Martha

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Martha. No, my name isn’t really Martha, but in my heart…I am her.

I have thought of Martha for a long time now.

I have heard the Mary and Martha story from the Bible for more years than I can count. Someone even wrote a book about it.

The way I look at it, though, both Mary and Martha had flaws. And last time I checked, we all do. All of us who are Mary and Martha and John and Peter and Paul and Matthew and anyone else…we are all flawed, sinful, broken people. People in need of a Savior.

38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

Martha was busy. And according to many people who teach about her in Sunday school or Bible study or church, she was attempting to be the ultimate hostess…and many people would say she was missing the point of Jesus. I wouldn’t argue that.

I often wonder what I would do if Jesus sat in my home on a Sunday afternoon…would I behave as I normally do and cook, clean, load dishes, unload dishes, load the washer, unload the washer, fold the towels, fold the socks, put the sheets on the bed and then…finally, when it was time for Jesus – the Savior of the World – to leave, would I be ready to listen and sit at His feet? Oh, but Jesus, I am ready to listen to you now. Everything is done and ready for Monday. Don’t leave just yet.

Would I miss out on the teaching of the Messiah because I have Sunday night fever…a terrible sickness that strikes weekly only on Sundays causing me to rush into a frenzy of crossing off items on my to-do list.

Some might say I am being a good hostess.

I would tell you it’s much more sinister than that. I would tell you I am an addict.

I would tell you that I am coping. I am an addict and busy is my drug. I am running. Sitting still for too long with nothing to occupy my mind proves often to be a dangerous endeavor. Often I end up in a heap of tears consumed by the worry in my head. The what ifs, what abouts and everything in between are a constant source of worry.

My husband tells me to finish up and sit down. My daughter says that I rush about doing stuff all the time and don’t just sit with her.

I have always noticed the Sunday night fever. I just never realized that other people noticed it too.

I am not even a great hostess. My cups and plates don’t match. My silverware is missing key pieces. My dishwashing soap doesn’t clean well so all my utensils have spots. I burn food weekly. And I tend to cook the same things over and over…either out of ease or lack of creativity.

I don’t know if Martha was actually a good hostess or not. What I would argue about her is this…and it comes directly from the mouth of Jesus…

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one.[f] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42

Jesus told her she was worried and upset about many things. Worried. Upset. Many things. Many. Things.

It wasn’t just the food to prepare or the dirty floor or the straightening of the home. Martha was worried and upset about many things.

If I listed to you the worry in my heart, the items that bring me to tears, you might look at me perplexed over some of them…as if you question why those are even worries of mine. Some of them you would be grateful they were not yours to worry about.

What I realized is that I am not running to Jesus with these things right now. Probably since September 2013, I have held on tight to the hurt and pain and sadness and anger and fear rather than running to Him. And it’s there. Almost tangible to reach out and touch. And I want to run to Him, because I know that is where healing begins. But for some reason, I don’t. I run away.

And so the addiction to busy continues. Because if I sit quietly for too long, the weight of all of the above becomes too much. Overwhelming. And I’m not quite sure what Jesus will do with this mess that I’ve become. What will the fix look like? What will the healing look like? Because I am just not sure how much more I can bear, and. I’m afraid He thinks I can bear more.

3 No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. I Corinthians 10:13

He never promises not to give you hard things. He never promises an easy road. He promises that the temptation you and I face is common and He will provide a way to endure it.

I know in my heart that He gives rest. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. My prayer this year is that if you are weary and running from Him, I pray that you will stop and run to Him. I will be doing the same.

Words

Allow me a moment (or several) to share with you about words. I think everyone in America has heard the phrase:

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

I'm fairly certain this has been said in our house more than once. This is a phrase that I don't use. I actually turn it into this instead:

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will break my heart."

Maybe you're thinking, "geez...that's an awful little phrase to use."

You'd be right. It's awful. And that's the point. Our words can be life-giving or they can spew poison. 

Our words can be a healing salve, or like pouring alcohol on an open-wound. The Bible is pretty clear about the power of our words. 

Proverbs 18:21 tells us, "The tongue has the power of life and death; those who love it will eat its fruit."

In fact, in Genesis where we find the creation account, God's spoken word is what created everything. God spoke the earth into creation. On every single day of creation, we see that God spoke and it was. Go look at Genesis 1 and see where it says on nine separate occasions, "God said..."

Folks, that tells me that our words are powerful. 

I've recently been convicted about the words we use with our children. All of our children - not just mine. I've been so convicted that in some cases I think our words can be more damaging than our actions. Some cases, not all.

How about this one: "Don't be so sensitive. Be tough."

Let me suggest that there is a flaw in this logic - that one cannot be both sensitive and tough. Instead, what if we looked at being sensitive and being tough as separate, but also tied together. 

In order to be tough, which really means strong and resilient and capable of love and deep feeling, one must also be sensitive. To be sensitive one must be allowed to feel and recognize feeling in others. And that, my friends, is true strength. 

I have always had a very sensitive heart. I have always felt deeply for those who are hurting...even if they brought it upon themselves. It took me a long time to be able to articulate it, but I realized that for people to hurt other people, they must be hurting a lot on the inside themselves. 

