Emily Conrad's Blog, page 24

Puzzling Life

Little pieces of cardboard, smooth images on one side, brown and grippy on the other, litter the counter top. One thousand of them, each a tiny part of a larger picture, daunting in their disarray.

The part I like least about solving jigsaw puzzles is the initial flipping. That pile of pieces, and statistically half of them--500, in this case--are the wrong-way up. As I right them, I sort by color. Blue sky, black and green trees, red flowers.

After hours, my eyes see details the mess hid from me at first. I can now discriminate between crimson flowers and the fire engine ones that go elsewhere.

I'm not sure I'm to that point in my life. I keep flipping over new pieces of life, and I find each one--for lack of a better word--puzzling. How does the death of a pet fit? What do I do with the pieces after a friend dies? Does the faith-colored puzzle piece really match the house hunt, or should I surround house shopping with pieces of logic, instead? Am I trying to force writing into the center of the puzzle when it should be off to the left?

I look at others' puzzles. They seem to be fitting pieces together at a good clip. And look! Theirs forms a picture so much prettier than mine!

Have you been there? Are you there now?
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It's not a race because
the pieces are varied and numerous,
but once you get to a certain point
the answers are obvious.
They pop into place.

Is that the truth?

I've touched them all
but many I didn't notice,
most I didn't see.

When I argue they're close,
you say, no, far away.

Why the puzzle in the first place?
Why watch us flip the pieces?
Want and need with jagged edges.
Do they touch somewhere,
or have I placed them too close together?

You are not a piece.
You are the table underneath,
supporting it all.

There is a moment when
there seem to be missing pieces
and one when they all slide into place.
The edges of things come into focus
before a tremor shuffles them
from my weak construction.
You never change, but You move.
Oh, how You move.
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This post doesn't wrap up with a completed puzzle for you to gaze at. I'm as unfinished as anyone. But there is a picture of how the end result should look. It teaches us to set aside those dark pieces of worry and doubt and let God deal with them. It teaches us that though we can't reconcile all the pieces, our faithful, steadfast God can and will.

It also teaches us that God has given us each different puzzles. They're all beautiful, and they're all lifetime projects that he's using to perfect our faith, teach us his ways, and encourage complete reliance on him. The last piece of life won't click into place until he does it for us by taking us from this world.

Let's gaze at that picture, the Bible, long and hard. Let's bring our mismatched pieces to our Creator and watch the beauty he makes of them.

White Space

I've been experimenting with watercolor recently, attempting to paint flowers. I watched the way a purple dot in the middle of a wet, blue blob would spread into something like a flower. I noticed how one color would fade when I painted over it with another. In this way, I layered on paint.

Inevitably, I would end up with a busy intersection of color that would spin the eye in circles and leave it dazed.

It took me a while to realize I was burying one of my most powerful tools.

Finally, I left some areas inside the flowers untouched. The blanks added depth and allowed imagination to take over and fill in beauty my paintbrush never could.

That's when I learned sometimes a void is more powerful than an addition.

The key to reaching my goal wasn't layering in more. The key was leaving white space.


This is true in my life, as well. I often have this image of everything I want to accomplish, and I set to work making it happen. Instead of painted flowers, I layer one task and one passion and one obligation over another. I operate believing that with enough layering, I can fit it all in and will end up with the beautiful life I dream about.

Instead, I end up with a confusing, stressful jumble.

God must be concerned about this habit of mine, because He keeps bringing it up. He used nature this last weekend to force a little literal white space on me in the form of snow--not my favorite thing in April, but you can bet it got my attention. He also put a few people in my path who posted verses and blogs about resting in Him.

Is this an area Jesus might be calling you to examine, as well? 

Join me in adding a little white space to the canvas of your life. Take time to relax. Contemplate, read the Bible, and pray. Set aside the to-do list and check a few things off the want-to-do list. Spend time with loved ones.

Personally, I've decided to spend a chunk of my day today reading a book I want to read and not one I feel like I need to read.

How do you add white space to your day?

Gardening Fail

I'm not great about watering my outdoor plants in summer. I start off strong, but come July and August, the petunias in my hanging pots begin to thin out. The leaves yellow and wither, and my belated attempts to catch back up result in water sloshing through dry, dead roots to the ground.

So, people who faithfully care for plants put me in awe. I aspire to it. And maybe that's what God wanted for us when he created a garden and put the first humans, Adam and Eve, in it. Maybe he wanted to share with us the wonder of caring for something and watching it flourish.

