Sundi Jo Graham's Blog, page 21

Why God Loves Your Beautiful Mess

Finding Beauty in the Brokeness

This picture has 128 years of combined history behind it. Three women who’ve endured heartaches, tragedies, blessings, love, forgiveness, grace, mercy, and redemption are the creators of this beautifully shattered heart.

If you’ve never taken the time to grab a plate or two or five or ten and shatter them on the ground, oh, my friend, you’ve got to make that happen! There’s something so invigorating about letting go without a care in the world and watching that plate shatter into a million tiny pieces before your eyes. Call me and I’ll come do it with you.

Letting go of the things holding us captive

A few weeks ago myself and a couple of my dear friends got together for a plate-breaking session. I didn’t have any expectations about what God would do through our time together, but I just knew he would show up. I knew in the midst of making a mess in the garage of one of my sweet friends, He would help us release some things on our hearts. Boy did He ever!

She handed each of us a Sharpie so we could write on the back of the plate whatever God put on our hearts to let go of. Whether it was a person we were holding onto, a feeling we couldn’t shake, a sin we were allowing to keep us in shame, it didn’t matter. Three of us together, yet God working on our hearts separately, excited to help us find more freedom.

Another friend reached into the box and grabbed a handful of plates. She wasn’t messing around. I didn’t think she could write fast enough. Then one by one she threw those plates to the ground and watched the debris fly. It was a beautiful mess to watch.

We let go of unforgiveness towards those who’d hurt us. We let go of unforgiveness towards ourselves. We broke shame into a million pieces. We watched fear shatter on the cold concrete floor. We let the control others had over us break away. Goodbye resentment. Goodbye bitterness. Goodbye control. Hearts once shattered by ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends, and absent fathers were becoming whole again with every ceramic crumb falling to the ground.

We sat in silence for a while, listening to praise music and allowing ourselves to breathe. To just breathe and soak in God’s grace. There was no judgment in the room for the things we’d held onto. No sin highlighted over another. Just three women breathing a little deeper, feeling a little lighter about letting go of the shattered pieces of our hearts and giving them back to God.

Then we took communion together, praising God for His freedom. His forgiveness. His unending mercy and grace. His desire to commune with us every moment of every day, not just on Sunday mornings. I can’t help but tear up now thinking about it. God is so good!

Finding beauty in the shattered pieces

As we cleaned up the shattered pieces and swept them into the middle of the floor, one of my free friends turned them into a heart. “There’s a lot of history in this mess,” she said as she turned that mess into the shape of a heart. It was a moment I knew the camera had to capture. A beautiful picture of God’s awesomeness! Now we each have this framed picture in our homes as a reminder.

Though our hearts have been shattered into a million pieces, wholeness can still come from the brokeness. You may look at this picture and see just a mess of broken plates. But when I see it, I see beauty in the brokeness. That’s exactly how God sees you, my friend. In the midst of your broken places, God sees beauty. He is enthralled with your beauty.

Your heart may be shattered, but God will use it. He will take every broken piece and use it for His glory, if you’ll let Him. Shame. Unforgivness. Resentment. Fear. Insecurity. Addiction. Depression. Anxiety. He sees the beauty in all of those struggles and He longs to turn those broken things into beauty.

I encourage you to make your own beautiful mess. God is waiting for you there. He’s waiting to sweep up the shattered pieces of your heart and turn them into something beautiful.

I love you, friend. God loves you more. Your mess is beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

God sees wholeness in the midst of our deepest brokeness.
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That Time God Healed Me

When Our Trust is Tested

This is part three in a series of my latest journey with God. Click here to read the first post, ‘They Say I Had a Stroke,’ and here to read the second post, “Saying Goodbye to Dolly Parton.”

Humility is a powerful thing. Sometimes we ask for it. Sometimes it comes when we least expect it. I’ve experienced my fair share in the last few months, both solicited and unsolicited. God’s grace has been prevalent in both. What a humbling season God has walked me through.

Friends drove me to doctor’s appointments. Others let me cook a meal at their house so Caleb and I could have a break from eating at the restaurant every night. Another let me do laundry at her house. We went to the home of others to eat a meal around their family table. For a time I lost my ability to even park a car or drive farther than a 10-mile radius. (I broke that rule once and learned it was a very, very bad idea.) I did laundry at a friend’s house.

I was reliant upon everyone else and to be honest, some days it really sucked. But in the midst of that, God reminded me again that He created us for community. He created us for relationships. In the midst of this trial, I’ve understood a deeper meaning of the power of family, and most of them I’m not even related to.

Something in me just couldn’t settle with being told I’d had a stroke. I was too young for that. It didn’t fit. Either I was in denial about this “stroke patient” label I’d been given or this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach was worth paying attention to. I prayed for God’s truth through my droopy mouth and declared that either way He was still good.

The enemy hates you, my friend. He hates me. He’s been set out to destroy us since the moment we were born, but even more so the moment we make the decision to be obedient to what God is leading us to do. I’m well aware of his disdain for Esther’s House. I hate him even more than he hates me. As I looked in the mirror one morning and saw my face, I declared whether my mouth stayed straight or crooked, the enemy would not steal my voice. I would still proclaim the goodness of God out loud every moment I could get.

