead of having grace. When I’ve had a tough day and they get impatience and frustration instead of a soft place to land.

So I scramble and overthink and fight shame that I’m just… well, I’m not Supermom. I’m really not super anything.

I’ve spent the last two years learning how to lean in and embrace that God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness [2 Corinthians 12:9], but I completely push this aside with the little people that are mine to raise. And I know I don’t tap into the power, the wisdom, and the strength available to me to handle a job that God made for me.

So just in case you need a reminder: God made you their mom on purpose. You are not a mother through circumstance or accident. God chose you, with your shortcomings, your gifts, your personality, and paired them up with the children that He designed for you. The spots that you constantly feel like you come up short are not your failures: they are opportunities to truly show your kids God’s strength.

Think about it. What would we teach our children about a Holy and Perfect God if their parents got it right all the time? We would become their God. If they never needed anything outside of us, they would never learn desperation for something more. Someone more.

Most of us have heard the verse: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” [Proverbs 22:6]

And it’s what we want, isn’t it? It’s pretty much what our job is. To teach them all we can while they are young, so that they turn out to be good humans, loving God and loving people. But do we take this as a command from the Bible to be their only teacher? That if we don’t get it right twenty-four-seven, they are doomed?

In the Amplified version of the same verse, it says it this way : “Train up a child the way he should go [teaching him to seek God’s wisdom and will for his abilities and talents], Even when he is old he will not depart from it.” 

Training them is pointing them to God. For His wisdom and His will.

When they are grown adults, they don’t need us to be their everything. They need us to point them to the One who is truly their Everything. This isn’t even about enabling. It’s about truly allowing God to be God, in our lives and in theirs. And no matter what age they are, God allow us to show them who He is through our weaknesses.

Every time we mess it up. When we yell. When we forget something important and hurt their feelings. When we say the wrong thing.

We have the opportunity to teach them grace, mercy, and forgiveness. We have the opportunity to tell them that we are not perfect, but they have a Dad who is.

I know it feels like the opposite of what we’ve been told. But what if instead of getting it right all the time, we focused on pointing them to their Savior who always will? I believe God had parents in mind when 2 Corinthians 12:9 was written. When it comes to being a parent, there really are not enough training manuals. All of the experience from other parents in the world can’t prepare you when you do it yourself. God knew we wouldn’t get it right, and get this: He’s never expected us to. What He’s hoping for is that we will allow our every weakness to lead to His strength. So that when they mess it up too, they’ll know Who to turn to.

It sounds a lot easier than it is. I know. It’s not a step-by-step process. This is an in the moment, “oh crap, I shouldn’t have done that”, learning experience. But God is not afraid of it, so we don’t have to be either.

You are not Superwoman. You are not God. But you are their mom. You have a very unique and sacred place in their lives. So just take a breath today and be reminded that God sees you. He hears your every internal thought and worry. He’s asking you for your shame and your ideas of perfection. He’s asking to be your everything, so that He can also be theirs.

 

It’s Holy Week. And I’m gonna be straight up with you.

No one has said this to me out loud, but I’m going to say it and I’ll trust that if I’m wrong, you’ll tell me.

Celebrating Jesus can feel hard.

So may of us are doing the thing. We’re celebrating the holidays as well as we can, and we’re praising Jesus because He was raised from the dead because we know He’s so worthy of it.

But deep down, too many of us feel like it’s all one big question mark.

How am I supposed to celebrate the miracle of Jesus when I feel like He isn’t showing up in my life? He tells me that He can raise the dead, but nothing feels alive in my life. God, I believe that you can do anything, but so far, it kind of feels like you are just busy with someone else’s miracle. 

I love that Easter isn’t just a nice metaphor. It is the literal reason we have every good thing. True life, forgiveness, mercy… it isn’t a holiday or an example to us. It’s the whole deal. As much as Easter is about the Resurrection and our freedom (which is enough in itself), I am convinced it teaches us something that we are missing.

The miracle of Jesus teaches us about process. 

