Ann Voskamp's Blog, page 200

July 17, 2015

Unwrapping Summer 101: How to View Calendars & Make Spacious Places

SoShalom walked through the wide open doors of the cabin this week, threw her arms around my neck and whispered: “It’s come, Mama, it’s really come.”


“And what lovely thing has come, Loma Lou?” I’d kissed her there on the top of her head, her leaning on my shoulder with her hair falling all around.


“Summer, Mama — for real, it really has come — and we are here for it!”


Ah yes, Shalom — and we are here for it.


We are here for summer and it is here for us, a grace laid out for the coming and the taking. It’s not some string of tight square boxes on a dog-eared calendar that get stuffed with random, blurring miscellany — but these small, holy gift boxes. A family may only have 18 summers together…. less.


And summer is made up of these moments, flecks of glittering sand that we shake out of those gift box of days.


And we get to teach ourselves to slow down and gather them, let them catch light, let all the sands become flecks of blazing glory and we get to live, really live.


When we see calendars not so much as rows of boxes to fill up with things to do — but as boxes that we get to unwrap — the present moment always becomes a gift.

So the gift of today — starts a summer series and celebration of some of the most talented photographers I know, who will give us the gift of getting to learn how to unwrap those gift boxes of calendar days, how to unwrap summer… flecks of shimmering photos, a gathering of a few words… the art of of seeing the present moment as a gift.


A gift from His hand — that ushers us into the vast grace of His heart. 


It’s my awed joy to watch how Christie Purifoy, at her Maplehurst, with her exquisite eye and her always thoughtful perspective, unwrap summer for us… how she sees now as amazing grace. 


 


guest post by Christie Purifoy


I t happened three years ago, exactly.


Summer was fully ripe, July just turned to August, when our wandering ended, and we came home.


Home to an old farmhouse called Maplehurst.


He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me” (Psalm 18:19).


But summer ended quickly that first year.


In September, our fourth child was born. Not long after, depression arrived, and I tumbled down into the darkness of winter, cradling a baby we had named Elsa Spring.


The four seasons of the year embrace emptiness and fullness.


In winter, the earth, even our lives, are stripped back. In darkness, we search for the presence of God.


But in summer, life and light flood everything. Again, we are overwhelmed by God’s nearness. Again, we are able to see how the earth is full of His glory.


That it always was. 


{


{


{


{


{


{


{


{


By the time summer returned to our old house on its hill, my mind and body had healed.


We tended our first garden, gathered the first eggs from our chickens, and tried in vain to keep Elsa Spring confined to a blanket on the grass.


Yet even summer, glorious summer, can be overwhelming.


It is not always an easy thing to receive God’s presence in our lives.


Three summers at Maplehurst have shown me how much the season is like my garden.


Life is abundant, but it is tangled with wild grape vines, stinging weeds, and the terrible beauty of invasive beetles.


The beetles look like green jewels, but their hunger transforms leaves into lace.


In summer, my spacious place becomes harder to find.


Its quiet is pierced by bickering children.


Its cool, green welcome melts beneath the heavy heat and humidity of an approaching storm.


{


{


{


Though our feet may be rooted in one spot, we must never stop seeking a spacious place.


Never stop cultivating it. Never stop receiving it.


Because spaciousness, it turns out, can be renewed.


It can fall on a place just like rain.


And in every season, God is “wooing [us] from the jaws of distress to a spacious place free from restriction, to the comfort of [a] table laden with choice food” (Job 36:16).


{


{


{


{


{


 


Christie Purifoy is one truly wondrous thinker, who lives in Pennsylvania with her husband & four children. Her first book, Roots and Sky: A Journey Home In Four Seasons, is forthcoming from Revell– and anxiously anticipated! Christie is one of my absolute favourite follows, her and her life in a Victorian farmhouse named Maplehurst, on Instagram, facebook, and twitter. She unwraps these grace days beautifully. 