Usually in the midst of a trial, we don’t understand when we’re going through it. It’s not until we hit a milestone in the journey that we look back and realize the “why” behind some things. One of my “why’s” was coming.

I’d been scheduled to attend a women’s retreat for months. Not only was I part of the leadership team for the weekend, I was scheduled to speak. Everything in me wanted to cancel. I don’t have the energy to sit through that all weekend. Will they be able to understand me when I talk? I don’t want to be asked a bunch of questions. I don’t want people staring at me. Maybe it’s best I just sit this one out.

The enemy almost won. Everyone would’ve understood my cancelling. But then I remembered again how much the devil hates me and how much I hate him. And I remembered I was in a battle and he was trying to steal my voice. There was literally no way in hell I was cancelling this retreat. I was showing up if it killed me, and I would do it with a smile. I knew if I showed up, God would show up too because that’s who He is. And boy did He show up! 

Saturday, September 24, 2016 is a day I’ll never forget. It’s a day 37 other people will never forget either. “Would you mind if we prayed over you?” my friend Becki asked. I sat down as 36 women, some I’d known for years, and other’s I’d only known for 48 hours, and one guy, layed hands on me and prayed. My sweet friend Roberta, one of the most amazing prayer warriors you’ll ever meet, touched my head and spoke with our Heavenly Father with such a confident boldness in His ability to heal, that tears immediately fell from my cheek.

As she prayed, Holy Spirit said to me, “Let go of unforgiveness and bitterness.” So I did, out loud. As these sweet, beautiful hearts prayed for me, I felt my face straighten. I walked into that church building on a Saturday night with the left side of my face drooping. I walked out an hour later grinning ear to ear with a straight face.

Here’s the thing about that night. I’d already told God whatever He decided to do with my face, I would still glorify Him. Whether He healed me or didn’t, I would not stop praising His name. I would not stop using my voice to share His truth with others.

“God, you already know I trust you with my healing,” I said as I looked in the mirror that night before bed. “I don’t need you to do this for me. I need you to do this for those 37 people who just witnessed a miracle.” I went to sleep that night knowing I had been healed. And as I type this, I do so with a straight smile on my face.

What if I would’ve canceled that weekend because of fear? Because I didn’t have the strength? Because I was overwhelmed by this trial? 37 people would’ve missed out on God’s healing grace, and I may never have known what God had planned to do that day. When we take a step of faith and trust God to show up, He will honor that. 

I pulled back into the motel parking lot after spending an amazing weekend watching women be set free, including myself. It’s possible I stood in the mirror multiple times practicing my smile. You don’t realize until something is gone just how much you took it for granted. Smile today, my friend. Capture the gift God has given you to smile at the world. 

 

On October 2, 2016, we spent our last night in the motel room. No more living out of a cooler. No more trying to shave my legs in a shower I could barely turn around in. I closed the door behind me to take the key back to the front desk, grateful for a new open door in our lives. But there were things that happened in that motel room I wouldn’t take back. I began to understand what the true meaning of rest really is. God took me to a new level of trust with Him. I walked in a place of humility I don’t want to lose. I learned in the midst of trying circumstances, God is ALWAYS good. Always.

On October 3, 2016, I sat in the neurologist’s office smiling as she looked at my face with confusion. Then I told her God healed me. A woman not of the Christian faith, she asked multiple questions, and I had the privilege of saying to her, “37 people laid hands on me and Jesus Christ healed my face.” She sat in awe and so did I. In awe of the amazing God we serve. I’ve since told every doctor I’ve visited through this healing journey about what God did with my face. His miracle didn’t just affect those 37 people in that room that night. It’s affecting the multitudes.

But then.. He’s even bigger. He’s even better. “You didn’t have a stroke,” she said. “You had hemiplegic migraines that mimics the symptoms of a stroke. Now that you are out of the moldy environment you shouldn’t have them anymore.”

“So, you’re telling me I didn’t have stroke?”

“No. You had hemiplegic migraines.”

I made her tell me out loud three different times that I didn’t have stroke. She laughed, confirming each time.

Is it a coincidence God healed my face, gave us a new place to live, and confirmed what I knew in my spirit about not having a stroke all within a weeks time? I think not. I think He was showing off, because He’s good like that.

He tested my faith. He tested my trust. He still is. But I believe He wanted to know if I would show up and let Him lead, or if I would try to remain in control again. I’m not sure I passed the test with an A, but I think I at least got a B+.

Oh I wish we could sit down for coffee and I could tell you all of the pieces I wasn’t able to share in this blog series. Maybe someday I will. But let me close with this.

God wants you, my friend. He wants all of you. Not just the big parts of life you know you can’t control, but the little parts you think you can control. He wants your trust. He wants your obedience. And He gracefully waits for you. He’ll never abandon you while He waits. He wants to do things for you that you’ll never even be able to ask or imagine. But I dare you to ask Him to show those things. I dare you to ask Him to lead you.

