Sundi Jo Graham's Blog, page 25

That Time I Was Addicted to Pornography

Six years ago I sat in my tiny apartment, sleep deprived and broken-hearted, trying to figure out what next step to take in my life. Suicide was looking more and more convenient.

I hadn’t look at pornography in a couple of years. I’d vowed to quit after giving my life to Christ and was determined to make it happen. Until it happened again. 

August 24, 2009, I sat with the laptop in hand, borrowed from the church to design the worship slides for the following Sunday. Shame. Disgust. Rage. A deep sadness I couldn’t avoid anymore. It all welled up in me like a volcano ready to erupt. And just like that – the promise I’d made to God to never look at pornography again was broken. 

My eyes were swept away by the millions of images floating through cyberspace. This. This is what would set me free from my sadness. This. The deep, dark secret that had controlled my life since I was 5 years old.

God is in the darkness.

But God, despite my darkness. Despite my rebellion. Despite my hateful words lashing out at Him for not comforting my broken heart. He found a way into the tiny crack of my heart I’d left open for conviction. I snapped as I looked at pictures of naked people who were at one time just young innocent kids, dreaming of being veterinarians and presidents and wives and husbands and mothers and fathers.

I picked up the laptop and threw it across the room as I screamed obscenities at whoever would listen. I was certain God wasn’t listening. I had failed. Again. 

Then He scooped me up from the puddle of self-loathing and shame, and carried me away to safety, though I went kicking and screaming. Because that’s who God is, a father who will pick His children up in the middle of a temper tantrum and put them in time out while they get a grip on reality. (You can read more about that journey in my book, Dear Dad. I’ve shared my journal entries during one of the hardest, most healing journeys of my life.)

Sometimes God has to pick us up in the middle of our temper tantrum and put us in time out.
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Living in the midst of the struggle.

I haven’t looked at pornography since that day, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Because I still do. Because Satan knows it’s a weakness and he throws temptation my way every chance he gets.

I’ll be watching tv and a scene will come on that triggers me. Immediately my mind tries to go to places it shouldn’t. Sometimes I’m victorious in quickly turning the channel and reminding myself who I am in Christ and that I hold the thoughts, feelings, and purposes of His heart. Other times, I realize I’ve let far too much time pass in my thoughts and where I allowed them to go.

There are moments in a random conversation with friends when a simple word sends me back in time and images flash through my mind. Jesus helps me recompose my thoughts and I am reminded once again I am free; free from who my past tries to tell me I am. 

Last week while working on a blog post, I googled a simple phrase and there in the midst of all the images was a naked woman. But.. there was victory. I didn’t even have to think about whether I wanted to look or not. I immediately closed the screen and moved on to the next task.

Recently I texted a friend and said, “Today it would be easy for me to look at pornography.” I voiced it. She didn’t judge me. Instead, she said, “I’m glad you told me. I’m praying for you. You are free.” She was right. I am free. There was power in that simple sentence of vulnerability, making my struggle real, owning it, but not allowing it overcome me.

God is bigger than our struggles.

Maybe it will always be a struggle. Maybe it won’t. I don’t know. I struggle with wondering if I’ll ever have a healthy, sexual marriage, for fear there’s been too much damage done to my mind and heart by the perverse world I have known since I was a young girl. Then I remind myself God is bigger and He promises to redeem the time. 

I see sexual sin all around me. Everyday. I see other women who sleep with multiple men because they’re trying to fill a void. Married men subscribe to a website with the intended purpose of cheating on their wives. Soft core porn floods through the cable channels, changing the standard of what is now acceptable in our culture. What was taboo 10 years ago is now acceptable. And this isn’t just happening in the secular world. Christians are in the midst of this battle, too. And that’s just what it is, a battle.

And me, a woman who loves Jesus with all of her heart and longs to serve Him in everything she does, is right in the middle of the battle. But I will fight because I am reminded we do not wrestle against flesh and blood. And I am reminded God is bigger than my struggles.

He is bigger than your struggles.

Why Leadership Makes Me Want to Pee My Pants

I’m scared. Out. Of. My. Wits.

My phone rings and someone wants to know how they can make a donation to Esther’s House. It rings again and she asks me how she can volunteer. I answer it again and tell a woman struggling with the shame of her sexual abuse we’re not open yet. I spend a couple hours on the phone interviewing potential team members. I pray with a woman over the phone, inviting Jesus to set her free. Then a news reporter calls and wants to do a feature on the ministry.