 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 17, 2015 08:00

Links for 2015-07-16 [del.icio.us]

Women who sit too much have increased cancer risk, study finds

let's take a stand...
On Planned Parenthood, Mother and Child, and Justice for All

@scottsauls: "God have mercy on all of us. And I do mean all of us." Worth a thoughtful, prayerful read...
 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 17, 2015 00:00

July 16, 2015

when you want to find hidden graces in the dark places

When I first met Scott Sauls, what struck me was how he spoke with the rarest depth — steeped with the warmest grace. It was unforgettable. His wisdom is startling, one of the finest minds I know…. and completely saturated in humility. As I have read his words over the last several months, I’m convinced (and wildly grateful) that God has raised up this pastor for such a time as now. In an increasing loud, polarizing world, that finds itself in this confusing, prevailing “culture of outrage,” of these us-against-them conversations about sexuality, politics, race, money, injustice, religion,  Scott Sauls is called of God to show a third way, a better way, a desperately needed way. The Farmer and I thank God for Mr. Sauls, not only as our faithful friend, but as one who daily pastors us . Sauls, a Nashville pastor of Christ Presbyterian, has written one of the most needed books of our times, one that I fervently believe should be in the hands of every single Christian without exceptionJesus Outside the Lines: A Way Forward for Those Who Are Tired of Taking Sides — to show us how we can pair gentleness with conviction, kindness with passion, and humility with strength—even with the harder issues. It’s a grace to welcome Scott Sauls to the farm’s front porch today…  


guest post by Scott Sauls


O ne day in my mid-twenties while studying to become a pastor, I came across a suicide note published in the local newspaper…


written by a pastor:


God forgive me for not being any stronger than I am.


But when a minister becomes clinically depressed, there are very few places where he can turn to for help…it feels as if I’m sinking farther and farther into a downward spiral of depression.


I feel like a drowning man, trying frantically to lift up my head to take just one more breath. But one way or another, I know I am going down.


The writer was the promising young pastor of a large, thriving church in Saint Louis.


Having secretly battled depression for a long time – having sought help through prayer, therapy, and medication – his will to claw through yet another day was gone.


DSC_8581




DSC_9219



DSC_0077


DSC_0023


DSC_8512


In his darkest hour, the young promising pastor decided he would rather join the angels than continue facing demons for years to come.


The sign-off to his note, “Yours in the Name of Our Blessed Lord, Our Only Hope in Life and Death” brought a strange comfort, because grace covers all types things, including suicide.


Yet grief and confusion remained.


The confusion escalated when another pastor, also from Saint Louis, asphyxiated himself to death because a similar, secret depression.


The news of these two pastor suicides rocked my world.


How could these men – both gifted pastors who believed in Jesus, preached grace, and comforted others with gospel hope – end up losing hope for themselves?


I had also heard teaching – which I have come now to believe is unbiblical and destructive – that being a Christian and being depressed and suicidal aren’t supposed to go together.


Light always drives out darkness,” these teachers would say. “When you’re believing the right things, peace and joy will necessarily follow.” Based on these ideas, a worship song was released that became very popular among Christians. The lyrics included the confident declaration that “In His presence, our problems disappear.


But when the real world hits, teachings and songs hurt more than they help.


Two faithful pastors, who prayed and read their Bibles every day, who served their churches and cities and counseled people and preached grace, ended their lives…because in His presence, their problems did not disappear.


I, too, have faced the demons of anxiety and depression.


Most of the time, thankfully, my struggle has been more low-grade than intense. On one occasion, though, it flattened me physically, emotionally, and spiritually.


How bad was it?


I could not fall asleep for two weeks straight. Even sleeping pills couldn’t calm the adrenaline and knock me out, which only made things worse.


At night I was fearful of the quiet, knowing I was in for another all-night battle with insomnia that I was likely to lose.


The sunrise also frightened me, an unwelcome reminder that another day of impossible struggle was ahead of me.


I lost fifteen percent of my body weight in just two months.


I could not concentrate in conversations. I found no comfort in God’s promises from Scripture. I couldn’t bring myself to pray anything but “Help” and “End this.”


The two pastors who committed suicide did so because they could not imagine navigating the emotional abyss for another day. Both also suffered their affliction in silence, for fear of being rejected. The one who left the suicide note said that if a pastor tells anyone about his depression, he would lose his ministry. People don’t want to be pastored, taught, or led by a damaged person.


Or do they?