I double dare you to ask Him to flip your life upside down. I promise it will be worth it. 

When we take a step of faith and trust God to show up, He will honor that.
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Saying Goodbye to Dolly Parton

When Loss Brings Hope

This is part two in a series of my latest journey with God. Click here to read the first post, ‘They Say I Had a Stroke,’ to follow the journey.

I’d hit my breaking point, again, at least for that morning. My blow dryer stopped working in the midst of trying to fix my hair, and I cried another river of tears. Seriously? Seriously? My blow dryer? The one day I’d actually decided to put makeup on and do something with my hair. The one day I was trying to feel normal, whatever that looked like.

I called a friend and through my tears said, “I can’t do this. I’m not cut out for this. I’m tired. I don’t know what to do. And my freaking blow dryer won’t work!” She listened. She validated. She prayed with me, and I was calm again.

I stood in the bathroom of the motel room, refusing to be shoeless thanks to the multiple overflows of our toilet. It’d been two weeks since we moved into the motel room – myself and Caleb, the sweet 15-year old I told you about.

It had been two weeks since our lives had been changed, again. Two weeks since I stood in the home I rented and said goodbye to almost every single one of my possessions. Two weeks since I’d said goodbye to the culprit that had taken my inability to live, to breathe, to speak, to function.

Mold. The reason I had to sleep in sunglasses. The reason I’d lost my memory. The reason I couldn’t eat. The reason I couldn’t form complete senses. The reason I was trying not to find my identity in being known as a “stroke patient”. The reason I could only get out of bed long enough to send Caleb off to school and put food in the crockpot so he could have something for dinner. You could smell it here and there and see tiny bits of it in my home office, but after a week of non-stop rain, it seemed to turn into The Incredible Hulk, angrily growing throughout parts of the house with a vengeance to destroy me. It was winning.

It was both a blessing and a curse. I’d been begging God for an explanation – to show me what to do. To help me figure out what had happened to me. He answered that prayer – and it was black, deadly, and every breath I took was another step towards total destruction of every part of my body. I’m allergic to mold and it was literally destroying me.

Did you know for less than $1/day, YOU can literally make a difference between life and death for each woman who walks through the doors of Esther’s House. Click here to learn more.

I had an answer I was grateful for, but now I needed another answer. Where do we go from here? What do we do? “You get out immediately,” others said, including the neurologist. If only it were that easy. If only it were as simple as finding another place to rent, packing up your things, and renting a moving truck. It wasn’t, especially when you barely have the ability to think for yourself or the energy to lift a box to pack.

There was nothing available for rent in my tiny hometown. Nothing. I sat without answers, wondering what to do next, but refusing to ask God why. I knew in the midst of this chaos, He was still good. He had to be, because that’s what His Word says. He said He would never leave me or abandon me. That was a promise I vowed to hold onto as I prayed for Him to protect me from any more damage and reverse the damage which had already been done. I asked Him to help us find a place to live.

He did, but certainly not in the way I expected. A motel room with two double beds would soon become our home while we sought refuge from the toxic air we were breathing. I felt like a complete failure. Here I was now raising a 15-year old who I promised to provide a stable environment for, writing a check for the weekly rental, where he’d keep his milk for cereal in the cooler and wash his bowl out in the bathroom sink. We each packed a bag and said goodbye to the home we’d known, and I sought out a place of refuge for Booger, the white Schnauzer I’d adopted only months before, and Max and Ruby, the cats I’d rescued out of a hole in the ditch a year earlier. I didn’t have time to grieve. I didn’t have time to process. I was just trying to survive.

But then there would be more to grieve. More news to absorb. Not only were we walking away from our home – we had to walk away from almost every single one of our possessions. Here’s the thing about mold – it isn’t just something you see. The spores carry through the air, touching everything you own, soaking into fibers and fabric and wood and plastic. Almost everything I owned was contaminated. Almost everything I’d spent years working for was no longer mine.

With a mask covering my face, I stood in the house walking from room to room trying to figure out what I could salvage. Almost nothing. I stood over a box with my Dolly Parton record collection. Surely they were fine. Nope. I sat in the floor staring at that box and let the tears flow. It wasn’t just records. It had nothing to do with Dolly Parton. I know all things are replaceable. But that collection started with my grandma. She gave me my first set of records for Christmas when I was 13. It was the greatest Christmas gift I remember receiving still to this day. Why? Because I grew up longing for my grandma’s love. When she gave me those records, I knew she had genuinely put thought into that gift, providing me with something I thoroughly enjoyed, Dolly Parton music. The thought of putting those gifts back into a box to be destroyed did me in.

“It’s like my house has burned to the ground and I’ve lost almost everything, yet I’m still standing in it, surrounded by possessions which are no longer mine,” I told my mom. I cried again.

After one last walk through I said goodbye to almost everything I owned and closed the door, and Caleb said goodbye to a home he’d barely been able to settle into. Later that evening, we ate Pop Tarts in our double beds and watched The Voice.

