To the One Who First Made Me a Mommy

The other night you asked me if you could be alone in your room for a bit. You wanted to lay on your bed and read a few books before going to bed.  We always do this together but tonight, just for tonight you said, you wanted to do it by yourself.

You are five now after all. That’s what you tell me.

I kiss you on the forehead and head towards your bedroom door.  I turn around one more time to ask if you’re sure you don’t need me, but I pause and watch you for a moment.  You grab your favorite books and your favorite pink blanket and you curl up with your feet tucked under you. You start laughing at something in one of your books.  It makes me smile.

You see, this request to be left alone seems small to you. I know it does. But to me, it’s a sign that the little girl in front of me is growing up. And to be honest with you it’s all happening too fast for my mama heart.

I know, I know. It’s something simple. But you see, as most mama’s do, we get to thinking about how fast the time goes by and how quickly we got to this point.

You see, you were my first. You were the first one who made me a mommy.  No one else will ever have that title except for you.  It’s quite special and unique. 

No one else will get to do the things you have done.  That we have done together.

You were the first diaper I changed. The first baby I nursed (although not very well. We’ll talk about this when you get older). The first one who made me realize that I could still function on less than a few hours of sleep a night. The first one to make me sing at the top of my lungs at 2am so you would stop crying.

You were the first one to walk. The first to talk. The first one to make me see what having my heart walk outside of my body felt like. Turns out it’s both terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.

You were the first one who made me understand in the best way I could just how much God really loves us.  Because oh man, you did a number on me kid.

I am forever messed up because of you and I mean that in the best way possible. You, with your strong-willed mind and your tender heart.  You were both a great blessing and my greatest test.

I feel like my job as your mother is to be honest with you about things. About life. About faith.  And well, there have been many a nights I have cried out to God that He made a mistake making me your mama.  It wasn’t about you, it was about me and my abilities.  My prayers consisted of doubt and fear and wanting so desperately to do right by you.

But God doesn’t make mistakes you know. That’s what He gently reminds me of from time to time about us.  He whispers to my heart that He chose you and I to do this life thing together and that I need to trust Him more about that.

And so I will.

I will trust myself less and trust in God more. I will trust that He has a beautiful plan for your life. He has those for all His children. A plan that I’m sorry to tell you, won’t be without pain or struggle or hard trials. But it is a plan that will be worth living out. A plan that I pray will lead to you to walk with Him in a very real, intimate way.

More than anything that is what I hope you see traced through your life as you continue to grow.  I hope you see it lived out and walked out, even sometimes cried out, every single day of your being. That you grow up knowing the love of your daddy and I, but even more that you know the love of Jesus.

My special one, the one that first made me a mommy, I wish you could see how you’ve changed me. Who I was before you. Who I was after you. Who I will become as we continue to grow up together. I can’t wait to see how God moves in your life. How you grow. How you live for Him and spread His love to others.  

It is a joy to watch and an honor to be chosen to be your mama. And so, to the one who first made me a mommy...

Thank you for being you. 

Thank you for the grace you give that you don’t even understand. 

Thank you for teaching me what unconditional love looks like.

Thank you most of all for showing me the places of my heart that needed attention. That needed the healing of The One who created you and I both. You showed me in so many ways my greater need for a Savior.  

By design you came first, and by grace we will walk this out together. So to you, to the first one, you have forever changed me and I love you dearly.

Love, 
Mom

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Are You Bringing Your Two Mites?

Imagine yourself in a temple filled with people coming and going. Tax collectors and religious officials are there taking money from everyone.

You are next in line.

You look down at two copper coins, both of which settle into the palm of your hand. You grip the coins tightly. It’s all you have. You have no other means and no one to provide for you. It’s all on you.

You are motioned forward, and you clinch the two coins as you step closer. You know what to do. While it’s hard to drop everything into those buckets, you know God is going to take care of you.

YOU BELIEVE IN HIS PROMISES AND YOU TRUST IN HIS PLANS.

You drop the coins in, a sacrifice and offering up to God. You don’t know it, but someone is watching you, and He’s about to use you as one of the greatest examples to teach His disciples what true giving to the Lord looks like.

JESUS SEES YOU. THE SAVIOR. THE MESSIAH.

Out of all the people walking around in the temple, coming and going, He points you out. You. You are the one He wants us to learn from. You. The widow with two mites.

***

The widow with two mites. That’s how we know her. Her story is just a few sentences in Luke and Mark’s Gospels. I’ll admit that in the past I’ve skimmed over those words. Since this story is frequently used for messages on tithing and giving, that’s what I’ve always associated it with.

But one day, I found myself reading her story again and realized I had missed something essential. Something beautiful and eye-opening. 

Head over to More to Be to finish reading about what I discovered about the widow with two mites and how it changed my outlook on giving my gifts to The Lord. 

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How My Life Became an Oceans Song

"You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail..."

It’s good to be back with you friends.  I have missed you dearly.  It’s been about five months since I’ve written here and so much has happened that I’ve wanted to tell you about.  My plan wasn’t to take such a long break from writing on here, but life has been well, just a little crazy.  Maybe crazy isn’t the right word.  Maybe turned upside down, flipped on my head, didn’t see it coming is the right terminology.  Is there a word for all that? 

Maybe the best way I can say it is to say that my life these past few months has become a real life Oceans song.  I had to get out of my boat, my comfy cozy boat, and go walk on the waters of the unknown to do something I felt God was asking me to do.  Something big. Something scary.  Something that required my complete trust in Him.