I believe 100% that when Jesus is involved, anything is possible. Anything can happen in a nanosecond. But even with all of the faith in the world, our breakthroughs often don’t happen in a moment, do they?

They can often look like weeks, months, years. Time spent putting work in, learning about surrender. Seasons of pain and suffering that don’t feel like seasons; they feel permanent.

From the outside, it seems that our souls were saved in a moment. And we’re not wrong there. The moment where Jesus took His last breath, the earth was dark and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. [Luke 23:45] It was an earth-shaking, eternity altering moment. Everything did change in an instant.

But.

Let’s be reminded of the person of Jesus – fully man, fully God. He didn’t show up as a grown man, like Superman, rushing in to save the day in a few hours. He came to the world as an infant, completely vulnerable and helpless. He learned to walk. He learned to talk. He had a mom and dad. He had friends that betrayed Him.

The entire first half of the Bible is waiting. Waiting for the promise, waiting for the miracle. And then even when the miracle comes, there are 30 or so years until the moment. 

And let’s be honest: the moment looked like failure. Even though Jesus promised everyone that He loved that this wasn’t the end – it looked like the end.

Does it feel like it’s been forever? Like you’ve believed in God and you’ve trusted His word, but… God, aren’t you the God of miracles? Yeah, He still is. And we get to celebrate Easter to be reminded that miracles are not always instant, and they aren’t always pretty.

For Jesus, healing and life took three days. Three days may not sound long when you’ve been experiencing your pain for years. But I think death is as probably about as bad as it gets, don’t you? In this light, three days is an eternity.

God loves us too much to simply sweep His hand and rescue us every time we think we need it. In fact, He loved us so much that He chose not to save the world in that way. He sent His Son to live, breathe, experience waiting and suffering. He experienced process and He asked God to change His mind. Imagine the patience our God must have to not just scoop us up every time we ask Him to. His heart breaks watching us wonder if He’s truly for us. His patience and His process are signs of His goodness, not His negligence.

If the Savior of the world had to go through process in order to reach the miracle, why should we be any different? 

His entire life was a process. Each moment divinely appointed, leading up to one perfect saving act of grace.

We’ve got to remember that our miracle was His sacrifice. It took absolutely everything from Him; it took His life. And I just wonder sometimes if we aren’t willing to sacrifice to experience a miracle from God. I’m not talking about working to see God move. I’m talking about laying down our own plans. I’m talking about surrendering our comfort.

Jesus came to the earth to save your life.

He came to give you life here on earth, and true life in eternity.

He came so that you would know that you are never alone. He walked through it all so that we could be intimately in touch with God, knowing that He feels our pain.

But He also came so that we wouldn’t believe the lies of immediacy. He lived His entire life waiting for a promise to be fulfilled – waiting on and trusting on God. He did this so we would know that it’s possible.

And it is. The miracle of God in your life isn’t summed up in one breakthrough. He’s in the waiting. He’s in the suffering and the questions. He is patient in your process.

 

“For we do not have a High Priest who is unable to sympathize and understand our weaknesses and temptations, but One who has been tempted [knowing exactly how it feels to be human] in every respect as we are, yet without [commiting any] sin. Therefore let us [with privilege] approach the throne of grace with confidence and without fear, so that we may receive mercy [for our failures] and find His amazing grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16 AMP

 

 

Dear Jealousy,

Hey.

So I’ve noticed you’ve been hanging around a bit lately. You’ve really been making your presence known. At first it didn’t seem to bother me much, but I’m beginning to notice the little things turning into bigger things. And I think it’s time that we part ways. So please consider this your eviction notice.

Honestly, you’ve done your job really well. You sneak in subtle, and then pretty quickly make your intentions known. The world has convinced me that it’s just FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and everyone has it, and it’s normal and kind of expected.

