Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

One Thing Christians are Missing About Kanye West

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I know I wasn’t the only one shocked when Kanye West came out publicly declaring his newfound Christian faith, and if I’m brutally honest, upon first hearing the news I responded with a raised eyebrow. I mean, when someone has a prior reputation that doesn’t exactly mirror what the Bible teaches, you kinda wonder. When their life wasn’t previously known for being Christ-like, you have your doubts. But then I remembered I had a past too. If paparazzi had blasted photos of my prior escapades across the glossy pages of gossip mags, you wouldn’t put an iota of stock into any word I wrote here. My past would define me; not the God who had saved me. To the world, anyway.

I then realized the only difference between me and Kanye (other than he raps and I write) was our sphere of influence. And maybe that my past was more sordid. Regardless of who was the bigger sinner, our main distinction came in the fact that Mr. West was a huge celebrity, whereas I had 2,100 people subscribed to my email list. So, while everyone was questioning his conversion, no one had really noticed mine ten years ago.

The fact was, though, that I wasn’t alone in my initial doubt of Kanye finding Jesus. Most people were shocked and skeptical, but while we were busy questioning a man’s motives, he was busy proclaiming the gospel. And while we were carrying out God’s role alone of judgement, Kanye was letting his light shine, no matter the cost.

See, here’s what all the questioning Christians are missing. While we’re busying ourselves with condemning a man who only God can truly see, we’re missing out on the important business. Mr. West, though, is not. He seems to be the only one focused on Kingdom purposes concerning His salvation. The Christian world is questioning his sincerity, but Kanye is questioning his fellow man’s eternity.

I discovered a couple of years ago that we are all on the mission field, no matter who you are. As a nurse I’ve cried with a clinically depressed man after a failed suicide attempt, and I’ve also told a drug addict it’s not too late for her. I’ve set up a safe escape plan for a sex trafficked woman, and I’ve supported too many people to count through their grief. So while I’ve clinically saved physical lives in my job, I’ve also spiritually saved more than my fair share. I have been the only light of a Christ someone has known, and the first loving care they’ve experienced in years. I’ve cared for the homeless without disdain, for the HIV patient without judgement, and the criminal with as much compassion as I would any VIP. In fact, my only regret is that it took me so long to realize the ministry God was placing before me each and every day.

I guess the question is, how many of us are raising an eyebrow as Kanye talks about Christ, yet we don’t mention the Lord in public at all? How many of us are calling him a fake, but we can’t even call the people around us who need help a friend? How many of us are focused on watching to see if Kanye will fall, but we ourselves are slipping? How many of us look at him with skepticism, but meanwhile we remain silent for Jesus out of fear?

You know what? I have no idea if Kanye West is sincere in his faith. I have an idea, based on his countenance and things he’s said, but I don’t really know. You see, it’s not really my concern; that’s between him and God. But here’s what I do need to be concerned about. My. Own. Actions.

Do you want to know what Christians are missing about Kanye West?

His testimony.

He exists in the public eye. His fortune has been made far away from the church. He has a lot to lose, according to the world, and he knows it more than most. Even in his lyrics of his new album he mentions that his record won’t be bought because he’s singing about Jesus. A large number of his fanbase will fall away, and he doesn’t care. He’s focused on the ones who will stay, the ones who will listen, and the ones who will come to know Christ through his conversion.

Meanwhile, you have Sally, the every Sunday church-goer afraid to mention she’s a Christian at work. You have children of God who are saying nothing about their Father. They’re taking their blessing and holding it close, sharing it with no one. The sad part is most of these people are like me, out of the spotlight and public eye, with little to lose for proclaiming God’s goodness, yet they’re still choosing to go about their life like spreading the gospel doesn’t matter. Meanwhile Kanye is doing nothing but talking about God’s glory.

Do you want to know what Christians are really missing concerning Kanye West?

They are missing the harvest. Like the Bible tells us, the harvest is ready, ripe for the picking, but the workers are few. Y’all, we don’t have to be pastors to talk about Jesus. You can talk about Jesus as a nurse, stay-at-home mom, bank teller, or famous rapper! You don’t have to be at church or on a foreign mission field to lead people to Christ. You can do it at work, school, at a restaurant, or in the public spotlight. The very judgmental and unforgiving public spotlight.

So instead of wondering if Kanye is sincere, or betting on his “fall from grace,” let’s focus on how we can be more like him. Let’s throw caution to the wind, turn from the world, let go of the comfortable, step out into the unknown, led by faith, and tell people how good God is. Shout it from the rooftops. Since we’re not on TV and radio, shouting jubilantly might be necessary. Lol. What I’m saying is, let’s not look at what Kanye may not be doing and celebrate what he is doing. He’s testifying to how God changed his life. He’s telling everyone!

Really, the only thing we need to think about Kanye West is to let him serve as a reminder to us of this question. When is the last time we told someone (much less everyone) what God has done for us?

I Don’t Identify as a Woman

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I’ve heard this in the media a lot lately, and last night as I sat slightly uncomfortable in a huge gathering of women, I felt it.

I don’t identify as a woman.

