fight for hope – Page 4

On Extractions and the Rich Power of Words

I want to welcome Tammy Gonzalez to the blog today. I love the way her story reminds us of the power of words – the negative ones we speak to ourselves and the life-giving ones we receive from others. Tammy is a fellow Hope*Writer. Be sure to connect with her in the links below.

These days, I tend to wonder about a lot of things.

In part, this is due to my age and stage in life.

In part, it’s due to experiences of this past year.

And in part it comes, quite simply, from the pervasive hopelessness that seems to overtake me more often than not.

Caught in waves of questions, guilt, and self-condemnation, I wonder if I’ll ever get past this, if I’ll ever be able to embrace grace and move forward, and if I’ll ever really and truly be able to offer something of value to those around me. I’ve been frozen, unable to concentrate well. And all too often I’ve hidden myself in games of Spider Solitaire rather than allow my mind to explore the rough and ragged areas of life that I’m trying to avoid.

But at least—and this is huge—I can now read again.

For a while, it was all I could do to take in a short blogpost. Finally, though, words penned by authors as diverse as Henri Nouwen and Shauna Niequist have begun to make their way into my soul, resonating with some of my deeper places and helping me to see beyond the desolation that has seemed intent on consuming me these past several months.

And believe it or not, an infected tooth was the catalyst for this step forward.

I had been trying to run—from myself, my thoughts, my reality. Then came last Friday, when after weeks of discomfort a problematic molar finally had to be yanked out, and with it came a significant amount of infection that had been hidden between the roots.

The extraction was actually somewhat painful. An hour’s worth of attempts to anesthetize the area had met with only partial success. So by the time I arrived home, I was feeling just a bit sorry for myself, and eventually a few tears gave way to a waterfall and I was pouring out my lament to God, finally confessing my frustrations, my regrets, my heart that was breaking from words spoken to me and by me, a heart breaking from my own failures and the failures of others. Literally and figuratively, it was a watershed moment.

But that moment was just the beginning. The entire weekend was punctuated by times of tears as I dealt more directly and more humbly with my regrets of the past months and even the past years. God kept at me, relentlessly yet beautifully: a conversation with my dear friend Lisa about laying it all out before God and trusting Him to cleanse, heal and forgive; a night of live worship, soul-stirring music and prayer led Chris Tomlin, Matt Redmond, Max Lucado and others at The Forum. Many rich words, many bittersweet tears.

Through it all, there was a sense that God was moving, that the infection that had been pervading my soul was being slowly extracted, not as quickly as the infection that had been yanked out with the tooth, but it was being extracted nonetheless.

And it didn’t stop there. I encountered Henri Nouwen’s book The Way of the Heart and was blown away by what I found there:

The struggle is real because the danger is real. It is the danger of living the whole of our life as one long defense against the reality of our condition, one restless effort to convince ourselves of our virtuousness…

The encounter with Christ does not take place before, after, or beyond the struggle with our false self and its demons. No, it is precisely in the midst of this struggle that our Lord comes to us…

Only in the context of grace can we face our sin; only in the place of healing do we dare to show our wounds; only with a single-minded attention to Christ can we give up our clinging fears and face our own true nature.

This is a journey. In reality, it’s a journey I’ve been on for quite some time. I’ve taken a number of detours, and I’ve circled the same area more than once. But it feels so good to once again take in the richness of the written word, to delight in Niequist’s essays on life, friendship and food, to be touched to the core by Nouwen’s wise, insightful counsel that seems meant just for me.

Words. Words of life, words of hope, words spoken by friends, words penned by strangers and set tomusic or placed in print.

Words all used by God.

I’m taking them in again—in part due to an infected tooth—and I am so immensely grateful.

Tammy Gonzalez is a wife, mom to three kids (one of whom is already in heaven), and a teacher to the homebound in Southern California. One of her greatest delights is seeing how God fits together the details of our lives in awe-inspiring ways–through random conversations or the voice of nature, through world events or ordinary moments, through heights of joy or depths of despair.