A few months ago I left my job of eight years to go into full-time ministry. 

It was a job I loved with people I loved dearly.  I wasn’t unhappy.  I wasn’t looking for something better or grander.  I truly loved the work I did (I was a social worker). But there was this gnawing at my heart that wouldn’t go away.  The gnawing of something that was bigger than me.

I had felt a call to ministry for some time but the call begin to deepen two years ago.   It was something I would think of but something that I pushed to the back of my mind.  More of a wouldn’t it be great if that happened one day type thing.  For many years I have wanted to write and speak, but this call was different and I could tell.

Over the past several years I have been afforded great ministry opportunities within my church and association that have allowed me to deepen that call. I really thought that I was fulfilling what God meant when He whispered to my heart that dream of full-time ministry work.

And then this past February everything changed for me. You may remember I wrote a blog post back then called If You Want to Move Mountains. That blog post was fresh off of me receiving a life changing assignment from God.   In it, I wrote this…

“I sat on that rustic wooden church pew for what seemed like forever.  Waiting.  I was waiting for God to point someone out to me that needed prayer. Perhaps someone to sit with and pray over.  But that wasn’t what happened.  As I sat on that pew, looking up at the dimly lit cross hanging from the ceiling, I felt God whisper to my own heart.    

Are you going to release this to me?  You’re not wrong.  Yes, I am asking you to step out in faith and do this.  Stop fighting me.  Stop doubting.

I walked into the room where I had carefully crafted each prayer station for the morning.  The stations were designed for women to discover areas in their lives that had become a barrier to a closer relationship with God. As I sat down, I waited for The Lord to prompt me with someone who I could help pray for in the room.  

But all I could feel was a heavy weight on my own heart.  I sat there, paralyzed in fear at the thought of truly surrendering myself to what The Lord was calling me to do. I could do nothing but repeat, are you sure Lord?  His words kept replaying in my mind. 

Are you going to release this to me?  You’re not wrong.  Yes, I am asking you to step out in faith and do this.  Stop fighting me.  Stop doubting.

My neck got hot and the tears started to pool in the corners of my eyes.  I sat there gripping my hands around the edge of the pew, practically on the edge of my seat.  I could muster only one word.  Yes.  Yes Lord, if you’re calling me to this, then I will obey.  If you’re asking me to release my dream to you, then yes, I will do that.  Yes Jesus, I will trust that you’re going to be with me on this journey.“

That dream that God called to life on that wooden church pew was for me to go into full-time ministry. 

I felt strongly I wasn’t surrendering to a calling to preach or to work in a church necessarily but I didn’t have a clue as to what kind of ministry I would even do. So I tucked that yes away in my heart and waited. 

As I wiped my tears away that morning at the prayer retreat and made my way back into the main room where everything was taking place, I offered to help our speaker with her bags as she packed up.  We made small talk for a few minutes and then she put her bags down and put her hand on my shoulder.

“Amanda, I feel like God wants me to tell you something.  He wants me to tell you that the ministry you have in your heart will be fruitful.  He wants me to tell you that you are leader and you are going to be someone who bridges the gap between the generations of women for His Kingdom.”

It was the confirmation I needed because I had to know that what I felt while sitting on that church pew wasn’t just my emotions that had gone haywire.  It was an assignment.  My God assignment.

Fast forward to this past fall.  An opportunity presented itself that I couldn’t turn down. It was ultimately my dream job.  I would be working with leaders and churches and helping grow and develop missions groups.  It was a position with the Woman’s Missionary Union of North Carolina (WMU), an organization that I dearly loved and already had a deep passion for.  It was full-time ministry work and work I felt called to. But it also meant commuting to another city and changing our whole family’s routine and schedule.

I could spend paragraphs telling you about the endless times I spent in prayer over the decision to leave my job.  I’m not sure I’ve ever prayed about something so much in fact. Because it seems that if God had ordained all of this then that should make it easy. Right?  Not so much. My co-workers were like family to me. I had this comfortable life of routine and familiarity. But ultimately my desire to be obedient to God rang louder than my desire for all of those things.

And friends the truth is, sometimes God calls you to lay down something good for something greater.

And sometimes He asks us to do something that requires an immense amount of trust in Him.  The decision to leave my job was difficult.  I asked God repeatedly for peace that I was making the right decision.  He knew that my heart longed for answers, and though He didn't always give them, He did continually give me peace about my decision.  I received confirmation after confirmation.  And yes, it was scary to leave the comfort of friends and a position I knew well to go to something that was brand new, but I knew that God wanted me to take this next step and so I followed through despite the fear.

God asks us to do really scary things sometimes.  He asks us to get out of our comfy, secure boats and follow Him. This was an invitation for me to touch my feet down on the water and walk to Jesus just like Peter did that night as the waters raged all around him. It was an invitation to do the work He had called me to. To know Him better. To serve Him better. To trust in His provision.

I’ve been at my new job with WMU for a few months now and I can’t tell you in words how much I love it.  I feel much like I’ve been freed from the chains that held me back as I hesitated to say yes to God on that church pew.  I feel alive.  I feel unhindered. My faith has been strengthened and my trust in God is so much deeper.