Of course, Adam and Eve failed to be faithful-not to the garden, but to the Master Gardener. They ate fruit God had said not to eat, and their choice to disobey their Creator resulted in a rift between God and man that still haunts us today.

I wouldn't have done any better in their place.

On the humorous side of it, I have actually eaten fruit from a tree I wasn't supposed to eat, though to be fair, Mom never said "You shall not eat of the fruit of the ornamental plum tree."

On the serious side, as my care for my own plants demonstrates, I have a tendency to fade out my care for things to which God has called me to be faithful. Plants, yes, but people, too. And prayer. And the list goes on.

You have a list of things God has called you to be faithful to, as well. Himself, chief among them. Not that our faithfulness to him equates to taking care of him--not at all--but he calls us to spend time with him, to trust him, to obey him, to seek after him faithfully.

But what about when we're feeling a bit like a neglected plant ourselves? Life cracks in our hands, dirt-dry and brittle. Worry and unfulfilled hopes choke us like weeds. Our spirits pant for living water.


I imagine Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus's followers, felt this way after Jesus's crucifixion. All the hope Jesus's earthly ministry had instilled in her seemed lost. She went to the tomb looking for his lifeless body.

When it wasn't there, she believed Jesus's body had been stolen. So, she stood at the tomb grieving.

Have you ever been there? All hope lost, and your Savior apparently missing?

Of course, Jesus was not missing. He had come back to life, and he approached Mary in her grief. Did she recognize him? Eventually, and with great joy.

But first, she mistook him for a gardener, of all things.

A gardener. And maybe she wasn't that far off.



Isaiah 27 describes God's people as a vineyard. Verse 3 begins, "A pleasant vineyard, sing of it! I, the Lord, am its keeper; every moment I water it."(ESV)

I think of my petunias. If I watered them every moment, they'd drown. The water would run off the leaves, saturate the dirt, and wash through the holes in the bottom of the pot, probably carrying needed soil and nutrients with it.

But we're so much needier than plants, aren't we? And our God, the source of living water--water much better and purer than anything that comes from a hose or even a good, soaking rain--is constantly tending to us. Every. Moment.

In the midst of our trials, when all seems lost and we don't see God's hand moving, he is still right there. Still caring for us. We struggle with unfaithfulness in gardening and in faith and in life, but Jesus does not.


We are never neglected, though sometimes our feelings would have us believe otherwise. In those circumstances, we'd be wise to follow Mary Magdalene's beautiful example.

When her life seemed dry and dying, she could've hidden herself away, believing God had stopped caring for her. We do that sometimes, don't we? And in doing so, we're basically hiding out under umbrellas that shield us from the water our Gardener pours on us every moment.

But Mary stepped out from under the doubt and fear and went looking for Jesus.

Let's do the same.

When the going gets tough, when we can't see how the end works out, let's faithfully seek our Savior. Let's drop the umbrellas and soak up the water our Gardener pours on us every moment.

Lord, thank you for your loving care. Forgive me for the times when I've failed to trust in you. Teach me to always look to you. Remind me again and again that you are always there, always working in my life, even when I don't understand and can't explain it. I love you, Lord, and thank you for your faithfulness.

Can God Use Your Weakness?

Today I have the honor of introducing you to one of my fabulous critique partners, Janet Ferguson. Janet's watchful eye has helped shape my novels, and as soon as I read a snippet of one of her sweet and fun romances, I was hooked. 
Her debut novel, Leaving Oxford, releases April 15th, and Janet's here today to share the story behind the novel. Without further ado, here's Janet!
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I was pregnant with my first child when a car ran a red light and plowed into our vehicle. We spun from the impact and landed (thankfully) on the lawn of a fire station. Our car was totaled. Maybe it was the wreck combined with pregnancy hormones, but after that, anxiety while in vehicles plagued me. For whatever reason, it eventually led to panic attacks when I drove on the interstate.

I'm an open person, so I shared my experience when it felt appropriate (or when asked to drive on the interstate, ha). Along the way, I met many other people plagued by either anxiety or depressive disorders. I wanted to write a novel that would encourage people with serious anxiety problems, but I was busy caring for my aging parents. In 2012, both of my parents passed away along with my mother-in-law within a sixty day period. It was a tough time for my family, and I realized that life is short. So I sat down to write.


Leaving Oxford is what came of it. God has still been able to use me as a children’s minister, a youth volunteer, and in so many other ways despite my weakness. Whatever struggles and weaknesses you’re facing, you aren’t alone. No matter where you are in life, you are still glorious and useful in God’s eyes. 