You speak differently to all of us. You’ve made me believe that I have to be at everything all the time. You’ve convinced me that I’m supposed to want things I don’t have. So I wish I had their shoes. Or maybe their whole outfit… I wish my hair would look that good all the time. I dream about having any body type other than the one I have. It seems like their nails are always done, their house is always clean. Their kids seem well-behaved, their pictures are so clean and and organized and everyone looks happy. Also, they’re just so confident all the time and I’m so… not. You’ve convinced me that everyone else’s marriages are better than mine, so I begin to scrutinize mine and wonder what my husband isn’t giving me. I notice how everyone else’s friends seem so close. They’re always posting about each other and doing fun things together, so I just feel more left out and alone.

It just feels like life has just been so freaking hard for so long, and I don’t understand why they get to just keep living theirs without pain. How come God’s picked me to walk through so much?

The stories may look different, but your goal is the same.

You’ve kept us all so focused on everyone else that you’ve snuck in the real crime: discontentment with God.

Not just with the things God’s given me – but discomfort and doubt with His character.

Comparison, envy, jealousy… whatever you want to disguise yourself as: I’m calling you out today.

You are not just the thief of joy, you steal everything from me. But the jig is up. Because the truth is, you don’t steal it. You just ask for it, and I give it to you.

You whisper that if I had more of what they have, I’ll have more joy. So I go shopping. If I just had less turmoil in my life, then I’d have more comfort. So I try to control my circumstances. If I had more money, I’d have more peace. So I work harder. Material, relational, spiritual – all of the things. If I could have anything close to what everyone else has, well, then I’ll have more of what I’m looking for.

But you lied. None of these things give me what I’m looking for.

Our other emotions have benefits. Anger, happiness, sadness, when dealt with in the right way, I can process through my stuff well. But you bring no fruit to my life. You work against everything that God put together.

So today, I stand up straight and acknowledge exactly where it is that you’ve taken up space in me. I’m taking a good look at my life and want you to know that my eyes are open. I see all the places where envy has rotted pieces of me away. So I’m here to remind you and to remind myself:

Since you cannot steal anything from me, I will no longer give it to you.

My peace, my joy, my identity, my contentment. My life doesn’t belong to me; it belongs to my Creator. Everything He has given me is out of His kindness, and it’s for my good. “A heart at peace gives our whole body life [Proverbs 14:30].”

So I choose peace because I’ve chosen Him. I have joy because I have Him. My identity is secure because I’ve been made in His image and redeemed with His blood. I am content because I have been given everything, and in Him, I lack nothing. These things are already mine in Jesus’ name.

I will no longer bend to your needs or your will.

When you whisper that I am not enough, I will remind you that my enoughness flows from God’s empowering presence. [2 Corinthians 3:5]

When you scream that someone else has more, I will remind you that because I am seeking God, I lack absolutely nothing. [Psalm 34:10]

When you challenge me to work harder to pass someone else’s success, I will stand tall knowing that God resists me when I am proud, but multiplies grace and favor when I’m humble. [1 Peter 5:7]

Your time is up and my insecurity is fading. You do not have any more power here.

Instead of needing more of what they have, I just need more of God, and less of me.

God’s given me absolutely everything I need to live out the life he has intended for me.

So thanks, but no thanks.

Your presence is no longer needed here.

 

Nice knowing ya,

God’s Kid

 

“Enjoy them now while they’re little!”

“Oh, I’d give anything to go back to that age again.”

“Just wait til she’s a teenager!”

I hear these sentences or something similar at least once a week. Usually more. Often from strangers, but from close people, too. And I smile and laugh and tell them that I’m doing my best and yes, my hands are full.

This post is not just for the young moms. This is for all of us. Those with tiny babies. With toddlers. With elementary agers. With teenagers. With grown kids who have their own kids.

Guys. Girls. Ladies. Whatever.

We need each other.

And since I’m speaking from the toddler age – I need you who have been there before. I know you mean well. I know when you tell me to enjoy every minute that you truly mean it, because you probably wish you could go back and do some things differently. And it’s your way of trying to encourage me.

But if I’m honest, it doesn’t feel encouraging. It feels a little bit crushing, like I’m doomed to fear my future because of regret and the looming dark age of teenagers.