How does it go? Hurt people, hurt people.

Isn't that true for all of us?

So, when we tell our kids to be tough, don't be sensitive we are really telling them to disregard other people's feelings as well as our own. Don't feel. Just act. Don't feel. Just pretend. 

It's like telling kids not to be scared, when feeling scared is normal and okay. And sometimes feeling scared is good because it tells us that danger is near.

Please allow me to shout this from the rooftops: BE SENSITIVE! AND still be tough. Be tough because you are sensitive. Be tough because you are kind. Be tough because you recognize, you know and you understand your feelings. And please, please be sensitive.

Sensitive means strong and wise and kind and considerate. So, please, be sensitive.

What is God calling you to do...

I wish I had beautiful and eloquent words to type this post. All I have is the jumbled up thoughts in my head at the moment.

I've known for some time that God is calling me to do something. I have no idea what. None. Zero. I just know that I have felt His pull on my heart for a while.

In the midst of the last year of our lives...the losses we've experienced...I simply ignored this pull. I ignored what I felt in my heart. I ignored the voice of the Lord in my head and heart speaking to me.

I wish I hadn't wasted the last 12 months doing that, and yet I did.

So I am here today. Realizing that there is something stirring, indeed. And all I can do is say, "okay, Lord...show me. I'm willing."

That last part. It's a scary thing. The willingness. The submission. The heart of surrender.

Isn't that what following Christ is about?

"And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brothers, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. Then He said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." They immediately left their nets and followed Him." Matthew 4:18-19

They didn't pause, hesitate, question or pack up their stuff. They followed.

I want to have a heart like that. That recognizes the voice of the Lord and obeys. I want to have a heart that "runs in the path of His commands..." because He truly has set my heart free. Psalm 119:32

The Miracle of June 10, 2011** Part 2

** I started to write this post on June 10...and because the whole story is a bit overwhelming, I had to take breaks and finish a piece at a time.

It's also a pretty long, but amazing story of God's mercy and provision...so I had to break it into parts. Here's part 2.

Part 1 is here.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We made it in to see the doctor at 9 a.m. By the time the doctor checked her, she was fine. Her oxygen levels were near perfect. She couldn't produce a cough if you brib
ed her with a cupcake. And I sat there in the doctor's office...angry. I was so incredibly angry. The doctor said we did everything right. These attacks come out of nowhere. Keep doing what we're doing. 

And I thought, "yeah, right...that was terrifying...I don't know that any of us ever want to do that again...we did everything right, and we still felt like we were losing her...even prescription medicine nearly failed her (and already had in my mind)..."

In the car on the way home, she was quiet and tired. I was too. And I was angry. Still. As I turned out of the parking lot onto the street that would take us home, I distinctly felt God speak to me. (A side note: I am always careful to say God spoke to me. So when I say spoke, what I mean is that I felt Him put these words into my brain. I felt His presence. I didn't audibly hear His voice, but I sensed Him communicating with me in some way.)

And here's what He said, "You asked me to heal her. You asked me to heal her. And now you're angry at me?"

Here's the thing...I did ask Him all night long to heal her. In my mind I wanted it to be instant and miraculous and kind of amazing. With fireworks or something, I don't know. I wanted some grand display. But it wasn't. She labored all night to breathe and then fell asleep just in time for me to wake up and get dressed for work (I took her to the doctor instead).

His healing didn't match the image in my head. His healing wasn't grand or spectacular in the ways that I as a human thinks of grand and spectacular. There were no choirs singing. And yet, when I think about it...HE spared her life. HE did something miraculous. HE healed her.

Her living and breathing should have been enough for me to be praising Him and thanking Him. I think my fear of losing her, of not being able to help her, of watching her almost suffocate had left me angry.

On the way home I remembered that a friend knew someone who worked in a healing ministry and could get us in to a healing service where people would lay hands on her and intercede on her behalf. I called her and asked her to help me...that we needed to take Wonder Woman. I went home and told Amazing Husband that I wanted to go to this service. And he said he would go too.

On June 9, 2011 we drove to a big city (mini-vacation) and stayed with my sister and her family. We woke up early June 10, 2011 to drive to a big convention center where I believed we would walk out forever changed. Wonder Woman would be healed by the grace and power of our awesome God, but we would all be changed in seeing that happen before our eyes.

Before the service even began, a prayer team leader approached us and took Amazing Husband and Wonder Woman into another room. A crowd of people circled her and prayed over her and lifted her up to Ultimate Healer. Amazing Husband says he has never experienced anything like it before, and Wonder Woman says she felt like something was whooshing through her body.

And before the service even began...we had our miracle. We all knew it. She knew it, even though she was only 6 years old at the time.

She hasn't had an asthma attack since that long night in April 2011. She's barely had a cough. She's healed. I pray that one day she will tell her powerful story of God's healing in her body and her life...and that she will pray for others the way she was prayed for June 10, 2011.

We thank God daily for healing her. We thank God for the miracle and the gift of her life.

