Take heart: Why Our Struggles Are Important

I never want anyone to struggle. I don’t want to walk through hard things. I don’t want you to either. I want our lives to look like a beautiful Instagram feed; where all the tones match, the background is well-balanced with books and succulents and everyone is bright and happy in their organic cotton clothes. Not only that, but full of interesting, if not witty, things to say about life, love and rescue dogs.

My life does not look like this. And that is important, because I’m going to need your help. If my life was problem-free, I would not need your prayers, time and support and we would both miss out on how God uses you and me to move in the lives of people.

As a writer, I have always been told I need a brand, a voice, a genre that people will expect. When you are starting a blog or website it is best to have a look or brand (you will notice mine is mostly typewriters and coffee) in muted tones no less. My life, unlike my website, does not have a theme like “dark and moody”; that is just me every morning before coffee. Or you might find me “bright and colorful,” which is how I feel when someone brings me a cookie (or preferably a baker’s dozen). I’m all over the place.

Life Isn’t A Staged Instagram Post (We Don’t Get 20 Takes)

My real life photo album would look more like this:

First photo: my rescue dog puking on the carpet (not the wood floor, nope the carpet, the one we are going to change out as soon as the dog stops eating uneatable things outside).

Next pic: a demitasse cup of coffee (note the theme) on my coffee table; no, wait . . . you can’t actually see my coffee table because it looks like a LEGO hospital with legs and heads everywhere!

Photo number three: me ruining a perfectly good photo with my friends by being the only one who blinks (always). Actually now that I read this all back it is a recognizable theme: Struggle. Is that a genre? Dickens seemed to think so.

Again, I don’t want to struggle, I want it all to work out. I want all the ends to meet. I don’t want to run out of thread or have the wrong color or just have lost the spool all together. Sometime my struggles are the result of my own sin or bad choices. Like staying up too late to read and then being tired and grumpy the next day and trying to withdraw money from the bank, getting denied, freaking out(!) and then realizing that you are at the wrong bank. Sometimes the struggles are a result of other peoples’ bad choices like when someone steals your identity and empties your bank account buying men’s outdoor gear a week before Christmas. And sometimes struggles just happen, like your kid getting sick on the day you have a big presentation at work, or it downpours on an outdoor party that you’ve spent weeks planning.

Struggles Bring Us Into God’s Work

If it all worked out we wouldn’t really need each other. I wouldn’t need you to listen to me over coffee when I’m worried and upset. You wouldn’t need me to puzzle through relationship problems for hours in a parked car in your driveway. I wouldn’t need that meal during a busy and stressful time. You wouldn’t need me to pray about your job. We wouldn’t need each other’s parenting advice or someone to let our dog out or pick up our kid. We would have it all together and be self-sufficient, untouchable and confident. Yet, in Galatians we are taught to—Bear one another burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Instead we struggle and it creates cracks in the image we want to send the world. That we know how to parent that child and how to communicate in our marriages. That we can handle everything that is coming our way with a smile. I often find myself stressing over the wrong things, focusing on how things look instead of how things are. I want all the homework turned in on time, the lunch box to be a balanced meal instead of an array of snacks (because that’s all he will eat at school and I can’t throw away another sandwich). I want my words to my family to be uplifting and not just an outpouring of my own frustrations. Like an Instagram feed, I want it to look staged and perfect. I want to have 20 takes and pick the best one. Let me try this conversation about not forgetting your homework folder a few times and pick the one that is best, not my knee-jerk, freak-out one—definitely not the one to go with.

But instead of having time to fix my lipstick and smoothing down my flyaways, life just keeps snapping the pictures and they are not all flattering. My instinct is to hide these pictures, not share them with my friends and family. Not tell people my fears and my failures. I want to be a woman that trusts God, that boldly just says, God is working this out. I do believe I can have faith and trust in Him. I believe His Word. I pray because I know it matters and I know He hears me. Yet, doubts creep in, fears dance around in the shadows taunting me; they know me, they know just how to get my attention. These are moments I want to hide, I want to tell you over text that I’m just busy. I want to make excuses to stay home because these pictures are not pretty. They are blurry and the lighting is real bad.

Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.

Philippians 2:4

Ironically, oh so ironically, I dislike this in other people. I don’t want you to hide your hurt, I never want you to pretend things are okay when you can’t sleep because of worry or you are mad at your spouse. I want to walk through that with you. Your struggles are good for my walk because they make me re-examine what I believe about the Lord. Your struggles make me look at God’s Word for answers. They make me pray boldly for you while you cry on my couch (surrounded by all the LEGO pieces). I need to see your trials to see that it’s not just me that feels overwhelmed, tired and out of my depth. And you need the same from me.

Sometimes other people’s issues put our own in perspective; sometimes they make us feel less alone, but they can always give us an opportunity to do the Lord’s work. I can speak truth against a lie you are believing. You can lay hands and pray over my headache. The Lord can use my words to give you insight into a hard relationship and he can use you to meet a practical need, like letting my dog out when I have a day of solid meetings. Sometimes it’s big warfare work, coming against a stronghold in someone’s life and other times it’s something more simple like your husband dropping off a Mexican hot chocolate at work when you’re having a hard day. But I feel God’s hand in the big and little ways others help me in my struggles.

Life was feeling pretty hard while I worked on this piece. But God showed up in big and small ways. He used His people to bless me physically, providing for my needs in practical ways. Even sweet notes full of encouraging words with coffee cards inside (my love language). Someone told me she was having a wretched day when she wrote me a note of encouragement (which I found especially touching). When we can bless people out of our hardships, it’s all the more meaningful. Even in the midst of our own struggles we can do God’s work. I know there was much prayer which lead to the way God used this time to open me up to hear His truth. The Holy Spirit lead me to some teaching that I needed to hear about God’s provision, about His love and His character. I found myself broken and trying to heal. Learning a lesson I could only learn when I felt scattered in pieces. We all need to struggle to grow.

Take heart: I need your struggles and you need mine.

Do you try to hide your struggles? Do you delete the bad photos and only show the world the staged pictures?

How has another person’s struggle helped you to go deeper in your faith so you could encourage them?

Have you seen God’s hand in your life through the acts and words of other believers?

I would love to hear your comments below! (Scroll downs to subscribe)

Drafts on The Unlived Life

Your flight has been canceled! How many times have we arrived to the terminal to be told those soul-crushing words. We had a plan. A ticket, even, as proof of the direction (literally) our life was headed. We had it all mapped out only to be told we would not be partaking in those particular plans. Has there ever been a more fitting metaphor for life? When we are young we make such grand plans. With nary a thought for cost, delays or an entire re-routing. We say such things as, “I shall never get married” or “I will have three kids, two boys and a girl,” with no concept of any interference. We boldly pronounce that we will leave town as soon as we can, securing a flat in a faraway country or a lavish ocean-front home. Dreams are free. Free of cost, free of reality. Free of the entanglements and strange twists of life. But all too often dreams get canceled.

We are just coming off the holidays and I always try to make a point of watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I have seen this movie more times than I can count; I even acted in the play in college. The older I get the more I realize just what George gave up. I’m sure you are familiar with the movie, but in a slight recap, George Bailey has big plans. He grows up dreaming of travel and excitement. In one scene he is purchasing a suitcase for his adventures. The first piece of luggage he is shown is met with a head shake, no that is not big enough! It will never hold the numerous stickers from all the countries he plans to visit. He has a life plan and it is getting out of his little town to see the world. Bag in hand he heads out to say goodbye to friends and family. But, alas, George never puts one sticker on that suitcase. It turns out he didn’t need the extra large one, or for that matter, any luggage at all. That life was canceled.

Do you have a suitcase in your closet for that life you never lived? Most of us do. Have you packed up a wedding dress that never walked down an aisle or put away baby clothes that were never used? Did you plan to finish college and got sidetracked by a baby? The move to Paris or Rome never materialized and you live in the same town where you grew up. The job pays the bills, but you had dreams of a career in fashion or owning your own restaurant. You thought you would go out to conquer the world, but instead you deal with chronic pain or depression and conquering the day is all you can manage. Or you were going to show your kids the world and everything you loved as a child, but they live in their own quiet world that you can’t quite reach.

