Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Three Things God Says About COVID-19

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Nothing brings character out quite like crisis. You will see some of the most courageous people charge into a burning building, but sadly, you will also see the ones who knock down the weak, trampling them to escape calamity. You will see people who instill fear, take advantage of a bad situation, yet also the helpers, the ones who pick up the fallen, serve the weak, despite their own trepidation, and give more than they take. I would like to think that all followers of Jesus fall into only one of the above mentioned categories, but sadly we all can fall to fear, panic, and survival of the fittest. Yet, in a time of chaos and uncertainty, I believe God calls His children to a deeper level of trust in Him. So, consider this a friendly reminder, to all of us who profess the faith, to follow the commands God has put forth for us in His word.

Without further ado, here are three things God is telling us amidst COVID-19.

1. Stay home! I want to put this as best as I can. I completely understand the fear of losing financial resources. I totally do. Most of us don’t have a huge savings built up, but I’m trying to encourage a kingdom mindset amongst all of this. I want my brothers and sisters out there to try and see this situation as an opportunity to grow deeper in dependence and relationship with Jesus, to not fear the waves that come, but trust the one who controls the storms. It’s not the boat that will save you; it’s the One who controls the ocean. He will provide.

Also, let’s think about what’s important. Is it staying current on bills or human life? Trust me as a healthcare provider on the frontline of this. It’s serious. People are dying. Maybe not you, the healthy twenty-something, but you can be without symptoms at the beginning of the virus and pass it along to people you do care about. Your grandparents, your friend’s immune compromised child. Life will always trump bank balance.

Then there’s this little nugget.

Romans 13:1-2 (NIV)

Submission to Governing Authorities

13 Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. 2 Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.

Please trust the experts in disease transmission on this. Let’s not listen to that mom in your private Facebook group.

I won’t say I believe every word from a politician’s mouth or especially the news, but I do obey the authorities God has placed over me. Our government has given very clear and strong recommendations, and a large number of people are still ignoring the highly educated, well established plans to slow the spread of this virus. You are hurting others, you are hurting yourself, and you are disobeying more than the president you don’t like. You’re disobeying scripture. Let’s humble ourselves under the authority God has placed over us, trust that His plans will prevail, and stay home! I’m a nurse and a Christian. I trust medical science, but above all my Savior. God has given us healthcare and healthcare providers with the knowledge to save us. Let’s trust that God-given wisdom that says staying home will keep this from getting bigger than our hospitals and medical supplies can handle. Please.

2. Stop hoarding food! I have had friends inquire of my family, if we have enough. Since we started living in an RV we have limited space for storage period. Our fridge is small, our pantry also. We can store about enough for a week for our family of five, and that means frequent grocery trips. This past week I went shopping after a twelve hour shift at the hospital bedside, and as most of you know, the shelves were bare. Yet as I made my way through the aisles I always found one to two of every item I needed, even if it wasn’t my typical brand. By the way, I only took one, leaving the other for the next person.

Matthew 6:25-27 (NIV)

Do Not Worry

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

I’m reminded of the Israelites in the desert. God provided enough manna for each day. Some tried to take more and keep it for the next day, but He caused it to spoil. He wanted them to understand that He was their provider, and they could trust Him to give exactly what they needed. I’ll bet there’s a lot of people today who may end up throwing out some food they bought in over abundance, never realizing that God wanted to show them what He could give them.

Jesus came showing us how to be servants, showing us that the first would be last, and the last first. He saw people in need and He fed them. Never once did He hold onto what God had given Him and not share with the rest. He didn’t take all the fish and bread from the little boy and split it with His disciples. He thanked God for the little He had, then God multiplied that gratitude to feed five thousand. Imagine the blessings we are missing out on because instead of thanking God for what we’ve been given that we need, we’re taking more than enough right out of the hands of the hungry. It’s going to rot.

2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

Don’t let fear drive your actions. I love my family, and I feel the need to take care of them. I understand that you want to get your family what they need, but stop and consider the fact that fear is driving you to load up a shopping cart with sixteen cases of water and twelves packs of toilet paper.

Which leads us to the third yet biggest commandment He’s speaking during this time.

3. Do not fear!

I say it again. Do. Not. Fear. There’s a reason this is the most repeated phrase in scripture. You see, fear is from the devil, and fear is a liar. Is all this kinda scary? You betcha butt! I am walking into a lockdown, negative air pressure, isolation, COVID-19 unit at work. Tons of healthcare providers around the country are doing this. If we let fear rule our actions, we would shut them all in a room and let nature take its course, but no, we go in and provide the very best, life-saving care we can. Are we afraid of catching the virus, or perhaps spreading it to our family? Of course! But we don’t let fear dominate and rule our actions. The reason the Bible says so frequently not to fear is because God knows we will. Sin has created some really crazy, frightening things out there, but faith in Jesus gives us a mode to combat fear and not let it rule our hearts and lives. He has overcome all evil, and COVID is no different. Even death has lost its sting, y’all. I serve a creator who gives eternal life, and the gift He offers is bigger than the most fatal of diseases.

Do you think this surprises God? Do you think He is as shocked as we all are by the death toll in Italy? No!

Psalm 139:16 ESV

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

God knows beginning to end. He knew this was coming, and He knows how it will end. He knows the solution. He knows the good that will come from this. What the enemy means for evil, God will turn to our good. We have a tendency to forget that.