“Let’s pretend like we’re camping,” I told him. “We’ll make this an adventure. Surely it won’t be long and we’ll find another place.” He nodded his head as to say yes while brown sugar and cinnamon crumbs fell off his lip. “I just want you to be okay,” he said. I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him, and rolled over to go to sleep, holding my Bible tightly in my arms. God was still good.

There is more to the story I’m excited to tell you about, but it’s far too much for one blog post, so stay tuned..

Even in the midst of loss, God will never leave us.
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They Say I Had a Stroke

When Life Shifts in the Blink of an Eye

It’s 4:07 am. I’ve been awake for a while now, praying, journaling, hanging with God. I seem to struggle with sleep more so lately than I have in a long time, but I’m learning to embrace these early mornings. God is using them to create some beautiful, intimate time between us. I do a lot of praying in the middle of the night these days, so if you have any requests, feel free to send them my way.

It’s been three months since I’ve been able to write. I am more grateful to be typing these words out right now than you may ever know. Grateful God is restoring the gift of connecting words in my brain and bringing them to life. I’ve feared and wondered if that’s something that would ever happen again.

I’m a pretty open person, not afraid to share parts of my life – the good, the bad, and the ugly, especially if it will help someone else grab a hold of the freedom God desires for them. Yet at times I’m pretty private, especially when I need to process through some things. This has been one of those times – a season of exploring, understanding, and growing deeper with God in a trial of hardships, heartaches, and great things, too. But now I’m ready to share.

“I think you had a stroke,” the neurologist said. Then she stepped out for a moment to grab something. A week before my 33rd birthday, I sat in the doctor’s office trying to make sense of everything that had been happening to me. The word “stroke” swam laps in my mind a thousand miles a minute and I could feel myself getting short of breath. The room suddenly became too small and the tears were about to flow. I was trying to hold myself together, trying to be tough. But I was tired of being tough. I was too weak to be tough. I texted my friend Marge in the waiting room and asked her to please join me. I couldn’t do this by myself. I couldn’t sit through this alone. After a set of shots injected into the back of my head to treat the migraines, prescriptions, orders for more tests, and instruction to take an aspirin everyday, we headed for the car. Why do I need to take aspirin? Old people take aspirin. I’m not old. I’m healthy. How is this happening right now?

Did you know for less than $1/day, YOU can literally make a difference between life and death for each woman who walks through the doors of Esther’s House. Click here to learn more.

As my sweet friend drove away from the doctor’s office, there were only six words I could mutter. “The devil can kiss my butt.” We laughed. It felt good. I called my mom and we cried together. “They think I had a stroke.” Those were words I never imagined I would say to my friends and family. But one thing I knew for sure, in the midst of that news, God was still good.

I sat across from my friend Marcie at the kitchen table as I shared the news. We sat silent for a few minutes, because sometimes there aren’t words. Sometimes you just need silence. Then when silence has run its course, it’s time to speak truth. Through my fear and wondering I looked at her and said, “God was just as good before that doctor used the word ‘stroke,’ and He’s just as good now. God is good all the time. And I will not ask why in this situation. If God wants me to understand, I trust He will show me.”

More hospital visits. More pain. More tears. More begging for peace in my body, if only for a moment. I’d barely been able to get out of bed for weeks. The strength it took to hold a towel after a shower seemed like I was competing to be a body builder in a Strong Man’s competition I didn’t belong in. I was tired of emergency rooms. Tired of doctor’s. Tired of being sick. Tired of trying to figure out what was happening to me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ask God to just take me home so this would be over. I couldn’t live like this.

But God didn’t have plans to take me home yet. Instead, in the midst of questions, chaos, sickness, and pleas for healing, He brought to me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received – a blue-eyed 15-year old boy with a heart the size of Texas – who was just as hungry for healing in his own way. The day he was born I experienced love like I’d never known as I held him in my arms and welcomed him to the world. Now we’d be doing life together as God gave him a second chance at life, too.

God’s timing definitely doesn’t line up with ours. Here I was, responsible for the life of another human being and I could barely get out of bed. Here I was, supposed to be leading a ministry, helping other hurting women, and I slept in sunglasses because the light was too painful, unable to eat because the nausea was overwhelming.

I showed up at my first physical therapy appointment to see “stroke patient” written out on each form I signed. Was that my identity now? Is that who I would be known as from here on out – Sundi Jo, the stroke patient? No way… I texted a friend and said, “My identity is not found in being a stroke patient. My identity is found in Jesus Christ. I am His child.”

God gave me the gift to speak and write. He blessed me with the talent of forming words to inspire others. But one day it seemed that gift was gone. One day I couldn’t remember things. One day I couldn’t speak to you in a complete sentence. One day I couldn’t think clearly enough to write a grocery list. I sat across from a friend in the restaurant, silently begging for her grace for me as I desperately tried to form a whole sentence and keep my emotions together. The left side of my mouth drooped down my face and I fought through the shame of being in public, dabbing my mouth with a tissue so I wouldn’t drool. I wasn’t sure what dignity I really had left, but I vowed not to ask why. I knew regardless of what was happening to me, God was good.