Most of us are George Bailey with a life unlived. We did the right thing, we stepped up when a parent needed help, we held back when a child needed us. We pay the medical bills instead of booking that voyage. We take in a struggling friend or we do rounds of endless doctor appointments with our spouse. We put the suitcase in the closet and shut the door. Perhaps you made a series of wrong decisions. Invested in the wrong person, left when you should have stayed, stayed when you should have left. Either way you feel like George when it all starts to cave in around you. You look longingly at the empty suitcase and think if only . . .

We Make Resolutions (And Then Life Happens)

So here we sit in the foothills of the mountain that is this year; this decade even, and we are asked to make New Year’s resolutions. To write down what we hope to achieve these next 365 days. I can strive to write more, have less clutter in my house and find something to be thankful for each day. But the truth is I will forget about these small goals in a month’s time. We never talk about these aspirations in March or July. They are long forgotten because life happens. We move again, someone gets sick, someone gets born, we switch jobs, we age. There are triumphs of course. We meet the right person, we get a promotion, we start a business, we finish school. But the trouble with even achievements is that they fade. In It’s a Wonderful Life, George has wonderful things happen. He marries a lovely woman, has four children, helps countless friends, grows the business and supports his country during wartime. He is a beloved pillar of his community.

I do not for one minute think, if George had left town that day and taken his trip, we wouldn’t be having this same discussion—it would just be in reverse. He would have traveled, but never found, say, love or real meaning. He would see the world, but have no sense of home. We humans are genius at longing for what we do not have. If it wasn’t that thing, it would be another. I’m easily tricked into thinking, if I had what I wanted, than I wouldn’t want what I have now. That if I had gotten on that “flight,” I would be happier somehow. I would have a wonderful life. But it is a lie. If we travel, we long for home. If we are secure, we want adventure. If we have responsibilities, we want none and if we have none, we ache for them. We are funny, fickle creatures. Always chasing something. Always wanting more . . . or less.

We are always chasing something.

Always wanting more … or less

We all have suitcases in our closets

I can tell you my perfect life as I’m sure you can tell me yours. We are told the trick is balance. But we can’t, no matter how hard we try, stay in balance; we just hit it once and while, on the way to being out of balance. I’m all for being mindful and intentional. Make New Year’s goals; I did! But what the Bible says in Philippians 4: 11-13 is true; we must learn to be content in whatever state we find ourselves—in plenty and in need. I’m always in both these spots in various parts of my life. Flush with friendships, but struggling at work or dry spiritually but in good health. The life I wanted is not this. How could it be? I long for balance, for perfection and something is always out of sync.

If I could make it all work, I would not need a Savior. My goals are sweet, but small. They speak to the here and now which will never, ever be enough. I can have the best marriage, kids, job, vacations and it would not come close to being enough. One of the greatest blessings in my life are friends, as dear as sisters, and family I enjoy like friends, but it is only a taste of what I long for. Achieving dreams is amazing. I met a goal of getting over 100 pieces published and it was rather exciting and a feather in my cap; but it does not give my soul purpose, it is merely a feather, ornamental. I very much wanted our unique little house with the wall of windows and mid-century modern fixtures, but I have to be very careful not to complain about its lack of a second bathroom and doors that don’t close tight. Opening our own business was exciting, but at the end of the day, it’s a job, and a hard job at that. All the dreams that do come true are still not enough.

God knew it would never be enough. Our bodies were not designed to die, but to live. Our hearts were not created for envy and longing, but for a perfect, complete love. Our minds are meant for good, for edifying thoughts, not negative and evil imaginings. We use our liberty to create bad as well as good. We are victims of others’ free will and they are our tragedies, as well. So thus the world goes: broken, lost, and hurting even in the best of circumstances. The Bible teaches us to control our thought life, to think on things that are good and lovely; not because we will necessarily manifest a better life that way, but because we will need this discipline to navigate life. (Read about this in Philippians 4:6-8) It is a bumpy road. Sometimes the plane leaves on time and we get upgraded to first class and life looks good; but other times we have to sleep in the airport, just to find out we are seated next to a fussy toddler (who is oftentimes our own!).