The surrender to the call to ministry was really the easy part. It was the follow through that was the real test.  And now that I’m on the other side of the decision…now that life is more settled and everyone is used to the things that have changed, I’m just waiting.  I’m waiting for the next time, the next moment, the next opportunity that God will give me to step out of the boat and run after Him even harder.

At some point friends, He’s going to ask us to get out of our boat.  He’s going to ask us to step out onto those scary waters and trust in Him and trust in His plan.  For you, it may not be a call into ministry work, maybe it's something entirely different. Whatever you feel like The Lord has laid on your heart to do in this season, in this moment of your life, is the boat you have to decide if you're going to get out of. 

Are you willing to get out of the boat when He asks you to?  Are you willing to let Him lead you to a place where your trust has to be without borders? 

It’s hard. It’s scary. It’s facing the unknown over and over again.

But it’s also freedom. And it’s the catalyst for a deeper relationship with Jesus.  He’s standing there with you.  His hand outstretched to yours.  His eyes locked on yours.  He’s got you.  You can let go of the fear that He doesn’t.

Let Him lead you.

Let Him take you to a deeper place with Him.

“Take my deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.”

~Oceans, Hillsong United

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Mommy, Are You Afraid to Tell Others About Jesus?

I had just slipped my foot into my right shoe when my oldest daughter came around the corner and asked to sit on my lap for a minute.  I began to brush her hair and make sideways piggy tails per her request. We talked for a minute and I explained to her that I would be home late since I was going to speak at a church. 

“Mommy is going to tell others about Jesus.  Isn’t that cool?” I said as I pinned her favorite bow in her hair.  

“Yeah it is.” She said.  

But then she paused for a moment as if she had something else on her mind. 

“Mommy, are you ever afraid to tell others about Jesus?”


Her question flabbergasted me for a moment.  I wanted to answer with an immediate “No, absolutely not! Mommy is never afraid to tell others about Jesus!” But this was a teachable moment, and one I wanted to be honest with her about. And so I answered her the best way I knew how.


“Sometimes I do get little butterflies in my belly when I talk in front of others because I am nervous, but I love telling others about Jesus and His love.  But yes, sometimes sweetie, I do get a little afraid because it isn’t always easy to do that.”  


She turned towards me with her signature crooked smile. 


“Yeah, well when I tell others about Jesus, I’m only a little afraid too.  But only a little.” She said as if she speaks to crowds of people all the time.  She ran off to chase her sister with her sideways piggy tails bouncing behind her and I sat back contemplating the weight of what she had just asked me.



I have to tell you friends.  That simple question from my four year old has weighed heavily on my heart for weeks now.  The truth is that sometimes I am afraid.  Sharing our faith with others, and explaining our relationship with Jesus, can be hard sometimes.


Often, things like fear of rejection or judgment or uncertainty hold us back from telling others about Him.  Maybe one of these statements rings true for you:

I don’t know the Bible as well as I should. 
I might get asked something I don’t know. 
I might be judged for sharing too much.
I make it clear I’m a Christian so they know how I feel about Jesus.
I don’t want to offend them; it might turn them off for good.

I get it friend.  You see, it’s a lot easier for me to stand up in front of a group of seasoned believers and preach a message of encouragement and hope in Jesus.  It’s safe there for me.  It’s comfortable.  But could I do this with someone I’ve just met? Someone I don’t know?


I cringe at the thought of how I hesitate at that.  


You see, I want to raise girls that are warriors for Jesus.  Girls that are fiercely protective of the Kingdom of God and its people. Girls that aren’t afraid to stand up for the lost.  The broken.  The devalued. The forgotten of society.


And to walk Jesus strong, they’re going to need an example to follow. My conversation with my oldest daughter led me to a stark realization.  It’s time for me to warrior up and stop wasting time by not telling others about my love for Him. 


Listen sweet friends, moment of hard truth.  We don’t have time to spare.  I say this with urgency because people need Jesus and they need Him desperately. They don't even know how much they need Him, but they do.  And we need to be the ones to tell them about Him.


About His mercy. His grace. His forgiveness. How by His blood we get to live a blameless life. 


We get pulled into a thousand directions every day.  The world promotes a gazillion and one methods for finding peace and hope in the midst of a chaotic world.  


But there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will replace the peace Jesus gives us.  


There is not a marketing tool or product that can dispense the hope we so desperately need like Jesus. 


He is my answer.  He is the answer.


I am nothing without Jesus.  I am nothing without His love.  I am nothing without His grace or mercy.  I am nothing without His forgiveness.  For because He paid it all, all to Him I will forever owe.

And I will fight tooth and nail so that others can know this too.  I don’t want to be afraid to tell others about Jesus.  I don’t want to hesitate when it comes to showing others who is my all in all. I won’t choose comfort anymore.  I will not stand back and watch the world teach my girls who they are created to be...who I am created to be. 


I will not allow fear to dwell within me any longer.   


We can spend our days worrying about offending people or getting their approval or waiting for the perfect time to talk about Jesus, or we can start sharing about His love in any way we can.  


Now is the time to testify.  Now is the time to warrior up and make known whose Kingdom we serve.  We serve a mighty God who is still alive.  Who still works miracles.  Who still redeems.  Who still reaches out to us for a personal relationship.  A God who is calling for His people to rise up and make His name known. 


You don’t need to be a missionary in a far off land to tell others about Jesus. Our mission field is where God has planted us in our current season of life.  Our work places.  Our homes. Our churches. Our neighborhoods.