I really think God healed her the night of the awful attack. I think I doubted that my prayers would reach the heavens, so I wanted someone more holy than me to pray on her behalf...as if God only hears prayers from certain people. That was (and is) a lie from the enemy. That is what the enemy does...he whispers lies to us to stop us from communicating with our Heavenly Father...to make us feel ineffective, that God won't hear us or that we're not good enough to do anything.

Even though I have failed a thousand-million-trillion times, my God still knows my voice. He hears my cries and answers my prayers. Not in the way that I think He will, but He answers me always.
He knows me. He knows me...and He loves me. And He loves you, too.

Taking a short break...

Taking a short break from here. I will be back soon.

In the meantime, here's a reminder I need right now.

Choose wisely

Last week as I was reading through some Facebook posts, I came across a post that someone shared. It was a link to a news article similar to this one. I read the article, and kind of thought, "Wow...I would be tired with 19. Heck, I'm tired with three."

And then I thought, "Why not?"

It was a comment on the shared post that stopped me cold...something along the lines of "he should be castrated..."

At first I was angry. I was upset. I was completely shocked by the comment. I don't know why though. There shouldn't be much that shocks me anymore considering the state of the world in which we live.

I guess I just don't get it. Why does it matter to anyone - anyone at all, really - whether or not the Duggars choose to have any additional children? Why does it matter?

Someone else commented, wondering how they make their money to support all those kids. Who cares?

Truthfully, I haven't done a lot of research on this subject. I don't know for certain that the Duggars' don't receive some form of government assistance; however, I highly doubt that they do. I do know they own several businesses, and I do know they live fairly frugally in the middle of Arkansas. It's not Beverly Hills, folks. Land is fairly cheap there. And though their house is well-equipped for a large family, it's not flashy or extravagant. My guess is that they make a decent living with their businesses and are able to provide nicely for their family - with little or no help from anyone else.

I got pretty wound up about this whole mess, and I sat at home with Amazing Husband that night trying to figure out what got me so upset.

Here's what I came to:

1. Social media is a great tool to keep us connected with friends and loved ones. It provides a great opportunity to share our faith and our beliefs. Social media quickly turns into a place where people are able to hide behind the comfort of their home and their phone/computer and feel this abnormal sense of freedom to share their ugliness.

Notice I didn't say their opinion. Opinions are common. Everyone has them. Like I tell my kids, it's fine to share them with respect, tact and concern for other people's feelings.

"Why should I care what anyone else thinks about my opinion?" Oh dear, you're missing the point. It's not that what anyone else thinks matters. It's that you're a human being, and if you want to be spoken to and treated with respect, then you have to offer some to others as well. It's a two-way street.

2. Some things are none of my business, your business or anyone else's business EXCEPT for the people directly involved. In this case, that would be the Duggar family only. If you have ever watched this show, whether you like the show or not, you cannot argue the fact that these people seem like the real deal. Their beliefs may differ from yours and mine. Their morals and values may not be the same as yours or mine, but they are consistent. Just watch an episode if you don't believe me. Watch them. The fruit of their lives - and MOST IMPORTANTLY - the fruit of their children's lives reflects nothing but authenticity to me.

If you had two parents who put on their Sunday best and sat and spoke softly to the camera, but their kids acted like animals, you'd see the disconnect and think "these people are a joke."

That's not the case though. And their lives reflect the condition of their hearts.

3. Freedom. We have several basic freedoms in this country. Two big ones that come to mind are the freedom of speech  and freedom of religion. 

Because of the freedom of speech, people are free to post any disrespectful or tactless thing they feel like. And I am not arguing that freedom one bit. I'm simply appealing to the human sense of respect and decorum. Is this how we treat people who choose a different path than we do? We say ugly things simply because they live differently. Really?

Their deeply rooted, Christian faith had led them to make many lifestyle choices - one of which is having a big family. Why? Because according to the Bible, "children are a gift from God." Psalm 127:3. For them, that has meant 19 living children and 1 in heaven. It could have been a different number, but they left that up to God to determine.

So, because they have the freedom to practice their religion, they're allowed to have as many children as they can handle, afford, love and provide for.

4. Choose wisely. While it is your right and your freedom, you don't have to have an opinion on everything, nor do you have to share that opinion. I tell my kids this all the time. And I follow it up with this: always be educated. Always know what's going on in the world around you. Always be well-read and be able to discuss any issues of significance; however, do not be ignorant and start spewing out your opinion based on emotion or what your friend said. Then you just look dumb, because you probably can't back up what you're saying with actual facts and information. "My friend told me..." is not a valid argument.

And then I follow that up with this: some topics are not worth discussing. Some people and arguments are not worth engaging. There are other things much more significant with which to fill up your mind, time and energy.

Choose wisely.

Decisions

I've been a Christian (a believer in Christ) since I was 6 years old. I was first baptized at that age in Dallas North Community Church.

From the time I was saved until I found out I was pregnant with our first child, my faith and understanding of God grew over time. It wasn't until I was faced with an unplanned pregnancy that I truly surrendered my life to Him. It's funny how anything unplanned has the great potential to turn our hearts toward Jesus. 