This post is not about how we miss one flight to make another, different but better excursion. Our lives are a lot of canceled trips, lost tickets, sick on Christmas Day, missed opportunities and so forth. And in many ways we just miss out. But we are mostly nearsighted. We look at the life unlived and we mourn, while God sees eternity, knowing the end from the beginning. He knows our hurts and our disappointments, He is farsighted! Where we see loss, hurts and failures; He sees the refining of our souls. He knows we are pilgrims, just passing through. As it turns out we didn’t miss the flight at all, we are still waiting to board. It’s a bit of a delay, so we set about doing things, having families, working that job, putting our hearts into a ministry . . . all while we wait to live our (yet) unlived life.

Do you find yourself longing for an unlived life this side of eternity?

Have you considered that even if you had that dream life it would still never be enough? Can you think of some examples of people who have it “all” and still struggle?

What can you do to keep your focus on the things that are “good and lovely"?

Drafts on Floating through the Holidays

Winter came early here in Michigan (and perhaps the whole country). Quite suddenly, we had no idea where our ice scrapers were and snow pants were seemingly sold out overnight. And all this, before I even had a chance to assess if we had any matching gloves (by the way . . . the answer is no; I somehow have only seven right hands - if anyone can explain this to me, please do so). And just like that, the holidays are upon us. While I love the first wave of the season, from pumpkin everything and gingerbread lattes to twinkly lights and Christmas music; it’s all the ambiance with none of the stress. I can enjoy the decorations in my favorite coffee shops and fill my car with Carol of the Bells, until the second wave steamrolls in: then these twinkly lights start on full stroke mode, the music becomes too loud and too frantic and there’s so much stuff to buy and wrap and all the traveling . . . oh, my!!

This year I have decided to try and float through the holidays.

Sounds great, right? 

But how does one float?      

A basic staple of any swim class is learning to float. It doesn’t seem like something we would have to be taught. After all the human body is almost naturally buoyant. If we just relax and fill our lungs with air, we sit on the surface of the water with hardly any effort. Yet, as I sat on the sidelines of a class of beginners’ swim lessons, floating was anything but natural. It was downright terrifying.

My son did not take to swimming easily. He, like many kids, was afraid to go underwater. It took some tough love from a wonderful swim teacher to convince him to put his head underneath the surface. Ms. Liz was loving and patient, but no nonsense. She would listen to his fears and say she understood, but he would, in fact, be going underwater. I completely trusted her and I knew it was very important for him to learn to swim. I, too, understood his fears, but I knew this was an important lesson—vital to a kid that lives in a beach town. As I would wade through his fears and tears to get him where he needed to be to learn to swim, I wondered how God looks at me as I fight an important lesson He is trying to teach me. He understands I’m afraid of the unknown and what could go wrong, but He also knows I must learn to swim in this world.

Once my child went underwater a few times, lo and behold, he not only liked it, he loved it! In fact, a new problem arose as the class stood in line on the submerged ledge; instead of being afraid of putting his head underwater, he was always underwater! (Duly missing the instructions in his lesson.) While I gave him my “get it together eyes” from the sidelines, as the teacher had to ask, yet again, for him to keep his head above water; it secretly made me smile to see him enjoy the water so much. Not only do I want him to be safe, I want him to enjoy the freedom and delight of swimming. Just as we learn all the safety lessons from studying our Bibles, I imagine God smiles, seeing his children enjoy life, but like any loving parent, He wants us to do it safely. He designed us for relationships and he gifted us with talents and skills, he gave us passions and callings, but he knows we could easily drown in them. Unless we first learn to swim.

