Ann Voskamp's Blog, page 153

when answers come in ways we least expect but need the most

Kelly Balarie is the most unlikely candidate to write a book, that’s what she’d tell you. She’d say she’s not too special, remarkable or magnificent, but she’d also tell you, God is – and amazingly, she’s learning, that’s what matters. Rather than doubting and despairing over who she’ll never be, what she’ll never do or how she can never control her life, Kelly’s learning to free-fall into the endless abyss of God’s love – love that quells endless worries, sleepless nights, and fits of anxiety. She’s finding peace and rest, hope and courage, life and liberty. This book, Fear Fighting: Awakening Courage to Overcome Your Fears, was her desperation-call to God; apparently, He answered. It’s a grace to welcome Kelly to the farm’s front porch today…

guest post by Kelly Balarie

As I stared at my supposed-to-be-perfect newlywed home, the room spun with all the burdens sitting on my shoulders.

I can’t pay that bill, which means I can’t pay all the others.

If I don’t pay those, the credit companies will come after me, which means I will never be able to buy a home, which means my kids will be sad when we sell their toys and when we downgrade houses.

Of course, they will hate their mom, which means I will be a nightmare of a wife, which means I will be hated by everyone—which means you, God, are leaving me deserted and left for ruin. Thanks a lot.

I went to play basketball, figuring some exercise would help me let off some steam. But the ball crashed down and cracked my finger nearly in two, and then things went from bad to worse.

The experts said I would need costly surgery. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through.

Bam! Tears. Fears. More frustration.

God was long gone and I was going downhill fast. Of course, I wouldn’t have told you this. I would have nodded my head and said, “Yes, God is good. God will provide. God loves me.”

I had no idea how the money was going to surface, if God would actually return to pick me up again, or if I would have to resort to hitchhiking or some other deplorable act to find my way home.

Where did God go?

At this point in my life, it was a daily task to figure out how to keep breathing.

But, when you’re chasing God and you finally shush up, the Spirit has a way of holding you in your time of need. I suppose this is why He’s called Counselor (John 14:26); He brings to mind those life-restoring Words of God that counsel you. I like that. I need counseling.

His Word to me at that time sounded like this: “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground” (Exod. 3:5).

Now, God?

But let me tell you something, and I am serious about this: when you stop thinking God’s Words in the Bible are crazy and don’t apply to you, you suddenly realize—they do.

Then things happen.

You hold a broken picture but see it differently—a new image appears.

You say unheard of and practically ludicrous things. Things like, “Well, God, I have nothing to add. You hold everything, so let’s go—and do it Your way.”

It’s almost like God lent you His glasses.

You get clarity. Focus, even.

Lights flick on and the Spirit delivers a tailored message arrowed straight to your heart (Eph. 5:8). All you know is you got pinged by sense. Sense that pushes you toward what you were always meant to do and created to be.

Aha moments become abundant.

The Spirit illuminated a grain of something I needed. So you know what I did? I looked left and right, and then I did it; I took off my shoes—odor and all.

I chose to believe my sinking (or stinky) ground was holy ground.

Taking off your shoes means:

Listening to God above humankind’s diatribe.

Seeing God’s bigger picture, not a shattered one.

Getting reverent instead of existent in pain.

Being open to truth instead of closed up in lies.

Trusting refinement versus seeing ailment.

Seeing a burning God instead of a burning house (or a surgery bill).

Seeing God’s plan above your immediate goals.

Letting God see your grime so He can wash it clean.

Yelling, screaming, and pleading to be heard and helped.

It doesn’t always look pretty, but it is almost always effective.

I gave it a shot. I settled into the idea of getting holy before God. The Spirit even called out on my behalf, I am sure of it. He does that, you know? He speaks our unspeakable needs (Rom. 8:26). He groans our groans and cares for our cares.

And something transcendent happened. I felt heaviness leave, burdens flee, and a new fire take form. Things happen in a posture like this. It is not always what we want or how we expect, and not always in a shiny way—but it is always in a far better way, a way that tends to leave us jawdropped and feeling flat-out loved.

Understanding wrapped His arms around me:

What I try not to see is the very thing God will use to set me free.

Going with the Spirit means moving with God’s wind, not fighting against it.

If I believe in the possibilities, I will have a chance to see God’s incredibility.

Will you stay confined or become redefined? Where might your mission or your courage be blocked? Where might God want you to take off your shoes? What might that look like?

Take off those shoes that cover your real. Let your dirt, your calluses, and your vulnerable self stand bare before God.

You aren’t too much for Him, I assure you. There are lessons in this place. The place where you bare your feet and bow your head. Don’t go distracted or demotivated; expect the Spirit to move on your behalf—to speak your unspeakable.

I picked up the phone and called the health insurance company . . . and the lady said, “You owe nothing.”

I guess God had worked some things out behind the scenes.

That is how He works; not always financially but every single time spiritually—in a way that changes us eternally.

After hearing this healthcare news, I broke. In an amazing way, I broke down because the Spirit pressed in a deeper thought: Even if this bill wasn’t paid, you still owe nothing.

What we owe, Jesus already paid for. What we deserve, we don’t get.

Our greatest tab is covered.

Our insecurities are filled.

Our mistakes are not spotlighted.

All this stuff, when walked up to the heat of His love, is burned away.