Then I freak out and ask myself, What is happening? Why do these people want answers from me? What if I don’t know how to answer their questions. What if I totally fail at this leadership thing? What if God is making a huge mistake? 

On a Friday morning at the crack of dawn, I stand around a group of strangers holding a cup of coffee, pretending I’m the greatest mingler in the world, wearing my “official” Esther’s House shirt, because it makes me look important and networking is key to building relationships. I reach my hand out. “Hi, I’m Sundi Jo. Have you heard about our upcoming 5k race? I’d love to share with you more about our mission.” I stand there, sweaty palms, trying not to pee my pants from the nerves and fear coursing through my veins.

I am not equipped, but I am called. 

“God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called.” I know. It’s cliche – until you’re actually watching it play out before your very eyes.

Did I mention this leadership thing scares me?

God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called. Cliche, but true.
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For the last five years I’ve listen to podcasts, read books, bought courses, and watched webinars on leadership. I don’t miss a Michael Hyatt blog post. The EntreLeadership podcast is always cued up. I’ve read Start and Do Over and The Art of Work. I’m totally prepared for this leadership thing.

Then my phone rings again and her voice crackles through the shame – a woman struggling with a pornography addiction who hasn’t left the house in years because she’s afraid of other humans. “Will you help me?”

Who? Me? This redneck girl from Belle, Mo., who only owns two pairs of blue jeans, drives a Nissan Centra with over 200,000 miles, wears a mouth guard at night, forgets to put deodarant on at least once a week, and often chews with her mouth open? You want me to help you?

I. Am. Not. Equipped. 

But God… He’s bigger. And He tells me to get out the way and let Him use me. “Be still. Trust me. I have created you for such a time as this.”

Oh, ye of little faith I am.

I’m writing this blog post at midnight because the moment my tired body hit the pillow, my mind decided to host the Indy 500 and drive around in circles.

Tomorrow I need to call about sponsorships. I have an interview with the reporter. I have a phone meeting with a potential volunteer. I need to find a house. I need to answer those emails. I need to submit the information for this grant. I need…..

I. Me. Myself. Ridiculous. 

I hear it again, the gentle whisper of a Savior who has way too much grace and mercy for my lack of patience, selfishness, pride, and unbelief. “Be still. Trust me. I have created you for such a time as this.”

My heart. It rests. For another moment.

I am not equipped, but I am called. Be still. Trust Him. He has created me for such a time as this.

Question: What area do you struggle with in leading others? You can leave a comment by clicking here.

Hymnals and Hairspray

My grandma had a beauty shop in her house when I was growing up. Older ladies from all over town would come and get their hair done while us grandkids ran all over the place. The house was big enough you could always find new places to hide. The beauty shop was the only place in the house you could wash your hair because there were no showers – just bathtubs, which seemed to be ancient in my little mind. They did the trick, though.

There’s something you should know about my grandma’s hair. It’s not average. It’s big. Really big. If we ever got separated from her in Walmart the first response was to search for her hair. It was uniquely hers, never gray, always black. I loved it. Still do. I used to stand in the beauty shop and watch her fix it. Perhaps what amazed me most is that it looked the same every day. She would go to bed and the next morning wake up the same. My hair didn’t do that. I’d wake up with tangles and knots like I’d wrestled a crocodile in my sleep. Not my grandma. Always the same.

Ahh.. I finally figured out her secret: hairspray. Not just any hairspray, though. Vita E.  That was the magic potion behind her concrete hair. I swear she used a can of that stuff a day. A hurricane could blow through town but Grandma’s hair would still be standing.

Grandma was a lot like that can of hairspray. Ultra Hold.

She held up through the sun, rain, wind, and humidity, just like the description on the can promised. She was tough – wading through storms and coming out on the other side, but sometimes harder than she went in. I thought she was invincible. Sometimes her heart was wrapped in the ultra hold and you couldn’t get to it. She loved you but didn’t always know how to show it. Maybe somewhere along the lines of life she forgot how to both love and be loved.

I’m honored to featured over at Bedlam Magazine today. Click here to join me and read the rest of the post.

Why There Will Be Wiffle Ball in Heaven

Last night I took a trip to Heaven. Okay, not literally like John did when he was hanging out on the island of Patmos and wrote the book of Revelation, but close enough.