In the swim class, Ms. Liz would have the kids lay on their backs and practice floating on the surface of the water. She taught them that if they ever get in trouble to just flip over on their backs and float. (A skill we all need during this holiday season.) Well, my child could not do this, he would immediately panic, struggle and sink. The instructor would  say, “Do you trust me not to let you go under?” He would nod yes, but his heart wasn’t in it. Has the Lord asked you to trust Him as he untangles your hurts, moves you forward in something new or closes a chapter in your life? And while you are nodding yes, is your heart panicking? What is He asking of you in this season of celebrations and time with family? Are we drowning under doing it all? Doing it perfectly? Sinking while your arms are full of pumpkin seasoning and rustic sleigh bell gift adornments.  

Ms. Liz helped my son by letting him rest his head on her shoulder as he tried to float. That way he could feel something firm underneath his head and she would whisper to him, “I got you.” I see myself in this, God lets me rest my head on his shoulder (my crazy spinning brain that just needs to rest) while I’m learning to float. When I’m tired and worn out by this world, the demands of life, the fear of moving forward in faith — I can’t even float, I just start to sink. We start to think our gifts aren’t thoughtful enough, our party clothes aren’t sparkly enough and that the cookies came out a bit too chewy (well I don’t think that because everyone knows I will break my own oven to get out of baking). I can rest all my inadequacies on the shoulders of the Lord. I can lay my worries and fears on Him.

Last year my sister came home for Christmas and she texted us and said, I will not be bringing any gifts, the gift is my presence! And you know what? I loved it! I do enjoy giving and getting gifts, but the ultimate gift I can give to you and you can give to me is to be in each other’s lives. So that necklace or scarf I got you is just bonus. I can float though the pressure of . . . is it the right color or the right thing? Should I have done more? This is not the real gift. What you are really unwrapping is a ”thank you” for being there when I call too late or need too much. This one day and this one gift will never be worthy of all the times you made me laugh or got me out of a jam. So, I’m just going to float this pair of gloves over your way and if it’s still in the bag I bought it in, well . . . that’s okay, too.          

The interesting thing about floating is that there is a lot of trust involved. Our bodies will lay on the surface of the water, but only if we relax and let go of all the panic and fear weighing us down. I wrote in my last post (Drafts on Ebb Tide) about how the enemy tries to drown us with lies about how unforgivable we are, how we will never overcome our pain or how we can’t handle our present situation. Sure we can struggle through the water with these burdens, but eventually when we run out of our human energy, we will need rest. The enemy knows we can never float with these things weighing on us. His lies are meant to make us sink. And we can go under in a million ways: drinking too much, escaping into entertainment too often, finding our worth in unstable things like status and money and looks. I personally can feel depression and despair start to pull me away from the people in my life that would uplift me; everything looks dark and I just want to stay under a blanket to cope. And the whole point of the holidays is lost in the enemies lies. And the point? A thankful heart around the thanksgiving table and star-lit eyes over the babe found in the manger. Peace in our souls and good will towards men is the point.

Floating is rest. The rest we need. God designed our bodies to need breaks. When we sleep we heal and recharge. He built night into day, sabbath into the week and our bodies float so we don’t have to always be swimming. When my day swarms me; emails, laundry, hurting friends to pray for, research for my writing and 3rd grade math (which in my case means watching instructional youtube videos and still not understanding) and then I have to come up with something for dinner on top of all that?!

Swim lessons; life lessons

I need time in my day to just float and on those days that I can’t even float because I feel too crazy, the Lord lets me lay my head on His shoulder and whisper, “I’ve got you.” I open my Bible and the living Word soothes me and I ask the Holy Spirit to help me and He buoys my soul (even though nothing in my physical world has actually changed). So I heat up soup and toast bread and laugh at 3rd grade math because seriously, what else is there to do? And I float.