All that lasts is Jesus.

Love. Hope personified. A fearless vision that lasts forever.

 

Author and Speaker, Kelly Balarie didn’t always fight fear – for a large part of her life, she was controlled by it. Yet, in her book, Fear Fighting: Awakening Courage to Overcome Your Fears, with God, Kelly charts a new course. Join Kelly, on the journey to go and grow with Christ’s bravery, the Spirit’s counsel and God’s unending love that squelches fear. This book reads like a love letter from God, while offering practical heart-calming prayers, anxiety-reducing tips, and courage-building decrees that will transform your day.

You can also find more of Kelly Balarie at www.purposefulfaith.com. Here, Kelly reveals how she leans on the power of God, rests on the shoulder of Christ, and discovers how to glow in the dark places of life.

[ Our humble thanks to Baker Publishing for their partnership in today’s devotion ]

the 1 secret to destroying anxiety and fears this year

There are birds at the feeders, chickadees.

They flit nervous.

Oh, yeah, do I get that.

I watch the light out in the trees, the way it falls across the walls.

Across the calendar and these mushrooming to-do lists and yeah, go ahead, try to remember to breathe.

John Calvin and I remember the year we were four.

The year I was four, my sister was crushed under the wheels of a truck in our driveway. That’s my first memory, the day Aimee was killed.

Fear’s have formed me.

John Calvin’s mother died the year he was four.

Scholar and historian, William J Bouwsma describes Calvin as “a singularly anxious man.”

Oh, yeah, you and me both, good sir. 

Calvin buried all three babies he and his wife ever held.

He said he found in the Psalms, “all the griefs, sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, cares, perplexities, in short all the distracting emotions with which the minds of men are wont to be agitated.”

The man understood fear.

Clouds have skirted in heavy from the west. The walls in the kitchen fall grey and silent.

Joshua’s playing up and down the piano this morning.

A friend laid out in great detail this weekend how the economy could implode. Chronic illness flares. Teenagers ask big questions. I keep smoothing out calendar pages, pushing things back. Oh, c’mon — How do you remember how to dance?

You’ve gotta, right? You’ve gotta dance a bit, laugh loud longer than a bit, throw back your head and feel alive and it doesn’t matter a hill of beans if there are bills stacked like mountain of impossible, you gotta live right through to the end or your invite the end to come now.

So yeah — maybe that’s the Billboard Neon Question for a whole new year rolling itself right out:

What is the answer to anxiety?

Joshua’s playing so sure, the house lilting, tilting with happiness.

And that’s what Mr. Calvin wrote,

“The stability of the world depends on the rejoicing in God’s works….

If on earth, such praise of God does not come to pass… then the whole order of nature will be thrown into confusion…”

Our worlds reel unless we rejoice.

A song of thanks steadies everything.

So there, New Year, there’s your Billboard Neon Answer:

The answer to anxiety is the adoration of Christ.

Yeah, so there are piano lessons today and already a little brother’s in a mess of tears because some big brother’s rattled his jangling chain, and oh yeah, we’ve got some sisters arguing loud over who’s turn it is to make the bed (for the love!) and I’ve snapped exasperated, ugly, at a whining middle kid who doesn’t want to stomp through snow and cold just to get a bunch of eggs from the hen house for crying out loud! (literally!)

You  better believe it:

Anxiety can wear anger’s mask.

Fear of failing, of falling, of falling behind, it can make us fierce. Oh, yes’m: Life can be messy before nine in the morning.

Joshua’s tripping on some notes now.

The thermometer out on the tree, it’s mercury is sluggish and heavy. Hard frost lines windows. So yeah — how do you breathe and dance?

“We are cold when it comes to rejoicing in God!” wrote Calvin.

“Hence, we need to exercise ourselves in it and employ all our senses in it – our feet, our hands, our arms and all the rest –

that they all might serve in the worship of God and so magnify Him.”

Okay, got it:

When exasperation mounts, exercise our song, employ all our senses.

I use my hand, pick up the pen, employ the senses to the see and magnify God in that little dog-eared gratitude journal.

~ The spruce in wind.

~ Comforting worn kids early.

~  Joshua playing the Music Box dancer.

~ Ps 131 words: “Surely I have composed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child on his mother”

~  Citrus scent of grapefruit on the breakfast table in January.

~  Chickadees fluffed in the wind.

Exhale.

I’m warmed. Joshua’s practicing the chorus. Exercise. Employ. Exalt.

The answer to anxiety is always to exalt Christ.

The chickadees scuttle at the feeder and fly, warmth on the wing. I watch from the window. A child presses into me and the window, and yeah, we’ve got some time. There is wonder. It’s ridiculous and beautiful how that happens: Everything absorbs into thanksgiving.

Calvin said that, “If we compare a hawk with the residue of the whole world, it is nothing.”

The chickadees, they are flying south.

And yet.

That’s what Calvin said,

“And yet if so small a portion of God’s work ought to ravish us and amaze us, what ought all His works do when we come to the full numbering of them?”

Uh, wait — Did Calvin number too?

My pen’s laying like there like a dare to joy, right there on the counter.

Joshua’s playing it imperfect but loud and lovely, the Music Box Dancer finding all the right notes, exercising exaltation.

And yeah, you can go ahead and ask — but I don’t think anyone saw me in the kitchen this morning?