Delving into the feelings of anxiety, panic, and loss to write scenes can be tough. That’s why I tend to add a bit of Mississippi-style humor.
I hope and pray that at least one person is encouraged by my story.
If you or someone you care about has dealt with anxiety or similar issues, you may enjoy this clean but quirky romance set in Mississippi. If you buy it and enjoy it, I’d be honored if you would leave a review on Amazon. You can sign up for updates and other of my quirky personal stories on my newsletter page.
Thank you for having me on your blog, Emily! 

____
 
The e-book version of Leaving Oxford is currently available for pre-order on Amazon for 99 cents here. 

Leaving Oxford  
Southern Hearts Series ~ Book 1
Releasing in April 15 
Escaping home to Oxford, Mississippi, seemed like a good idea. Until it wasn’t.

A year after a tragic accident in Los Angeles flipped her world upside down, advertising guru Sarah Beth LeClair is still hiding away in her charming hometown of Oxford, Mississippi. And she may well be stuck there forever. Suffering from panic attacks, she prays for healing. Instead, her answer comes in the form of an arrogant football coach and an ugly puppy.

Former celebrity college quarterback Jess McCoy dreamed of playing pro football. One freak hit destroyed his chances. Although he enjoys his work as the university’s offensive coordinator, his aspirations have shifted to coaching at the highest level. His plans of moving up are finally coming together—until he falls for a woman who won’t leave town.

As the deadline for Jess’s decision on his dream career looms, the bars around Sarah Beth’s heart only grow stronger. But it's time to make a decision about leaving Oxford.
 Connect with Janet online:
https://www.facebook.com/Janet.Ferguson.authorhttp://www.janetfergusonauthor.com/ https://www.pinterest.com/janetwferguson/ https://twitter.com/JanetwFerguson https://instagram.com/janetwferguson/

In Case of Emergency

I'm shopping for new identification tags for my dogs since their old ones have our current address on them. There are lots of cute options:

"Have your people call my people."
"If you can read this, I've escaped."
"Couch potato."
"Keep calm and call my mom."
"Could I see the menu?"
"I can't hold my licker."

One of those dogs tags had a review where the owner wrote that the tag fit both her dog's personality and her own.

If I were to customize some to fit my dogs and I, the hound's might read: I run faster than my mom. The pit bull's might read: Call my mom; she worries and so do I.

But of course, those just give a small slice of what my dogs are like, and if the description of them is incomplete, the description of me is even more so. Summarizing an identity is a big responsibility for a few pithy words on a 1 inch circle.

After much debate, I think I'm going to go with one that says the dog's name and lists our phone numbers, but the search got me thinking about identities. After all, these are identification tags and though I don't wear a tag around my neck proclaiming it, I have an identity. I even have an owner.


Have you ever thought much about that? If you wore an identification tag about who you are and who you belong to on the most fundamental level, what would it say?

In Bible times, people's given names were packed with meaning. From what I've seen in my own family, names still pack a punch. My brother Isaac is the funny one of the family; his name means laughter. I'm a hard worker, if I say so myself; my name means industrious.

But those names don't reference the One who owns us. So, back to the drawing board.

As believers, we are many things in God's eyes: Beloved, Forgiven, Redeemed, or Daughter. (Check out this post for more and Bible verses to go with them.) Which one strikes us at any given point in our lives might change, not because our identity in Christ has changed, but because it's so complex and deep that we can spend our lives exploring it without completely understanding the wonder of our God's love for us. In fact, "Wonderstruck by Jesus" would be a wonderful identity.

And then on the back of the I.D. tag, where the phone number would be listed, the believer's tag would read, "In case of emergency, call on Jesus."

What part of your identity in Christ has struck you most recently? Is there a verse that goes along with it?

In Case of Emergency

I'm shopping for new identification tags for my dogs since their old ones have our current address on them. There are lots of cute options:

"Have your people call my people."
"If you can read this, I've escaped."
"Couch potato."
"Keep calm and call my mom."
"Could I see the menu?"
"I can't hold my licker."

One of those dogs tags had a review where the owner wrote that the tag fit both her dog's personality and her own.

If I were to customize some to fit my dogs and I, the hound's might read: I run faster than my mom. The pit bull's might read: Call my mom; she worries and so do I.

But of course, those just give a small slice of what my dogs are like, and if the description of them is incomplete, the description of me is even more so. Summarizing an identity is a big responsibility for a few pithy words on a 1 inch circle.