And yet at 23, there I was. Pregnant. Unwed. And though the father of the baby would soon become my husband (my amazing and wonderful and awesome husband), I was broken. Broken by my sin. Broken by the things I was seeking that could only be found in Jesus.

From that time, I will tell you, I have sought the Lord. I searched for Him. I cried out to Him for mercy. I longed for Him. I hungered and thirsted for Him. And in many places, at many different times, I have found Him.

Yes, He is always there, but when you're really searching and looking and needing answers from the only One with answers, you will find Him. And I did. And I have. And I continue.

All it took was a decision. A simple decision. A realization that I had come to the end of myself, the end of my own willful disobedience, and I had a choice. I  made a decision to pursue God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.

As a teenager, I thought I pursued Him. I think I wanted to know Him. I also know that I wanted to know Him on my own terms and how HE fit into my life. And that's not necessarily how it's supposed to go. God doesn't fit into our lives when it's convenient and cute and appropriate and usually on Sundays and Wednesdays. He's not a puzzle piece.

He is. He is my life. He is my everything. He holds the future - my future in His hands.

I've been quite open here in this space about how I've struggled since the miscarriage. How I've questioned. How I have wondered if the God I knew just turned His back on me and stopped hearing my cries.

And then I realized something this week when I was listening to a song on the radio. It's the song "Blessings" by Laura Story. You can listen/watch here.

"We pray for wisdom, your voice to hear,
We cry in anger when we cannot feel you near.
We doubt your goodness,
We doubt your love.
As if every promise from your word is not enough.
And all the while, you hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe.
'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near
What if trials of this life...are your mercies in disguise"

The bridge finishes up with this...

"The pain reminds us all that this is not, this is not our home..."

As I heard the last line of the bridge for probably the 1,000th time in my life, I realized the point of the suffering...at least for me. I felt as if the Lord were telling me that I would get too comfortable in this life if everything were easy and painless. I wouldn't long for Him and for heaven the way that I should...

The pain reminds us all that this is not our home. I'm to be concerned with and consumed by the things of God. And this year has been hard for us in so many ways - losing a business and then a baby, a child, a life. It stripped us bare in so many ways.

The enemy used it to push me away from God, when I should have been running to Him.

I keep wondering what might be coming next. What's the next mountain we will have to climb? Deep down inside I had to make a decision that no matter what, I will trust Him. Through the pain. In the pain. Whatever may come.

I just want more of Jesus...to fill me up and spill out of me...so that when people see me, they only recognize Him.

Being a mom...

Every single day tries my patience with our children. 

Yesterday, moms everywhere were celebrated and loved and praised. It was Mother's Day. It's what's supposed to happen, right? I even had a neighbor friend tell me how amazing I was because I have the patience to homeschool. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. 

Oh yes. I have such great and amazing patience that I was driven to my blog to type these things out immediately because surely God has a message in here for this mama. And by "this mama" I mean me. 

It's moments like this that I wonder why God would have ever chosen me to be a mom. And I certainly question my decision to homeschool when I can't even get them to stay on task. 

Moments like this I have to pull out the big guns. Oh, yes. I even threaten to take away their electronics time. I swear they sucked every breath of oxygen out of the room when I made my threat. 

I didn't raise my voice. I didn't yell. I think they saw my seriousness. And now they are quiet. 

And then the guilt sets in. The enemy accuses me that I'm not fun enough. I'm not relaxed enough. I'm not...enough. 

It's the same accusation today as it was 20 years ago, just under different circumstances. 

It doesn't really matter what he accuses me of. I have a choice. To listen or ignore. To believe or refute. To accept or deny. On many days I will sit and listen to him, even engage in an argument about why I am enough. 

And then I remember, The Lord fights for me. The battle is His. And He already won!

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still." Exodus 14:14

So tomorrow we have another new day. Another day to start over fresh. Another day to remember who God created me to be. 

So whose voice will you listen to today?

One of my biggest fears...

One of my biggest fears is that our sweet children will struggle with the same things that we have struggled with.

I'm afraid that if I don't teach them enough, if I don't show them enough, if I don't love them in all the ways I needed to be loved (but wasn't), AND all the ways that they need to be loved, then they will follow the same lonely and destructive paths we followed as teenagers and adults.

I'm afraid that if I smother them, they will hate me.

I'm afraid that if I let them go and explore and be responsible, that in one, tiny second something terrible will happen that I will never be able to undo.

I'm afraid that my depression will be passed onto them, and they will spend their adult days wondering why they don't "rejoice in the Lord" all the day long. After all, I certainly have plenty to rejoice about. I do.

I'm afraid that they will think like I did...that one time won't hurt. After all, as a teenager and young adult I was practically invincible and made of iron...nothing could touch me. I guess you could call me, Iron Woman. Except that I was a wreck and making a mess of my life.

I'm afraid that they will grow up disliking each other and not love one another. I want them to have each other's back. I want them to look out for and defend one another. I want them to see the precious friends they already have (and will forever have) in their brothers and sister. I want my sons to defend my precious girl. And I want my girl to stand up on behalf of her brothers...if the need ever arises.