How I spun around and danced a bit like a fool, exercising “feet and hands and arms and all the rest,” employing all the senses and smiling happiness anyways?

It can happen — I felt it —

how unceasing thanks can make all these moments dance brave and unafraid.

 

 

Related:

Need freedom not only beyond the fear & pain, but actually  within it? The Broken Way

The answer to anxiety is the adoration of Christ… and my story of just that: One Thousand Gifts 

and the 60 DAY DEVOTIONAL with 1000 numbered lines to count your #1000gifts: One Thousand Gifts Devotional: Reflecting on Finding Everyday Graces

The Answer to Anxiety graphic is free for you to print here

when you’re desperate to find joy in the midst of pain

Some of the best conversations are with those individuals who are real, relatable and at times raw in their pursuit of a fulfilled relationship with Christ. Kristi Watts, former co-host of The 700 Club and author of Talk Yourself Happy is that person. Who would have thought that behind her smile was a depth of brokenness that few could have imagined yet is the very thing that makes her smile that much more poignant. Her writing gives voice to the believer who has been beaten down personally, professionally and emotionally yet whose hope and happiness can be rediscovered in the WORD! The Word OF God. The Word that IS God… and the WORD that flows from our hearts, thru our mouths, holding onto the promises of God. It’s a grace to welcome Kristi to the farm’s front porch today…

guest post by Kristi Watts

It was January 2004, and my ex-husband had recently walked out for good.

I sat in my driveway completely numb, trying to muster enough strength to get out of the car. It was pitch black outside.

My mother greeted me at the door with my chubby little three-month-old baby in her arms. I reached out to take him and held him tightly, as if I was holding on to a life jacket.

Neither my mother nor I said a word, but the expressions on our faces spoke volumes. I walked into the family room and sat on the couch where my dad was watching an old black-and-white cowboy movie on the television.

“Well?” my mother said softly, as if trying not to disrupt the sorrow gradually filling the room. “How did the meeting go?”

“Okay, I guess. They were sympathetic and understanding,” I mumbled. “They suggested that it may be best for me to step down as a cohost of The 700 Club.” Tears were stinging my eyes as I heard the words fall like bricks out of my mouth.

“With the new baby and the situation with my husband leaving … It’s a lot, and they just want to make sure I’m okay.”

My words trailed off as I looked down at my little baby. I wasn’t clear whether this situation with my job was temporary or permanent, but regardless, it was the final punch that took me down.

I was done.

I was past discouraged.

I was defeated.

I handed the baby over to my dad while I went into my bathroom. I just wanted to be alone. All lights were off except for a dim light peering through the crack from the adjoining room. Although my bathtub was large I sat on one side, knees pressed in to my chest, my body curled up into a ball. I was trying to prevent any more blows from attacking my heart.

My life was in the middle of a storm, and it felt as if everything was hitting all at once.

My husband leaving.

Raising a newborn on my own.

The discovery of empty bank accounts.

And now, the uncertainty of a career I had invested in for years.

One word kept running over and over in my mind. Failure. I told myself that I had failed in my marriage.

Failed in my faith.

Failed in my ministry.

And even failed my son.

“I am a failure,” I said, only loud enough for my ears to hear.

The dialogue within my mind made the room grow darker as the words I held on to gradually sucked away the remaining hope that lingered within my heart.

“I should have prayed more and believed more. My faith should have been stronger. Then maybe my marriage wouldn’t have failed. I get why they removed me from my position in ministry. Who am I to minister to anyone? And my son. I’ve failed him too. I failed to give him the same kind of two-parent, strong Christian home I grew up in. Now, I’m nothing more than a statistic. Another black woman raising her black child on her own.”

Just then, I glanced down at my belly that was still misshapen from having given birth. My body looked foreign.

Stretch marks and saggy skin now covered my usually tight abs and hips. It was all so symbolic.

I couldn’t see the beauty in the story that my body displayed. All I saw was the disfigurement and permanent scars. As I inspected every flaw, all I could say to myself was, “I’m broken. I’m damaged. I’m used goods. Who is ever going to want me now?”

The knock on the bathroom door momentarily jolted me out of my pity party.

It was my mother carrying a warm cup of milk and a small plate of toast. I could see by the glint of her eyes that she had been crying. They had that glassy look from the tears that pooled around them. Sensing that I needed to be alone, she placed the cup and platter at the edge of the tub, kissed me on my cheek, and walked out.

“I love you,” she said as she paused to look at me before closing the door.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

When I crawled into bed that night, I curled up into a fetal position. I felt so miniscule compared to the magnitude of my issues.

I was scared they would break me. My heart was so heavy, I couldn’t pray. I wanted to pray, but I was too distraught to form the words.

Besides, I had convinced myself the circumstances within my life had deemed me a failure in the eyes of God as well. And if that was the case, I doubted God would listen to the prayers of someone like me anyway.

So, I decided to cage my words. I was tired of talking. After all, for months every conversation had begun and ended with the bad going on in my life.

Talking only about the bad forced me to see only the bad. And constantly seeing the bad made me feel, well, bad.

***

Sometimes it seems as if those times in our lives that are filled with one difficult thing after another are just what they look like on the surface: bad. No redeeming qualities.

But the truth is, it’s through our challenges that we gain a deeper insight into the heart, the ways, and the Word of God.