God is whispering amongst the chaos,

come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. I will give you peace. I do not give as the world gives. Take comfort, for I have overcome the world. There it is. Do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wasteland and streams in the desert. Hope like a river, it flows to those who trust in me. Do not be afraid. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Your foot will not strike the stone. I will rescue you.

If I were to offer any advice during this time of social distancing it would be this. Use this time to read the Bible. Y’all! There’s a wealth of truth and wisdom from the Lord inside those pages. Let them be a healing balm to your worried soul. Let them guide your decisions so that fear doesn’t lead you, but His peace sustains you. Listen to the real expert on what’s happening. Don’t just take my word for it.

Thank a Nurse, Today

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We all stood in a rough circle, listening to another briefing about safety policies and fluid plans going forward. I looked around at the nodding faces of my coworkers, asking important questions as needed, or giving suggestions to improve overall outcome. No one griped, guffawed, or rolled their eyes. We listened to conversations of personal protective equipment running low, and straightforward statements that a nursing shortage was on the horizon. Stoic, we stood tall, and not one person said, “that’s it. I’m outta here!”

That’s not what nurses did. When the going got tough, we got tougher. I was reminded of my time in the military. Serving during 9/11, I was active duty when the war in Iraq first began. I watched my spouse and 90% of my coworkers leave the hospital to deploy overseas. In their absence I worked 12 hours shifts, seven days a week, for thirty days straight until reservists arrived to help. And although I held honor, courage, and commitment at my core, let’s be honest; I didn’t have a choice. I belonged to the U.S. Government, and I worked in hard conditions because, “that’s what you told me to do, Lieutenant Dan.” But seriously, I did my duty without question. Civilian Nurses, they’re a little different.

I want you to understand something very important. All the things you’re feeling, you are not alone. Feeling scared? Overwhelmed? Worried for your family? Despite the frequent assumption otherwise, nurses are indeed human, with emotions and needs. We don’t want to become sick with COVID-19 anymore than the next person, and we don’t get jazzed about possibly taking it home to our young children, elderly parents, or immune comprised spouse. We get tired when we work extra, and we need to go grocery shopping too. Today, after my twelve hour shift, I stopped and picked through the scraps left at my local grocery store.

Your bedside nurse isn’t immune to deadly viruses, but they go to work each and every shift, fearless. We utilize our training and knowledge to stand on the frontline despite the fact that we have all the concerns you may be feeling right this very moment. Any nurse could call out sick, walk away, or refuse that request to work overtime, but we don’t. We face the music, no matter how screechy the melody, and we dance a graceful waltz through uncharted waters.

I guess it sounds like I’m tooting our own horn, or uninvitedly skywriting “Nurses Rock,” but doggone it, I can’t help it. I’m proud to be a nurse, and I’m proud to stand firm alongside some amazing men and women. They come in each shift, already, with sick children at home, a chronically ill, aging parent in their thoughts, or a relationship on the rocks thanks to long hours and less weekends off. Never mind showing up with a smile when a pandemic is on the rise.

Today was a crazy day at the hospital bedside. I saw more movement than we wanted, and I saw a team pick up the reigns. I heard a stray, “I’m tired,” or as 7pm neared a weary, “I’m ready to go home,” but I never heard a real complaint. I never saw a bad attitude today, and there was more than a few things that could make a person flip. I saw what I see most, every day. I saw nurses caring for their patients with compassion and skill. I saw my peers intervening to save lives, and advocating for the people in their care. In this regard, it wasn’t much different than any other day, other than all the masks, gowns, and protective eye wear. We still washed our hands, like we always do, and we used required precautions to prevent the spread of contagious disease. Again, like we always do.

I stood on the frontline today with a team that superbly carried out their duty, and despite the odds stacked against us, carried it out well. So, while a lot of things are uncertain and ever-changing in our world right now, one thing is the same. One thing is steady despite the storm, firmly rooted despite the slipping sand. It’s your bedside nurse. They are doing what they have always done. Excellent patient care with a smile. Your local Walmart may be out of toilet paper, and your child’s school may be closed, but your hospitals are still open, with all the amazing healthcare staff present and doing what they do best. In uncertain times, you can still count on that.

So, thank a nurse today! Thank the doctors, techs, therapists, and many other frontline staff. Show your gratitude to your police officers, and all the other people who go about their work just like any other day, with just a bit more stress in the mix. Wink, wink. I’m proud to stand in the ranks with so many who help keep this world going, even when life wants to shut it down.

The Outbreak That is Spreading Faster Than COVID-19

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I am a Registered Nurse, specializing in Critical Care, and working in a major metropolitan area that sees thousands of international travelers per day. As such I have my own opinions about the virus that has now been labeled a pandemic. Although COVID-19 has its own unique concerns and challenges, a few things are the same. For example, as a healthcare provider, I’ve seen tens of thousands nationwide die annually from another concerning virus you may have heard of, the flu. And while COVID’s numbers aren’t that high, I totally support being proactive in protecting yourself against germs. I’ll tell you a secret too. I’ve been a part of the hand washing activists since my entry into healthcare in 1997. But anywho.

I have noticed an outbreak that is moving way faster than COVID-19, and it’s wreaking more havoc than Ebola ever even thought about. Although my unique perspective as a clinical professional makes me privy to the spread of illness, I am finding that even the common layman can see the dangers of this particular pandemic.

Tonight I received a message from a dear friend back in my small, hometown. She was concerned for her health as she shared with me that COVID-19 was now there. I eased her mind with logical, proven information, all along thinking, “I haven’t heard of corona spreading there!”