We float because our lungs are full of air. My air is God. He fills me. He holds me until I can swim again. When things are really bad, when I’m afraid and lost He lets me lay my head on something firm. His Word is firm. His character is solid. His truth is enough to carry all my weights until I let Him cut them loose. Then when exhaustion hits, I know what to do. I flip over on my back and float. A prayer in the car. A Bible verse check on my phone. Truth is in my head and faith in my heart, where it can’t be lost or misplaced. It’s really not that hard as it turns out, but it feels scary. Like my son in swim class, it takes a leap of faith, that feeling as you start to sink, but then somehow you don’t. The Holy Spirit brings you back up to the surface where you can lay there and just breathe.

So this year I’m going to try and float through the holidays. The gifts will never be enough, I will be overly tired from traveling and a little jittery from all the coffee. I most likely will not be at my best. So if you want to have a little cry in the spare bedroom or borrow my undereye concealer come find me. I’m going to try and not panic and just rest in God.

My advice for this busy, crazy festive season is to start practicing floating.             

In what areas of your life are you drowning and instead of flipping over on your back to float—you are panicking? Is it finances? Health? Relationships? 

How do you drown in the holidays? What would it look like if you tried floating through? Simple unwrapped gifts, less commitments, buy the cookies? (I mean, I have to because my oven is broke)  

Drafts on Ebb Tide

Change is a constant companion in our lives. Like the ebb tide of the waves, the new washes up and the old is swept away. It is relentless. When we are young, this feels slow, as if we will be children forever; remember when summer felt like it would go on forever? One sandy beach day disappeared into the next, marked by dripping popsicles in the hot sun and counting fireflies in the evenings. I never once thought about change on those long carefree days. But change was always there, with me, even when I was unaware. Now as a middling adult, I’m keenly aware of change and the passage of time. My childhood seems a lifetime ago. The changes I have gone through are staggering. The hardships and the growth that followed has formed me into an entirely different person.

As I write, I’m perched at the window bar of a coffee shop and my view consists of blowing leaves and pumpkins on hay bales: it is autumn. This is my favorite season. I identify with its many layers—a clear sun followed by unexpected clouds, cold rain and gusty winds. I have often wondered what our favorite seasons say about us. Fall is a time of change, cooling temps, tall boots and burnt orange sweaters, The days are short, but bright. It is the last brilliant moment before the world resets with a long sweep of cleansing cold, unforgiving air. It is change wrapped around me like a scarf, held in my hands like hot apple cider.

The older I get the more I realize that change is part of the game; it’s not going away. I’m constantly growing and learning. And in that growth, I must face the fact that there needs to be growth, because I’m still not there yet. I see this in my marriage. After 15 years together, we are still figuring it out. Our partnership, all and all, is fairly smooth, but then last weekend we had a fight about a juicer. Yup, a juicer! So guess there is still room for growth there, or at least a glass of carrot juice.

Parenting is arguably the biggest vehicle of growth around. Having a baby is like an instant death to your old self and born in its place is this soft squishy person who cares about bizarre things like the shape of pacifier nipples and who keeps a journal of wet diapers. Who is this person? And in a way you relive your childhood all over again with all the great things, like reading Make Way for Ducklings, but also all the hard things, like when your first fish dies (R.I.P. blue beta fish). And you change. . . you are a parent to a baby and then a toddler and then suddenly the baby is driving. And while you were fine to drive at 16, surely that cannot be true today!

Twisting in the Waves

Change also comes in the form of hardships. Tragedies like divorce, loss or severed relationships that can close off parts of us until they shrivel up and die. We can’t even access that part of our heart anymore. Maybe you have lost someone or perhaps your marriage feels like far more of a struggle than it’s worth, a needy child is chipping away at you and there is no time for anything you enjoy. The grind of life . . . has well. . . ground you up. Those long easy days of summer are a distant memory that play in your head like a movie you watched once. Ten-year-old you would never recognize your life now. Your dream journal seems completely unrealistic. Obviously, you are never going to work for SeaWorld at this point (although, the Blackfish documentary really finished off that dream).