It’s in the secret place—that quiet, gut-honest, one-on-one place where we look God in the eye, pour out our hearts, listen for His whisper, and begin to praise Him again—that we learn dependency on God and gain a greater understanding of how God is trustworthy in every aspect of our lives.

The psalmist put it this way:

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress;

My God, in Him I will trust.” (Psalm 91:1–2 nkjv)

So many things come out of our trials and tribulations.

We learn things about ourselves that we were most likely unaware of, including things we are capable of, driven by, and get tripped up on. All things that God reveals to us so we can go to Him for help.

It’s often in the difficult times that we realize we have nothing without the presence and power of God.

More often than not, what we discover are mind-sets, perspectives, and behavior patterns that have been stumbling blocks, preventing us from obtaining all God’s promises for our lives.

God’s heart is for us to see them and repent of them, so we can become free of them.

When we feel as if life is falling apart and our issues begin to bubble to the surface, God wants to draw our attention back to Him.

Regardless of what sends us into the presence of God, though, it’s important to get into His presence and learn what it is to praise Him in the midst of our pain.

Because in His presence is hope, restoration, and redemption.

 

Kristi Watts is best known for her role as a former co-host on the award-winning television program The 700 Club and for her in-depth interviews of authors, celebrities, and public figures such as former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. She recently launched Kristi Watts Ministries to provide Bible study tools, video blogs, and speaking engagements.

When one’s words focus on faulty perspectives, faith is quickly derailed, but by remembering God’s blessings and verbally claiming His promises, hearts change. Using biblical principles, Talk Yourself Happy: Transform Your Heart By Speaking God’s Promises, illustrates the importance of relying on God to tame our tongues and train our minds, and it exposes the hidden traps that keep Christians from living lives of happiness, empowering readers with the ultimate transformation of their hearts.

[ Our humble thanks to Thomas Nelson Publishers for their partnership in today’s devotion ]

Links for 2017-01-03 [del.icio.us]

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what to do when you don’t feel like doing anything at all: how to stop procrastination

Inviting  Mr. Jon Bloom, President of Desiring God, today. When I met Mr. Bloom at his office — I was deeply moved by his humility, his genuine warmth and down-to-earth grace — this was a man who genuinely, gently, walked with Jesus. Mr. Bloom authentically lives what he so compellingly writes.

guest post by Jon Bloom

What do you not feel like doing today?

You know what I mean. It’s that nagging thing weighing on you.

You know you should do it.

If you did it, it would honor God because it obeys his law of love (John 15:12), or it’s a work of faith (2 Thessalonians 1:11), or it puts “to death the deeds of the body” (Romans 8:13).

You know it would be good for your soul or your body or your family or your vocation or your neighbor or your church.

But you don’t feel like doing it.

At all.

You know that God promises you more blessing if you do it than if you don’t.

But you’re struggling to believe that promise because it feels difficult.

It’s like you have weights on your ankles and wrists. You don’t want to muster the energy it’s going to take. And every distraction glows with attraction.

 

The Strange Pattern of Progress

While it’s true that this feeling has its roots in our remaining sin nature and is a weight we must lay aside (Hebrews 12:1), the experience of “not feeling like it” also can become for us a reminder of a gospel truth and actually give us hope and encouragement in this battle.

Think about this strange pattern that occurs over and over in just about every area of life:

Healthy, nutritious food often requires discipline to prepare and eat while junk food is convenient, tasty, and addictive.
Keeping the body healthy and strong requires frequent deliberate discomfort while it only takes moderate indulgence to go to pot.
You have to make yourself pick up that nourishing but intellectually challenging book while flipping on the TV or popping in a DVD is as easy as coasting downhill.
You frequently have to force yourself to get to devotions and prayer while sleeping in or cleaning that clutter or checking Facebook just has a gravitational pull.
Learning to skillfully play beautiful music requires thousands of hours of tedious practice.
Excelling in a sport requires monotonous drills ad nauseum.
Learning to write well requires writing, writing, writing and rewriting, rewriting, rewriting. And usually voluminous reading.
It takes years and years of schooling just to make certain vocational opportunities possible.

You get the idea.

The pattern in everything is this: the greater joys are obtained through struggle and difficulty and pain—things you must force yourself to do when you don’t feel like it—while brief, unsatisfying, and often destructive joys are as inviting as couch cushions.

Why is this?

 

Why the Struggle and Difficulty and Pain?

Because God, in great mercy, is showing us everywhere, in things that are just shadows of heavenly realities, that there is great reward for those who struggle through and persevere (Hebrews 10:32–35).

He is reminding us almost everywhere to walk by faith in a promised future and not by the sight of immediate gratification (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Understood this way, each thing we don’t feel like doing, great or small, becomes an invitation from God to follow in the faithful footsteps of his Son, “who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2).

Those who are spiritually blind only see futility in these struggles.

But for those who have eyes to see, God has woven gospel hope right into the futility of creation (Romans 8:20–21). Each struggle to overcome becomes a pointer saying, “Look ahead, past the struggle itself, past the temptation of the puny, vapor joys to the great, sustained, substantial Joy set before you!”

 

Endurance, Not Indulgence

So, back to that thing you don’t want to do today.