After our talk I hit the internet and sure enough no announcement of new cases had hit my hometown. I thought to myself, “where would someone get that information?” And just as quickly I answered myself, “social media!”

A quick search in the Facebook search bar revealed a post originating from my town. It had been posted by a non-medical person who stated they had a “reliable source” confirming a COVID-19 suspected patient was quarantined in the local hospital. Then it went on to describe where it was believed the contact had arisen, which happened to be a local-owned, long term care facility. The worst part was in less than an hour this unconfirmed rumor/hearsay had been shared 1K times. So, not only was the information unfounded, and not only did it instill panic, it also defamed a local business (of which I have no connection, personal or otherwise) falsely.

Do you understand the true outbreak going on right now? In our country especially? It’s fear, folks. Plain and simple fear. And it’s spreading like wildfire.

The media is having a fine time sharing information not much different than this ridiculous Facebook post. Information that is unfounded, unconfirmed, uneducated, and not backed by medical science. It’s information that is grossly exaggerated, sensationalized, and told in a manner that suggests it’s in good conscious, but is truly only given for the attention factor. It’s the same reason news articles of horrendous abuse go viral. It’s a frightening train wreck we can’t help but follow. It’s the same reason the Weather Channel should now be more aptly called the Exaggerated FearMonger Report. We’re all going to die any minute! Aren’t you afraid?!

It’s this Poisonous Outbreak of Terror that causes toilet paper to disappear off shelves! As if we can prevent disease by wrapping ourselves like mummies in Charmin. Or maybe we worry that poor, perineal hygiene makes us more susceptible to viruses. Heck if I know!

It’s this lie from the pit of hell, the irrational panic that makes the devil laugh, that causes the most unhygienic to suddenly understand soap is a good idea. Like, maybe Semmelweis, the scientist who first suggested this practice in 1847 to slow the spread of disease was right all along. 1847, y’all!

So, back to my small, Southern town. Within an hour people were heard in local stores claiming that three confirmed cases of COVID-19 were being treated at the hospital there. And that, my friends, is why fear is a far more dangerous outbreak than corona ever considered being. Rumors spread faster than germs, and desperation (such as seen with sold-out hand sanitizer and folks wearing bras as face masks) creeps into an entire population quicker than you can properly wash your hands according to CDC guidelines.

Well, we’ve been instructed on how to stop the spread of COVID-19, and now, not just as a nurse, but as an intelligent human being, I will tell you how to squash the other disease, fear.

Stop it. Stop it, right now. Stop spreading rumors, and stop believing them. Don’t put your faith in your news channel of choice, and instead listen to healthcare professionals who have been warning you about the flu for decades. The only difference is, we do it with facts, not fear, so not as many people have been paying attention. I guess it’s good that people are finally washing their hands, though.

But, seriously. If you want to know the real truth of the matter, check out the most reliable source, God’s Word, and go from there.

Isaiah 41:10 ESV

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

You Know Who Didn’t Use Their Past as an Excuse?

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I’ve taken care of the alcoholic patient who says, “I come by it naturally. Both of my parents drank.”

I’ve had the friend who said, “you don’t understand. My Dad left when I was a kid.”

Never realizing that I did understand. Can’t we all say in one way or another, me too.

I’ve had the women in my circle who feel powerless to life, as if what they’ve been dealt all along is all there is.

A young man born into poverty and gang-banging sees no way out of the hood.

A young girl from the trailer park doesn’t even try to do well in school. I mean, she’ll always be so-and-so’s kid, after all.

We believe in things like family tradition, genetics, predisposition, or karma, and while I believe something can “run in the family,” I’m also of the mind that my God is bigger.

We think our last name makes us who we are, or perhaps how we were raised. Yet anyone who has determined to become a different kind of parent than what raised them understands the power of change.

Things don’t have to be a certain way, just because that’s the way it’s always been. Anyone who has broken the chains of familial addiction, mental illness, and abuse can attest.

This morning my husband was reading the Old Testament (again), and as he’s prone to do, he spoke to me his observations as he read.

This morning he mused, “you know, it really doesn’t talk about Moses’s early life as an Egyptian.”

And he was right. It told the story of his sister placing him in the reed basket, how his mother was allowed to nurse him, and even how Pharaoh’s daughter named him. But then it skips to, “one day, after Moses had grown up…”

I answered my spouse, “that kinda proves that your past isn’t what defines you. It’s who God has you to become that matters.”

You see, Pharaoh’s daughter may have given Moses his name, but it was Mighty God who gave him a purpose. It was God who defined who he would be. He was to be the deliverer of his people from Egypt. It didn’t matter that he had been raised as an Egyptian. God had more for him.

I think what we forget in life is that God has more for us all, and even if we’re born as a Saul, Christ can meet us on a dusty road and make us a Paul. He can take an unwanted child and adopt them into His family. He can take a reject who has been called a loser and say, “no, you’re my beloved.”

We need to remember that in God’s story for us, perhaps some parts won’t be as noteworthy as we think. Our failures don’t have to follow us, and our mistakes don’t have to define us. Our family history doesn’t have to become our history, and the way things have always been can become no more.