Telling others about Jesus isn’t about walking up to them and shouting the Bible at them.  It comes in showing others who we are in Him and what He’s done in us. 


Let your life be your testimony. Practice an attitude of thankfulness in every situation. Tell people of the miracles He’s performed in your own life, big and small.  Tell them of the chains you’ve been freed from.  Tell them about His goodness.  Tell them about the God you love and the Son who went to the cross for you.  For them. For us all. 


My daughter’s question sparked a change in me.  My work as a mother has a clearer vision now and a clearer purpose.  I want them to watch me as I grow in my faith and know that they have a mother who loved Jesus with everything she had and wasn't afraid to tell others about Him. A mother who was never fearful or ashamed of The Gospel message.  


May my life, and yours, be reflective of Acts 20:24:

“But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned to me by Jesus-the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God.”

Forever yours Jesus, Amen. 

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How God Redeemed Our Birth Story

"Erupt with thanks to the Eternal, for He is good

and His loyal love lasts forever.

Let all those redeemed by the Eternal—

those rescued from times of deep trouble—join in giving thanks."

Psalm 107: 1-2 (VOICE)

This past weekend my youngest daughter Georgia turned two years old. The time has gone by quicker than I ever imagined it would. It’s hard to believe it’s been over two years since we spent those days in the hospital waiting for her to come. Days filled with lots of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation at what life with two little ones would be like.


You see, both of my girls are miracle babies. Just in very different ways. Before you read any further, I would encourage you to start here. Years ago I wrote about Brooke’s birth story and it will help you better understand the miracle of how God redeemed our birth story the second time around.


My pregnancy with Brooke was high-risk. I developed Cholestasis of Pregnancy, or ICP, during my second trimester. ICP is a liver disorder that effects the flow of bile and cells in the liver. It is extremely dangerous because if not diagnosed, there is an increased chance of still birth. There is no cure (besides delivery) but it can be managed with medication. The main symptom of ICP is moderate to severe itching. I spent hours a day clawing at my hands and feet. To sum up, it was not fun. You can read more about my experience with ICP in Brooke’s birth story and I will include some resource links at the bottom of this post.


I say all that to say, this is where God’s redeeming work began. He redeemed our birth story long before we ever set foot in a hospital. During my pregnancy with Georgia, God healed my body of ICP. Let me explain. You see, there was no medical reason that I should not have gotten it again. Statistics show that with each pregnancy, a mother’s chances of developing ICP only increases if she’s had it in a previous pregnancy. Let's just say the odds weren’t in my favor.


Every few weeks I would have my doctor test my blood work levels. I waited in fear for the itching to begin. I waited for the sleepless nights of clawing at my legs and arms. I waited to feel the fear of a high risk delivery again. I waited and waited.


I knew I couldn’t hold onto the fear anymore, so one night during my second trimester, I prayed fervently over Georgia in the name of Jesus for healing. I prayed that He would not let my body go through what it had before. I prayed that there would be no trace of ICP during this pregnancy. Tears fell as I released my body to Him. To this day it’s still one of the most powerful prayers I’ve ever prayed. A prayer prayed out of desperation and release.


I felt God’s peace flood over my entire body. I knew I didn’t need to worry about ICP anymore. God was in control and He had healed my body. The itching never came. My blood work came back at normal levels every time. No ICP. No early delivery. No high risk pregnancy.

Already God had redeemed our story, but He was just getting started.

The time had finally come for us to check into the hospital to have Georgia. As we checked in, the nurse led us to the corner room just on the other side of the nurse’s desk. I paused as she motioned for us to come around the corner and get settled in. Please, no. Not that room. I thought.


For it was in that room where my first baby had to fight for her life. It’s in that room where I saw panic come across Brian’s eyes as he watched his wife and baby girl face obstacle after obstacle. Nothing in his control and nothing in mine.



It was in that very room where my daughter came into this world not breathing. That room. That room was not a source of joy for me. I remember emotional pain, worry, despair, hopelessness, and an exhaustion I’ve never felt since.


No, God. Don’t put us in that room. You know the trauma and awful memories this room holds.


As the nurse handed me a dull blue hospital gown I felt God’s presence. Do you know my power child? I’ve got you. Do not worry.


As the day progressed, several of the same issues we had with Brooke’s labor and delivery happened again. They had trouble locating Georgia’s heartbeat and I spent much of my labor time moving from position to position trying to get a heartbeat read. I was terrified that we were going to repeat the same birth experience.


But God.


God knew that my heart’s desire was to have a positive birthing experience with Georgia. He knew everything that happened with Brooke because He was there through it all. He was there as the team of doctors and nurses rushed around her to keep her alive. He was there in the moments afterward when my body was utterly give out from exhaustion. He was there on the empty hallway when my husband broke down sobbing on my father in law’s shoulder as we waited for doctors to confirm whether or not Brooke would need to be air lifted to a children’s hospital.


God was there. He never left us. His healing power saved my first daughter and I believed He would do it again.


God absolutely redeemed our birth story. After she was born, she went right up on my chest, perfectly healthy. Perfectly redeemed. There was no respiratory team or anyone that took her from me. God gifted us the moment I had wanted for a long time. Just me, Brian, and our new healthy (and pink!) baby girl. Georgia Hope. Yes, the middle name was very intentional.


We were able to take our time with her, take in every one of her features. When Brooke was born, I had no idea what she looked like until I saw her hours later in the NICU. But not this time. God showed us His power and His love by giving us the sweetest moments after Georgia’s birth.