You can connect with Tammy at her blog, Seeking What’s of Worth, or on Facebook

Tamara Gonzalez@seekingwhatsofworth

What Does Fighting For Hope Look Like?

When I go running, this hill is my nemesis. It really shouldn’t be called a hill, because “hill” is a pleasant word. This land feature is a specimen of suffering, whose purpose is to inflict pain. It steadily inclines and curves so that when I think I’ve reached the top, I’ve really just hit the bottom of the next incline.

Sometimes I hit this hill with gusto. I lean into the incline and focus on making it to the top. Sometimes I walk up the hill, enduring the incline and reminding myself that I can make it to the top. If I sprained my ankle on the way up the hill, I would painfully hurple up the hill. As long as I keep moving forward I know I will make it to the top.

The way I tackle this hill looks a lot like the way I fight for hope. Sometimes I fight for hope by pushing back the darkness, strong and warrior-like, with a victorious war cry. Sometimes I move slowly forward, whispering against the darkness, enduring the battle, hoping it will end soon. And many times I hurple. Last week I hope-hurpled as I ate a container of chocolate icing while writing about hope. Speaking truth to myself is good. Stress-eating on chocolate… yeah, that’s a hurple.

But no matter how I fight, with the war cry or the whisper, and even with a chocolate covered spoon in my hand, I am still fighting.

Each time you and I choose truth over the lies of the darkness, we are fighting for hope.

We fight for hope when:

We order a salad at Wendy’s instead of the #1 Combo super sized with everything fried.

We speak truth.

We file for divorce after years of manipulation, affairs, abuse.

We do something that scares us, like audition for a musical, or run a 5K.

We set a goal of losing weight and move toward that goal one meal at a time.

We don’t give in to despair as we walk with a loved one through cancer.

We believe God can bring beauty into hopeless circumstances.

These are just a few of the ways I’ve seen Hope Warriors in my life fight for hope. These are all completely different, but three truths form the foundation of each decision:

I am worth fighting for.

I don’t want to live numb anymore.

This battle will change my life and the lives of those around me for good.

Fighting for hope looks different for everyone. It can also look different for the same person in different moments. That’s why the guest posts in this series are so important.

Sharing our stories is powerful. Sharing our stories awakens the courage, compassion, and hope that is inside each one of us. Seeing someone else fight for hope shows us that the fight is possible for us as well.

Standing Against the Waves

Today Natalie Ogbourne joins us to share about her fight for hope in the midst of discouragement and despair. Natalie is a hope*writer who loves being outdoors. Be sure to connect with her through the links at the end of her post.

Something was changing with my husband’s job. We didn’t know what, but it was obvious our days in our comfortable little house and our comfortable little life were ebbing away. Every afternoon when he walked through the door, I arched my eyebrows and asked, “How was your day? Anything interesting?” And every day, he would tell me no.

En route to a family vacation, my husband spent a day in meetings at his company’s headquarters. The kids and I poked around downtown, measuring the hours until we could pick him up and head south. They relished the freedom from school and I reveled in the knowledge that on this day I wouldn’t have to ask the loaded question, that he wouldn’t have news, that I wouldn’t have to think about our future for a whole week.

And then he got into the van. “They asked me to come back here,” he whispered.

I should have seen it coming.

When we arrived at North Carolina’s outer banks, the cold November Atlantic rolled out like a white carpet and invited us in. While the locals wrapped themselves in sweaters, we donned swimsuits and headed for the water.

By day I reclined on the warm sand and wondered what it would mean to move. At night I propped myself against the pillows and scoured the internet for acreages.

Eventually my family pried me from my perch on the shore. One timid step at a time, I waded in, first up to my ankles, then my knees, then my hips before I braved the bracing swells and plunged in to join their quest to break past the place where the waves broke so they could ride their rafts back to shore.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked.

It required some semblance of balance. And timing. And strength. Endurance and comfort with water.