Blackfish aside, I don’t know where you are at today. Perhaps life has come up roses with a few thorns or perhaps it’s thistles with a few flowering weeds. Life is always in motion, the waves are always reaching for us, trying to push us forward or pull us back. Sometimes there is little we can do about our circumstances. My childhood was punctuated with tragedy, there were long summer days and nights on the porch counting fireflies, but storms blew in unexpectedly. Loss and tragedy are big part of my identity. Of who I am. They shaped me young into twisty ways that are taking a lifetime to untangle. But I’m working on it.

The enemy has spent years whispering in my tender ear that this is who I am. That these knots cannot be untangled. The blood supply has been cut off and growth cannot take place. And you know what? In many ways it’s easier to let these areas lie dormant. I’m strangely comfortable in it. Like when your foot falls asleep and you are unaware until you try to move it and as blood flows back into those veins, it is painful. As I have reopened some of my past, it too, is painful; but I no longer want to be pushed into a shape that God did not intend for me.

So I look back at things that happened to me and I start to look at it all through the eyes of the Lord. Sure, He can use these things and He absolutely does, but also He does not want me to be bound up in my losses, my hurts, my disappointments.

When the waves reach for me, I start to sink in the quicksand of my emotions, being sucked under by the past. Bound—unable to swim; sinking into depression and despair. At times, the Lord sends others to swim along side of me to encourage me to keep swimming; but more so, Jesus Christ, my Savior, wants to see me unbound, free to swim over the surface of what tries to pull me down.

Learning to swim

He will Walk on Water

When our minds turn to depression/anger/bitterness/ apathy, we start to feel the weight of our past, our pain, the things that haven’t worked out. It’s too heavy, we are tempted to stop swimming and just sink. We look away from God and we start to go under. We are trying to swim with broken legs and twisted arms. If we are standing on the beach and we see our child or a friend struggling in the water, would we not rush out to help them? Of course! And God our Father does the same. If we cry out, He will walk on water to save us from sinking. But more so then save us from drowning this one time, He wants to teach us to keep our eyes on Him so we don’t sink; showing us how to navigate rough waters, to swim because He knows storms will arise often in our lives. While I want Him to remove me out of the water altogether and put me up on dry land, He knows the world we live in and that it will never stop trying to pull us out to the depths. In John 16:33, Jesus says, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

The waves will roll over my head, the enemy will try to convince me to stop swimming. But the Lord, the Lord Almighty will teach me to swim. The Holy Spirit will buoy me, the Great Physician will heal me, the power of Christ will strengthen me. We will face my crippling hurts together and He will breathe new life into the dead parts of my soul. He will unshackle the weights the enemy has chained to my limbs, and teach me to use them again. I will keep my eyes ever on Him—reading His word to renew my mind and speaking His truth to my hurting spirit. I pray in the power that changes things, changes me; I try (in His power) to cast off the old weights and get my stride. It does not come easy, it is work. I’m fighting the current. But the more I immerse myself in the things of the Lord, the stronger I become. I can only write about this because I have lived it. I have been bound up and I have been set free. Matthew 11:28 says: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest! “ The ebb tide will never stop, but the difference now is that (in Him) I can navigate the rough waters—I can swim..

In what ways is the ebb trying to take you out? How are your limbs bound up?

What would it look if you let the Lord unwind the areas in your life that are twisted up?

Are you being called to help someone else learn to swim?

Drafts on the Comments Section

I have been word-bombing blank pages with my thoughts since elementary school. The journal covers may have morphed from prancing horses and snuggling puppies to vintage travel with Jane Austen quotes, but the idea is the same—I need to write. I find putting pen to paper not only a way to organize my thoughts, but a form of therapy. As my emotions perch on the lines of the pages, I can look them square in the eye. In high school, I can remember writing so hard I ripped the paper (bc teenage feelings are that strong). Some words came carefully, as I tried to get them just right, and others poured out like a faucet, open at full tilt, left to overflow the sink and splash around on the floor.

As I grew older, I started writing pieces to share with others. I wrote poetry for my friends and short stories for class. Teachers and family encouraged me to pursue writing. I would work on stories for weeks before reading them aloud to my sisters. Their excitement over my characters and the dramatic and often tragic storylines would thrill me and encourage my writing. I learned that I didn’t want to just write in journals for myself, but I wanted to write for others. I started taking creative writing classes and reading books on the subject. After attending a writing conference I quickly realized this is what I wanted to do. College beckoned and I went on to earn a professional writing degree and started publishing my homework in magazines.