We spent a few days in the hospital, not because of Georgia, but because of me. Because I had hemorrhaged a few weeks after Brooke’s birth, doctors kept a close check on me throughout our stay. I was ready to leave the hospital but also a little nervous at the thought of what the next few weeks might bring. What if they missed something and I hemorrhaged again? What if this time was worse than the last?

But I knew God was with us and this was an experience He was going to redeem to the end. Weeks went by and I never hemorrhaged. Glory to God.


I spent some time thinking about why it’s taken me so long to write this story out. I think in part, it’s very difficult for me to go back and relive the trauma of Brooke’s birth story. I've spared a lot of the details here, but the experience was a difficult one. God healed her, Praise Jesus, but the experience left an emotional scar that is hard for this mama to open back up. But I needed to open it up, because opening it up allows me to look at both my girls and realize that they are both miracles.


Writing this story of redemption has been very healing for me. I am so very thankful for all of God’s mercies and His protection over us. We had a wonderful team of doctors and nurses during both experiences and I praise God that with each birth, He put the people in place that I needed most to be there.


Nurses that prayed over me and my babies, a doctor who took me seriously when I had concerns that my ICP was back a second time. He obliged me with each blood test I requested, even though the results came back negative each time. Nurses who were encouraging and patient and comforting as I shared with them the experience of the first go round and how I was scared out of my mind we would repeat the process. None of it an accident. Each person placed there so God could continue out His redeeming work. I find it simply amazing that God would pay that much attention to the little details.

Georgia’s birth healed me of the trauma I had experienced during Brooke’s birth. God took every fear that had remained there since Brooke’s birth and delivered more over.

And that fighter baby, the girl who spent time hooked up to wires and machines that helped her breathe the first hours of her life, she’s four now. She runs and plays and throws the most Oscar worthy tantrums I’ve ever seen. When I look at her now, it’s hard to believe where she started. But that is the power of our God. She is a walking miracle and testimony of God’s faithfulness and love to us.


And my Georgia Hope never ceases to amaze me. From the moment we found out we were expecting her, God’s hand has been all over that child. Through her, He has given us such immense joy. He has repeatedly shown us His power through her.

Credit: Mallory Kate Photography 

Let me tell you something friend, God is still a God who redeems. You need to know that. Whether it’s a birth story, a marriage, a prodigal child or a diagnosis that seems hopeless. He is still the God who redeems.

"This is why I keep telling you not to worry about anything in life—about what you’ll eat, about how you’ll clothe your body. Life is more than food, and the body is more than fancy clothes. Think about those crows flying over there: do they plant and harvest crops? Do they own silos or barns? Look at them fly. It looks like God is taking pretty good care of them, doesn’t it? Remember that you are more precious to God than birds! "

Luke 12:22-24 (VOICE)

Friend, if you think God has forgotten you or you’re worried about a situation, find comfort in these words from His Son. “Remember that you are more precious to God than birds.” God is still working. Trust in His power. Trust in His timing. Trust in His faithfulness.



My Prayer

God, first and foremost, I love you.  Thank you for my miracle babies and the fact that you are a God who is in control of every situation and every single thing.  You are magnificent in your ways.  I pray that each person that reads this story of redemption knows that you have the power to do the same thing in their life.  I pray my words have pointed others to you, because you are the only reason this has all happened.  God, you transform us.  You give us the desires of our hearts and want us to testify to your goodness.  I want to do that today and all of my days.  I want to testify to your faithfulness and the wondrous redeeming work you do in all of us who call you Father.   In Jesus name, Amen.  

ICP Resources:

What is ICP?


Signs & Symptoms


ICP Care Facebook Page

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When I Think of What You Did for Me

My sweet Jesus, I've been thinking about you a lot lately.  It's not that I don't think about you every day, because I do.  But it's just that in light of the season that's upon us, there are a few things I must tell you.  I wanted to make my words eloquent and greatly poised for you, but I realize you don’t care about fancy words and carefully crafted sentences.  You care about my heart and my obedience.  My willingness to follow you. My openness to your workings. 

I realize I've never said these words to you before and I’m a little nervous as to how it will all come out.  I want to say it right because words carry weight and I need you to know just how much I've thought about this. 

I cast my mind to Calvary
Where Jesus bled and died for me.
I see His wounds, His hands, His feet.
My Saviour on that cursed tree.

O Praise the Name (Anástasis), Hillsong Worship

I try to place myself there with you on the moment you uttered the words "not my will, but yours be done" (Matthew 26:39).  I try to imagine you there in the Garden of Gethsemane, surrounded by your own creation, knowing what is to come.

I try to imagine your face as you made the decision that affected the rest of eternity.  The decision that crushed the enemy, that allows us to spend forever with you. 

Jesus, when I think of what you did for me, my heart can hardly bear it.

I think of the betrayal you must have felt from your own men, and how it must have pained you to hear people mocking you as you proclaimed you were The King. They had already decided who you were long before they pinned you upon that cross.  Your own men turned their backs on you and denied you, and yet you continued to love them.

When I think of the burden you bore as they pushed that crown of thorns down onto your head, I can do nothing but weep. I imagine the thorns piercing your head, and tearing flesh off of your face and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I think of the heaviness of the cross you physically carried up the hill, the hill that saw my sins taken and my freedom born, and it makes my heart ache. You must have felt the relentless weight of the wood and of our sin with each gut-wrenching step.