None of these come naturally to me.

I figured it out, though, and managed to maneuver back to where the surf met the sand, where I let go of the board, stood up, and stepped forward.

“Wait, Mom,” my son called. As I looked his way the ocean surged and knocked me down. I was no match for the force of the wave . It pushed me under, swirled me around, and spat me out. I crawled toward dry sand abraded, bedraggled, and breathless.

I hadn’t seen it coming.

“I tried to tell you to wait for the wave to pass before you stood up,” my son said as he reached to help me up.

I’d have been fine if I’d waited. Unfortunately, that doesn’t come naturally to me either.

Inside ten weeks we’d packed up and bid our farewells to our old, comfortable life and fallen off the moving van at our new one. We’d relocated before—three times. I knew it wasn’t easy, that it required balance. Timing. Strength. Endurance. And none of those come naturally to me.

Easy or not, settling in was our only choice, so we unpacked. We located the grocery store and the park. Found doctors and dentists. Procured library cards and visited churches.

It’s a slow process, settling in, but I stood straight and stepped forward only to be knocked down and pushed under, swirled around and spat onto the shore by a wave which left me abraded, bedraggled, and breathless.

I didn’t see it coming.

Never had I felt like a stranger for so long. Never had a connection felt so hard. Never had a felt so alone, so alienated from people and abandoned by God.

Years I spent that way, struggling to stand, only to get swept off of my feet by the force of a wave and emerge from the water more disheveled and disheartened than when I set out.

And then I noticed that there’d been a voice, one that I’d missed with all the noise from the waves, a voice whispering, “Wait.” I’d heard it early on, but dismissed it because it didn’t make sense. I’d heard in in a friend’s encouragement that these things take time, but discounted it because she’s never moved. I heard it echo in words about mounting up on eagle’s wings but disregarded it because, frankly, I didn’t believe it applied.

I didn’t believe it applied because I didn’t know settling in could be this hard. I didn’t believe connections among God’s people could feel this impossible. I didn’t believe anything could be more necessary than companionship in our new hometown.

The voice spoke louder when—after five years of fighting the waves—I opened a book I’d been meaning to read for ten years and remembered that God’s people have always been waiting for something, that it’s by design that we wait, that perhaps what we wait for is not always the most necessary thing.

And there I began to crawl away from the waves to wage war against despair. I fought not with anger but with hope, with the belief that there could be a purpose in the waiting, with the knowledge that there was indeed something more necessary than human companionship.

There is the companionship of God.

Natalie Ogbourne is fascinated by the roads we wander and the lessons they teach. She writes about life’s journey—about faith, family, and adventure—and especially the places where they intersect. She’s a conflicted outdoorsy type who prefers high heels to sensible shoes and struggles to pull herself away from all those urgent things which demand attention indoors. And because she loves hiking and the places our roads take us, she’s always got her eyes open for a skirt that will stand up to the trail.

Connect with Natalie at:

Blog: alongthisroad.com

Instagram: https://instagram.com/natalie_alongthisroad/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Along-This-Road/589191481097851

Do The Next Thing

I am so honored to welcome fellow hope*writer Heather Hollander to the blog today.

When we are fighting for hope and the darkness seems to be winning, it is easy to get paralyzed. Heather offers a different option in her post “Do The Next Thing.”

This summer we saw and experienced a lot of sad, heartbreaking, and devastating moments in our country. Some of the hardest moments for me to wrap my mind around came in the wake of the tragedies that occurred in Orlando, FL, and it was those events that prompted the writing of these words.

My heart was so burdened and my mind continued to mull on those events. One beautiful thing I have found to be true about writing is the way it helps process thoughts and works them out of the mind. It was helpful for me to think through and write about these things, and perhaps my thoughts will be helpful for you as well.

This week has been tough. Emotionally, very, very tough. Friday, Sunday, and Tuesday were all ﬁlled with unexpected, tragic events that have shaken our nation. So many lives lost and so many families are now walking through a season of unimaginable grief.