One of my favorite aspects of being an author is opening a notebook and letting others read my words. Like anyone in the arts, we don’t want our creation to stay tucked away in the studio, we want the world to see it and react. I have written pieces for others like a gift, the same way a potter fashions a cup or bowl with someone in mind. I have friends who cook or sew or make chocolate—I write words. Poems about friendships, articles about my mom’s love and short stories about my dad’s farm. This is an expression of gratitude. I want to see their reaction, like when we find the perfect gift for someone, we can’t wait for them to tear off the paper and see just what they mean to us.

When I started this blog, I really thought it would be mostly about writing and its brewdy sidekick, coffee. I had hoped to encourage writers, provoke ideas and share tips. I knew my faith would enter in at times because it is such a big part of me and my writing. After a handful of posts, with nods to my faith, it began to take a more prominent role, no longer watching from the wings, but stepping out into the spotlight. And it felt right, like that is where it belonged the whole time. Like when the star of the show gets laryngitis and the understudy has to go on and he is amazing! I love to write about publishing and little lessons from my life and will continue to do so, but I have felt that there is more to say. Like perhaps my writing is a form of worship, a love letter to my Lord. And I hope it comes across in my words. I don’t want to live a faith that leaves people wondering.

God did not leave us to wonder. He wrote a book for us so we could know Him. It’s an amazing love story! And like any good book, it has it all—humor, drama, adventure, loss and Redemption. God had His book commissioned—to be read; it has an eternal message we all need. I hand out business cards, post on social media and try to casually tell people in conversation that I have written something (not of Biblical proportions by any means!) but I would love it if they took the time to read my blog. The hope is that lots of people will read it and even more so, leave a comment!

Readers comments are the fruit of my labor. When someone takes the time to tell me what my writing meant to them personally, how it was just what they needed that day or that they shared it with a friend, I’m overjoyed. All the hard work feels worthwhile. I try hard to not have high expectations, for it’s a slow process and I’m figuring it out one hurdle at a time. Which brings me to a recent post I wrote and how it had no comments, not one! I was rather disappointed. Perhaps it wasn’t that great of a post; blogging is such a different thing than writing articles for magazines. Blogs are just quick shots of life, not poured-over manuscripts for which someone thought worthy of pay. I assumed it just wasn’t a comment-worthy piece until I realized I hadn’t turned on the comments section!

This got me thinking about how often I feel that God isn’t speaking to me. I’m praying, asking for answers and guidance and if feels like He stays silent. But have I turned on my comments section? Am I looking for the answers in the right place? God has authored a book and as it turns out, many of the answers I’m looking for are in the pages of His Word—God’s comments section, if you will. If we want to hear God speak we must turn on the “comments section” by opening up our Bibles. Something I have not always done. In my younger years of being a Christian, I did not read my Bible very often and I wondered why God was so quiet. Turned out He had plenty of notes and suggestions, if I cared to read it.

Once I realized I had not turned on the comments section of my blog post, it all made sense. Of course, I wasn’t going to hear anything! I have always wished I could get an audible response from God or even if He wanted to write me a letter—I would wait by the mailbox everyday! Well, He did write me a letter - I just need to turn on the comments section or better known as “opening up” His Word. Of course, God speaks to us in other ways, in our spirit and through His followers as we are His hands and feet (“Now then we are ambassadors for Christ…” 2 Cor 5:20a). He often sends someone to encourage or redirect us. I have sat across many a café table from someone lamenting that they just wish they could know the truth. I love to say God sent me to tell you to turn on your comments section. He is Truth . . . and He has so much to say.

Have you ever been confronted by something you journaled, perhaps putting those thoughts on paper made you examine them in a different light?

If you have journals, look through some old musings and write about how your feelings have changed.

Are you looking for answers when you haven’t turned on your comments section?