Maybe instead of labeling anxious and depressed people as “damaged goods,” we should learn from the Psalms and Jesus and Paul about the biblical theology of weakness.


Maybe we should start learning how to apply that theology in our lives and also in the lives of those who are called to lead us.


Even the Apostle Paul said that it is in weakness that we experience the glory, power, and grace of God. This is how God works. God is upside-down to our sensibilities. Better said, we are upside-down to His.


Suffering has a way of equipping us to be the best expressions of God’s compassion and grace.


It has a way of equipping us to love and lead in ways that are helpful and not harmful. A healer who has not been wounded is extremely limited in her/his ability to heal.


In Scripture, the “crazy, very damaged” people are the ones through whom God did the greatest things.


Hannah had bitterness of soul over infertility and a broken domestic situation.


Elijah felt so beaten down that he asked God to take his life.


Job and Jeremiah cursed the day that they were born.


David repeatedly asked his own soul why it was so downcast.


Even Jesus, the perfectly divine human, lamented that His soul was overwhelmed with sorrow. He wept when His friend died.


Each of these biblical saints was uniquely empowered by God to change the world – not in spite of affliction, but because of it and through it.


Charles Spurgeon, the prince of preachers, was depressed during many of his best ministry years.


William Cowper, the great hymn writer, had crippling anxiety for most of his adult life.


Van Gough checked in to an insane asylum and created some of his best paintings there.


CS Lewis lost his wife to cancer and fell apart emotionally.


Joni Eareckson Tada became paralyzed as a teenager and, for a time, became deeply depressed.


These are the instruments God has chosen to bring truth, beauty, grace, and hope into the world. The best therapists and counselors have themselves been in therapy and counseling. It’s how God works.


If you experience anxiety and depression, I am sharing this part of my story to remind you that there is no shame in having this or any other affliction.


In fact,our afflictions may be the key to our fruitfulness as carriers of Jesus’ love.


 What feels like the scent of death to us may end up becoming the scent of life for others as we learn to comfort others in their affliction with the comfort that we, in our affliction, have received from God.


I’ll never forget when Rick Warren eulogized his son, Matthew, who from a desperate place took his own life, he said that Matthew was proof positive that  broken trees bear the best fruit.


It was not in spite of his affliction, but through his affliction, that Matthew’s life brought gospel hope to many strugglers.


In my darkest hour, in those months of facing into the abyss, there were two people who put themselves on permanent call for me. These two carried me day and night, with constant reminders that though I was down, I was not out. Though I was afraid, I was not alone. Though I had to face some demons, I was surrounded by an angelic presence. Perhaps these two, also, were my guardian angels.


These two were my brother, Matt, and my wife, Patti. Both were outstanding healers because both had suffered with anxiety and depression, too.


Afflicted does not mean ineffective . Damaged does not mean done .

Anxiety and depression can also, ironically, be an occasion for hope.


After about two years serving as pastor at Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, one of our members told me that he thinks I am a really good preacher…and that he is entirely unimpressed by this.


He told me that the moment he decided to trust me, the moment he decided that I was his pastor, was when I told the whole church that I have struggled with anxiety and depression and that I have seen therapists for many years.


Then it dawned on me. As a pastor and as a man, my afflictions may end up having greater impact than my preaching or my vision ever will.


It is helpful to remember that nearly all of the Psalms were written from dark, depressed, wrecked and restless places.


Anxiety and depression are also invitations into Sabbath rest.


When you are laid flat and there’s nothing you can do except beg for help, Jesus meets you in that place.


It is from there that He summons the weary and heavy-laden and the wrecked and restless to come to Him and learn from Him, to see and savor His humility and gentleness of heart…that we might find rest for our souls. (Matthew 11:28-30)


For an anxious, depressed person, there is nothing quite like an easy yoke and a light burden under which to process the pain.


Often anxiety and depression have come upon me as I have lost my way.


Instead of resting in Jesus, I have sought validation from the crowds, wanting fans instead of friends, wanting to make a name for myself instead of making the name of Jesus famous. This is always a dead-end street, but there are times when my heart still goes there.


Anxiety and depression have been God’s way of reminding me that I don’t have to be awesome.


He has not called me to be awesome, or spoken well of and liked, or a celebrity who is famous like a rock star.