And on my recent trip to Heaven, there was wiffle ball.

Last night, a group of us from my new church home of only 5 months, gathered at another member’s house for a high stakes game of wiffle ball and hot dogs.

I sat and watched a group of adults, teenagers and tots run around the bases, striking out and sending the plastic ball deep into the cow pasture. In a simple moment, everyone on the field was 8 years old again, living life without a care in the world, full of smiles and joy.

This wasn’t just your average game of wiffle ball. 

I watched him stand there, waiting for the ball to come at just the right angle – a former drug addict who recently celebrated one year sober. I cheered as she slid into second base, a former alcoholic whose voice was stolen by a man for way too many years. I saw a little girl give her dad a high-five after a line drive right down the middle. He just got out of prison a few weeks ago. The local cop, decked in his straw hat, ran straight down the first base line, towards a former drug dealer he’d arrested too many times to count. Now they worship on Sundays together. I watched the preacher of our little church dive straight into a mud puddle to catch the out.

God shows up in the Storm

A thunderstorm swept in and cut the game short and we wound up huddling on the front porch as the wind blew tree branches across the field and lightning lit up the sky. Under a small front porch, huddled together, stood such a diverse group of people, and I could only imagine, as thunder rolled and the lightning painted across the sky, how moved God was.

His children, gathered around, celebrating one another, all in His name. And in that moment, no one’s past mattered. Rich or poor. Young or old. Short or tall. Those who grew up in the church and those who’d just given their lives to Jesus. None of it mattered.

The storm blew through and everyone headed back to the field, full of mud and mire. There was a wiffle ball game to be played. Water splashed. Muddy toes emerged. And right there in the center of it all, healed hearts.

Because that’s who Jesus is. Despite our past, regardless of the muddy pits we bury ourselves in, He promises to save us – to redeem us. 

Despite our past, God promises to redeem us. 
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Ahh.. It wasn’t the smell of fresh rain in the air. It was Redemption. Freedom. Reconciliation. Forgiveness. Joy. Peace.

This verse has been on my heart for the last couple weeks and I’ve been asking God to show me what the fragrance of the knowledge of Him is. I believe He answered my prayer last night, right in the middle of a wiffle ball game.

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. – 2 Cor. 2:14

This is what the church is all about.

We are all broken people with one thing in common – we all need a Savior. We all need someone to pull us out of the mud and huddle on the front porch with us when the storms of life rage. The church isn’t a building. It’s a body of humans, all broken, despite our different sins, coming together with a common purpose – to serve God and grow in our relationship with Him together.

Oh, how I missed this. The smell of a cow pasture. The peace in the midst of chaos and laughter. The old friendships rekindled. The new friendships created.

I moved back here to help others heal, but the funny thing is, I’m healing in the midst of it. I’m opening up hidden places of my heart and allowing others in. People. God is using them to mend broken pieces. I am grateful. 

We stood in a circle at the end of the game and prayed together, all of us, out loud. The sound of our prayers was a symphony, beautifully orchestrated and each note perfectly tuned in God’s ears. I know He smiled. I did. That’s what Heaven will be like – bankers, former drug addicts, preachers, police officers, welders, former alcoholics, and even St. Louis Cardinals fans, all standing together, worshiping the God who created us.

Oh.. and wiffle ball.

Why There Will Be Wiffleball in Heaven

Last night I took a trip to Heaven. Okay, not literally like John did when he was hanging out on the island of Patmos and wrote the book of Revelation, but close enough.

And on my recent trip to Heaven, there was wiffle ball.

Last night, a group of us from my new church home of only 5 months, gathered at another member’s house for a high stakes game of wiffle ball and hot dogs.

I sat and watched a group of adults, teenagers and tots run around the bases, striking out and sending the plastic ball deep into the cow pasture. In a simple moment, everyone on the field was 8 years old again, living life without a care in the world, full of smiles and joy.

This wasn’t just your average game of wiffle ball. 

I watched him stand there, waiting for the ball to come at just the right angle – a former drug addict who recently celebrated one year sober. I cheered as she slid into second base, a former alcoholic whose voice was stolen by a man for way too many years. I saw a little girl give her dad a high-five after a line drive right down the middle. He just got out of prison a few weeks ago. The local cop, decked in his straw hat, ran straight down the first base line, towards a former drug dealer he’d arrested too many times to count. Now they worship on Sundays together. I watched the preacher of our little church dive straight into a mud puddle to catch the out.