I wince at the thought of the nails being driven into your hands.  It makes me nauseous to think of the pain you must have felt as the sharp nails pierced your skin and veins. And it was just the beginning.

You continued to hear the crowd’s blasphemous claims that you were no king, no one special. You looked down with forgiveness and love towards them.

You were still ministering, still accepting followers up until the last moments.  You barely had any breath left and yet you spoke The Truth to the criminal who was hanging next to you. You were always about us and for us, even in your last moments.

When I think of how you must have felt as the sky went dark and you thought Your Father had forsaken you, I must wipe the tears away.  For it was too much for Him to bear.  He could not watch you die, He could not look upon the sin you took for us.

I can hardly contain my tears when I think of how your mother, Mary looked on as it all happened.  Your earthly mother, the mother that nursed you, kissed your tiny infant hands and held you close, had to watch her beloved Son take the sin of the world.  The world that rejected Him, mocked Him, and never wanted Him to be their Savior.

I try to place myself there and imagine this as it is happening and I simply can’t.  Because when I try to think of what you did for me, I can’t stomach it.  It’s too much. 

I come undone when I think of the spear that pierced your side because the guards wanted to make sure you were actually dead and that it was all over. But you had already muttered your final words, it is finished, and your mission was finally complete.  

How could you do this for us? My human mind can’t fathom it, can’t dream up the reasons for you becoming our Lamb and taking it all for us. Yet it was Your Father’s plan from the beginning.  And God is so very good and so very purposeful in all that He does.

When I play this scene over in my mind as I read through the scriptures and think of what you did for me, it just makes everything else seem so small.

It makes the desire for approval from others seem minuscule.  Because my identity is rooted in You.

It makes me want to love others better and offer more grace.  Because that is what you have shown us over and over through your life and ministry.

It makes me want you over the earthly things of this world like money, status, and social media comments.   Because the blood you shed for me is worth more than all of it combined. 

My Jesus, I can never repay you for what you did for me, for all of us.  But I can pledge my allegiance to you.  I can give my all to you by spreading the truth of the sacrifice that you gave. I can only utter these words over and over again.  

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for taking my place.

Thank you for bearing my sin.

Thank you for rising again.

Thank you for being The Light among the darkness.

Thank you for being mercy and grace lived out.

Thank you for freedom.

Thank you for a personal relationship.

Thank you for your sacrifice. 

Thank you for your love.

You are The Light to the darkness. The Victor over the enemy. The Risen One. The Chosen One.  The King of Kings.  You defeated death on that wooden cross and then rose again. It is an honor to be Yours. 

I love you Jesus, and because of what you did, I will spend eternity praising Your Precious Name.  

O Praise the one who paid my debt
And raised this life up from the dead!

Jesus paid it all
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow

Jesus Paid it All 

You can read about the death of Jesus and His crucifixion in The Gospels below:

Matthew 27    Mark 15     Luke 23    John 19

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Let's Stop Playing it Safe

For most of my life I’ve played it pretty safe.  I’m usually the girl on the sidelines watching others make brave, bold moves.  You see, I’m not a natural risk-taker.  I’m a risk-weigher, if there is such a thing.  In every situation I weigh the risks and possible outcomes for each decision.  Sounds exciting right?  Yeah, not so much. 

I’ve watched friends journey to the other side of the world as missionaries to share Jesus with those who don’t know Him.  I’ve watched women be unafraid to pursue their God-given callings.  I’ve seen friends write books and launch new ministries and love on people that others pass by on a daily basis. Through all of it I find myself wishing I could be as brave as they are.

Seeing all of this inspires a bravery I desire, but I’m not sure I have in me.  But I desperately want it.  I want to bravely love Him.  I want to say yes when He calls me to the scary waters.  I want to radiate freedom because that’s what He’s given me through His Son.  I want to walk in His Truth so the enemy has no claim over me, because he has already been defeated. I long to be brave and risk it all for God like others seem to do, but something about full surrender to Him just makes it all too scary.

Over the last year I’ve been pursuing a deeper heart change.  The more I get closer to God, the more I realize that I’ve been playing it safe for too long.  Safe with opportunities.  Safe with relationships and really loving others.  Safe with Him. 

Frankly, I want to stop playing it so safe.  I want to push the boundaries and feel my knees knocking in the way they do when you know something is scary but also worthwhile.  I want to stop being so afraid that I will take a misstep, because I know, like we all do, that sometimes missteps are necessary to get to the more honest place with Him and the bigger calling inside of us. 

I’ve had to step back and ask myself a really hard question. Do I really want God?  I know that I need God.  It’s not a question of need.  It’s a question of want and desire. 

Do I really want God?  Do I want Him enough to be called out of my comfort zone? To go outside of the church walls and love on broken people? 

Am I willing to give up things for Him?  Things that make me happy, things that make my life easier? 

Am I willing to surrender fully to Him?  To His will?  To His calling on my life?  To release the people that I hold the closet to my heart?

Do I really want God enough to follow Him into places I would not normally go? 

Am I living a life that wants God?  Do I want Him over comfort? Over the approval of others?  Over material things and worldly success?

The honest answer to that is no.  I’m not so sure I’ve been wanting Him badly enough to feel uncomfortable.  I don’t think I’ve been desiring Him enough to strap on my boots and really do scary Kingdom work for Him.  To love people that are different than me.  To trust Him in a fearless way.   I think I’ve been living a very comfortable Christian life.  I obey God as much as I want to, but I don’t ever fully surrender myself to Him. 