I'm afraid they will struggle with addiction because between my eating disorder (an addiction, in my opinion), and Amazing Husband's addiction, it could easily be hardwired into them. And yes, I do believe that addictions are hardwired. But that's another topic.

I'm afraid I won't be able to protect them. That some terrible, tragic event will interrupt our lives. Something more terrible than a miscarriage. And I'm afraid I would be undone.

And day after day I see them fight with one another. Not all day. Not even most of the day. But I see it here and there.

And I feel completely and utterly defeated. Because even my best attempts to shape them cannot determine their behavior. Nope. That is up to them.

And I see them test the waters with me. Pushing me just a little more to see what they can get away with.

They ask the questions about using bad words and 'why can't we use them if people made them bad, but really they're just words used to hurt...'

They discuss going off to college, parties and alcohol. And they all have an opinion about what is good and bad, right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable. And to a great degree, Amazing Husband and I have shaped that in what we've taught them, but also in how we've lived our lives in front of them.

And I wonder if the way I've lived my life reflects the things I speak to them. Because I know the words I speak to them about love, faith, obedience, trust, acceptance, love, love and more love. But does my life echo my words? Or does my life reflect something completely different. And I'm afraid that they don't match - my words and my life. Or maybe they do. I don't know.

I'm afraid.

I'm fearful.

I'm anxious.

But, God did not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and sound mind. These children are only mine to raise, but they are His for eternity. Their choices are ultimately their choices, and while we are responsible to teach them, we cannot choose for them. 

Truly, deep within my heart I know, the very best thing I can do is pray for them. Lift them up to their Heavenly Father who loves them perfectly, and ask Him to protect, defend, lead, guide, teach, train and love.

When I'm fearful and anxious and afraid, I'm not trusting Him. So how can I possibly teach them to do it, if I'm not? Instead, when I pray for them, it's indeed the best use of my time. And when I pray for them in front of them, I hope they are learning how to pray for themselves and for others - perhaps their own children one day. 

The enemy lies to us. He lies about anything and everything. Mostly he lies about things that he can easily convince us of...for me that is fear. For you, it might be something else.

One of the greatest truths I know to combat my greatest fears is this: God did not give me fear. And if God loves me enough to send His only Son to die on my behalf, then His is the voice I will trust when I am afraid.

False Saviors

This post may ramble a bit, but I desperately needed this word planted in my heart. I think maybe that somebody else might need it too. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's someone you know. Or maybe this is a nugget for you to tuck away for one day when you realize you need it.

I went running this morning with a friend, and as we ran we talked about the miscarriage...and "how I'm doing" now. She knew of my plans to run certain numbers last week in honor of the baby and the due date. And she said this,

"Carly, I think you took a really difficult situation and you did something positive with it. You took your pain and heartache, and you used it in a positive way. There are so many other things you could have done to get through the pain, but you did something positive instead."

From the moment I knew that we had miscarried, there was a battle raging in my heart and mind. It was nothing short of a David & Goliath showdown except the foes were named Savior & False Savior.

I asked God why, so many times. Fresh out of the doctors office where I saw the baby with no heartbeat, I cried hot, angry tears, and I screamed inside my car. I screamed, and I shouted, and I raged at God.

Savior wanted me to remember who God is, that He could use this for my good. That He loves me beyond my comprehension. That I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

False savior kept whispering to me that God really isn't that good. He allowed this to happen. He took our baby. We had already lost so much (it seemed) and He wasn't finished taking from us.

Savior was quiet. He never shouted. He spoke in whispers. He spoke in the sweet e-mails and texts from friends...reminding me that He loves and cares for me and catches every tear. He spoke in scripture verses that came to mind.

False savior was loud, obsessive and repetitive with his taunts.

There were times that I listened more to the False savior. It's so much easier to hear the louder voice.

I'm not proud to admit that many, many times I simply was faithless. I was hurt and angry. And I felt completely justified in defiantly telling someone that "I don't want to pray right now!"

I was listening to the False savior. I was allowing His lies to take root in my heart.

Now that I am on the other side of this mountain, the False savior has a new tactic. Now he's reminding me of how I turned away from the Savior, how I had such little faith, how I was angry and disloyal to my God. My true Savior.

In the midst of all of the pain of the miscarriage and the crazy emotions it brought to the surface, I could have run to 1,000 different false saviors. I could have turned to alcohol, drugs, my past eating disorder or any number of things to save me from the pain. Believe me, the False savior tried every tactic.

Instead I chose to run. By choosing to run, I chose the true Savior. Because on those runs - the hard, cold, long runs - I needed my Savior, my God to keep me going. I quoted more scripture on those runs than I had in months. I cried out to Him to relieve the pain, to heal me. I ran to Him. It was on those runs that I finally wanted to pray again.

Dear friend, maybe you need this message and maybe you don't. One thing I do know for sure, there is a God who loves you and me and everyone else beyond what we can even imagine. And no matter what mountain you're facing, He is there for you. He can turn your mourning into dancing. He can remove your sadness and clothe you with joy.