A sinner can become a saint, an orphan, adopted, and the rejected redeemed. He can make all things new, and any thought that says otherwise is a flat out lie. Do you know who didn’t use their past as an excuse? Crack open the pages of your Bible and you’ll be overwhelmed by people who by the standards of the world would be all washed up, a lost cause, a regrettable faux pas. Joseph would have been an ex-con, or Peter a terrible friend. Rahab would have been labeled a dirty whore, or Mary, the mother of Jesus, an embarrassing teen mom. I’m certain that John the Baptist would have been at the weirdo table in the cafeteria, and David would never be able to hold his head up again in church on Sunday after that regrettable incident with Bathsheba.

I think it’s no coincidence that Moses’s high school yearbook it’s splashed throughout the beginning chapters of Exodus, or that a description of his name brand, Egyptian cotton duds aren’t dropped in the mix. It didn’t matter where he came from, but it did matter how God would use it for his good. In turn, it doesn’t matter what our unmentionable pages proclaim. It only matters what God is writing for our future, and how He can take us from an extra in Scene One, to a leading role in Act Three.

So, if your previous story is one you’d rather just forget, realize you’re in good company. God has a tendency to take the biggest misfits and make them masters, or to transform the cursed to blessed. He can raise the dead, so I’m certain He can pull any of us from the pit of our family story, whatever it may be. He says to the crippled, “walk,” and to the blind man, “see.” He can certainly edit our story for His glory. Just ask and see.

When in Doubt, Hug Your Spouse

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Every morning before I leave for work I gaze at my gorgeous girls, lingering a little longer on my hottie husband, and I deposit a farewell kiss on their foreheads. Never one to wake the rest of the house in the pre-dawn hours, I will tread lightly, and even in my goodbyes I am silently contemplative. I pray for them with unspoken words, and I slip out the door as discretely as I got ready for the day. Typically the only one in the household who even stirs is our tiny dog, who will roll onto her back for a good tummy rub from mom, but otherwise the household snoozes on. Yet that wasn’t the case this morning.

My morning had gone okay, and that’s me being really optimistic. In full transparency, it has been a tough morning. I found my mind doing circuits over things I could not change, and despite my best efforts, I dwelt on things below rather than those above. In lieu of my regular shower prayers, I struggled through pleas for God to guard my heart and mind against the muck that persisted in taking up residence there. Thoughts that I wasn’t good enough, or that God couldn’t use me where I previously thought. Thoughts I was certain had been previously vanquished. Point being, there was a lot of armor being slung around in my bathroom before coffee had even been made.

Later I had prayed for my babies, while the java finally brewed, and as my last task of the morning routine I brushed my lips lightly upon their sleeping heads. I saved my spouse for last, and after my lips left his warm skin I was surprised to see his eyelids flutter open.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I whispered.

But he seemed unbothered, quickly and smoothly enveloping me with a warm, welcome embrace. I sunk with surrender into his arms, and it was like I melted there in the safety of his love. Perhaps it sounds melodramatic, but I cannot otherwise explain the weight that seemed to lift from my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. It was like an addict’s fix, and I had not even realized I was jonesing for unconditional affection.

Later, during my commute, I realized the sweet release had continued. I felt lighter, less burdened all around, and my enhanced mood made it seem like a magic spell had been cast upon me. I guess love is like that.

If I’ve discovered anything in marriage, it is this. When in doubt, hug your spouse.

If they’re quiet, hug them. If they seem down, hug them. If they’re happy as a lark, hug them. If you’ve had a fight, hug them. If you want to make-up, hug them.

When you’re running late, hug them. When you’re bone-tired, hug them. When you’re in a bad mood, hug them. And when you’re feeling celebratory, hug them. Just hug them.

When you have no idea what to say, hug them. When you don’t have the answers, hug them. When you think there’s nothing you can do to make things better, hug them. When in doubt, hug your spouse.

Never underestimate the benefits of physical touch. A person can be wound tighter than a two dollar watch, and not even realize it. Yet a caring embrace can allow their guard to be let down, releasing the built-up tension and stress.

A well-placed hug says, “I see you, and I care about what you’re going through.”

It says, “I’m here for you. You don’t have to say a word, but know I’m here.”

Life is crazy; I get it. Our schedules are overloaded, our days busy, and our to-do list over done. But never miss the important things. Sometimes it’s the most simple of assurances that mean the most. So, when in doubt, hug your spouse.

The Upper Room

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I’ve felt such a heaviness for the past few days, and I can’t for the life of me pinpoint why. I think that’s the worst part of it. To feel downtrodden even when from the outside in things look good. To be unable to name the reason for melancholy, it makes it all the more absurd. An unwelcome visitor to your happy home. I wonder if it will always be this way, while I exist in this body? Separated from joy that is so close I can taste it.

For a few days I’ve wanted to write something about the upper room. It’s been dancing on the periphery of my brain, waiting to be put down into words, yet unwilling to escape from the mental chamber keeping it captive. How could I speak of Heavenly things when my heart felt pushed into the dirty earth? Still feeling captive to my flesh, I knew I needed to write it anyway, if only to show myself I could.

I find it no coincidence that in Luke 22 Jesus plans the Passover meal venue, the upper room, and just prior to that, in Chapter 21, He says this.

Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap.

It’s so easy to forget that there’s more for us than next month’s work schedule or a pending dental appointment for the children. Before you know it you’re focusing on the bank balance versus the pending bill stack, or you’re questioning the commitments you’ve plotted in your calendar. You find yourself worrying about the virus the household keeps passing around, or replaying that thing you said to so-and-so, that ridiculous comment you wish you could stuff back into your stupid, gaping mouth. We busy our thoughts with if it’s time to wash the linen, or what theme we should plan for the youngest child’s birthday party. We never once contemplate the upper room.