God shows up in the Storm

A thunderstorm swept in and cut the game short and we wound up huddling on the front porch as the wind blew tree branches across the field and lightning lit up the sky. Under a small front porch, huddled together, stood such a diverse group of people, and I could only imagine, as thunder rolled and the lightning painted across the sky, how moved God was.

His children, gathered around, celebrating one another, all in His name. And in that moment, no one’s past mattered. Rich or poor. Young or old. Short or tall. Those who grew up in the church and those who’d just given their lives to Jesus. None of it mattered.

The storm blew through and everyone headed back to the field, full of mud and mire. There was a wiffle ball game to be played. Water splashed. Muddy toes emerged. And right there in the center of it all, healed hearts.

Because that’s who Jesus is. Despite our past, regardless of the muddy pits we bury ourselves in, He promises to save us – to redeem us. 

Despite our past, God promises to redeem us. 
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Ahh.. It wasn’t the smell of fresh rain in the air. It was Redemption. Freedom. Reconciliation. Forgiveness. Joy. Peace.

This verse has been on my heart for the last couple weeks and I’ve been asking God to show me what the fragrance of the knowledge of Him is. I believe He answered my prayer last night, right in the middle of a wiffle ball game.

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. – 2 Cor. 2:14

This is what the church is all about.

We are all broken people with one thing in common – we all need a Savior. We all need someone to pull us out of the mud and huddle on the front porch with us when the storms of life rage. The church isn’t a building. It’s a body of humans, all broken, despite our different sins, coming together with a common purpose – to serve God and grow in our relationship with Him together.

Oh, how I missed this. The smell of a cow pasture. The peace in the midst of chaos and laughter. The old friendships rekindled. The new friendships created.

I moved back here to help others heal, but the funny thing is, I’m healing in the midst of it. I’m opening up hidden places of my heart and allowing others in. People. God is using them to mend broken pieces. I am grateful. 

We stood in a circle at the end of the game and prayed together, all of us, out loud. The sound of our prayers was a symphony, beautifully orchestrated and each note perfectly tuned in God’s ears. I know He smiled. I did. That’s what Heaven will be like – bankers, former drug addicts, preachers, police officers, welders, former alcoholics, and even St. Louis Cardinals fans, all standing together, worshiping the God who created us.

Oh.. and wiffle ball.

The Myth Behind “Once an Addict Always an Addict”

On a Friday night in my little hometown of Belle (population 1500), you’ll see several cars sitting in the parking lot of the First Christian Church.  If you show up around 6:30 there will be a hot dinner, followed by some great worship, fellowship, and deep conversations.

Every person who walks through the doors on Friday night struggles with some kind of life-controlling issue, whether it’s addiction, depression, anxiety, co-dependency, people pleasing, etc. But in the midst of our struggles, we all Celebrate Recovery together.

Once an addict, always an addict. 

In some recovery programs you’re taught “Once an addict, always an addict.” What if that’s not true?

I believe when we speak these words over ourselves we’re denying God’s ability to change us. If you are walking in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and choose to pursue freedom daily with Him, you are not who you once were.

I believe when we speak these words over ourselves we’re denying God’s ability to change us.
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Don’t take my word for it. Take God’s word for it.

 This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun! – 2 Corinthians 5:17 NLT

Notice that sentence ends in an exclamation point. It was stated with excitement. God is excited about your new life and He desires to put your old life behind you. You are new!

We can’t pursue wholeness in Christ and call ourselves addicts at the same time. It contradicts what God says about us. 

Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow – Isaiah 1:18

God didn’t create a lottery and randomly pull names out to say, “Only you get to be washed white as snow.” No, He claims that for all who claim Him – drug addicts, prostitutes, porn addicts, workaholics, co-dependents, people pleasers…

We can’t pursue wholeness in Christ and call ourselves addicts at the same time. It contradicts…
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Stop calling yourself an addict

We’ve all known someone who’s dealt with cancer. Maybe it’s you. Walk through this with me for a second.

You go to the doctor and he diagnoses you with cancer. Perhaps God miraculously heals you, or He uses modern medicine such as chemo and radiation. You go for your one year check-up and the doctor says, “You’re cancer free.”

Do you still tell people you have cancer or do you proclaim, “I’m cancer free.” Of course you pick option two.

The same applies to our struggles with addiction.