Because right now, I’m focusing on sleeping when I can, feeding the little people and making them presentable for the world. I’m trying to love my husband and be wise and create a home that I love to be in.

This whole thing may come off snarky, and I promise it’s not my intent. I just want us to change what’s normal. Desperately, maybe unknowingly, we are seeking connection. Those of you who have gone through it all have so much wisdom and experience to share. And those of us who are in the trenches are desperate for it, whether we know it or not.

But somehow, our attempt at connection gets misconstrued and it turns into a competition. I know it doesn’t feel like you’re trying to compete. But when we don’t know how to simply support someone else by validating their time of life, we’re trying to build ourselves up instead of building them up. Or maybe we just aren’t really sure how to interact, so we just kind of throw out whatever sentence makes the most sense. Whether we’re in the same phase or different times of life, what would happen if we just let others be where they are?

Instead of connecting through competition,

let’s connect through validation.

What if we used words like:

“I know what you’re doing is so draining right now. I see you.”

“You’re doing an amazing job.”

“Your children will be blessed because of how you’re raising them.”

Listen,I know it goes fast. I know I need to be more present. I know I should clean less and play more. Our world has turned us against each other without us having any clue that it’s happened. We’ve subconsciously learned to tell people who may be a few years behind us in life that it only gets harder.

I just can’t see this as God’s way for women; for moms. I’m pretty sure this is what He’s saying to us instead:

“So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind.” [1 Thessalonians 5:11]

“Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out…” [Hebrews 10:24]

Let’s do that instead. Let’s be together in this. Instead of throwing out a sentence to another woman out of our own insecurity, let’s work on our creativity. How inventive can we be in encouraging each other? Let’s build up hope. Let’s encourage. Let’s love.

What would happen if women went out of their way to validate each other, calling out the God in them?

I’m pretty sure the whole world would change.

 

 

Ever had those “When it rains, it pours” weeks? Days, months, years, maybe?

And you start to wonder, “Uh… God? You still there?”

Because you know He’s promised to be faithful and good to you, but none of this feels good at all.

 

My son has recently gotten super into sports. He’s always loved them, but he’s joining tee ball in the spring, so he’s just ready to go with all of it. Soccer, basketball, whatever. Bring it on. He’s a pro.

But. In every game he plays, if someone does something he doesn’t like, he yells, “Cheater!” And we’re trying really hard to explain to him: “Buddy, just because someone scores on you doesn’t mean they’re a cheater.” But in his mind, he makes the rules of every game he plays, so if he’s not winning, they’re cheating. He calls it how he sees it. And we’re like, “That’s not really how that works, man.”

I know… Sounds like a stretch, but hang on with me. I just wonder when we parade around the word “good” as it relates to God in our tiny minds if He whispers, “That’s not really how it works, man.”

But we’re calling it like we see it, too. Because we think He’s good when we get the news we wanted. We think He’s good when that extra check comes in. We think He’s good when we feel He answered our prayer the way we asked for. And don’t get me wrong, He is good in all of the good stuff. But.

God’s goodness has as much to do with the “good” stuff as it does with the other side. The heartbreak and the chaos. The inexplicable and the questions. I wonder if when we post on Facebook about wonderful things happening to us and praise Him for being good, if He thinks, “There’s so much more.”

His goodness isn’t tied to our blessings. His goodness is simply tied to Him – because He Himself is good, kind, and just.

When your body is failing you and reacting in ways no one seems to know how to fix – He is good.

When situations blow up in front of you, and you find yourself taking life moment by moment – He is good.

When you’re betrayed and lonely, and you didn’t deserve it – He is good.

When you feel like life is wrongfully punishing you for no reason – He is good.

It’s not about whether we see the results of His goodness or not. It’s about whether we see Him. And seeing Him is the gift we’re offered unconditionally when we choose Him.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” [Matthew 5:8]

A pure heart belongs to the one who’s seeking after God, not what He can give.

A pure heart trusts that God’s goodness isn’t defined by tangible blessings.