He has prepared a place. He’s gone ahead of us and made arrangements. A banquet is coming, the likes of which we have never seen, yet we busy ourselves with plans akin to dining at Burger King. The Lord is setting the table for a grand feast, and we are somehow content to catch the scraps of the world where we wait. We forget all about the upper room.

It’s like we have an invitation sitting on our bar. It’s mixed in with grocery store flyers, an exorbitant utility bill, and one of those card stock advertisements with a fake, brand new car key attached. It’s addressed in gold letters, sealed with a blood red stamp, and it’s just waiting to be opened. Each and every day we pass it by. It’s left unopened, forgotten, pushed to the bottom of a stack meant for the trash.

We pass it by in favor of our favorite Netflix series, or rushing to the kitchen table to argue angrily over homework, pressing a dry kiss and sideways hello to our spouse. Tired, worn thin and wore out. We pass the invitation for rest, and we pass it in favor of rush and hurry. We run towards the things of this world that are here today and gone tomorrow.

Have you noticed the things of this world bring us a heap of stress, yet we pursue them with vigor? We think, if only I can hit the deadline. If only I can pay this debt. I just gotta get the kids through school and get this mortgage paid down. Then, maybe things will settle down.

We’re always in eager anticipation, expecting a future of better things. We’re hoping in a time when we won’t struggle so much. We’re waiting for a time when we won’t be so tired, when finances won’t be so tight, or when raising kids will get easier. We cling to dreams of a brighter future with less stress and more bless. We trudge through our season, weary and wondering when we’ll find our better day. We pass by the dusty, forgotten invitation.

There has to be a better way! That’s what we say. It shouldn’t be this hard! We buy self help books, seek advice from a counselor, maybe even beg that lady on Oprah Winfrey’s channel to fix our life! We forget all about the upper room.

Here’s the secret. Here’s the thing we all forget. We don’t have to wait until the feast begins to partake of the hors d’oeuvres. He is preparing the banquet table, but until it’s time to be seated, we can remember that we already have a place set with our names on it. The best five star restaurant in NYC doesn’t compare, and even better, the worst dinner party we throw doesn’t matter. It all falls flat when set beside the upper room.

The invitation that awaits, it’s one that requires our RSVP, and by accepting our individual place of honor, we agree to walk out each day with an air of importance. We can pass through each day throwing off the anxiety of a fading world that falsely vies for our attention, and instead we can say, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to a party. I can’t be bothered by that at the moment. My mind is on the upper room.”

In my time of heaviness the past few days, I am reminded to hold tightly to my invitation. It promises a wonderful feast. I don’t have to falsely hope for better days here on earth. Instead I can know in my heart that better days will come. I can walk each moment, even as my flesh and heart may fail, in joy, knowing that I am a special guest, and a special seat waits for me. Nothing much matters compared to that. He’s preparing a place.

Children get sick and the truck needs new tires, but He’s preparing a place. I feel heavy, sometimes for no reason at all, but I am invited. The world could hate me, but I’d still be invited. Karen could roll her eyes in my direction, and the whole table could talk about me after I walk away. It doesn’t matter. My Father has set a place for me at His table. Bye, Felicia.

But seriously. All the ridiculous things that try to pull me away. The unimportant tasks that try to overwhelm me. The minuscule happenings that attempt to shake me. The inconveniences that mar my day, or the mistakes that make up my past… they can’t hold a candle to what lies ahead. The upper room.

Lord, when my mind wanders to places it doesn’t need to go, remind me of the upper room. When I place my hope in anything other than you, remind me of the upper room. When I’m hurting, remind me of the upper room. When I’m happy and everything is peachy, remind me of the upper room. When I put too much stock in this fast food life, remind me of the banquet you have lavishly prepared. May I never forget the invitation that requires my focus even now. Keep my thoughts always on the upper room. I know that at your table I will never thirst, and most importantly, I will be filled.

Three Things God Has Done for Me

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I was recently reading a devotional, and in it the author encouraged the reader to make a list of three things God has done in your life. Initially, I laughed to myself. Only three! I mean, God has done more in my life than I could possibly fit on paper. Even a whole notebook. He woke me up in the morning, gave me hot water to shower with, and who could forget about coffee?! Talk about the best invention ever! And that’s just the first hour of my day. How in the world I could just pick three, I didn’t know, but I felt led to try. As I quieted my mind, these three bullets came to me, and I thought I would share them with you.

1. He healed me. Ok, so I could start with how God miraculously healed me of epilepsy. How after a decade-long battle of neurologist visits, medications three times a day, abnormal EEG’s, and debilitating migraines, He took the disease completely, totally, and immediately from me. I could talk about that, but no, it’s more than just a seizure disorder.

I could tell you how He took the pain from my knees, the pain that had been there since my twenties, the messed up knees that a doctor had told me when I was twelve years old would eventually “go out on me.” I could tell you how I carried that curse and constant pain into my forties, but the day I asked for His healing, they never hurt me again. But this is about more than not needing a knee replacement after all.

I could testify to physical healing, of myself, and of my children. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that God isn’t limited to just one kind of healing. He certainly had healed my physical body, but He had also healed the rest of me. If I looked on the outside like I used to feel on the inside, I would resemble an old China doll. The lines of harsh reality had riddled my fragile shell like cracks in aged porcelain. One wrong move and I probably would have shattered to pieces. But God.