After much debate, I think I'm going to go with one that says the dog's name and lists our basic contact info, but the search got me thinking about identities. After all, these are identification tags and though I don't wear a tag around my neck proclaiming it, I have an identity. I even have an owner.


Have you ever thought much about that? If you wore an identification tag about who you are and who you belong to on the most fundamental level, what would it say?

In Bible times, people's given names were packed with meaning. From what I've seen in my own family, names still pack a punch. My brother Isaac is the funny one of the family; his name means laughter. I'm a hard worker, if I say so myself; my name means industrious.

But those names don't reference the One who owns us. So, back to the drawing board.

As believers, we are many things in God's eyes: Beloved, Forgiven, Redeemed, or Daughter. (Check out this post for a couple more ideas and Bible verses to go with them.) Which one strikes us at any given point in our lives might change, not because our identity in Christ has changed, but because it's so complex and deep that we can spend our lives exploring it without completely understanding the wonder of our God's love for us. In fact, "Wonderstruck by Jesus" would be a wonderful identity.

And then on the back of the I.D. tag, where the phone number would be listed, the believer's tag would read, "In case of emergency, call on Jesus."

I'm linking up with Cisnero's Cafe's Open Mic Monday. Click over to enjoy more faith-based blog posts!

What part of your identity in Christ has struck you most recently? Is there a verse that goes along with it?

It's Time for Bravery

Isaiah 50:4 reads, The Lord God has given me the tongue of those who are taught, that I may now how to sustain with a word him who is weary. (ESV)

What a beautiful verse. When I read it, my first thought was to use that as a prayer for myself.

Lord, give me the words to sustain the weary.

A good prayer, but immediately I felt a spiritual tap on the shoulder, God whispering, I've already given you those words. Now write like you believe it.

I recently listened to a speaker tell a group of writers that God has given them a message to share through their writing and that they can share that message without timidly peppering their writing with "I think" and "I feel." 

I've been writing long enough that this shouldn't have been a revelation, but it was. I've shied away from believing that God could've given me something so wonderful as a real world, practical talent. So, in subtle ways, I've qualified and cloaked my words. I've prayed for a gift I've already been given.

But now, God is inviting me--and you!--to move past that. Like his servant Isaiah, we don't have to be afraid to acknowledge the gifts God has given us. Instead of praying to receive the gift, let's pray for how we can best use it. Let's pray for opportunities and boldness and for our wandering hearts to be faithful to the calling Jesus has placed on our lives.

You've been given a gift. It comes to mind as you read this. Do you hesitate to claim it as your own? Have you thrown a blanket of uncertainty over it?

Whatever gift he's given you, there's some way to act timidly with it and some way to act bravely with it. Take a moment to identify what that looks like. Pray about it.

Sister, believer, friend, it's time to be brave with the gifts you've been given.

We don't do our Creator a service by discrediting, hiding, or ignoring the gifts he gave us.

It's time to use them powerfully for the advancement of the Gospel, the encouragement of God's people, and to allow the beauty of God to shine into the world.

What gifts have you been given?

Alive

I'm jumping in to Five Minute Friday again, even though it's already Saturday... This week's theme is "alive." Check out the community of bloggers and the guidelines here.

The italicized portions were written after the five minutes.
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Having just read a blog post on the how and whys of cryonics, the practice of preserving one's body after "death" for resuscitation later, when science has advanced far enough to allow such a thing, "alive" seems to be more of a liquid state than before. If organs can be saved and used later, why not a being? Will scientists manage to bring the dead back to life, and if they do, will the soul join it? Is cryonics just its own religion, where future man is worshiped as the giver of hope?

Maybe science will be able to restore these people to active life. Maybe. But what to kind of world will those hopefuls awake? There will still be wars, financial problems, corruption, greed, and sadness. They will eventually still face some kind of death from which they cannot return.

After that, regardless of how many hundreds of years they live, the years will be nothing, not even a blip on the screen of eternity, where their souls will either be sentenced to hell or welcomed to heaven.

Whatever science does manage to accomplish, this world will not turn into heaven at any hands other than the hands that created it. Death will succumb permanently to Jesus and Jesus alone.

How shallow the hope that is limited to this life.


God says he has death in his hands. He says he's the one who will conquer it. He has certainly conquered it before, and he's promised eternal life to his followers.

I will tell you this. Today, I feel a little like a vitrified person. I feel as though I am in a dormant state, waiting for a refreshing breath of life.

Christ is that restorer of souls.