So if the Son sets you free, you are truly free. – John 8:36 NLT

You are not who your addiction tries to say you are. You are a new creation. You are free. Stop calling yourself an addict and walk in the grace and freedom God is pouring into your life.

You are not who your addiction tries to say you are.
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Walking through the struggle

I’m not saying you still won’t struggle. There are days I still struggle with food and eat through my emotions. It’s a setback yes, but it doesn’t define me.

I’m not saying if you struggle with alcohol, you can go have a few drinks here and there. God also calls us to flee from temptation and to walk in wisdom.

But it’s time to relabel yourself, my friend. It’s time to call yourself what God calls you. “Redeemed. Free. Beautiful. Sanctified. Saint. Child. Friend.”

Doesn’t that sound so much freer than “addict?”

I encourage you today, if the “once an addict, always an addict” thought is something you’re passionate about, to take it back to God’s Word. Ask Him to show you the truth behind it. He will. And I have a feeling His truth will be more healing salve to your soul than the words the world teaches us.

Question: What are your thoughts on the “once an addict, always an addict” theory? You can leave a comment by clicking here.

A Letter to Sexual Abuse Survivors

Hi, I’m Sundi Jo and I’m a survivor of sexual abuse, too.

I start this letter with an apology. I’m sorry. Sorry sexual abuse is a part of your story. Devastated it was written into the book of your life. I’m sorry someone stole innocence from you without your control. What happened to you isn’t fair.

I want you to read these words carefully. Hear them. Believe them.

What happened to you is not your fault. 

You didn’t do something bad to deserve what happened to you. You are not a bad person.

I’m so proud of you for reading this letter. So proud you are seeking healing. Perhaps you’re tired of being stuck in the sadness, anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, and loneliness of the aftermath of your sexual abuse. I was, too. I’m excited for you to see beyond these things into the amazing things God has planned for your life.

My friend, God wants to rewrite your story. That doesn’t mean what happened to you isn’t real, or that it just disappears like a vapor. But when God’s grace enters into our lives, the story changes. 

He wants to redeem the time. He wants to come into the darkest places of what happened to you and show you, though you suffered, though you were violated, though you were a victim of horrible decisions chosen by others, you are still His child and He will never leave you. He loves you with an everlasting love.

When God’s grace enters into our lives, the story changes.
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Jesus has come to restore your innocence. He promises to wash us white as snow. He will comfort the broken-hearted. He will set the captives free. Instead of the ashes left by those who burned us, He will give us a crown of beauty. He will rebuild the ancient ruins stolen by the darkened souls that laid hands on us.

Beth Moore says in Breaking Free, 

You are not defined by anything that happened to you or anything you have done. You are defined by who you are in Christ.

Oh, my sweet friend, I pray you soak up these words. What was done to you doesn’t have to define you. Let Jesus hold your broken heart in the palm of His hands. Allow Him to wrap His loving, gentle, justifying arms around you and hold you. He longs to. He longs for you to feel safe in Him. 

Please know, I don’t expect you to read this letter and be completely healed with the wave of a magic wand. But I hope it’s a start – a reminder God is ready and willing to heal the devastated places of your heart. Healing is a process. Sometimes it hurts a lot along the way. But, oh… my friend, it’s worth it.

In the end, the freedom bell rings louder than the noise of our past. 

I’m proud of you. You’re a survivor. You’re a victor. You are winning this battle, even if it doesn’t look like it on the outside, because God is changing the inside. Your story matters and I can’t wait to see what God does with it.

I love you!

~Sundi Jo

In the end, freedom rings louder than the noise of our past.
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Same Sex Marriage and the Old Dirty Cup

Official as of today, the Supreme Court ruled same-sex couples have the right to marry nationwide.

As of today, my Facebook and Twitter feeds have blown up from both Christians and non-Christians sharing their thoughts and opinions on the matter.

I don’t really need to write about it, because a million other blogs are already discussing it, but I do have something to say, so I’ll make it short and sweet. 

Before we, as Christians (the body of Christ) rant, rave, and tell our friends and family this country is going to “hell in a hand basket” because of today’s decision, then use Scripture in a way it wasn’t intended – to shame, spew disgust, and berate the LGBT community, can I ask each of you, including myself, to consider this:

How are we doing in our own relationships? 

How are our own marriages doing? 

How are we honoring our husbands? 

How are we honoring our wives?