My life before the love of Christ was broken. Torn by the pain of rejection, I felt lacking. Twisted by the lies that I was only as good as the people who had left me in life, I felt worth little more than nothing. I felt empty. We’re not made to feel that way, and as such I wasted many years trying to fill myself with anything I could. Anything that would give me some substance, make me feel worthwhile. I sought the approval of man, and I numbed my pain with empty indulgence. I tried to be better, basing my worth on what I could achieve in life. It never felt like enough. It wasn’t until I found the love of Jesus that I could be healed from all the hurt this world had piled upon me.

He healed me from the pain of sin, and He gave me eternal life. He healed me from my past, and He gave me a future. He healed me from rejection, and He adopted me as His own. He healed me from the bondage of slavery, and He gave me real freedom to live life fully and joyfully.

2. He gave me a new identity. I have had several last names in my life. I had the one I was born with, and later, my adoptive dad’s last name. I had my first husband’s last name, and now I have my second husband’s name. I have held many titles in life, some of them I’d rather forget, but others that I’m proud to go by to this day. I love holding the role of wife, mother, nurse, and friend. I’m a writer, a Navy veteran, an encourager, and a singer at times. I’ve been known to be a goofball, a crybaby, and even an outcast. I have been labeled things that make me cringe, and I’ve been called names that made me cry. But do you know what all these things have in common?

They are meaningless.

They are meaningless when held alongside my identity in Christ. Often times in life we can falsely build our worth and self esteem on the titles we possess or roles we play. We think we’re what our last name is, what job we perform, or how well we perform it. We assume we’re what we do, the mistakes we’ve made, or even the things we’ve failed to achieve. We fall to lies that we’re held back by who our family is, genetics, our financial circumstances, where we live, the way it’s always been, or our lot in life. We never reach the potential God has for us because we believe in a false identity. The identity of this world.

When I came to know the Lord, I realized my true identity was in Him. I was His child. I was created in His image, with a destiny in mind. I was forethought, artfully designed, on purpose, with each detail precisely constructed in love. I was worth dying for, and I was worth pursuing. I was a child of the King, protected, holy, worthy, righteous, and redeemed. I was His. I was not alone. I was loved.

3. He gave me a purpose beyond myself. Once I found myself healed and whole, loved and set free, I felt an urgency to share this miraculous happening. It’s like, if you suddenly had the best cup of coffee in your life. It would be all you could talk about. You’d make sure your spouse, your best friend, and all your coworkers knew how to find this divine cup of joe. This is where I found myself.

Each day, as my spirit draws closer to the Lord, I become more certain of the plans He has for me. Knowing my identity in Him, I am able to throw off the minuscule concerns of this world that have no eternal perspective. I am able to shed the busyness, the ridiculous distractions that vie for my attention, and in essence, pull me further from His truth. I think that’s the first step to finding God’s purpose for your life. You have to be able to let go of all that entangles you, trying to take first chair over His kingdom.

As you can release the treasures of this world, and can begin building eternal equity instead, you can find true purpose. You can find true peace. True joy, even.

When you can let go of the things of this world, the titles and roles that you think complete you, and instead find real fulfillment through your heritage and the inheritance of your Heavenly Father, you will discover your true path in life. Consider this world a practice run. The real thing is what awaits us.

When I realized this profound, yet simple truth, I found purpose. I found a purpose beyond myself and my front yard. I found a way to be full, to the brim, and an understanding that because of Him, I am never lacking. And in this fullness of life, I make each day about pouring out that love on others. The more I give, the more I get. I never realized that before.

So, now I would encourage you. Sit down, clear your mind, and ask yourself, “what has God done for me?” You might just discover along the way, what you can do for Him.

How God Made a Miracle Marriage Out of Our Mess

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I guess if any relationship was doomed for failure, it was ours. I had come off the tail-end of heartbreak hard and fast. After six years of marriage, my ex-husband had come home and told me he didn’t love me anymore. Already an injured bird, it didn’t take much to rip off my wings, ensuring I would never fly again. Indeed, I was a woman who based her worth on the people who loved her, or sadly, in the event of divorce, the man who didn’t. And there you had this pitiful waif of a gal, running back home to Mississippi with her tail between her legs, sent packing by the funny guy from Chicago who had decided she wasn’t worth the effort. It was this broken mess that plunged heart-first into another love affair, but don’t go feeling sorry for me as the rejected woman. In all honesty, I was probably a terrible wife.

So, there you had a terrible (ex) wife, getting involved with a fellow ex’er. Yep, we were both once-divorced, and with a mix of trepidation and hope, we stepped into the mess of one another’s life. I’m not sure who was worse off, him or me, but I don’t guess that matters anymore. We certainly didn’t let it stop us then. My husband (husband now, that is) and I, ran into each other’s arms. He could no better hold me up than I could him, but I guess we tried. Two negatives do not make a positive, but we were determined to make our math work.

Within the first year of being married we found out a lot about each other. If dating me for a year, status post divorce and dirty thirty crisis, had not let Ben know I was an alcoholic, then living with me certainly did. He knew I was a homebody, but realizing I stayed home so I could drink became ever-clear (see what I did there) all the more once we were under the same roof. Each morning he would crush cans, twenty or thirty littering the kitchen counters, and he would laugh about how we needed to start recycling. I could drink him under the table, and we both knew it. After I began to abstain we would understand better why.