I recently immersed myself in Acts 28:30-31. 

“For two whole years Paul stayed there in his own rented house and welcomed all who came to see him.  He proclaimed the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ—with all boldness and without hindrance!”

Those last few words about Paul have not left me since I read them.  With all boldness and without hindrance.  Paul taught about Jesus with boldness and proclamation.  He didn’t care what others thought about him. He didn’t care about his comfort or likeability. He cared most about God.  I could take a note or two from this. 

Really what I admire most about Paul is his brazenness for the Gospel.  He didn’t hold back when it came to church conduct or how we should treat one another as believers.  And he most certainly never held back from proclaiming what Jesus had done for him once his life had been changed by Him.

Moment of truth?  I know what it is that holds me back from being more like Paul.  The truth is I’m more afraid of how God will use me if I’m truly set free than if I were too stay comfortable.

I say I want this unhindered life, but I don’t really want to work for it.  I don’t really want to walk it out in faith.  Because what if living a life unhindered and desiring Him above anything else meant giving up a job I love, or relationships, leaving church roles, or moving?

What if all that seems scary because the life God calls us to live as His children is one of complete and utter trust and surrender to Him, and that is something that deep down, we lack. We doubt if God will really come through on His end so we hold tight to the things we need most to let go of.  Relationships. Dreams. Jobs. Our marriages and children.

And we tell ourselves that we’re just being protective. We want God to use us, but not enough to feel uncomfortable or sad or scared.  We want Him to use us just enough to feel like we’re doing our part, but we don’t ever let Him really do His.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live with a Plan B.  I want to know that at the end of my days, I’ve given Him everything I could possibly give Him.  I want to know I ran the race with every ounce of courage and determination that I could.  (Hebrews 12:1)  And yes, that will mean giving up things for Him and surrendering it all and yes, that scares me. 

But I don’t want to do it safe.  I don’t want to hinder myself when it comes to God.

And I get the feeling that deep down, you don’t want to do it safe either.  So why don’t we both just go for it?  You jump, I jump.  If we fall, we fall.  But we won’t fail.  The only way we fail is to keep playing it safe, keep daydreaming of a life unhindered but never getting up our nerve to say “Yes God, use me.”

God gives us free will to choose and ultimately the choice is ours friend. Do we want safe?  Do we want comfortable?  Or do we want God?

I confess, I used to judge the rich young ruler in Matthew 19.  I used to read his story and get so frustrated with him. I would sit there and think my gosh man, Jesus is right in front of you!  How could you not follow Him?  Why couldn’t you just leave it all behind?  Don’t you see the personal invitation you’re getting?

I used to judge him until one day I realized that I was just like him.  Afraid to give it all up and terrified to have to be uncomfortable for Jesus. Scared that He’ll ask me to do something that defies all logic.  Fearful of what others may think. Hesitant to think of what a life lived fully for Him really looks like.

Because it doesn’t look like comfortability friends.  It doesn’t look like logic or approval from others. It means we don’t always know what’s next.  We don’t have the control we often crave. It looks like a life of being unsettled in all the very best ways because when He moves, He moves in mighty ways.

Jesus extended a personal invitation to the young ruler.  His command was simple. In verse 21 He says,

“If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

“Come, follow me.”  I have the same personal invitation as the rich young ruler.  You do too friend. 

He can’t change his decision now but we can change ours.  We can say yes to the invitation of following Him, no matter the cost and change our course for eternity. The rich young ruler played it safe.  He didn’t want to give up his wealth (vs.22) or his comfort.  He didn’t want to give up the life he was living.  And man, did he miss out.

I don’t want us to miss the same invitation friends.  Let’s stop playing it so safe and let’s start being brave enough to let Him have every last ounce of us.  Let’s get off the sidelines of our faith and want God more than we ever have before.

What do you say?

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The Biggest Lesson I’ve Learned in 7 Years of Marriage

I looked at the clock.  Seven o’clock on the dot.  It was time to start.  Our wedding director motioned for my bridal party to come and I stayed behind for just a few moments with my dad. 

It was time.           

                 

I had waited three and a half years for this moment.  This moment.  It would be the moment we looked back on in years to come as one of the most precious, sweetest moments of our lives.  Any second now and the doors would open, revealing us to one another for the first time as bride and groom. 

 

It was dream-like.  Not the wedding itself, though that was beautiful too. But the moments when we caught one another’s eyes and knew that from that evening on, we were different.  We were man and wife.  Joined together as one.  Now our own family unit. 

I remember a lot of tears during our ceremony.  Not from me (I had cried the hour leading up to the ceremony), but from Brian.  I had those beautiful sweet bride tears. You know, the ones that casually sneak down your check during a prayer.  But my guy?  Well, he was…feeling some things, we’ll say that.  During one of the prayers, I handed my tear stained handkerchief to him, the one my grandmother gave me to carry on our special day, and snuck it to him so no one would see him wiping his eyes. It was a moment I will never forget because it was just between the two of us.  Sweet.  Secret.  Loving.

That was seven years ago this week.  It seems like it was yesterday when I donned that white dress with lace and traces of pearls and he wore that silky black suit and cream vest.  We were mere youngins when we got married.  I was 22, he was 24.  We knew everything and nothing all at the same time.  