Don’t let “not feeling like it” reign as lord (Romans 6:12). It’s not your master; you don’t have to obey it.

And even though it’s counseling comfort for you, it’s not your friend either. It’s a whiny, lying joy-stealer. It’s pointing you to feeble joys and away from deep delights.

Instead, through this feeling see your Father pointing you to the reward he has planned for all who endure to the end (Matthew 24:13). Transpose it from reluctance to a reminder that God is calling you not to indulgence but endurance.

Then lay this weight aside and run with faith the race he has set before you. God will meet you with the grace you need (2 Corinthians 9:8).

And the thing is:

This light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:17–18)

Do it for the joy!

 

When he sent me an early manuscript of his book to read, Not by Sight: A Fresh Look at Old Stories of Walking by Faith, I read slowly. Captivated by the stories of Scripture all over again. I made notes. I re-read. The chapters, 35 imaginative retellings of Bible stories, made me hungrier for God, His Truth, the company of Christ. Mr. Bloom’s Scripture saturated lines stirred a trust in God’s promises instead of personal perceptions. 

I humbly encourage you to pick up Not by Sight… penned by a man who quietly, authentically lives what he so compellingly writes. Perfect devotional reading for your morning cup of espresso or tea — for a joyously productive 2017!

Related:

The One (New, Easy) Practice that can change any year: when you want more than resolutions… when you want SOULutions for a new hope…a new you. [Free Printables]

How to Destroy Procrastination: Dear You Who Doesn’t Want to Do that Hard Thing in the New Year

 

Links for 2016-12-31 [del.icio.us]

Sponsored: 64% off Code Black Drone with HD Camera

Our #1 Best-Selling Drone--Meet the Dark Night of the Sky!

Because Every End of the Year Needs Only the Good Stuff: Multivitamins for Your Weekend [12.31.16]

Happy, happy, happy weekend!

Some real, down in the bones JOY to celebrate today! Links & stories this week 100% guaranteed to make you smile a mile wide & believe like crazy in a Good God redeeming everything — and that there’s love everywhere & for ((you))! 

Serving up only the Good Stuff for you right here: 

Guido Diana
Guido Diana 
Guido Diana

kinda perfect way to exhale at the end of year

because sometimes — we all need to be rescued

and this could be — one pretty remarkable idea

Sam Golanski

I love this: a unique photo series of the often overlooked — God Sees

 yes… every one of us needs a friend like this

Catalina Enache Urse 
Catalina Enache Urse 
Catalina Enache Urse 

capturing life’s moments in the most beautiful ways… glory. #1000Gifts

anyone else wanna go?

Mike Barr 
Mike Barr 
Mike Barr 

painter captures poetic scenes of rain-swept streets… glory, glory. #1000Gifts

This. Because? The art of living… is living given…. #TheBrokenWay #BeTheGIFT

Does it get any better? 3 year old celebrates his adoption

amazing new technology — is helping the blind to see

worth your time: 

National Geographic’s 52 best images of the year — curated from 91 photographers, 107 stories, and 2,290,225 photographs

glory, glory, glory… I never get over how the whole world is full of His glory — and how my soul needs to slow & witness His wonder

boy with cancer goes and does this for other kids with cancer #TheBrokenWay #BeTheGift

This newscaster has a mixed-race family but recently admitted his own racial bias.

Something to deeply think about…

Post of the Week from these parts here

Honestly, you sometimes don’t want New Year’s resolutions — like you need SOULutions — for a new you.

Finding this a lifeline:

The One (New, Easy) Practice that can change any year: when you want more than resolutions… when you want SOULutions for a new hope…a new you

the note that sparked a chain reaction  #BeTheGIFT

a place where everyone is welcomed in – and giving back is their bread and butter #BeTheGIFT

No matter what went down last year… or will go down in the coming year: The victorious King of the ages

 

 You are all giving the gift of breaking free to your people & it’s kinda blowing me away how you’re sharing breaking free— sharing the life transformation 

Grab the Gift of Breaking Free into the Abundant Life 

There is freedom from the chains that bind us: Jesus

  [ Print’s FREE here: ]

 

…so we’re coming up on the cusp of a brand new year. Can be… intimidating. There will be resolutions & plans & words for the year. Needed ones, good ones, life-changing ones.

And just maybe… the Cliff Notes version of everything boils down to one plan, one word, one commitment, just to keep whispering this over & over again: Jesus. Time with Him, keeping company with Him, walking with Him, resting in Him, living in Him, growing in Him, changing in Him, becoming like Him. 

It’s okay… deep breath. When you find yourself in the real deep end — that’s when you know He’s real. You don’t have to get overwhelmed: you only have to hold on to one thing: JESUS. And the grace of it is? He’s already holding on to you.

New Year, New You: Just Jesus….

“He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Colossians 1:17

[excerpted from our little Facebook family … come join us each day?]

‪ Dare to fully live!

That’s all for this weekend, friends.

Go slow. Be God-struck. Grant grace. Live Truth.

Give Thanks. Love well. Re – joy, re- joy, ‘re- joys’ again

Share Whatever Is Good.

The One (New, Easy) Practice that can change any year: when you want more than resolutions… when you want SOULutions for a new hope…a new you.

Marion Schefter, she told me once how she changed a dissolving storyline in her life —  into a good story.