Though the suffering was not my own, one day I broke. All the pain and unexpected loss overwhelmed me. I stood in my kitchen and felt the tears burn in my eyes as I read of Lane Grave’s body being found mere feet from where he had been playing on the sand at the Disney World Resort. Those tears ﬂooded down my face as I put myself in his parent’s shoes and contemplated the devastating mixture of relief to have found his body and despair knowing he is gone.

The call to weep with those who weep was a steady thought in my mind over the summer, and one day I took time to just cry. After I gathered my emotions and tried to get back to taking care of things at home, a wave of thoughts came over me that were almost paralyzing.

How can I function in light of all the suffering in the world?

How can I put on a smile and interact with people knowing there are mothers in the world who will never see their children in this life again?

How can I write blog posts about happy and wonderful things when things are not happy and wonderful in the world?

How can I even consider moving forward with my day and my life when others are tragically facing the end of their own?

I spent time contemplating things and wrestling with how to answer these questions. I don’t know if I have the perfect answer or the perfect way to approach living in light of such suffering, but I did encounter some thoughts that have helped me to keep going.

When the temptation to fall into despair is strong, and when the troubles of the world want to paralyze you, acknowledge the grief and weep for the brokenness of the world. But then go, do the next thing, and hope in Christ.

For me, the next thing was to stir the rice and broccoli concoction cooking on the stove. But I didn’t want to cook! I didn’t want to take care of my family! I just wanted to go crawl in the bed and cry! But, instead of giving in to my emotions, I took the spoon and stirred. There were still tears, but I just did the next thing I had to do.

Unfortunately, there is no lack of signiﬁcant suffering in this world. Every single day there are more reports of terrorism, brutality, hunger, sickness, and death. There is enough to keep us in a constant state of sadness, but we cannot be overcome.

If we allow ourselves to be paralyzed by the tragedies and sufferings in the world and don’t do the next things that need to be done, no matter how big or how small, we render ourselves ineffective for the gospel.

Imagine if every single person simply wallowed in grief when hearing of tragedies and suffering taking place. There wouldn’t be volunteers serving the people of Louisiana in midst of the horrendous ﬂooding taking place. We wouldn’t hear stories of heroic men and women stepping in to help people in the face of real, true danger. We wouldn’t be encouraged by seeing others give of their time and resources to help however they can.

If everyone gave in to being overcome by their emotions there would be no light to brighten the darkness of those terrible moments. When faced with unthinkable realities, people get up and do what needed to be done. People help and serve. People keep going. People live.

And you know what? By doing so, we looked right at the darkness and brokenness and evil in this world and said, “You will not break us.”

Though it was NEVER meant to be this way, our world is broken. But, we cannot allow that reality to keep us from living. In midst of the brokenness we have the opportunity to be light. We have the opportunity to point to hope. We have the opportunity to say THIS WORLD IS NOT ALL THERE IS! We long for the country where there will be no more tears, no more suffering, no more pain. But, until we get there, let’s be proclaimers of hope.

I won’t feel guilty to share about true, good, and beautiful things. I won’t feel guilty to live. I will use every breath and every moment I can to show that even in this world, wrought with pain, there is still good to see and good to be done. I will do the next thing. I hope you will too.

~Heather

Heather Hollander is in love with her bi-vocational pastor husband, in awe of her 3 children she gets to homeschool (some days good awe, some days the opposite…), and amazed at the grace given to her in Christ. With an M.A. in Christian Studies from SEBTS, she writes about seeking truth, goodness, and beauty, and clinging to hope in midst of all this life can throw our way. Connect with her on Facebook at Heather Hollander (@heatherhollanderwrites) and currently at www.what-is-perfect.com.

What Is Hope?

What is hope?

Sometimes it is crossing our fingers and wishing for the best. Or it is what we feel as we move toward a goal step by step.