Jesus, may I first clean the inside of my cup so the outside will also be clean. Amen. 

Before we judge others in the #marriageequality decision, let’s do a check on our own relationships.
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5 Biblical Principles to Set You Free from Oppression

Are you dealing with the same struggle over and over again, feeling stuck in your desperation?

Perhaps you just keep going back to that addiction. You stay sober for a week, then have a drink on a lonely Saturday night. You’ve been on track with your eating habits, then one bad day sends you into a spiral of emotional eating.

My friend, that’s called bondage. It’s very real. 

The dictionary defines bondage as “slavery or involuntary servitude” or “the state of being bound by or subjected to some external power or control.”

When we give into our struggles over and over again, we’re being bound and controlled by the enemy. That enemy is the devil and according to 1 Peter 5:8, he “prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Each moment we continue to stay in bondage, we leave a door open for the devil to control our lives.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way. 

I’m talking about these 5 steps over at the Esther’s House blog today. Head over there and visit to find the next steps to freedom.

A letter to Bruce and Caitlyn Jenner

Dear Bruce (Caitlyn),

First of all, I want to thank you for your bravery for being so vulnerable with the photographers at Vanity Fair. I can’t speak for you, but that probably wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Thank you, also, for your willingness to talk to Diane Sawyer about your struggles so openly. Again, probably not that easy.

I don’t write this letter to condemn or judge you. As a matter of fact, I would like to apologize on behalf of any Christian who berates you with their words and judges you with their looks. Please remember, not all Christians are alike.

Can I share my heart with you for a moment?

I think there’s some confusion in the god you referred to in your interview with Diane Sawyer and the God whom I know and love – the same one who knows and loves you.

You’re right about one thing. God definitely made you a “smart kid, very determined, with wonderful qualities.”

Not only did He give you amazing athletic abilities, but He made you a great father and step-father, with an amazing love for your kids, and a great husband. I’m sure you’ve made incredible business decisions to further your career. You’re definitely full of wonderful qualities. The world is a better place because you’re in it, because I know God doesn’t make mistakes.

But.. here’s where my heart aches for you. For God. You think God would look down, “chuckle a bit,” and say, “Hey let’s give him the soul of a female and let’s see how he deals with that?”

My friend, this is where I have to step in and say I don’t think we’re talking about the same God.

The God I know doesn’t make mistakes. The God I know doesn’t look down on His creation and decide to make them transgender, gay, etc. He doesn’t play a game of roulette and decide He wants one to be confused with their identity and the other perfectly “normal.”

The God who created you is full of love, mercy, compassion, and justice. There are things God hates. God isn’t all about warm and fuzzy, but He also doesn’t rule with an iron fist. He gives all his children opportunities to have deep relationship with Him, despite what they’ve done, where they’ve been in life, or who they believe they are.

Oh, my friend, if you would truly grasp how much God loves you – I mean truly get it – I’m not sure your thoughts would be the same about Caitlyn.

Please don’t misunderstand that sentence to say I don’t empathize with your struggles. They are very real and I don’t want to undermine that in any way.

May I ask you a question? What if you truly knew who you were in Christ? What if your security was in your relationship with Jesus instead of your own identity? What if we all fully grasped this, myself included? I ask this because God says we are complete in Him. He says when we have a relationship with Him, we have the mind of Christ. We are God’s masterpiece. We are part of a chosen generation. We are greatly loved by God.

What if we fully grasped God’s love for us? A letter to Bruce and Caitlyn Jenner
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There are days I still struggle with my own identity. I struggle to be feminine. I struggle with a fear of men I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be set free from. There are days I still think it’d be much easier for me to be a lesbian, because it’s much more comfortable and a lot less work. But then God reminds me who I am in Him and what He created me for. At times I grasp it quickly. Other times I fight it.

It’s a real struggle, my friend. But God is bigger than our struggles.

I write you this letter today not to condemn. Not to preach 100 Bible verses to you on what you’re doing wrong. We don’t know each other well enough to sit down in a coffee shop and talk at that intimate of a level. That’d be cool, though, if we could have coffee and hang out for a bit. I’ll buy.

I write you today to say you are loved. To ask you to open your mind and reconsider your thoughts on who you think God made you to be. To consider digging deeper into God’s Word to learn who He really created you to be and how much He longs and desires a deep, intimate relationship with you.

You are loved, my friend. Here’s to coffee sometime.