There is more to the story I’m excited to tell you about, but it’s far too much for one blog post, so stay tuned..

My identity is not found in what the world says. My identity is found in Jesus Christ.
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A Letter to Dolly Parton

Thanks for Inspiring Me to Keep Dreaming

Dear Dolly,

Isn’t it amazing how God is always putting the puzzle pieces of this life together, and often times it takes years before we even see how the pieces connect? Let me tell you a story.

I was eight years old, sitting around the kitchen table during a weekend visit to my dad’s house. I heard this unfamiliar voice come on the radio, and within seconds, my life was forever changed.

The song was “Silver and Gold.” From the moment I heard that song I couldn’t get enough. My mom bought the cassette tape (for you friends younger than 25, google that) of “Eagle When She Flies” and I eventually wore it out. Actually, I’m listening to the CD as I write this. It’s still my favorite album of all time.

You see, both that song and your voice meant more to me then you’ll probably ever know. I listened to that song and read the lyrics a gazillion times, yet really had no idea what it meant. I hadn’t learned about Jesus yet, but I knew something was different when I heard that song. I knew I would be safe from the hurts of the world surrounding me. 

By the time I was introduced to your music I had been sexually abused by multiple people. The smell of whiskey was a familiar scent in my life, as I had learned to mix my dad’s drinks by the time I was six. I longed for his acceptance, but often felt abandoned and convinced he loved alcohol more than me. My mom was working all the time to support us and had her own struggles. From a very early age, I felt completely alone in a big, scary world.

But there was something about your music. It helped me drown out the world. I was safe. If only for a moment. Safe from anyone hurting me. Safe from the pain of the world. Safe from the reality of fear that hovered over me. I grew up reading about you, watching you on television, and listening to your music. I would hear you talk about this God I didn’t know much about, and something inside me longed for that relationship you had with Him, even though I didn’t yet understand it.

Most of my life was spent running from something. Running from pain. I ran to food, alcohol, drugs, and relationships I didn’t belong in. Whatever would make the pain stop. Then, in 2006, I was introduced to Jesus. To the Jesus you had spent years singing about. The Jesus I sang about over and over again in “Silver and Gold.” I was introduced to the Savior you had been unknowingly teaching me about for years. My life hasn’t looked the same since.

In 2009, addiction took my father. I could no longer bury the sadness of my heart and I was at the end of myself. My life was unmanageable and I was spending every day just trying to survive. But God intervened, plucked me out of the world, and spent a year digging into the deepest parts of my brokeneness, healing the pain I’d spent so many years running from. For the first time in my life, I finally understood God’s love for me. That love you’d often talked about in your music. Grace. Mercy. Redemption. I finally understood it. 

Years later, I’m still seeking and living in His grace, mercy, and redemption. And all these years later, I’m still walking through life with your music.

And here’s where another piece of the puzzle comes together. I’m the founder of Esther’s House of Redemption, a discipleship program, offering hope to women struggling with addiction, depression, the aftermath of physical and sexual abuse, suicide, and more. Because God is a God of redemption, I get to use my past as a pathway to offer hope to other hurting women. And you can bet they’ll be introduced to your music.

You taught me about Jesus when I was a little girl, even though none of us knew it at the time. You sang a song which unknowingly drew me near to our Savior. Of all the songs in the world, that would be the first I heard from Dolly Parton? Coincidence? I think not. God has His hand in everything and I love that about Him.

I want to say “Thank you.” Thank you for never giving up on your dreams, despite all those who laughed and opposed you. Thank you for writing “Silver and Gold.” Thank you for talking about Jesus, even when I didn’t know who He was. Thank you for being a safe place to run to when I didn’t know where else I could turn. Thank you for being you.

Someday I look forward to the opportunity to shake your hand and give my heartfelt appreciation for the wisdom you have shared with me. For teaching me about perseverance. For teaching me about dreaming dreams that are bigger than we could ever imagine. Your willingness to never give up will continue to change the generations after you, as I get the honor of pouring hope into other women seeking redemption. 

I’ll be in Kansas City soon to see you in concert again. I’m hoping “Silver and Gold” makes the playlist. And someday, I hope to mark this item off my bucket list: Write a song with Dolly Parton. 

Thank You @dollyparton for being a bright light in a dark world.
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Thanks for being you.

Sincerely,

Sundi Jo

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Sticks and Stones May Break Your Bones

But Words Will Hurt You More

You’ve heard the rhyme a thousand times… (Oh wait.. I think I just made that sentence a rhyme.)

“Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.”

Malarkey! Anyone who’s ever been on the other end of a hurtful comment or condescending remark knows that’s one of the most ludicrous statements ever made.

The Power of Words

A few sticks and stones will break some bones, but words…. they’ll tear you apart. 

Words have ginormous power.

Proverbs 18:21 says, “The tongue can bring death or life.” Our words may not physically kill someone, but they can emotionally, spiritually, and mentally destroy lives. The verse goes on to say, “those who love to talk will reap the consequences.” Ouch! 