But that’s not the hope I picture when I say the words fighting for hope or when I call people Hope Warriors. The hope I picture is a quiet, fierce strength deep within. This hope is not fueled by good intentions, or determination, or the power of positive thinking. Instead, this hope is grounded in God’s nature and character.

We are drawn to hope, our hearts crave hope, because we were created by the God of hope. He made us for hope, He gave us the ability to hope, and He is the source of lasting hope.

And lasting hope is what we need when we push against the darkness in our lives. Lasting hope is bigger than we are, because it is grounded in God.

If God is the basis of lasting hope, we can experience this hope through knowing Him. We come face to face with Him in His Word. Through the pages of the Bible we read what He says about who He is and how much He wants to know us.

“Hope is the sense of expectancy and optimism that God wants to instill in all of us who love him and have faith in him. It’s an overriding confidence he gives, reminding us that, even in the midst of our greatest problems, God is still with us – and he is greater than any challenge we might face.” Lee Strobel, The Case for Hope

What is hope?

This type of hope is our anchor as the storms of life swirl around us, when there is no script, and we aren’t sure what to do. This hope whispers truth when our heart doubts God’s love. This hope reminds us of times when God provided for us. This hope is proof that we are not abandoned or thrown out, because God is with us always.

This hope gives us the strength to fight.

Why Fight for Hope?

I was doing just fine until I read The Healing Path by Dan B. Allender.

Wait…that’s not true. At all.

I was running from my story, really. And this book said things that made me turn around, face my story and own it. In the midst of facing my story, this quote spilled across the pages:

Hope is by far one of the most dangerous commitments we make in life.

I’d never thought of hope as being dangerous.

I’m not really a fan of danger. I can’t even stand the suspense of hide and seek.

This video describes my reaction to danger.

Not brave, not courageous, just a total flip-out. You can ask my children. They love re-enacting times when I’ve completely lost it. It’s not enough to tell the story, they want others to fully experience it. They are true Southern storytellers.

But this quote makes me rethink my aversion to danger. This quote makes me feel a bit wild and unpredictable as I push against the darkness in my life and yell (or sometimes whisper) “You will not win!”

Why is fighting for hope important? Why would anyone step willingly into danger’s path?

Because we have worth.

Right now, as I write this and as you read this, these words are true: We have worth. You have worth. I have worth.

We are more than our abilities. We are more than our struggles. Our worth does not come from our looks or financial status. Our worth is not determined by a lack of looks or financial status, either.

We have worth because we were created by God, who calls us worthy, who breathes life into every soul, who calls us beloved and precious. We are not a random bunch of cells that happened to group together and form a person. We are loved tenderly by God, who also says that we are worth fighting for.

We are worth the fight.

Because we weren’t meant to live life numb.

During difficult times, my first response is to build a cocoon around my heart to keep from feeling the hurt. We all have ways to cope with the fact that life is messy, confusing, and unpredictable. We distract ourselves in video games, TV series, and books to keep from dealing with life. We over-do good things: stay too busy, eat and drink too much, or shop too much. We even turn to harmful things like drugs, porn, gambling, cutting, or purging to keep us preoccupied and numb. The list goes on and on and the end result is the same.

We are miserable because we weren’t made to live like this.

We were made to feel. We were made to fight for things that matter. We were made to live in this broken world, to walk through the difficult times without being hardened by them. It is through the battle that we develop perseverance, courage, and compassion.

We were made for hope.

Because no one else can fight in our shoes.

We live in a broken world with hopelessness crowding in at every turn. Our news feeds are filled with tragedy and sorrow. Despair is a normal response to what is going on around us, but I believe people are looking for a different response. When others see us facing the darkness in our lives and yelling (or even whispering) “You. Will. Not. Win.” they see that despair is not the only response.

I am convinced that God places us strategically in families, in friendships, in relationships, in communities. And these spaces need Hope Warriors. I look at my own marriage and our struggles, my kids and the things they face, and I know that God has placed me right here to fight for hope. The same is true for you, my friend.