She stood in the door of our little country chapel, one arm crooked through the handles of her purse, and she told me: “Well, I just purposed. Like Daniel. You know, you’ve read it — that Daniel purposed in his heart… so I figured that any dare to change my heart — starts with a purposing in the heart.”

I looked over at Marion and I could see it clear in her eyes:

Purposing to change happens where prayer meets perseverance.

From Lore Ferguson @ Sayable, how this practice was a means to carry her through a hard year:

So I came home from that chat with Marion Schefter and I grabbed a pen and decided… I didn’t need New Year’s Resolutions this year… I want SOULutions … for a new me.

Sometimes you don’t need New Year’s resolutions — like you need SOULutions — for a new you.

I need to purpose in my heart & let prayer and perseverance meet, let there be a plan to purposely aim for, because if there’s nothing to aim for, you’ll get it every time.

My penmanship isn’t all Spencerian swirls like Marion’s but I scratched it down:

2017. This is The Year

I purpose to —
* Embrace Imperfect.

This is The Year to be held by the arms of grace, not to any standard of perfection. #TheBrokenWay

* Engage Silence — not screens.

This is The Year to engage silences regularly & retreat to the “back side of the wilderness.” Because when you do not need to be seen or heard — you can see and hear in desperately needed ways.

You find your true self when you look for your reflection in the eyes of souls — and not the glare of screens.

* Be still.

Be small. Be Loved. Beloved.

Let yourself be loved anyway He wants to love you. God is always, always good & you are always, always, always. loved.

Be still …. & know.

* Believe in Him for impossABLE things.

Believe in Him who makes the ridiculously impossible into the miraculously possible,

the unbelievable into the you-better-believe-it,

the never into the now.

Be the brave people who pray it bold in the space between the end of one year & the beginning of a New Year: BUT GOD.

“Ours is the God who whispers: “With Me nothing, Nothing, NOTHING is impossible.”

Believe in Him for impossABLE things — because as long Emmanuel, God is with us & we are with God: nothing is impossible.

Believe in Him for improbable, implausible, impractical, impossABLE things. #TheBrokenWay

* Break idols — or they will break you.

Break free, break out of ruts, break idols — or they will break you.  #TheBrokenWay

* Daily 3 for 10:

These 3 for 10 everyday: Word In. Work Out. Work Plan.

It’s not what you do every now and then, but what you do everyday, that changes everything.

Word in: Get into God’s Word for 10 minutes and let it get into you.

Work out: Work out. Even 10 minutes of moving is better than nothing.

Work plan: Write out the Work Plan — even just 3 things. And then just start: 10 minutes working the plan.

* Do Less. Pray More.

More than your doing hands, God wants your bended knees.

* Let Go of the Outcome.

Come completely committed to the process — and completely let go of the outcome.

In the middle of things seemingly not working out for us —- God is working out something in us.

* Learn Endurance.

Do Hard & Holy Things. Break the idols of ease — or they will break you.

* Live Given.

Because #LoveGives.

Because God so loved He gave.

Because Living is Giving. #TheBrokenWay

* Give

It

Forward

Today — 3 times a day.

Give It Forward Today & be the #GIFT — give an act of grace forward, 3 times a day. Be a #GIFTivst

It’s the Giftivists who are the activists, who believe that radical acts of generosity counter radical acts of inhumanity. #Giftivists* Grow Brave. Grow in Grace

Grow Brave. Grow in Grace. Which is basically the same thing.

Scratched the whole thing down — then slipped the SOULutions into a frame.

Figuring that unless you can daily see your Life SOULutions…. the year will end up to be more of a dissolution of your life.

Maybe that’s one of the keys I’d never turned: Framable SOULutions — to frame up a new year, a new you. 

No Fear New Year.

Write out the prayers of hope and intention on the cue cards for each month…  Because sometimes? When things seem overwhelming, all you need to do is simply the next thing.

Sometimes following the prayer on a cue card — is your cue as to what is actually the next thing.

Snow’s melting on the farm here, on the last days of the year, the pines and the eaves out at the end of the barn dripping one sliver drop at a time, old things melting away.

I never told Marion Schefter what she handed me that day in the country chapel’s door.

But I was told that the forecast is calling for better things up ahead, that there is courage rising on the horizon of a new hoping year —

and I’ve seen it with my own eyes, possibility like that.

 

 Simply click here for these free printables plus a whole library of free framables and tools:

how the years’ scars can shape & not shatter hopes

So when I’ve sat across the table from my friend Vaneetha on many occasions, each time, not only do I not want the conversation not to end — I’m profoundly moved and deeply affected by this woman’s Jesus-saturated love. What she shares — is always unforgettable. She’s walked the hardest roads with the greatest grace — I could weep for the way this woman puts skin on Jesus’ love. I first met Vaneetha years ago through a mutual dear friend, Christa Wells, and we immediately connected. Christa wrote the song Held about the death of Vaneetha’s infant son Paul. Vaneetha has a story of suffering and scars, which are unquestionably what God used to shape her character and her faith. There are no words to convey the privilege it is to share my friend, Vaneetha with you today from the farm’s front porch…..

guest post by Vaneetha Rendall Risner

I ’ve long despised my scars.

I have spent much of my life hiding them, keeping my legs covered as much as possible.

My scars told me that I wasn’t like everyone else.