He has foremost called me to be loved, to be receptive to His love, and to find my rest in His love.


He has called me to remember that because of Jesus, I already have a name.


I will be remembered and celebrated and sung over even after I am long gone, because He is my God and I am His person. He is my Father and I am His son. And on that day into eternity, there will be no more death, mourning, crying or pain.


As the little girl once recited for her Sunday School teacher, “The LORD is my Shepherd; that’s all I want.”


Sometimes the misquotes are the best and truest quotes, yes?


Kierkegaard said that the thorn in his foot enabled him to spring higher than anyone with sound feet.


The Apostle Paul said something similar about the thorn in his flesh. The thorn kept him from becoming prideful. It kept him humble. It kept him fit for God and fit for the people whom God had called him to love and serve. There is glory in weakness. There is a power that is made perfect in that place. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)


Though I would not wish anxiety or depression on anyone, I am strangely thankful for the unique way that this affliction has led me, time and again, back into the rest of God.


As my friend and mentor Tim Keller is fond of saying…


All you need is nothing.


All you need is need.


 


Scott Sauls is senior pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashville, Tennessee. Prior to joining CPC, Scott was a lead and preaching pastor alongside Tim Keller with New York City’s Redeemer Presbyterian Church. Scott lives in Nashville with his lovely wife, Patti, and daughters, Abigail and Ellie. He blogs regularly — seriously bookmark him —  and can be found being humble light on Twitter.


According to Tim Keller, Jesus Outside the Lines is “A refreshing look at discipleship in our late modern times” and “should be attractive to believers and to many skeptics as well.”  Jesus offers us a way forward – away from harshness, caricatures and stereotypes. In Jesus Outside the Lines, you will experience a fresh perspective of Jesus, who will not (and should not) fit into the sides. Utterly weary of us-against-them and not sure of the way forward? This is an absolute must read that I cannot recommend highly enough. One of the best, needed, reads of the year — a reviving read for the weary this summer. 




 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 16, 2015 07:19

July 15, 2015

how women can stop judging each other: a movement of key women

(audio reading of this post:)


When Murielle Lowe knocked at the back door there, I about died to let her in.


There was no time to toss Mount Rushed LaundryMore onto my unmade bed and fling shut the door.


Not enough time to run a comb, straightener or miracle through my mess of rooster-tailed, cockamamie hair.


Not enough time to breathe heated distress over my smudged glasses and rub the lens like a maniac with the hem of my rumpled t-shirt, like there are ways to circle around things to make people see you differently….kindly.


Murielle Lowe had to step over the dump of shoes in the garage.


She saw the egg splattered stove.


She walked past the bedroom with its stack of laundry on a dresser leaning like a tower of Pants, the books splayed all over like dreaming dogs, a pile of clothes hurled out of the belly of a closet over the limbs of one indecisive girl.


DSC_0501


DSC_1899


DSC_7801


DSC_2068


DSC_1671


I wanted to wave my hands in a flailing hello that doubled as a wand that somehow made everything — poof — Pinterest pretty.


I wanted to pull a paper bag over my mop of neglected hair and somehow become invisible.


Sure, I smiled thinly and Murielle Lowe tried to hide her averting eyes crawling slow over everything, but yeah, I sorta wanted to — disappear


I confess how it came unbidden: Shame is a bleach that can seep up the hem of you, peroxide away your brave face, the place in you that holds the courage to change.


My dad was a perfectionist and I was never good enough and my grandad once hauled a ladder to my bedroom window to see if the bed behind my locked door was made tight enough to bounce a well-aimed quarter off. It’s taken me more life than I care to admit and even more self-castigating to agree with the pain of the diagnosis:


Perfectionism is slow death by self. Perfectionism will kill your skill, your spark, your art, your soul.


And I have no idea why all us Murielles and neighbours and women down the street and across the table keep holding each other to a standard of perfection instead of letting us all be held by the arms of grace.


No idea why don’t we call a cease-fire to the constant women wars, stop the missile volley of judgement, subtle and not so subtle, that we hurl across the playgrounds and church foyers and back fences and front porches and screens at each other?