Why fight for hope? Because the last chapter has not been written. As dark as things seem, God can and will work in the situations you and I are facing right now. And when we choose to fight for hope, we are participating in the bigger story He is writing in this day and time.

Fighting for hope is dangerous. It’s also contagious. Our lives, our stories – even the chapters we don’t like – impact those around us.

And the more I fight for hope, the more I suspect that there may be a badass deep down inside of me. One that doesn’t flip out at the first sign of danger, but one who owns her story with style.

When There Is No Script

Coffee by Jennifer Pendleton at Bricks, French Camp, MS

I like drinking coffee with friends. Coffee conversations are unhurried and agenda-free. They wind their way around our day-to-day lives, and then move toward deeper ground, when we talk about what’s really going on.

Through coffee conversations, I’ve discovered that our lives take more twists and turns than a roller coaster. I have a love/hate relationship with roller coasters, but I have a total hate/hate relationship with free-falls in real life. The brokenness of this world will knock on our front door, no matter how much protection we think we have wrapped around our life. There’s no bubble wrap for life.

And when that happens, we simply don’t know what to do.

Sometimes there’s no script to follow.

Sometimes there’s no way out. We have to go through.

And that is where the fight for hope begins. For the next few weeks my posts will form a series called When There Is No Script. In this series I’ll explore questions like:

Why fight for hope? What does fighting for hope even mean?

What is a hope warrior? What is brokenness? What is hope?

And sprinkled among the posts, I’ll share stories of Hope Warriors, people who have decided that the free-fall will not define them, and the darkness will not win.

Because when there is no script, we get to write our own lines.

We Were Made to Hear His Voice

When Maggie was just over a year old she began having ear infections. We took her to the ear doctor for a hearing assessment. I held Maggie on my lap in a room that had rectangular speakers on different sides of the room. Maggie was supposed to turn toward the appropriate speaker when she heard her name being called.

“Margaret” the voice boomed through a speaker on the left side of the room. Maggie didn’t respond.

“Margaret” the voice boomed again, on the right side of the room. Still, no response from Maggie.

Panic welled up inside me She’s going to fail this test! I’m a horrible mother! How could I not know she couldn’t hear! until one clear thought pushed through.

“Wait!” I yelled toward the speakers. “We call her Maggie. She doesn’t know the name Margaret.”

The test went quite smoothly after that.

We were made to hear God’s voice. Sometimes we don’t hear His voice because we don’t recognize the name He is calling us.

Beloved. Loved. Precious One. Friend.

We expect Him to use words like : Mistake. Failure. Oh, it’s you again

Sometimes we don’t hear His voice because we haven’t really met Him. The way we meet God seem backwards to me.(Have You Been Introduced?) It is amazing that God gives us the chance to introduce others to Himself.

The best introductions lead to His Word because that is the place where who God is and who we are can be clearly seen. His Word is more than a book. It is God’s words of “This is who I am, this is how much I love you, and this is what I’ve made you for.”

Through His Word we find this beautiful truth.

We are made by God. We are loved by God. We were made to hear His voice so that we can know Him.

So what does His voice sound like? When we hear His voice, we can be sure it is His when:

There is love and conviction, not condemnation and guilt

When we keep things in the darkness, fear and shame grow and overrun us with thoughts like God would never forgive me. These thoughts keep us in the darkness, away from God. These thoughts are from the enemy of our soul who wants to distort our perception of God – His character, His love, His actions. The enemy constantly throws up smoke and mirrors and keeps us off-balance.

His voice is kind and constant, even when He is dealing with our sin. He will not sweep our sin under the rug, or pretend that it doesn’t matter. He will bring it out into the open to deal with it because He sees our misery.