Now, don’t go thinking I was some saint who poured out my bottles of alcohol as some sort of victory stance. Nope. The only reason I quit drinking (at the time) was because of the tiny baby growing in my womb. I had desired, and failed, to stop drinking for years, but it wasn’t until the life of a child entered the mix that I put my vices on the back burner.

Well, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to quit being an addict. I still remember, at seven months pregnant, confronting my husband about missing narcotics. How had I not realized my spouse was on drugs before?! I guess I had always been too drunk to notice.

Y’all, that first year was a doozie. Maybe even the second year too. I’m not sure how two total idiots made a marriage work, but I’ll be the first to say it was a God-thing. Now, I certainly wouldn’t advise young couples to pursue matrimony and starting a family with someone as broken as yourself, but then again, I suppose we’re all broken in one way or another. Our problems were just more obvious to the keen observer. In between the lies, addiction, and wounded hearts, God did a miracle. He took two hopeless, helpless wrecks and exploded His spirit within us. I know it’s only God’s grace that made it happen rather than fall through the cracks.

It was God’s grace that caused me to give my new husband a chance that day on the sofa. I think he wanted that confrontation. I think he wanted to tell me. I think he wanted me to find out about the drugs. But I also think he thought I’d leave him. I did not.

In the heart of all men and women is the potential for good. We are created in the image of our Father in Heaven, and it’s only sin and this world that gets everything so convoluted. We all have sin, and if you say you don’t, you’re lying to yourself. The only question is, are you willing to be forgiven? And perhaps, also, are you willing to forgive?

I’ve realized that marriage is a whole lot about forgiveness. It’s forgiving because you were first forgiven, and it’s about loving beyond just yourself. I can’t explain how grateful I am that the Lord gave me such wisdom that first year or two into our marriage. He made me abundantly aware that I was so far from perfect, it wasn’t even funny. That I couldn’t expect perfection from others. But that He (alone) could make things perfect. He could heal broken hearts, broken lives, and make all things new. I didn’t go about trying to fix my broken husband. Instead, I went about fixing me. Or rather, allowing the Lord to show me how.

I realized pretty quickly that I couldn’t focus on what my husband had done or was doing wrong, but I could focus on being a better wife. I realized that I couldn’t make him do things my way, but I could do things for him. I discovered I couldn’t change him, but I could change me. Y’all, the craziest thing happened. While I was busy making myself a better wife, Ben became a better husband. I didn’t ask him to change; I just trusted Jesus to grow us both. And boy, did He ever.

Each day seems better than the last. Do you know what I mean? I hear so many people say, “marriage is hard,” but is it really? I don’t think marriage is hard. I think life is hard. Having someone to transverse through the difficulties of a hard life? Gosh, that’s a blessing.

My husband is my best friend. I didn’t think marriage could be as good as it is, but it only gets better. We have seen a lot in a short (long) decade. We saw addictions broken (ten years sober/clean for us both). We saw trust rebuilt. We experienced the birth and raising of three babies. We experienced poverty and more than enough. Then we experienced poverty again. We’ve been through a lost business, overdrawn credit cards, reposed vehicles, and foreclosure. We’ve seen ups and downs, but only of the life and world around us. Never of our marriage. Life will give you a hard shake and very little break, but marriage should be the gift from God that can be a rock in shifting sand. In fact, if Jesus is the foundation of your marriage, it should be a strong tower of refuge in this stormy life.

I serve my spouse in love, and he serves me also. We cover ourselves in scripture, and God’s Word is the instruction manual for our marriage. Every reaction I have towards him is spirit-driven (or rather I strive for it to be). Those rogue, angry thoughts will surface occasionally, but that’s why a good, Christ-like pause is important. I measure my words, and so does he. I can’t for the life of me remember the last time he said something hurtful to me. My husband is so gentle with me, so caring and considerate. I don’t think that’s a typical “man” thing. I think that’s a Jesus thing. My spouse handles me with care, driven by love, inspired by our Savior, and I treat him the same. Slow to speak, slow to anger, and quick to forgive. Focusing on the other person, even to the point of denying self. I don’t have to worry that by denying my own needs I am left lacking. My husband meets my every need, and I serve him the same.

It’s funny to me, looking back. Our relationship was doomed to failure, from the perspective of the world, that is. God, on the other hand, looked at the mess of us, like a glob of unformed clay, and He said, “I can work with that.” We were malleable, you know? We were willing to have God change us for the better. I mean, we knew we were broken, and I guess that’s the first step to a happy marriage and life. Looking at yourself (and not just the other person) and admitting you need to be changed by the Lord. It’s looking to Jesus to fix you, not the person you’re in a relationship with. It’s allowing God to do the refining, and then trusting that He knows how to shape things better than you ever could alone. That’s the only explanation for what started between Ben and me thirteen (even twenty-three) years ago, and what it has become today. God knew what He was doing when He put us together, and despite our attempts to foul things up and all our missteps, God still made a happily-ever-after out of our mess. He gave us a miracle marriage, and each day is like Heaven on earth.

The Only Love That Makes Sense

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I was listening to the radio this morning on the way to work, and as the singer’s lyrics rang out, I chuckled to myself at how true his words were.

He had sang, “it’s the kind of love that doesn’t make sense.”

And it certainly didn’t make sense how emotional I had been just twenty minutes before when listening to another song. A love song. My commute had started with a song about surrender, about handing my life to God so that He could make it into something beautiful. As I drove down the dark, deserted portion of turnpike, I had raised one hand in the air in agreement, and the act, thought, whatever, as the words poured through the speaker and into my heart, had caused me to weep uncontrollably.