As hard as I have tried over the years, especially in high school, and as much as I may want it to be different, I just don’t feel it. I don’t. I don’t guess I’ve ever identified as a woman.

A couple of weeks ago I sat in church and they announced an upcoming Women’s Conference. The video made it look very appealing, but there was that large part of me that was like, “nah. I’m good.”

See, I’m not really a joiner, especially where women are concerned. I don’t fit in, I never have, and many years ago I stopped trying. I just wasn’t like them. I couldn’t get into the whole “girls’ night out,” and I didn’t trust ladies any further than I could throw them. Which isn’t far. Because even if they’re little, I’m really weak. But I digress. The point is, well, I’m going to be very honest here. I don’t like females.

Ok, I love being a woman. I love having daughters. But somewhere between being the new kid in third grade and being the butt of a bully’s angst in high school, I decided I could take it or leave it where female friendships were concerned. Actually, leave it. Definitely leave it.

The thing is, God has really been dealing with me. He’s been teaching me new things over the past couple of years, stretching me, and taking me to new levels of trust with Him. Selling all my possessions and moving my family of five 800 miles away from all our extended family and friends? No problem. Taking on a job with zero insurance or paid time off? Easy peasy. That same travel position having no security of employment and income or knowledge of where the next job would come from? Bring it on! But stepping out of my turtle shell of introversion? I’m sure that wasn’t the voice of God.

So when I heard about the Women’s Conference I was of two minds. One said, go, but the other said hide.

“Oh, man. I work a shift at the hospital that day. Too bad,” I thought, with little upset.

But dang it. Still that feeling nagged me to go.

“Okay, God,” I prayed. “I’ll try and see if I can get off work. If you really want me to go, make it work.”

I challenged Him, and of course, He challenged me right back. I got the day off easily, no matter how much I told my boss, “I know this is last minute, so it’s ok if you can’t…”

Despite my dislike of most women, because let’s be honest, we’ve all lived through our own version of the Mean Girls movie, I do have a handful of trusted women in my life. It just so happened that most of them were my immediate family, and the rest were a thousand miles away. Undeterred, I went ahead to the conference alone, the Holy Spirit my plus one, and I asked God to use it for my growth.

Immediately upon arriving I realized there were women everywhere. I didn’t know any of them and I really didn’t like crowds, but I checked in with a smile and went to find a seat. I found a back row with a few open spots, settled into one, then was kindly asked to move over so a group of friends could sit next to their friends. I moved into the one empty seat, directly behind a large column blocking my view of the stage. I got up quickly and repeated this same sidestep seat swap another time before finally finding a vacant spot where a group of women were kind enough to let me linger.

At that moment I felt so alone in that big crowd. I watched women laughing and socializing with one another. I smiled brightly, watching, waiting, hoping for someone I could try and engage, but still I felt like an outsider. I had always felt that way. I had never fit in. I had always been the weirdo, the one other women talked about when I walked away. It had taken me years, decades even, to stop trying to fit in. I had finally, at forty, come to a place in my life where I was happy with how God made me, I wasn’t going to try and change for anyone, and I didn’t care what anyone thought! Ha. I felt peace with me. So why was God upsetting the balance?! Why push me to (I shudder) hang out with others.

The preacher was no better! He had said something six months or so ago that started this thorn in my side. It’s like he had been staring straight at me when he said God wanted us loving others, building relationships, and stepping out of our comfort zone. He deflated my balloon of intimate introversion, going so far as to say it wasn’t of God. Well, crap.

Next thing I knew God kept building on that, putting desires in me to join Outreach teams and small groups. All things that were outside of my wheelhouse. My safety net, my equally shy and shut-in spouse, he was no help. In an out of character for him fashion, he readily agreed to my suggestions of “getting involved.”

As I sat in that church last night, my wounded flesh wanted to scream, “I don’t belong here!” That bullied, flat-chested, anorexic teenager in me wanted to dwell on having no one to sit by or being ignored and pushed aside.

Instead I spoke in a whisper, “not today, satan.”

Y’all, I’ve never identified as a woman in that, I’m not like most. I have been hurt, and I’ve been pushed into my warm cocoon. I’ve made my circle so small that it no longer has room for God to work in my life the things He needs to work. So, He’s been calling me out of my circle of safety. He’s been calling me to step out and (gulp) make friends. Female ones! I’ve never identified as a woman in that I haven’t been able to enjoy or relate to the value of female friendships that other women seem to revel in. I feel God calling me to different ministries, but it seems you have to actually be around other people for that to work. Sigh.

It’s comical sometimes the things God can do to bring you where He wants you to be. Especially when you ask Him for it. He can make a borderline hoarder (I’m talking about myself, by the way) sell all their stuff, and take a scared girl (in a forty-two year old body) out of her shell. So, I’m open to that.

I haven’t ever been able to identify as a woman (not like other women, anyway), and even now it’s hard for me. But I see God moving. I see Him changing my heart. I see Him chiseling away the walls I’ve built. So last night I may have sat on the sidewalk alone, eating my nachos, praying someone would come talk to me, but I also made my way over to a group of ladies I knew, carrying a dessert, and starting a conversation like a bonafide normal person. I even hugged a few women and signed up for a ladies group.