God doesn’t point out our sin to condemn us. God’s purpose in lovingly revealing our sin is to encourage us to acknowledge it and confess it so He can change us. The Enemy’s voice brings condemnation. You will know condemnation because it will bring guilt and offer no clear means of relief. On the other hand, the Holy Spirit brings conviction that always provides a road map out and away from a specific sin. His aim is always to lovingly steer us in the direction of His grace.(p.70,Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks by Priscilla Shirer)

When God speaks to us His words will not heap judgment on us, He reveals our sins to lead us to repentance, but this revelation is buffered with the hope of His grace, love, and another chance. He has already undergone the punishment for our sin once and for all on the cross.

His voice points to His character. It points us back to Himself.

One of God’s greatest desires is to make Himself known to us and lead us into a more intimate relationship with Him. He wants us to know Him.(p. 66, Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks by Priscilla Shirer)

The place to get to know God is in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation His love, His desire for relationship, His dealing with sin in order to restore relationship is described on every page.

So if we were made to hear His voice, why don’t we? What keeps us from hearing His voice?

Noise. Our lives are noisy. Our phones ding with every email, text, and reminder. TVs are always on with some new drama (real or fiction) unfolding. There is always something to do, somewhere to go, someone to talk to.

Locked Elbows. Deep down we are afraid to let God get too close, afraid that knowing Him might mean changing things in our lives that need changing. So we say I want to know you, but we keep our elbows locked and our hearts closed so that He stays at a safe distance. I’ve been there, and I’m so thankful that God wasn’t content being on the outer edge of my life. He patiently drew me closer through His love and grace.

Not recognizing our name. Like Maggie’s hearing test, we miss hearing his voice because we don’t recognize the name He is tenderly calling us.

Each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me..” Psalm 42:8

For the Lord your God is living among you.
    He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
    With his love, he will calm all your fears.
    He will rejoice over you with joyful songs. Zephaniah 3:17

When was the last time you pictured God singing over you with joyful songs?

You bring Him joy. You bring a smile to the face of God.

His voice is not in the media storm of the day. His voice is not in the rushing news feeds on our screens. His voice, clear, constant, and quiet, is in His Word. The more we read His Word, the more clearly we will hear His voice.

*****************************************************************

I highly recommend Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks by Priscilla Shirer. I went through this study during a crisis of faith where I was so mad at God that I sat down on the road of life, crossed my arms defiantly, and stopped talking to Him. God responded by bringing this study to my church and used it to bring me back to speaking terms with Him. I’m so glad He knows me and loves me enough to continually pursue me, even when I lock my elbows. He loves you like that as well.

When Lies Seek to Ruin Us

I cry whenever my children perform in talent shows. I can’t help it. I am so proud of them. It takes courage to perform on stage and I want to encourage my children to be brave. This world needs brave people.

But when my son wanted to dance in a talent show, I wavered. After all, I know the gene pool he comes from and there aren’t many dance-y genes in there.

What will the other kids say? I thought. What if he gets laughed at?

He persisted, undaunted by my wavering, and he danced to Axel F (my ’80’s heart was proud) and the crowd clapped and cheered and laughed in the places where they were supposed to. He loved it, and he experienced the thrill of trying something new.

And I cried as he danced. I cried because I was proud, but I also cried because my fears almost kept him from having this experience.

In a recent talent show, a spunky 10-year-old girl ~~played the drums~~ ROCKED the house on the drums. She definitely had talent, but even more, she enjoyed every second of playing those drums. She didn’t perform, she radiated.

And I cried while she played. An ache swelled in my heart as questions filled my mind. When did I stop finding joy in the things I’m good at? When did I get so insecure, afraid to try new things, afraid what others would think?

I can trace this fear back to lies I’ve believed over the years. Lies like I’m not good enough, my efforts won’t make a difference, it’s better to keep things the way they are, that change isn’t worth the effort.

These are lies I believed for far too long.

I hate lies. I hate they way they paralyze us, they way they eat into our souls, they way they cripple and maim.

I hate the lies that curl around my daughter’s heart, trying to take root, whispering in her ear, You are a nobody. You are useless. You are helpless.

I hate the lies my husband hears, You are a failure. You will never change.