What we thought we knew when we got married and what we actually learned after being married were worlds apart.  Sacrifice looks a lot different to me now.  The tests and trials that love can endure look stronger to me now.  Who God is and what His plans are for marriage are more clear to me now than they were that day I walked down that aisle covered in red rose petals.

I’ve learned a lot of hard lessons in the seven years we’ve been married.  But there is one lesson that I come back to over and over again.  It’s helped me in times of trouble and brokenness.  It’s helped me to see my husband not only as the man I love, but as God’s son.  It is a lesson I want to pass on to my daughters in future years when they take on this holy covenant of marriage.

Remember who the real enemy is.

I know.  It's not some romantic idea is it?  But it's a cold hard truth I have needed to remember time and time again.  Remember who the real enemy is.  And friend, the real enemy is not your spouse.  It’s not your children.  It’s not the bills piled up on the counter.  It’s not even the person you see in the mirror every day, wishing things were different.  The real enemy is Satan and he’s simply waiting for his invitation to wreak havoc on your household.

You see, God loves marriage.  God loves sex and intimacy. He loves forgiveness and acceptance. He loves praise and support.  He created all those things!  (Genesis 2) But often times those are the hardest things to find in a marriage.  I find myself wondering why marriage in itself can be so difficult at times.  Why can’t it just be easy?  It’s because we try to connect two worlds together that were never supposed to equal to one another. 

God’s original design of marriage and the world’s view of marriage were never designed to be the same.  But often we try to make them the same.  And when we try to take something God designed and fit into a box marked with worldly standards, guess who shows up?  Satan.  The real enemy.

^“The thief approaches with malicious intent, looking to steal, slaughter, and destroy; I came to give life with joy and abundance.”

John 10:10 (THE VOICE)

When there is discourse in a household who serves the Lord?  Satan eats it up.

When there is resentment that builds and issues that go unresolved?  Satan revels in it.

When a wife withholds her love from her husband because he didn’t do something the way she asked him to?  Satan rejoices.

When a spouse uses pornography as a means for intimacy instead of their partner?  Satan just devours it. 

When husbands and wives undermine one another’s parenting and fights ensue in front of children?  Satan celebrates.

Oh how he loves it.  If he can make his way into your home, into the strongholds of your marriage, he can and will create a life of chaos, bitterness, and utter destruction. 

And if you don’t think you are on his radar, sweet friend, let me speak this truth to you today.   You absolutely are.  Satan will get you wherever he can get you.  Your finances.  Your sex life.  Your past.  Your children.  Your family relationships.  Your secret sin.  Your career.  Your unfulfilled dreams.  Your calling. 

There is no area off limits to him and if he sees a way in, he’ll surely take it. 

A godly marriage full of love, spiritual discernment and forgiveness, is a legitimate threat to the enemy. 

If you think I’m writing this from a place of expertise or some moral high horse, let me tell you, I’m not.  I’m writing from a place of experience.  A place of sadness.  A place of hope. A place of realization that we too had let Satan into our home and slowly but steadily, it was destroying us. 

We were blissfully unaware of the small attacks from him.  The attacks that seemed like nothing, but spiraled into everything.  And now, we’re fighting back.  Remember who your real enemy is. 

It is not your spouse.  Oh, it may look that way at times.  It may masquerade as money issues, parenting woes or intimacy struggles.  Please understand, these things are serious and often times we do need help in these areas from counselors, pastors and other professionals.  But in themselves, they are not the enemy.  It goes so much deeper than that.  It is the source in which they come from that we need to be made aware of.  We are in a battle and we must fight for our marriages.

{Let me also add here, I’m not saying if abuse is present in a marriage you should stay (or some other heavy issues I’ve not listed).  Not at all.  This post isn't about reasons to stay in a marriage or reasons not too.}

I recently watched a message from Lisa Bevere in which she stated her biggest regret in life was that she didn’t love her husband more fearlessly.  A lot of their marriage, though she loved him deeply, she had kept him at a safe distance from her heart.  Always afraid that being hurt and abandoned was just around the corner.  She said looking back she wished she would have been braver in loving him.  She would have encouraged him more, given more of herself emotionally to him, and not been so afraid to truly love him and be loved in return.  I don’t want to have the same regret.  Do you?

Listen, marriage is hard.  Some days it’s really hard.  Some days it’s desperately hard.  And some days you wonder how you ever lived a day without one another.  It’s beautiful.  It’s messy.  It forces us to confront the best and worst parts of ourselves. 

It is two sinners that have vowed to take on one another’s brokenness.  To take on sickness and financial stress. To take on past hurts and family trials.  To accept each other’s faults.  To celebrate each other’s victories, both big and small. 

It is entrusting the darkest parts of yourself to someone else.  It is believing every day that change can happen.  That God works in marriages because He believes in them so much.  I believe God designed marriage and gave it to us as one of the greatest means to glorify Him. 

Remember who the real enemy is, but also remember who The Victor is.  Satan sets out to destroy marriages while God works to redeem them.  Satan wants to divide where God brings together.  Satan enforces pride and bitterness.  God offers grace and forgiveness. 

When you’re on the brink of destruction and you think you can’t fight one more day.  That you can’t even look at your spouse without feeling hurt or bitterness or anger.  I want you to dig your heels in the sand as deep as you can and I want you to suit up and fight.  Fight the real enemy.  Fight for redemption.  Fight for forgiveness.  Fight for love to win.  

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