Those false saviors will always disappoint. But the one true God, He never will.

Worry...

I remember one time I was listening to Dr. James Dobson from Focus on the Family talk about despair being a sin. That when we despair we are choosing to not trust God. Maybe it's a choice. Maybe you suffer from depression and despair is just a companion of the former. 

As he talked, I wasn't as focused on despair as I was focused on the fact that there were sins I didn't even know about. I was an adult at this time, and I was shocked that I probably had been sinning in many more ways than I realized. 

I thought that sins were basically tied neatly inside the Ten Commandments, and anything outside of that wasn't sin. 

It changed my way of thinking about sin completely. 

Despair is a lack of trust in God. Despair reveals that our faith in our Creator is conditional. And I must be honest to tell you, I am so faith-less at times. I'm not proud of it. 

Well, as I type this, I am filled with worry. I've been consumed with it for weeks. Maybe I've been consumed with it my entire life, or at least my adult life. 

What I've known is this: worry robs me of joy, peace, contentment, life, love and so much more. Worry is a tool of the enemy to steal my focus from the God who provides, the God of enough, the God of grace and mercy. And instead my focus becomes the issues, the problems, the situations in life that inevitably arise. 

Before my race, I worried about dying, not finishing, sleeping too late, wearing the wrong shoes, chafing, falling and so many other things. I spent the race telling a perfect stranger (whom I met and ran with the entire time) about all the things I had worried about. By the time I said, "I worried" for the 100th time, I realized she must really think I'm crazy. I also realized how much of a focus worry has become in my life.  

You'd think I would have learned after that. 

But then I was planning a short trip away from home with the kids. I can't even tell you all the things I've worried about for this trip. I can just tell you that I'd probably be better off at home instead of worrying about all of this stuff. But then the enemy would rob me of time away with my kids and family.

I don't have all the answers. I don't have this problem squared away. And most days I forget what to do as my stomach churns with fear and anxiety. 

But God. He whispers to me. He speaks in the midnight hour (literally) reminding me to call His name. He reminds me to trust Him. He reminds me to speak His Word. He reminds me that He will supply all my needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus. He reminds me of Psalm 91. 

The enemy is relentless at times. Attempts to distract me are as constant as machine-gun fire. There are more moments of weakness right now where I let those worries, doubts and fears creep in. And then there are moments when I trust Him completely...because I have nothing left...but to trust Him. 

If you worry, if you doubt and if you fear, remember that God didn't give you those fears and those worries. They come from the enemy of your soul and mine. The devil is a liar and the father of lies. He wants only to steal, kill and destroy all those who were made in the image of God. 

But God. He wins. Jesus paid the debt for us so that we would have an everlasting, abundant life. 

So today, take hold of the promises of God. Every time you worry, remind yourself of what God says about you. Remind yourself that "God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind..." 2 Tim 1:7. 

Repeat it. Over and over. Until you confidently believe it and stand in faith until you see God do the impossible in your life. 

Studying Ruth...

I recently began a Bible study thanks to a dear friend of mine. She sent me an extra copy of "Ruth: Loss, Love & Legacy" by Kelly Minter.

I actually started it the day before my recent race. Really, that's of little significance, but I remember things like that. I remember dates and outfits and special events. It's good and bad. Good because I know if I wore something recently and where I wore it. Bad because it makes it difficult to forget things.

The study of Ruth is fascinating. Really, any study of a specific person in the Bible sucks me in. Some of these studies are amazing. They really go through every detail of the person's life. They explain things I would never know to dig deeper into on my own.

At the beginning of the story of Ruth we find that Elimelech and Naomi and their sons have moved to Moab because of a famine in Judah. Their sons ended up marrying Moabite women. Elimelech, Naomi and the sons were all Israelites. And intermarrying with Moabites was specifically forbidden.
Actually, the fact that they even went to the land of Moab is a problem, because God forbid that as well.

Eventually all of the men died leaving Naomi, Orpah and Ruth (the son's wives) in Moab. Naomi decided to return to Bethlehem because she learned that the famine had ended, and perhaps...perhaps she wanted to return home now that she had suffered such great loss.

So, on to my point...

Kelly Minter pointed out something in her study that really made me pause and reflect. I reflected on the choices I've made in life - good and bad. Here's what she said speaking of Naomi returning home:

"...the catalyst behind both journeys seems to be governed by the physical and not the spiritual. On both occasions their physical circumstances and not necessarily the God of their circumstances dictated their decisions."

How many decisions have I made based on physical circumstances rather than the God of my circumstances?

I can think of one to start with (although there are many more). Eight years ago I wanted desperately to move back home from the town where we lived since college. We had great jobs. Our babies were in a great preschool. We had a great, little house. We had great friends. The only negative was that our families were two hours away. Two hours is not a big deal, but we all wanted to be closer. And you know, the grass is always greener...

So when I was offered a less than ideal position with a start-up company, with an okay salary, I was so eager to move back that I didn't even stop to pray about it. It was just the first bite I had at a job, and I jumped on it. I think if my sweet husband had argued with me, I probably would have been unhappy about that and tried to force the issue with him. (That is, unfortunately, a reflection of my heart at the time, I'm embarrassed to say).