They told me I was unattractive, an oddity, a bit of a freak.

Some people are proud of their scars; they speak of courage. They show others what they’ve endured. They carry with them stories of bravery and adventure.

But for me, with scars covering both my legs, they were not medals to wear, proclaiming my bravery. They were rather deficiencies to hide, reminding me daily of my flaws.

Reminding me I was damaged.

As a teenager, I desperately wanted a perfect body, hoping that a perfect body would make me feel accepted.

But instead I saw in the mirror a body deformed by polio and further marked by the 21 ensuing operations.

In a world filled with images of flawlessly airbrushed models, it was a challenge to believe that my physical imperfections were beautiful.

So hiding my scars was natural. That way, no one could see how imperfect I was. That way, I could look more normal. That way, I wouldn’t be humiliated.

My scars were simply jagged reminders of my pain.

I hated going to the pool, or the beach, or anywhere that my legs could be seen. Even if no one openly stared, I imagined that everyone was repelled by my scars. I assumed that if they saw the real me, I wouldn’t be accepted. I was convinced that my scars made me ugly.

For a short while, a close high school friend convinced me to show my legs at the beach. She said my scars might be ugly to me, but to everyone else they represented strength and courage. To everyone else, they revealed what I had endured just to walk. To everyone else, they were just part of what I’d been through.

And for a while, I did show my bare legs, but I slowly reverted back to covering them up. It was easier that way.

I went back to believing the lies I had told myself: I was more valuable if no one could see my scars.

I hid my wound marks and was comfortable doing so for decades. But one day, I noticed this in the Gospel of John: “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord” (John 20:19b-20).

The disciples recognized Jesus when they saw His scars.

And Thomas needed to feel the Lord’s nail wounds to verify that the risen Savior was before him. Jesus didn’t need to have scars on his resurrected body. His body could have been perfect, unblemished, unscarred. But he chose to keep his scars so his disciples could validate his identity. And even more importantly, so they could be assured that he had conquered death.

Michael Card’s song, “Known by the Scars,” expresses this truth so beautifully.

The marks of death that God chose never to erase

The wounds of loves eternal war

When the kingdom comes with its perfected sons

He will be known by the scars

God chose not to erase these marks of death – the wounds of His love for us – so our Savior will always be known by His scars.

Rather than physical imperfections, Jesus’ scars are breathtakingly beautiful. They represent His love and our salvation.

As I considered these truths, something stirred in me.

My scars are significant and precious. I shouldn’t keep hiding them. I am recognizable by them; they make me unique.

They are an integral part of who I am. They show that through Christ I am a conqueror. That I have suffered and by the power of the Holy Spirit have overcome.

My scars remind me that God is sufficient. And that physical perfection is not our goal. A life lived to God’s glory is infinitely more valuable.

Scars represent more than I ever realized.  They can be beautiful.  The dictionary says “a scar is a mark left by a healed wound.” A healed wound. My scars signify healing. And even though my initial flesh wounds have healed, there is yet a deeper healing in acceptance.  

I started to notice scars more as I looked around.

There was something captivating about people who were unafraid to be themselves: authentic, unmasked, and unashamed of the wounds that shaped them. Their vulnerability was magnetic. I was drawn to them. To learn from their self- acceptance. To hear their stories. To see their courage.

I learned it is often a good thing to ask people about their scars. As long as I do it respectfully. And lovingly.

Asking demystifies scars. And allows people to share what has shaped them. Because all scars have a story.

I saw that when we display our scars, we inspire others to do the same. 

Those of us with scars should wear them like jewels, treasured reminders of what we’ve endured.  

It’s okay to show our imperfections. It is even courageous.

And perhaps we’ll discover the beauty in our scars. 

 

The Scars that Have Shaped Me

Vaneetha Rendall Risner is a follower of Jesus who is passionate about helping believers find joy in the midst of struggle. Vaneetha speaks and writes on suffering, blogs at www.danceintherain.com and is a regular contributor to Desiring God. 

Vaneetha’s first book, The Scars That Have Shaped Me: How God Meets Us in Suffering, from which this article was excerpted, tells the story of God’s care and faithfulness in the midst of devastating loss and pain. In it, Vaneetha tells her story which includes multiple surgeries as child, bullying from schoolmates, miscarriages as a young wife, the death of a child, a debilitating disease and unwanted divorce.

While Vaneetha begged God for deliverance from each of those things, God gave her something better: His sustaining grace. And that grace drew her to God in magnificent and unexpected ways. The Scars That Have Shaped Me is an unforgettable read for anyone who is suffering or simply longing to find encouragement and rest in Jesus.

at the end of one year & before a new year: how to anchor our souls in a drifting world

Shannan Martin — is kinda my long lost soul sister. She sorta believes the turns in life that look like failure are often holy gifts, a lesson she chooses to embrace after the bones of her comfy farmgirl life were shattered and rebuilt from the toes up a few years back. A young, successful family living in their dream farmhouse, the Martins were stunned to realize that perhaps God’s more for them would actually look like less. In short order, they began falling. Losing. Letting go.  Today, tucked into a cozy home on the wrong side of the tracks, they’re learning how to live and love as though Heaven really is the prize. Falling Free: Rescued From the Life I Always Wanted follows Shannan and her family from their quiet life of security, stability, and comfort into the everyday mess of the Gospel, where success looks different, “family” is a condition of the heart, and their front door swings easy on its hinges. It’s a grace to welcome Shannan to the farm’s front porch today…

guest post by Shannan Martin

Lori and Mike first came to my table on one of those frigid winter evenings where the light had seeped out of the day well before dinner and entertaining was the last thing I felt like doing.