What are you speaking over those around you? Destruction or life? What are you allowing others to speak into your life?

I’ve heard women coming out of abusive relationships say if they had to choose, they’d rather be beat than verbally abused. Stop and read that again, because it’s powerful. A black eye will heal, but the words spoken over us can take years to restore. And we can only do that with the power of God’s truth being engrained in us.

Setting a Spark In Others

The tongue is a tiny thing, yet has more power than anything else on our bodies. James 3:5 says, “The tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches. But a tiny spark can set a great forest on fire.”

I had a teacher in elementary school who spoke destruction over me on a daily basis. As an eight year old girl, I started to believe her. I was worthless. I was fat. I was ugly. I was a disappointment. Those words stuck with me well into my twenties.

It wasn’t until I started replacing those lies with God’s truth that my heart started to change. Truth like, You are more than a conqueror. You are my child. I love you with an everlasting love. You are cherished. You are my beloved. You have the mind of Christ. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Oh… those words have lit a fire in me, a fire I refuse to allow the words of this world to put out. That’s why my hope is for you, too, friend.

Each word we speak has to potential to cause people to shrink back or to move forward in confidence. I’m preaching this myself, as I struggle with sarcasm. I used to try and convince myself it was a “spiritual gift”, but that was just a sarcastic cover up to  make myself feel better about my hurtful words.

A black eye will heal, but the words spoken over us can take years to restore.
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Let’s remind people today who they really are – cherished, loved, accepted, chosen, redeemed.

What do you say?

Question: What truth can you speak over yourself today? How can you encourage others with your words? You can leave a comment by clicking here.

 

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So Long Insecurity

A Song To Encourage You

Recently at Celebrate Recovery we were discussing Step 5 of the 12 steps: We admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. 

Celebrate Recovery often uses acrostics in their lessons, and the N in “Confess” stands for no more guilt. As the leader continued with the lesson, these words stuck out to me:

“We no longer have to follow the rearview mirror way of living.” 

It made me think of a song I wrote 5 years ago called “So Long Insecurity.” I wrote it around the same time as Beth Moore’s book So Long Insecurity was released.

One of the lines in the song says, “The rearview mirror shows my old self reaching out to me, but tonight I say goodbye, so long insecurity.”

My amazingly talented friend, Teri, performed the song at a women’s conference and I’d love to share it with you. I hope it’s an encouraging reminder that your past isn’t who you are today.

Look in the mirror and kick insecurity to the curb, my friend.

I’m saying goodbye to insecurity. Care to join me? 
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Question: What ways do you combat insecurity? You can leave a comment by clicking here.

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What If God Just Doesn’t Love You?

But He Likes You Too

I was sitting with some new friends at dinner recently. I wanted to know more about their life so I did what I do best, asked questions.

My new friend Dan said this about his 20+ year marriage to Mary,

“We’ve been married for a long time, but it wasn’t until the last few years I knew she really liked me. I know she loves me. She took a vow to love me, but that doesn’t mean she has to like me. But she does. There’s nothing greater than knowing my wife actually likes me and wants to be around me.”

Seriously.. does that not make your heart melt?

That’s had me thinking about my relationship with God lately. I know God loves me. His Word says it over and over again. A few years ago they were just words to me, but I know that I know that I know God really, really loves me.

If you’d rather watch the vlog, you can do so right here:

I think many of us know that, but are we sure if God really likes us or not? 

Chew on that for a second…

Does God really like you?

Does He want to hang out with you?

Does He want to be with you in all you do?

Go to work with you?

Go for a run with you?

Grocery shop with you?

Hang out with you while you give your kids a bath?

Take the trash out with you?

Or does He just want you to sit, be still, spend a certain amount of time with Him each morning, pray at the dinner table, pray before you go to bed, then do it all again the next day?

Did you know for less than $1/day, YOU can literally make a difference between life and death for each woman who walks through the doors of Esther’s House. Click here to learn more.

Graham Cooke puts to rest any doubts you have as to whether or not God likes you in this recent message he gave at The Deeper Conference.

Here’s one very specific part of his message that is rocking my world and taking me to a deeper level of knowing that God doesn’t just love me, He likes me too.

Cooke is a phenomenal speaker, with a passion to lead people to freedom. God is using him in mighty ways, yet He still questions whether he is doing enough. He sometimes wonders why God doesn’t get tired of him.

So he asked God one day. And just like God does when we bring our hearts before Him, He answers his. (Yes… God talks to us. No… not in an audible, clouds parting, Morgan Freeman voice.) He speaks to our hearts, often with a gentle, graceful whisper.

I took Cooke’s name out and put my own in. As you read below, I encourage you to do the same. Take out my name and put yours in. Your heart will be changed, my friend. 