No idea why it’s taken me so long and why I keep forgetting:


Judging others is a blindfold. Judging others is a blindfold that blinds us to our own grime and blinds us to the grace which others are as eligible and entitled to as we are.


If I have loved breathing in grace for me, how can I deny you the same oxygen?


Who of us isn’t a hypocrite in metamorphosis? Who of us is who he wants to be — yet?


Earth is our chrysalis. We all can get to fly away to glory, a loosening of slippery bindings. (It is in the space of aloneness that the caterpillar has space to grow wings. Never fear the aloneness — it’s a way you’re given a way to fly.) There are unlikely wings unfolding unseen everywhere.


We can’t notice in days what is happening in years — there can be this becoming someone different, someone remade.


I’m standing in a mess of a kitchen with Murielle, this nervous wreck in a wreck of a house pulling fidgety at my necklace –— this chain with a key around my neck.


A key that feels like it might swing open a cage at the core of the world.


DSC_1891


DSC_2065


DSC_7807


DSC_1656



 


DSC_2060


DSC_1633




And all I can think is: We need Key Women in our lives who emancipate us from crushing expectations. 


Key Women who unlock the courtrooms where we’re judged and assessed and weighed on these scales that feel like millstones around our necks, Key Women who believe that we can change, things can change, kids can change, minds can change, the world can change.


There could be this rising of Key Women who are soul abolitionists, who end the enslavement of women to the self-appointed judges, Key Women who unlock and unleash women to transform into their own unique calling and giftedness. Because — if you aren’t encouraging women to live out their particular calling, you may just be idolizing a particular idealized form of yourself.


There could be Key Women who turn to their sisters and unlock everything with their own anthem coming like a freedom song:


I won’t judge you for dishes in your sink and shoes over your floor and laundry on your couch.


I won’t judge you for choosing not to spend your one life  weeding the garden or washing the windows or working on organizing the pantry.


I won’t judge you for the size of your waist, the flatness, bigness, cut or color of your hair, the hipness or the matronliness of your clothes, and I won’t judge whether you work at a stove, a screen, a store, a steering wheel, a sink or a stage.


I won’t judge you for where you are on your road, won’t belittle your offering, your creativity, your battle, your work.


The key to the future of our communities, our culture, the church is whether there are Key People — people who will not imprison with labels and boxes but will unlock with key words, with key acts of freeing.


There could be Key Women who link arms with their sisters and say we will be the few Key Women: Key Women release you by not judging your mothering, your cooking, your cleaning, your clothing, your kids.


Key Women liberate you from cages and boxes and echo chambers in your head.


Key Women free you to be your best you, your unbound you, your beautiful you.


Twisting the key necklace around my finger, there is this quiet unbinding:


We are not here to be perfect. We are here to be real – to let Christ be real in us.


Before Murielle Lowe leaves, steps back over the dump of shoes on the back step, I slip off my necklace and press it like a brave hope into her hand —


We all need a few Key Women — ”


She smiles and touches my shoulder.


Like there’s this movement of women who have a key to open up our doors and come in —- and let us go free.


 


 


Related: The Great Challenge Facing All Women [& Why We Need To Stop Judging Each Other] 

Dear Women & Daughters: When You are Tired of Media Voices telling you what Beauty & Love are


Resources: our favourite “I am the Bread” breadboard

Key Women printable is free for you here




 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 15, 2015 10:18

July 14, 2015

when you want to pray the prayer that will unlock your soul

If I were shipwrecked on a deserted island, I’d want to be shipwrecked with Jennie Allen — because sister knows Jesus, knows His Word, knows how to pray & her & I have been flat on our faces before Him, asking Him to show His way for this generation. I’ve slept in her spare bedroom and laughed late with her kids and ate around her table and Jennie is nothing if she’s not a pitcher poured right out for her husband, her children, her Jesus and her sisters down the streets and across the aisle and around the globe. & believes God uses them to heal souls & to reveal Himself to people. Have you checked out the free daily video Bible study that we all work with Jennie on: IF: EQUIP.  Best 5 minutes of your day, guaranteed. Make it your summertime habit? Jennie has  a Master’s in Biblical Studies from Dallas Theological Seminary & I love this woman deep & wide & long & it’s a ridiculous privilege to have Jennie Allen come to the farm’s front porch today:


guest post by Jennie Allen 


“God, we will do anything.