There is no end to the lies we hear. You don’t deserve good things, You don’t matter, What you think doesn’t matter, You can’t make a difference.

Lies are powerful and if left in the dark they will take root and grow stronger until we eventually accept them as truth.

So what can we do? If we focus on the lie, even to argue against it, it grows stronger. The way to fight the lies is to change the playing field and focus on truth. As truth seeps into our hearts, the lies lose their power over us.

The truth really can set us free.

For years three major lies controlled my life. These lies were just under the surface of my heart, influencing the way I viewed myself, the way I viewed God, and the way I believed God viewed me.

I found freedom as I listened to truth. As I began believing truth I found the freedom to begin living bravely, courageously, and honestly. Instead of being paralyzed by fear, my heart grew strong enough to begin fighting for hope. And in the midst of this journey I scribbled my thoughts on paper. These thoughts became a 31 day series called Truths That Make Life Beautiful, because that is exactly what they did.

These truths changed me. You are loved. You are not alone. You have purpose.

When we feel unloved, alone, or useless, life is dark and filled with struggle. When we believe lies, beauty is hard to find. But truth has a way of bringing fresh air as it chases away the darkness.

Truths That Make Life Beautiful

You are loved. You are not alone. You have purpose.

Silencing Shame By Fighting For Hope

My family loves watching American Ninja Warrior. My ten year old, Maggie, is on a first name basis with her favorites. I love the determination, the skill, and the strength of the competitors.

But most of all, I love their stories.

Flip Rodriguez, a competitor from Miami, Florida shared a part of his story and revealed a strength far greater than required for the obstacle course. He took off his mask, literally and figuratively. He brought a secret out into the light. He told the world that he had been sexually abused from the ages of 9-15. In a few short minutes he shared an extremely difficult piece of his story and then reached out to others caught in the same situation.

Before the show aired, he wrote on Instagram, “My story will finally come out to the world. One of the hardest things/ nervous times of my life. To let everyone into my world and what I’ve been through. In hopes of helping others that are going through it. To show you that you’re not alone in it. Just cause you’re in a situation doesn’t mean you have to stay there.”

He pushed through the shame, and in doing so, he lessened the shame others may feel about speaking up.

Shame is a fungus . It flourishes in the dark, covering us with its lies. Shame separates us from God by convincing us that though God’s love is real, it isn’t meant for us. Shame works overtime to make sure we feel alone, and that we stay alone. Eventually it convinces us that we are alone.

Brene Brown defines shame as “the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging. She says “Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.”

And Flip Rodriguez stared shame in the eye when we wrote “Just because you are in a situation doesn’t mean you have to stay there.”

He is fighting for hope and, by opening up about his past, he is reaching his hand across the gap to help others step out of the darkness of abuse.

His words on America Ninja Warrior were powerful. He communicated truth: This is not your fault. You are not alone. He offered empathy and understanding. and shame cannot survive where empathy and compassion are offered. Brene Brown explains it this way:

“If you put shame in a Petri dish, it needs 3 ingredients to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, judgement. If you put the same amount of shame in the petri dish and douse it with empathy, it can’t survive.”

It can’t survive. Empathy and understanding bring our shame out of the darkness and into the light – where hope can grow.

People are amazing. The way they fight for hope, even when things look and feel hopeless. I believe people do that because we are wired for hope. We were made for hope because we were created by the God of hope. This God of hope who takes the broken and messy and says to the darkness What you mean for evil, I will use for good. And that is the war cry of the Hope Warrior.

Hope warriors are not people who have it all together. They are not people who give surface answers to the messiness of life. Hope warriors are people who know their own brokenness, who aren’t afraid of the brokenness they see in others. They are people who say “I am with you. You are not alone.”

Whether or not he wins America Ninja Warrior competition, Flip Rodriquez is definitely a Hope Warrior.

Our world needs Hope Warriors. Our world needs people who cling to the beauty of redemption, because there is so much that is broken.