“I don’t know why you bother with me. I must frustrate the heck out of you.” – Sundi Jo

“Sundi Jo, I own everything about you. I love all the good, I own all the bad. I don’t have a bad word to say about you. You’re on a journey. I understand where you’ve come from and to even be here right now is a massive thing and I have loved every single step. And when you step back, I have no problem stepping back with you. When you backslide, I’ll be on my skateboard going right with you. Daughter, I like being with you. I like walking with you. And if you slide back, I’m not gonna stand here and wait for you to get your act together. I’m going to go with you, because I promised I would never leave you or forsake you. And that means that when you slide back, I actually walk back with you. Cause I’m not leaving you and I’m not giving you up.” – God

Does that truth not rock your world?

God doesn’t just love you. He likes you, too. 

He likes you enough to step back with you. He likes you enough to jump on the skateboard when you’re running so fast from Him. He likes being with you. That means….

He wants to hang out with you.

He wants to go to work with you.

He wants to go for a run with you.

He wants to grocery shop with you.

He wants to hang out with you while you give your kids a bath.

He wants to take the trash out with you.

God. Likes. Being. With. Me.

God. Likes. Being. With. YOU. 

I am mesmerized by the fact that God never stops showing up. He never stops rocking my world. He never stops wooing me. He never stops loving me. And He likes me. 

I hope that sinks in for you today, friend, and rocks your world as much as it has mine.

God doesn’t just love you. He likes you, too.
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Question: What do you think God likes doing with you? You can leave a comment by clicking here.

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That Time I Slept on the Bar Pool Table

How to Overcome Triggers

Have you ever been in an all too familiar situation and all of a sudden flashbacks from your past come flooding back as if you’re reliving the moment all over again?

Don’t worry, you’re not alone. This is called a trigger.

It happened to me recently. All of a sudden, I wasn’t the 32 year old Sundi Jo anymore. I was a broken-hearted little girl, sleeping on the pool table at the bar, waiting for my dad to finish drinking so we could go home. Music from the juke box played, the crowd laughed, and the all too familiar smell of Seagrams 7 and Pabst Blue Ribbon filled the air.

I would beg him to take me home. He’d say, “Just a little bit longer,” as whiskey dripped off his scraggly mustache. His face didn’t smell like the Old Spice cologne I would often help him splash on during his morning shave anymore. The bartender must have had sympathy for me because he’d give me virgin Shirley Temples and money for the jukebox “on the house.” The fact that I can still stand the taste of Ginger ale amazes me.

Finally it was time to go home and wake up the next day in a house full of shame, bitterness, and guilt. He or my step-mom would cook breakfast as a peace treaty. Silence. No talk about the night before. Everything was just supposed to be okay. Until the next time.

What is a Trigger? 

A trigger refers to an experience that may set off a memory or flashback of a former event that may have caused trauma in your life. It can bring an overwhelming sense of sadness, anxiety, or even panic.

Triggers affect each person differently.

Did you know for less than $1/day, YOU can literally make a difference between life and death for each woman who walks through the doors of Esther’s House. Click here to learn more.
Is It Normal to Get Triggered? 

Absolutely. Sometimes you don’t know you’re going to be in a familiar situation and you don’t always have time to prepare yourself for what’s coming.

Sometimes a simple smell, word, or the sound of someone’s voice can take you back to a past memory you thought was long forgotten.

Even if you’ve dealt with the specific trauma of the event that triggered you, that doesn’t mean you haven’t healed from what happened. It just means you were triggered, but it is important to make sure there isn’t still a piece of the puzzle God still wants to heal.

What Do I Do When I Get Triggered? 

No, we can’t always avoid triggers, but that doesn’t mean we have to allow them to control us. Some triggers are easier to combat than others.

For example, there are certain words that still trigger me and take me back to specific struggles. But because I know those are trigger words for me, I have a battle plan in place to remind myself of the truth. Those words no longer define me. They aren’t my reality. I’m saved by grace. I’m a new creation in Christ Jesus. I’m redeemed from my past. And I will continue to remind myself of those truths as many times as I need to.

This recent trigger has been a little harder to deal with, honestly. It’s taken several days to remind myself of my true reality. I’ve gone back and forth through the emotions of that childhood trauma and the event that led up to it.

I’ve had to remind myself multiple times I’m not that little girl anymore. I’m safe. I’m in a safe place. I don’t have to wait for my dad to rescue me from that pit, because my Heavenly Father has rescued me.  I don’t have to be controlled by words spoken to me or the haunting smell of a smoke-filled bar, because the fragrance of Christ overpowers the fragrance of my past. 

Today as I write, I’m still reminding myself of the truth, but I’m also opening the door to allow God to heal any uncovered hurts from that time I perhaps haven’t dealt with yet. A deeper fear of abandonment maybe. Desperate to be somewhere else. Silently wishing I had the power to save my dad from those dark days.

But in the midst of the struggle – in the midst of the trigger – in the midst of the truth – I am reminded of the gift God has given me – the gift of hurting deeply for others and loving them deeply enough to go into battle for them, risking being triggered if it means they know they are loved by our amazing God.

I encourage you to have a battle plan in place, my friend. A plan to combat the enemies lies when he tries to throw your past up in your face – both the things done to you and the things you’ve done to yourself. A plan to put those triggers back in their place and be reminded of the truth God longs to put on your heart – the only truth that can set you free! 