Such love. That was what brought me to tears. Such peace at having my Heavenly Father direct my steps. That’s what had caused my emotional outpouring. I couldn’t help but bawl at such a wonderful love, and the fact that this relationship alone could rock me so severely made no sense, from a worldly point of you. I mean, I adored my children more than the air I breathed, but it took an intense event surrounding their lives to make my eyes leak at the corner. And I loved my husband more than words could express, yet even my immense affection for him did not impact me like the love of my Savior did. When I opened myself to the fact of what Jesus had done for me over 2,000 years ago, but also what He continues to do each and every day, I. Was. Wrecked. A total blubber-mess of gratitude and joy.

Sadly, I knew that for many people my response to thoughts of love for the Lord didn’t make sense, but as a woman who had suffered through the anxiety of trying to do life on my own, or the frustration of desperately seeking acceptance elsewhere, it made perfect sense. In fact, it was the only love that made any sense!

My husband is a wonderful husband, but the best thing I ever did for our marriage was understand that he couldn’t be my personal Mr. Fixit. He couldn’t save me, heal me, or love me perfectly. He just couldn’t. Human hearts are built longing for a perfect love, and the only surefire cure for the human condition is Jesus.

Spouses will let you down, friends will fail you. Children will frustrate you, and even your best pal will hurt your feelings. People will judge your performance, and they’ll falsely base your personal worth on what you do or the mistakes you make. These are the kind of common actions that create phrases like “love hurts,” but in all reality it’s the world that hurts. It’s sin that hurts. Love, in essence, in its purest form, the fact that God is love, this kind of love will never hurt us. Our running from it will hurt us, but there’s healing, total and complete, in surrendering to the perfect love we were created to enjoy.

The bottom line is that anything we pursue in this life, be it person or substance, to fill the void in our soul, it will fall short. It will be like the love you have for tacos. It’s pretty awesome, but it won’t save a life or build a future. Not even the best tacos. My spouse is the bee’s knees, but I don’t put the weight of perfection or filling my soul on his shoulders. He would collapse, and I’d end up dissatisfied. But, when I can realize that by falling fully for the only love that makes sense (the love of Christ), I am more able to healthily and happily invest in my other relationships. I can share that perfect love with them, and together we can all be content.

God’s Word for Your Challenging Child

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I watched the rise and fall of her small chest, and I noted her tiny, bird-like frame. She reminded me of myself as a child. Tiny, petite, frail. I had spent most of her childhood pushing away worries of broken bones or illness, since even a stomach bug made her look like she was at death’s door. Who could forget the purple lips and labored breathing that accompanied her first bout with vomiting, and the antsy anxiety of the provider who saw her that day. I don’t think either of us expected the happy, waving tot who waddled out of that office an hour later, following some good ole phenergan gel. Point being, a part of me always worried for her physically, even as I knew the Lord held her, but that wasn’t what dominated my heartfelt prayers for her this morning.

I thought back to the night before, her torrent of tears, the way I stroked her blond hair while whispering softly, “it’s ok, baby.”

It wasn’t the first time she broke down with emotion, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She cried when she was sad, happy, scared, or regretful. Her tears fell easily, but it wasn’t simply show. She felt each emotion, and she felt them deeply. She always had. I worried about that.

“Give me wisdom, Lord,” I prayed.

It certainly wasn’t the first time I uttered that particular plea to God. One of my biggest worries for this child (beyond any anxiety I held for my other daughters) was that I’d mess it up big time. I mean, I worried about that for all my children, but especially the sweet, special soul before me. God had a plan for her life. I just knew it.

She was sensitive like me. Over-sensitive, even. She was a mercy gift like her father. She loved others, like us both, and her servant heart made me smile. I knew the Lord had made her sweet spirit to empathize with others, but still, nights like last night made me worry. Feeling her racking tears shake her little body. Wiping away salty sobs again and again. It was those concerns that flooded me while I kissed her forehead before leaving for work, depositing not just the brush of my lips, but my most heartfelt intercession also.

It was at that moment, as I looked at her light and airy beauty, in contrast to the heaviness of my heart, that a verse came to mind.

Romans 8:28 (NIV) And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose.

I knew the Lord meant this word for my girl. I often questioned if her particular character traits were God-instilled, or if perhaps (and maybe that’s the deep, dark part of all moms) I had done something in her upbringing to cause such fragile emotions. Yes, I worried I had wrecked things, and continued to wreck things, even though I knew I hadn’t and wasn’t. But with the Lord’s truth, I knew it didn’t really matter one way or the other. Whether the world or the spirit drove her tender heart, it was our Father in Heaven who guided her life. He would (and could) use all circumstances for her good. The outcome didn’t rest solely on my thin, human shoulders. He could work with a mustard seed, and He could certainly work with my faltering attempts at motherhood. He could work with her kind heart, shining His light through it, and His truth could shatter any lies the world tried to pepper into her mind.

It isn’t always easy raising an emotional, anxious child. It can be frustrating dealing with a hyperactive, easily distracted child. It is hard letting the reins loose for a physically fragile, or easily ill child. But despite the difficulties, one thing is true. Christian parents do not parent alone. That’s a relief! But the even better news? Despite it all, the Lord will work all things for the good of His children. Because, you see, my daughter isn’t just my girl. She’s His too.