Sweet husband didn't argue though. He was ready to move I suppose. Or he was ready for me to stop talking about moving. Either way, we loaded up everything we owned and headed home.  

And it was all downhill from there. Within 24 hours our daughter became so ill, with what we now know was asthma, that we simply couldn't keep her well. Tubes in her ears, antibiotics, breathing treatments, pneumonia...you name it. Their daycare was less than the ideal we were expecting and considerably less than we were used to. My awesome husband had a difficult job search. Family relationships seemed strained. My job turned out to be a growing place for me. It was a task I simply wasn't cut out for. It wasn't my gift to do the job I had been given, and though I did the very best that I could do, ultimately it cost us our friendship with the people who gave me the job. It wasn't ugly. It was more of a mutual understanding of "I'm not sure what any of us were thinking when we did this..."

At some point I began to hear the Lord whispering to me. He was tugging at my heart letting me know that I had chosen my own way. I hadn't sought His will. I hadn't even prayed. I saw one cracked-open door and plowed through with full force. And the what ifs began to flood my mind. 

What if we stayed - Wonder Woman might have never been sick. 

What if we stayed - awesome husband would still have a job. 

What if we stayed - I would have a job I loved with people I loved. 

What if we stayed - the kids would be cared for by people who loved them. 

What if we stayed - relationships wouldn't be strained other than by distance. And distance isn't the end of the world. 

It is always easier to see what we should have done when we look back. When things become painful or uncomfortable we begin to reassess every decision, step, choice, and movement to discern where it all went wrong. And we begin to seek God...finally. 

What I see when I look back now is that God used all of this in our lives to grow us, draw us nearer to Him, to refine us and create a new heart within us; a heart that would be devoted to Him. Because after seeing the destruction caused by my selfish desire to move, I would rather obey God and suffer a little pain than disobey and leave disaster in my wake. 

Our suffering doesn't compare to His suffering in sending Jesus to die for us. He watched His Son be wounded and die for our sins so that we would have eternal life and not have to bear the weight of our sin anymore...

This world and this life brings momentary, physical pain. Physical suffering.
My heart's desire is to be moved in this life by spiritual circumstances rather than physical. Because when the things of God move me, I am moved out of my love for Him and not my fear of what may come. 

Pride

I think it's easy for anyone to get caught up in pride and not realize it. Pride is subtle. It's sneaky. We are taught to strive for excellence. We are praised for our accomplishments. We feel a sense of satisfaction after a job well done. There's nothing wrong with that. 

Right?

I heard a man on the radio tonight talking about how when he took over a singles group at a church it saw a period of rapid change. In a matter of weeks the group went from 100 members to 5. He was disappointed and dejected. He said he even went home and cried. And as he asked God why, he felt like God showed him something. 

If you take the blame for your losses, you'll be tempted to take the credit for your gains. 

In other words, God alone deserves the glory.  Whether it's a loss or a gain, God alone.  Whether it's a heartache or a joy, God alone.  

If my business fails, and I think it's something I did or didn't do, then that also means I get the credit if it succeeds.

If I miscarry a baby, and I wonder what I could have done differently, then that means I might think I was solely responsible for bringing that healthy baby (if I didn't miscarry) into the world. 

If my children grow up and make some sinful life choice (wait, I make sinful choices every day), then it must be something I did or didn't do that led them astray. And then of course, if they grow up practically perfect in every way, then I must be on a Mary Poppins set, and I definitely had a hand in their success.

If the good and the bad rests on my shoulders, that's quite a terrible burden to carry. But...if the good and the bad rests on our Heavenly Father, then we remember where the credit is due and we praise and honor Him. 

Yes, we have free will. We are responsible for our choices.  When we obey, we open the door for God to bless us. When we disobey, we open the door for the consequences to our choices. At the end of the day, though, God does have a plan for us. It's His plan. And whatever He chooses to do or not do in our lives, His plan is to use it for our good. 

On controversy...

Today I was reading through my Facebook timeline and came across a post by an old friend of mine. She was asking people who profess Christ as their Savior to weigh in on what they would do if their child came home and told them they were gay.

I usually avoid these types of conversations in general, because I find they are fruitless. They are distracting. I actually think they're a tool of the enemy to turn our focus to the minutia of life instead of the great commission.

Please hear me out on this. I am not giving an opinion, nor am I weighing in. I am simply asking you, dear reader, to consider that perhaps we are all missing the point. Perhaps the enemy has us distracted with this bickering over sin, and as a result we do not please God, nor do we serve Him. 

I am a Christian. I do believe in Jesus Christ, God the Father, and the Holy Spirit. I do believe that Jesus died for my sins, and that I am a sinner in need of grace and forgiveness that only His death could provide. I believe that He rose from the dead and resides in Heaven with God. I also believe that one day He will return to take His people home. 

As a believer, I have but one purpose on this earth. One. Not two, not three, not ten and not 100. I have one purpose.