Anything .”


Zac and I climbed into bed on a completely average night several years ago. We were pretty tired. We just laid there looking at the ceiling, with only small firework fantasies of what God might say.


Zac took my hand and spoke the simple words we had been processing for the past few months but not yet been ready to say.


God had been opening our eyes to how precious our temporary lives were and how numbly we were moving through them.


We were over it. We were over building our lives. We were over houses and cars and cute Christmas cards. We wanted something; we couldn’t put our finger on it. It was burning in us.


We had loved so many other things more than God.


We were ready to do anything.


So we prayed. As sincerely as I have ever prayed any other thing,


I prayed in my heart as Zac spoke:


“God we will do anything.


Anything.


DSC_1068


DSC_1208


DSC_2420


CSC_0719


DSC_1144


DSC_2425


DSC_6640


DSC_2436


DSC_1138


It didn’t feel fancy.


It wasn’t even a big deal.


But the prayer held in it a thousand little deaths. In saying we’d do anything with God —  it meant we were handing Him everything.

My heart raced a little at the thought . . . and then we fell asleep.


And in that one little word we turned in everything —  for God’s anything.


Every dream for our lives.


Every dollar and possession.


Every safety and comfort.


Every person’s approval.


Every ambition.


Everything.


And we opened our entire lives up to anything God had for us.


Any risk.


Any country.


Any act of obedience.


Any dream God had for us.


Anything.


I knew that what was happening was common.


As real life and responsibilities pressed in, I felt God being pressed out. Religion, church, and Bible study were all in place—but truly surrendered lives, the kind God could use anywhere and in any way He chose, had quickly turned into planned and calculated lives that focused on things like saving for a Suburban or minivan.


There had to be more.


So here’s what’s been taking place, a revival of sorts:


It is as if everything I have said I believe is all of a sudden and miraculously real to me . . . heaven, God in me, freedom from bondage, my purpose here.


And because it is real, I am living as if it is real.


And living that way costs me something—costs me everything.


So we start to consider our priorities and realize we value things like comfort and people’s opinions and happiness.


Then God says to die and sell everything we own and hate this life.


And we say okay.


We start thinking things like, Should we sell our new house? Or we have an empty bed—let’s fill it with a child who needs a home and let’s invite our neighbors to Easter dinner.


And then the people around us start saying things like, “Don’t do it for the wrong reasons”—like the love of adventure or for our own glory. And we say, “Ok, thanks for the heads-up.”


Then we have people who are praying the same prayers and thinking the same thoughts, and something is happening—not a feeling or love of adventure or desire for glory but something within us that is from God, a call to more: to die—to live.


My heart is bleeding and I can’t make it stop.


So we are praying and willing and dreaming of living for heaven instead of the American dream, and it is changing everything. And I am strangely okay with that.


Today I write to you passionate and sure that praying this prayer is the greatest thing you and I could ever do, next to trusting Christ for salvation. In the years since praying this prayer, I have heard many of your stories.


The stories are courageous and reflect the kind of movements of God that come through surrendered people.


Great people don’t do great things; God does great things through surrendered people.


It is true. And it is happening.


I wish this freeing, wild, unsafe kind of faith for you.


A faith that says if God is real then I plan on living like it.


There is nothing more dangerous, more compelling, more freeing, more radical, more real, more satisfying, or more powerful than a smidgen of faith.A small seed of it can move mountains, so a large dose of it will move the world.


And it’s happening. God is moving through our generation in ways we could have only dreamed.


Ann and I and others have spent many nights on the floor together – praying that God would move through our Esther Generation in unthinkable ways.


That we would be so wholly surrendered and that we would never get in God’s way.


Anything.


This prayer has brought all of the very hardest and the very best parts of our lives into place. I can’t begin to imagine if we would have missed it all.


An entire generation abandoned to our God in every way –


He would go crazy through that…. He could go crazy through us?


Let’s not miss it.


 


Jennie Allen is an award- winning and bestselling author of Anything and Restless, as well as the Bible studies Stuck, Chase, and Restless. The founder and visionary for the IF: Gathering, she is a passionate leader following God’s call on her life to catalyze a generation of women to live what they believe. Jennie has a master’s in biblical studies from Dallas Theological Seminary and lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, Zac. Together they have been blessed with four children.