He does that for his people every day, every time they turn to him. It is beyond science. For death and hurt and sadness and fear to pass away from our lives today and from our futures, we need salvation by the One who can make good on his promises.

The One who conquered the grave. 

This is why we celebrate Easter. 

This is how we obtain hope that never dies.

Hope for the birthday girl

Today is my birthday, and I have a confession to make: on days that mark the passage of time, my thoughts can sound a little like the book of Ecclesiastes. Knowing this about myself, I wanted to spend a little time applying truth to the fears that can piggyback on the passage of time.

What are those fears? On birthdays, it's not so much a disappointment with my current age but a fear of being old in the future. I'll lose people and pets and dreams and only time will tell what else. I'll die, of course.

With New Years, I tend to think a little more universally. The close of each year one brings us closer to the close of time. The end of Earth as we know it.

Maybe the thing that scares me the most about any of it is that it's out of my control and I have to trust what comes next without having the chance to go look around for myself and approve.

Given the world's fascination with preserving youth and health and the environment and peace, I'm confident I'm in good company. Humans, in general, are afraid of what comes next.

But as Christians, if some things (time, for example) weren't out of our control, would we ever trust God? Or would we just stay at the helm and use God as more of a consultant? Actually, would we bother to turn to our Creator at all? 

The scary element of time is the beautiful part of it, too. Time is beyond our control but is completely in God's control. Seconds are at his beck and call. No day can end until he gives the command. No life and no world can exist or fade without his say so. And even when the end comes, his love endures beyond it and into forever.

For great is his steadfast love toward us, the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord! Psalm 117:2 (ESV)

“Do not be afraid! I am the first and the last, and the one who lives! I was dead, but look, now I am alive – forever and ever – and I hold the keys of death and of Hades!" Revelation 1:17-18 (NET)

Jesus's love for his followers isn't overpowered by death or limited by time. Because of Jesus, we can rise above the fear. We must still use our days carefully. We'll only have so many opportunities to share the Good News--and our friends, family, and others will only have so many opportunities to hear it.

But as believers in the resurrected Jesus Christ, we are secure in his love for all time.

Okay, I think it's time to go celebrate this birthday.

How do you do with birthdays?

She who believed

I sat at my counter, drawing the letters of a phrase from one of my favorite Bible verses, Luke 1:45.

"And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord." (ESV)

The phone rang, my real estate agent calling. I set the pen on the counter and answered. Our offer on a house had been accepted.

God had answered prayer and granted us favor with the seller.

Blessed is she who believed. 

I've been blessed. That's for sure. But have I believed the way I should've? Thinking back over the emotional highs and lows over the last few weeks, another verse comes to mind:

But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.
James 1:6 (ESV)

At the time when I got the call, as I sat drawing those letters, yes, I believed God had a plan for where we would move and how and when. But there had been other times when I was like a wave in the sea. My questions tossed me all over the place, despite my best intentions.

I'd gone into the housing adventure intending to hold my house hunt with an "open hand." The goal was not to fall too in love with anything. I'd trust that God would provide us with the right place at the right time for the right price.

Turns out, I can close my fingers around something in the blink of an eye. I grip as tightly as I can, terrified I'll lose it and that God's plan won't turn out as well as my plan.


Really, I haven't been all one or all the other--faith or doubt. I've been a mix, much like the father pleading for Jesus to cast a demon out of his son.

Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, "I believe; help my unbelief!" Luke 9:24, ESV

Jesus did command the unclean spirit to leave the boy, and he was healed. God met the needy plea for help with grace.

This is the kind of Savior we serve. We are human. We will falter. There will be times when our belief isn't what it should be, but when we cry out to Jesus as our  faith melts into waves of doubt, Jesus walks on water to pull us back to himself. Despite being imperfect, we are blessed.

And then we are granted more opportunities to walk on water with him.


The offers may be in on our house and the one we are buying, but I just got off a phone call that reminded me things can still go wrong. Those unexpected hitches are each a new invitation to believe. Again.

Lord, thank you for loving and caring for me. Thank you for having plans for me that are for the ultimate good. Convict me of the areas where I've closed my hand around what I want and reveal to me the effect that has on my life. Show me opportunities to believe you on a deeper level. Lord, grow my faith. May I more consistently become "she who believed."

Need a more lasting reminder to believe? I will give away the pictured 8x10 drawing/watercolor to one randomly chosen email list subscriber who also comments on this post. I'll contact the winner via email on 3/28/16 for a mailing address!