I stood at the stove in day-two yoga pants and stirred the pot with my longest-handled spoon.

What was I thinking?

Just as I began hoping they might bail, they swept through the door. In a rush of biting cold, a swirl of cigarette smoke, and the tinny laughter of the anxious, they defied the good sense of this risk-leery world and showed up.

The threat of awkwardness loomed large in the dark hours ahead of us.

Sharing no common vocabulary and having life experiences that overlapped only in slivers, what on earth would we talk about?

How would we possibly connect?

Lori handed me an eight-dollar coconut pie and a frosted blue votive holder.

“I hope you like it. I didn’t know what your colors were,” and I was leveled, my pride and my stupid ideas about who belongs where falling in a heap on the kitchen floor.

As I passed plates and served salad, my dormant hostess jitters flared and sputtered. Was the pasta too sticky? What was their opinion on tomatoes (so polarizing!), and do they really prefer the garlic bread slightly burnt, or are they just being nice?

Across the table sat my eight-year-old daughter. Adjacent to her sat a man she had never seen before, with Gothic lettering inscribed across his Adam’s apple and the f-word emblazoned down the length of his forearm.

For the first time in my life, I questioned the hours we’d spent honing our kids’ early reading skills. We spoke about small things, Lori’s blue eyes tracking Mike’s.

Their hearts were undeniably kind, their souls battered and torn. My soul recognized theirs as world-weary kin.

From the perspective of my warm city kitchen and the goodness unfolding inside its walls, any risk it had required to get to that distinct moment was worth it. I always knew I wanted to entertain friends. It was fun. It was easy.

But the abundant life asks more of us.

I had no idea the leap from stranger to friend was only as long as the eight minutes it took to boil pasta, or that my life would be made richer once I yielded to the unifying power of the unfancy dinner table.

That first November night with Lori and Mike turned into weeks, then months of late-night conversations, one cookie-baking marathon, and hundreds of agonizing pleas to God—please keep their feet to your fire. They talked about what it’s like to live on the run from drug addiction, how it taunts you, tails you, tracks you down.

Our conversations spanned life and God, regrets and dreams.

Over time we built the strangest sort of pseudo-family, readily recognizing ourselves in one another.

We were partners in this mixed-up life and were lucky to count one another as friends.

These friends guided us in the dance of accepting hospitality and offering it back in turn.

Through their vulnerability they reminded us of the peace found when we choose the undignified path of walking in frailty and living at the cliff edge of need.

Aren’t we all looking for the same exact things, to be accepted and loved in our brokenness?

I woke one morning before dawn to a scratching noise outside our bedroom window. There stood Mike, hunched over his shovel, in shoes that weren’t waterproof, clearing our drive from snow we hadn’t even known had fallen. No gloves, a thin jacket, pushing snow around under moonlight.

I crawled back into bed, sobbing, overwhelmed by the ways he and Lori had made our good life even better.

Jesus tells us that inviting the marginalized is important, among other reasons, because they cannot repay us (Luke 14:12–14). I see His point, but this is one area where we’ll have to agree to disagree. In almost every instance, I have walked away from the full-color communion among my neighbors bearing a debt. The scales are never balanced, and the deficit is always mine.

This is the work of God, part chisel, part cannon. He’ll do what it takes to demolish our “this is mine” walls. He’s not even worried about it.

Here in the head-scratcher economy of our upside-down God, our less is always more and our fears are unwarranted.

Under the canopy of a long, long life, we’re surprised by the impossible goodness of surrendering our homes and discovering that as our door revolves, our souls are anchored.

When God spoke about hospitality throughout the Bible as if on a loop, He wasn’t just referring to hosting a church Bible study or commiserating over steaming cups of Earl Grey with our besties.

His great hope is that we would experience the sparkling intimacy that bubbles up when we drop the veil and get real.

His intention was for us to invite the stranger—the immigrant, the overlooked, the one we cannot understand, the one we say we hate—into our sanctuary and love them as we would love our own sister.

I am never closer to God than when I dare to sit next to people unafraid of telling the hard truth.

The effect is contagious, and stepping toward my own brokenness is like being baptized over and over again.

Push me under—I am nothing on my own.

Pull me up—you make me new.

 

Shannan Martin, known for her popular blog Shannan Martin Writes (formerly Flower Patch Farmgirl,) is a speaker and writer who found her voice in the country and her story in the city. She and her jail-chaplain husband, Cory, have four funny children who came to them across oceans and rivers. Having sold their dream farmhouse, they now enjoy neighborhood life in Goshen, Indiana.

Falling Free charts Shannan’s family’s pilgrimage from the self-focused wisdom of the world to the topsy-turvy life of God’s more being found in less. Her practical, sweetly subversive book invites us to rethink assumptions about faith and the good life, push past insecurity and fear, and look beyond comfortable, middle-class Christianity toward a deeper, richer, and ultimately more fulfilling life. Cannot recommend this book highly enough. For more information on Falling Free please visit here.