 Anything: The Prayer That Unlocked My God and My Soul, is a prayer of surrender that will spark something. A prayer that will move you to stop chasing things that just make you feel happy and start living a surrendered life that matters. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE IGNITED.  One of the best reads for a summer of transformation.




 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 14, 2015 08:17

July 13, 2015

3 words to arrest that comparison thief that’s robbing you of joy

So this kid? She’s apparently got a problem when it’s her kid sister’s birthday.


And yeah… it’s understandable.


I mean — who really especially likes it, or finds it easy, when the other kid gets the big cake?




DSC_2336



DSC_2334










DSC_2277


Or the big gifts. Or all the flashing cameras on her grinning mug smiling pretty over candles?


I mean — I saw it once at a parade: women jockeying for a better position.


Turns out it doesn’t matter a hill of beans how old you are, how wise you are, or how you’re sitting pretty — the more you let yourself compete and compare, the more you forget your own calling.

I’d seen it, the women with their big handbags and big hopes: The more you push to get in front of others, the more you fall behind in being the best you can be.


I confess, I don’t remember much of the parade… but I went home with that.


I went and listened to the kid with the kid sister who had this birthday coming up. She was brave and honest and said out loud that she knew she was going to feel her tummy tighten into knots when everyone handed her sister all the presents, when her sister got the stage and the candles and the cake.


So she showed me what her and her mom had written on a piece of paper for her, for her to carry in her pocket, hold in her hand.


Just three words, scrawled on a scrap of paper:


I get enough.


I get enough.


The kid’s eyes dance:


“So I remember: I get enough cake, I get enough pretty gifts, I get enough people celebrating me too.”


That little girl holds that paper up: “I am not ever losing this. Because I can’t forget it — or that’ll ruin everything: I get enough.”


That’s right, girl — because a girl can forget. And that ruins everything.


A woman can forget that her life is enough. That her road is enough. That her calling, her story, her singleness, her chastity, her marriage, her husband, her vocation, her apartment, her house, her childlessness, her kids, her body, her health, her work is enough.


A woman can look in the mirror and find it impossible to say: I get enough.


One can forget how to believe: I get enough.


There’s enough scraps of paper in the world, that we could all tear up that myth of scarcity and write it down for ourselves, the certainty of abundance: I get enough.


One can write it on the mirror:


I get enough… because I get enough Jesus — and Jesus for me is enough.


I get enough… because I get enough God — and God in me is enough.


I get enough… because I get enough grace — and His grace to me is enough.


I get enough… because I get enough Love — and His Love all around me, for me, in me, is enough.


I get enough.


When I can’t remember that I get enough — I just have to remember to give thanks.


Eucharisteo always precedes the miracle:


Give thanks  —  and you get the miracle of knowing that you do get enough. You get enough God. 


The disease of not-enough… is cured when you give thanks for more than enough grace.

Sometimes you need shorthand to help you remember what matters in the long run.


Shorthand for ‘I get enough’ is: 1000 gifts.


It’s been given, 1000 gifts, endless gifts, more than enough gifts:


“He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all — how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?


If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing Himself to the worst by sending His own Son  —  is there anything else He wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us?” (Romans 8:32, NIV, MSG)


If God already gave us the extraordinary extravagance of Jesus — He will give the ordinary enough of right now.


It’s always our relentless desire for more — that destroys more and more of us.

The more you want —- the more you will be destroyed.


But when we know we get enough — we get happy for what others get.


That, always that in the pocket: I get enough… because I get enough Jesus — and for me,  Jesus is enough.


Some part of the art of life is the art of believing — that the grace in the pocket is sufficient for today, that the celebration and the feast is wide enough to encircle all of you too, that the candles light you too.


When the kid sister laughed over those birthday candles, you could see a pinpoint of light in everyone’s eyes, like the light of more than enough stars that you could see even right now, right now in broad daylight.


If we’d just pause to look up.


 


 


 


Heart stories of the everyday, to give a way of seeing that opens your eyes to ordinary amazing grace, a way of being present to God that makes you deeply happy, and a way of living that is finally fully alive. Come make your life the best dare of all! 


