I was recently challenged in a Bible study to share my version of my salvation story with God and then invite Him to share His version with me. I put it off for a while, but I finally sat down to share it with Him one night last week, and joked, “How long do You have, God?”
I then proceeded to tell Him exactly how I remembered my story:
Our words have power. Proverbs 18:21 confirms this: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” And before we dive into taking thoughts captive and destroying strongholds, it’s important to acknowledge that Satan does not have the same power we do. His words don’t hold the same weight as ours, so he only gets power when we speak his words for him. He wants us to do his dirty work. So, he frequently attacks us through thoughts and thought patterns because it is human nature to believe and say whatever we think or feel, and we give power to whatever we speak.
First and foremost: I do not want to share this. But I am going to, because when I started this blog and this ministry, I promised to always yield to what I felt like the Holy Spirit wanted me to say. Please know that while anyone and everyone is welcome here, this post is specifically addressing Christians. And, unfortunately, I’m going to address the elephant/donkey in the room. Politics.
Endurance – ability to resist, withstand, recover from, and have immunity to trauma, wounds, or fatigue.
In Hebrews 12, we are called to run with endurance the race that is set before us. So right now—in the middle of a worldwide crisis—what does it look like to endure? How do we become immune to trauma, or wounds, or fatigue?
If there was one truth I could pass along to everyone that I come into contact with, it would be this:
For God SO LOVED the world.
I wish I could tell my children that they live in a world where open wounds are always met with open hearts and cries for help never fall on deaf ears. But that’s not a promise I can make. Too many people are hurting right now because they are living in a world that won’t fight for them.
You say that all I have to do is call to You, and You will tell me things I do not know.
So, tell me: Where are You?
I can’t read the news anymore. There’s so much pain in the world right now, and I can’t help but wonder—where is Your light? You say You have overcome the world, but we still have to live in it, and it is so very broken. I tell my children that You are a good and loving God who will protect them. But then, in the same breath, I have to explain why they aren’t allowed to see their friends or be near their grandparents.
I found myself in Mark 5 this morning, reading about Jesus raising the young girl from the dead. All He had to do was take her by the hand and say, “Little girl—get up!” and immediately, she stood up and began to walk around.
Maybe you know that Jesus wants to resurrect you from something—He’s telling you to get up—but you don’t see the fruit.
If you back up a few verses, notice what Jesus did right before He healed the girl: He pruned. When He told the crowd that she was not dead but asleep, they laughed at Him. So He told them to get out. Scripture says He put them all outside before going upstairs with the child’s mother, father, and the disciples who were with Him. Then He revived the girl.
Not from God, and not from each other. That wasn’t the plan God had for His creation.
We weren’t supposed to lose our mothers, fathers, children, spouses, siblings, or friends. God never wanted us to carry that kind of grief. Our hearts know it—that’s why there is something in us that cries out, “This isn’t right,” when our loved ones are stolen from us. And as we struggle with our sorrow, sometimes we can’t help but wonder how a good God could let us suffer.
In Luke 17:1, Jesus says it is impossible that no offenses will come. In Greek, the word for offenses can mean hindrances, obstacles, or stumbling blocks. And that’s what the spirit of offense does—it hinders our walk with Christ.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I am offended, I lose my religion. I can be having a full-on spiritual revival in my car, listening to my worship music, and feeling the very presence of God. But when someone cuts me off without using a blinker, suddenly my heart loses focus, and I’m yelling out, “Jesus, you better take the wheel because I’m about to rear-end a Pharisee!”
When I first met my pastor, he prayed over me and my husband, Matt.
The two of them had grown up together, but he didn’t know me very well, and I could tell because he specifically prayed over a ministry I was going to have one day while speaking to a crowd. I remember smiling and nodding while thinking, “You have SO got the wrong girl.”
My skeptical response was a reaction based on where I was in my walk with Jesus at the time.
You see, my salvation did not meet my expectations.
Over the past few months, the Holy Spirit really convicted me about my spirit of defense. I frequently felt the need to deflect, deny, or defend, instead of trying to listen with an open heart or empathize with someone’s pain. So many times, I rolled my eyes at something on social media, only to feel a tug in my spirit: Your experiences do not negate someone else’s. So I finally sat down and spent some time in prayer.
This morning was chaotic. We were late for church, and I was trying to get my daughter’s messy hair into a quick braid. As I combed through one of her tangles, she tensed up and yelled, “Ow, ow, ow!” I quickly kissed her head and said, “You’re fine,” as I rushed out the door to finish getting ready. She followed me out and tugged on my dress. As I turned around, my 3-year-old looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “No, I’m not fine. It hurts.”
I was scrolling through Facebook the other day and came across a post talking about abortion. It encouraged people who consider themselves pro-life to show grace to mothers who did choose life, but didn’t do it in a conventional way: the teenage girl who dropped out of high school to have her baby, the married woman who gave her baby up for adoption, the unmarried woman who had a baby with her boyfriend, or the woman using food stamps at the grocery store to support her five children. The writer shared that all of them chose life, yet still get judged by the people who claim to be pro-life because they have a non-traditional lifestyle.