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.
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 said yes to God’s calling, BUT…”
I can’t count the number of women I’ve talked to recently who are currently in this boat.
We were never meant to be separated.
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.
⚠️ Caution: Airing of dirty laundry ahead ⚠️
Growing up, many of the people closest to me disapproved of sharing unpleasant or private things in a public manner. And I understand why.
But I’m going to do it anyway.
“One day we will all stand before Jesus.”
I hated this phrase growing up. Every time I heard it, my stomach would drop, and the enemy would whisper in my ear, “You will be judged, and you will fall short.”
Picture this: You’re watching someone prepare for a marathon. They are warming up, stretching, and maybe hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation. The atmosphere is electric. As they take one final deep breath, the gun goes off. Suddenly they bend their knees and leap as far as they can. After landing, they just squat down and jump again as other people run by them.
We would look ridiculous trying to leap our way through an entire marathon, so why do we assume that our faith journey should look that way? We want to experience these huge, defining leaps of faith without realizing that the small steps are just as important.