(Foreign Language Translations of One Thousand Gifts)





 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 13, 2015 09:06

July 11, 2015

Only the Good Stuff: Multivitamins for Your Weekend [07.11.15]


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:




Julie Fletcher Photography

right now just invites you to come exhale?







Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 2.12.20 PM


the best of friends — inspiration: we can keep on loving  even when we’re not alike





well, hello there!!?!




photo by Sally Tag

okay — a church made of trees?









it’s not every day that you see a giant turtle…. in a dress: You be you.





she pointed at you!




photo by Tom Benda/Four Paws

inseparable cubs, holding on to each other — rescued from war 




Kathy R. Jeffords / Via etsy.com

Love it — for all the love we could bake up this weekend: 


27 of the most amazingly helpful baking charts





no idea how he can do this in just 2 minutes?!



Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 1.02.15 PM


what an unforgettable way to change the story for those who don’t have a roof over their head





and this is how one turtle is being himself —  his wondrous eye-view of the Great Barrier Reef





everyday  heroes.  a pretty amazing rescue





not 2 yrs old …. and uh…. doing this?!





“People may be cruel. Life may be harsh. But Christ? He is gentle.” 





OK!





this determined  young boy


many are now reaching out to help him achieve his dreams – a must read





 a life changing injury. and we all need friends who help make dreams happen.





 he’s special… not because his legs are different, 


but because of how he chooses to live his life with his legs. We can all choose. 





uh, wow!? that’s no small feat!





73 years after being denied a library card — this teacher is honored! (Cheering wildly!)





the most amazing delicate pencil lead sculpture



Screen Shot 2015-07-07 at 1.13.35 PM


how one restaurant owner is showing us:  ‘actions do matter’





and?  the kids thought this was really amazing





Oldest living person celebrates 116 years of sleep, love, and — bacon! Amen!



DSC_7434


Post of the Week from these part here


…yeah, I swallow hard and nod. God is always growing something to fill the empty places up…


when your plans don’t turn out at all — what turns out to be the actual case





simply amazing



DSC_3257


DSC_5346


CBD’s ‘Christmas in July’ Sale of the NYTimes bestsellers

Come experience Christmas like you’ve always dreamed… Makes a one-of-a-kind, life-changing gift to have on hand… that could give a whole lot of friends the Christmas they’ve always hoped for


This sale is just way too good not to pass along?





one incredible story of friendship… because friendships never have to die





it’s better to give – tears at this





through it all — it is well





print’s free for you here ]

… so look, there’s a whole bunch of us who are up tonight and sorta stuck here in the middle of the story, God, and we don’t know what the next chapter holds.


We’ve got no idea how our hearts are about to get broken or when, what the doctor could end up saying tomorrow, how the kids will turn out, or what’s on the next page or the one after that.

And when you’re stuck in the middle of the story? Well, honestly, it’s easy to feel at the end of your rope.

And You pull us close, real close: “I’d never forget you—never.

Look, I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands.” Isa49:16(MSG)

You’ve etched the very letters of our name, of who we are, right into You.

You haven’t forgotten us or this chapter or this story, and if You haven’t forgotten us, we’re not about to go forgetting that Your stories always work out in the end — and if things aren’t working out quite yet, it just means we’re not quite yet to the end. We’ll literally practice our faith — we’ll practice saying thanks in the middle.


Faith thanks God in the middle of the mess, 

Faith thanks God in the middle of the night,

Faith thanks God in the middle of the story — 

Because it believes in the relentless goodness of Him who will not stop writing till there’s good at the end of this story.


[excerpted from our evening prayers in our little Facebook community … come join us?]


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.





 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 11, 2015 06:51

July 10, 2015

Links for 2015-07-09 [del.icio.us]

Millenials Are The 'Giving Generation'

interesting research: "...millennials prefer to see their contributions as investments in a cause they care about instead of solely a donation."
 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on July 10, 2015 00:00

Ann Voskamp's Blog

Ann Voskamp
Ann Voskamp isn't a Goodreads Author (yet), but they do have a blog, so here are some recent posts imported from their feed.
Follow Ann Voskamp's blog with rss.