The fragrance of Christ overpowers the fragrance of your past. 
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Question: Do you have a battle plan in place to combat triggers that come your way? I’d love to hear.  You can leave a comment by clicking here.

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Doing Life One Day at a Time

Walking Through a Hard Season of Life

She lie next to me in bed, speaking these words to me as she rubbed her fingers through my hair: “I wish I could tell you that you’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fixed, but I’d be lying. This is something you have to go through and I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

I silently cried myself to sleep, 32 years old, with my mom sleeping by my side, wishing her words weren’t true. Wishing I could wake up and everything be fine. But I knew she was right. Sometimes I hate when my mother is right.

But I held onto her words, “This is something you have to go through.” I’m still holding onto them.

Why I Can’t Fix This

I’m a fixer. When I see a problem, I don’t like to waste time. Let’s figure out what the problem is, fix it, and move on. Especially when it comes to myself. I can offer grace to those around me all day long, but when it comes to myself, Ain’t nobody got time for this.. 

I’m in a season of my life right now I can’t just fix. Oh I want to, but I can’t. And I hate it. 

I desperately want to wake up and have the problem fixed. This sadness. The goodbyes. This loneliness. The deaths. This pain for others. This “whatever this is” I’m still trying to figure out. And again I hear the words, “This is something you have to go through.”

And I ask myself over and over again, Shouldn’t you have it more together than this? Why are you acting so weak? Aren’t you a hypocrite? How can you counsel others and not have your own crap together? How can you counsel others and go to counseling yourself? How do you think you could ever lead a ministry? 

As I think about those questions while I write, I get so angry. Angry I let the enemy slip into my thoughts long enough to allow me to ask myself those stupid questions. But I take another breath and put him back in his place. I remember the truth about who I am.

I don’t have to have it all together. I’m a work in progress. There are still broken parts of me God longs to heal, yet He chooses to use me in the midst of healing. His power is made perfect in my weakness. The Lord puts wise counsel in my life to show me what I cannot always see myself. He’s called me to lead Esther’s House and will use the good, bad, and the ugly to bring about His glory in the lives of other hurting women. 

Yes… that’s the truth I must hold onto. 

Did you know for less than $1/day, YOU can literally make a difference between life and death for each woman who walks through the doors of Esther’s House. Click here to learn more.
Walking Through a Season

I’m in a season and I don’t know how long it will last. A season I can’t fully describe to you yet – full of up and down emotions. Crocodile tears. Anger. Sadness. Joy. More crocodile tears. A heaviness for others who hurt. Days of quiet solitude. Days wishing for more laughter, more hugs. Moments of despair followed by moments of celebration. Days I just need someone to tell me what to do – to literally tell me what the next step is.

But.. “This is something I have to go through.” It’s not something I can bypass. Not something I can pretend isn’t happening. Not a time I can hide my emotions, cover it up with food or relationships or whatever addiction the enemy wants to wave in front of my face. God is calling me to “go through it.”

So I will. I am. I want to. I’m trying. I am. One. Step. At. A. Time.

How? By first admitting I can’t do this on my own. In the last three weeks I’ve reached out for prayer more than I ever have. I’ve cried on the phone with people I barely know. I’ve sat on the couch across  from my counselor with a box of tissues in hand, soaking up her wisdom and holding onto every word she says, and hand her the box of tissues back when she cries with me.

I’ve been real and raw and honest about my struggles through this season. I haven’t pretended “I’m fine” or that “Everything in life is great.” When others have asked me how I am I’ve simply said, “I’m okay and I’m doing one day at a time.” I wait for them to look at me like I’m crazy, but instead I’ve been embraced my empathy and prayers, reminding me that I don’t have to have it all together.

I’ve been on my knees crying out to the Lord, with my face buried in His word. I’ve interceded fervently for others who are hurting. I’ve carried Scripture around in my pocket, taking it out and reading it in front of the bathroom mirror multiple times a day. I’ve slept with my Bible.

And the amazing thing through all of this is I think I’ve heard Him more clearly in this time than I have in months. And He reminds me again that I’m right where He wants me. Completely dependent upon Him. Crying out to Him. Holding onto every Word He says. Embracing every moment with Him – both the good and the desperate times.

Doing Life One Day at a Time

I’d be lying if I said I can’t wait for this season to be over. But while I wait – while I let Him peel back more layers only He can heal – I am “going through it” one day at a time.

Because sometimes one day at a time is all we can do. 

Today, you only have to do today, my friend. I’m doing it with you. Your heartbreak – it’s for a season. Your anger – it’s for a season. Your sadness – it’s for a season. That heaviness – it’s for a season. You will be okay again. You are okay right now, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Just remember this. “I wish I could tell you that you’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fixed, but I’d be lying. This is something you have to go through and I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

But God does and He will walk through every single step with you. Every. Single. Step.

Sometimes one day at a time is all we can do.
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Question: What is God walking you through right now? I’d love to pray for you. You can leave a comment by clicking here.

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