My purpose is simply to love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.

Maybe you're thinking, "wait, that leaves out loving others, or being obedient, or not sinning, or this or that..."

But actually it doesn't. Loving God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength actually includes all those things and so much more.

Why? How? Because out of my great love for Him (Oh, how I love Him!) I will do all those other things and so fulfill His purpose in my life. 

If I love God, I will love others.

If I love God, I will tell others about Him so they can know Him too. 

If I love God, I will want to obey Him. 

If I love God, I will not want to sin...even though I will fail and need to be forgiven time and time again. 

If I love God, I will live my life in such a way as to keep His commandments.

If I love God, I will seek to honor Him in the way I speak to my husband, treat my husband, respect and even (gasp!) submit to my husband. 

God's Word covers all these issues and more...but if I don't love God, I will miss the big picture of why I am even here. 

God first. Always. In all things. And suddenly, the muddy waters of doctrine and theology become very clear for me. I'm here to love God. And if I truly am striving to do that, then I will pour out love to others...His children, those people made in His image regardless of their sin or life choices. I will love. 

Five months...

A thousand emotions have barreled through my heart since September 2013. There are days when I don't feel sad over the miscarriage anymore. Then there are days that catch me by surprise when I see a baby in a new mom's arms.

And sweet Superman always touches my tummy and says, "Mom, I can't believe there was a baby in there..."

Me neither, sweet Superman. And I can't believe the baby's gone. Only, I can believe it now. I know it's final, and over. And I have felt the finality in my heart since I left the hospital after the D&C with no fanfare, no pomp and circumstance and no baby in my arms. The only thing I took home was juice and Nutter Butter cookies. The details we remember...

It's been five months today since we found out we lost the baby. And today, I am okay. I am more than okay. The day is still young, but I probably won't cry. 

Today, I choose to rejoice in the little life that was. The baby whose heart beat for a short 7 weeks. The baby to whom I'd grown so attached in such a short amount of time. 

Today, I choose to rejoice in our family of six. Six. 6. We are a family of 6. Three, precious kids alive, and one precious, angel baby. 

Today, I choose to be grateful for my amazing husband. Without him, I would not have made it through the difficult days. He was strong when I was weak. He was able when I was not. He took care of the kids when I could barely function. He took care of me when I really didn't care enough to take care of myself. In so many ways (and often when I needed it most), he pointed me back to Jesus...the only one who could heal the hurt in my heart. 

Some days are better than others. There are days when I feel the ache inside almost as much as I did five months ago. Then there are days, like today, when I feel like rejoicing because the Lord has dealt bountifully with me. 

When it feels that God is distant...

I have been trying to put my finger on this for sometime...my sweet husband had similar questions. Since September, I've been wondering where God was in all of this.

I know that the Bible tells us "He never leaves us nor forsakes us," in Deuteronomy 31:6. In my searching for His presence, to feel Him near, I have clung to this verse. I have spoken it out loud. I have said it to husband in the midst of our miscarriage, and he has said it to me too.

I have questioned and asked why. Why are you not near? Why are you distant?

I also know the old saying, "If it feels like God is distant, guess who moved?"

The one difference in my life, I'm sad to explain, is that I've been busy. I've spent less time alone in prayer and reading God's Word. I was much more disciplined to do that while I was working. While I still read my Bible often, and I still pray throughout every day, I do know that I've put other things ahead of my time with God.

I could type you a decent list of excuses about being busy. It would be all the same things that everyone else is facing. Then you add to that our miscarriage experience and having to shut our business down (which I haven't yet talked about) all within a month of each other, and then I didn't want to.

I didn't want to pray. 

image source

It took some time before I wanted to pray again. It took some time before I wanted to worship. And then one day it hit me, I missed the presence of the Lord. I missed my time with Him...finding comforting bits of truth in His Word that would lift my spirit on long days. 

Where are you, God? Where have you been in all of this? I know that you have a plan. I just don't see it. I just don't understand it. Where are you? You said you would never leave me nor forsake me, but honestly this feels a lot like you left me. 

Last week, I was reading a devotional by Pastor Rick Warren. The title of the post was "Seeking Feeling is Not Worship." And the first sentence stopped me cold.

"God not has not promised 'you will always feel my presence.' In fact, God admits that He hides his face from us." 

"Truly you are a God who has been hiding himself; the God of Israel." Isaiah 45:15

Warren explains that this testing of the relationship is necessary for the growth and development of our faith. 

The way I've experienced it, I have found myself wondering what I did wrong. Is this a consequence of past sin? Is this a punishment? Most importantly, I have wondered is this permanent? Will I feel His presence again? Will I enjoy the richness of time with my God as He bandages my wounds and comforts my soul like balm?

"If I go to the east, he is not there; If I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him. But He knows the way I take; when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold." Job 23:8-10.

And in that instant, I knew that HE was speaking to me once again. Perhaps He is still hiding himself from me, knowing that I will seek Him. All the more, I am so thankful that He spoke this word to me. 

I'm so thankful that He knows the way I take. He knows. And for now, that is all that I need to know. 

Linking up. Join me!