A pure heart is not fragile or ignorant. It’s strong and confident, because it trusts fully in the goodness of God’s character.

Listen, I know life is so messy. It’s so much more than messy. It might be fractured in a million pieces right now, and anything good feels so out of reach. So with all the sensitivity and empathy in the world for whatever it is you’re going through, hear this:

God is good. Not because of what you see, but because of who He is. And He is waiting to be found by you. Right where you are, surrounded by broken pieces of your life. He’ll pick them up for you, create something brand new that you never could have done on your own. It’s not about choosing a better attitude. It’s not about positivity over negativity. It’s about Truth.

Instead of seeking answers or a way out, ask Him for a pure heart. I’m in it with you.

 

God,

We’re human and we’re not God. You don’t expect us to get it all right. Forgive us for looking for the way out of our pain, when you’re waiting to walk through it with us. Forgive us for basing our view of you off of our circumstances. We want to trust you more than we trust what we see. You are good. Always. Help our unbelief. Give us a pure heart. We want to see your face.

 

I lost my grandfather this week.

And to be honest with you, in the back of my mind, I thought it should have been easier than this. He was in his eighties. We knew he wouldn’t be around forever. But man, the hole is just so big, and we weren’t ready yet.

So I just have this feeling.

This feeling that those of us who have experienced loss just need to be reminded again:

It’s okay to grieve.

We all know what the Bible says about grief, right? “…Do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” [1 Thessalonians 4:13] Subconsciously, my mind took this to mean do not grieve.

We’ve created levels of acceptable grief. And we tell ourselves that others have it worse, so we should just pull it together. The world is watching, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we be different? Shouldn’t our trust in God be enough?

The answer is yes, but God never asked us to move on from loss as if it doesn’t affect us. We have hope, but guess what? We are human. God also says this:

“You’re blessed when the tears flow freely. Joy comes with the morning.” [Luke 6:21]

“God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” [Matthew 5:4]

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” [Psalms 34:18]

There are no hierarchies to grief and loss. Your life has been altered forever, and the God of heaven wants to acknowledge that in your life. He’s asking you to trust that He’ll take care of you, that He knows your deepest wounds and needs. But He’s not asking you to move on. He never has.

He’s asking you to trust that He will walk with you, that He has a future for you even if it looks different than the one you planned. He’s asking you to hold onto hope, even as you feel incomplete. God is hoping for the broken, fragile versions of ourselves. [Psalm 51:17] It’s the most real, and the most raw. He is not looking for Christians who can prove to the world that they don’t experience emotion like everyone else. He is hoping to use you in the midst of your brokenness, just as you are. Only then can He actually make a difference for eternity.

I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I know there are enough of you who have lost your dads, your moms, babies, friends.

What if we quit comparing the size of our losses to everyone else’s? We tell ourselves,

“Oh, they were older, so maybe it shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Well, we knew it was coming, so I should have been ready.”

I have experienced the pain of waiting for death. And I’ve experienced the shock of sudden death. And I can tell you right now, they are both crappy. There is no winning.

So hear me. Whatever you have been through, whatever hole has been left in your heart, it matters. It matters just as much as anyone else’s pain. We live in a world of comparison, and we’ve taken it to grief and loss, too. Isn’t that the craziest thing? We downplay our own pain because of what we’ve seen others go through.

The Truth sets us free.

So be free to grieve, to mourn, to take an extra minute to acknowledge what you’ve lost today. Your pain matters, and it matters to a holy God.

But don’t forget:

There is hope.

It feels like too much for our brains to take in. How can we hope through our pain? But it’s what God does, and it’s who He is. The most reassuring truth is that we don’t have to manufacture hope. Hope is His gift to us. He breathes it over us, and we just get to say yes and grab on. We get to hold on tight to hope while the boat around us rocks and shifts and seems to drift.

So just do it all. Grieve, cry, laugh, hope, trust. Our God is big enough.

“We who have run for our very lives to God have every reason to grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God.” [Hebrews 6:19]