I haven’t always been able to identify as a woman, but I do know that I’m God’s girl. And I’m starting to see all the sisters before me that He’s placing in my path.

Is Satan Stealing Our Marriages?

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This morning I sat outside sipping hot coffee while a cool (but not too cold breeze) stirred the air. My husband and children still slept, and per usual I had awoken a bit before them so I might enjoy some quiet time before our day began. We had made plans to go swimming at a natural spring, and I knew the task of packing up for a day away awaited me. There would be suits to track down, dry clothes to pack, and of course, food for the day. Feeding a family of five at a snack bar got pricey, so bringing our own grub was a must. I’d need cold drinks to keep everyone hydrated, and I wondered if we should blow up and haul our own innertube?

Another breeze blew over me, refreshing, nice, and the Hebrew word ruach entered my mind. Wind, breath, the very spirit of God, it blew on me and I felt peace, contentment, satisfaction. “I could sit here all day,” I whispered, and by the time my husband woke up I had decided to do just that. He was quick to agree, and just like that we dropped the well-intentioned plans we had made for the day.

Have you ever noticed how plans play out? Especially with small children? You spend a large amount of time creating fun ideas, creating the best environment for those ideas, and struggling to have them play out just as you envisioned. Which never happens. We’ve forgotten how to be still, and we’ve forgotten how to enjoy simple. And it’s just one more thing that the enemy is using to drive a wedge between a husband and wife.

How many expensive vacations end in exhaustion? An empty savings account, a stressed out mind, and the silent treatment. We’re a very mobile generation, always on the move, and we expect as much from our family as we do our internet provider.

Hurry up! Come on! Let’s go. We’re running out of time!

Wives are on edge, and husbands are at the end of their rope. You see, both are working very hard to create a picture perfect life, one that Instagram would be proud of.

“I’m making memories,” we proclaim.

But at what cost, I wonder?

Overtime. Husbands and wives both working full-time to support a family is commonplace, and while I’ll be the first to admit that this world today is crazy expensive, I’ll also be the first to confess that it isn’t as pricey as we create it. We are the ones who decide our homes must be a certain size. We need the fourth bedroom and downstairs half-bath. We gotta have more than one vehicle, and it needs to be something reliable. Minivan? Yuck. No thanks. A Suburban, please. We work to buy the stuff we don’t need, and as our square footage grows, so does our work week. Cha-Ching.

But one thing is for sure. We do it for our children. They need the absolute best. They need the dance class, drama camp, and tumbling too. All of the above, please. Sign us up!

I’ll volunteer to chaperone the field trip. Hubby can coach little league on the weekends. Games on Sunday? No problem.

We pull an extra shift at work to purchase new uniforms, use that credit card for the nicer pair of cleats. Johnny says all the other kids are wearing the name-brand ones, and you don’t want him to feel left out or get bullied.

Homework. Oh my goodness, the homework those kids bring in the door. You yell too much, and then you feel guilty. You know your son is just tired from staying up late due to that extended basketball practice, and waking up early to drive across town to his exclusive private school.

Somewhere in between the late nights, running errands after practice, overtime at the office for next year’s Disney trip, and squeezing in a quick WalMart trip for another Reading Fair project, you manage to squeeze in a date night. You sit at a dark booth, both of you with your heads in your phone, and you wonder when life will slow down.

Was it always this hard?! They say it’s easier after the kids leave home, but then you think of all your parent’s friends who got divorced once empty nesters. Did they run out of stuff to talk about? You can certainly relate. I mean, what’s there to discuss once the conversation doesn’t center around the children, where they’re going and what achievement they just won? What happened to people staying in love forever? Maybe true love doesn’t exist anymore.

Or perhaps we’ve just changed our investment strategies. Maybe our focus isn’t on our marriages. I think we’re too overwhelmed to feed into that relationship. We’ve become complacent in our comfortable life as roommates, partners in parenting, and financial assistant roles. We assume our marriage will thrive without watering, with plans to feed into it later. There’s just no time!

I wonder if we create our overloaded schedules? Is it our boss insisting we work late, or are we the cause? We can’t face our spouse that we forgot how to talk to. We can’t face another conversation about the kids’ future. The stress and worry is too much, and overtime seems like a pleasant option.

I wonder if we create our debt? We need 3000 square feet! We need a trip to the coast! We need a closet so packed the doors won’t close, and a cupboard so full of processed food we can make on the fly! We need Maui, a newer cell phone, and of course, more toys. Toys to keep the children entertained, but also toys to keep each other happy. It fills the silence, you know.

We are so focused on raising the best children on the block. We are so focused on appearances. We are so focused on bigger, better, and more. We’ve gotten so good at being busy; we consider it a badge of honor. We’ve gotten so concerned with keeping up with what everyone else is doing. We’ve gotten so used to being stressed out that we think it’s normal. We medicate with wine, and we overindulge in our favorite vices. We’re too tired for sex, too exhausted to just sit and talk. We keep waiting for life to slow down, never understanding that we set the pace.

Husbands and wives become opponents instead of teammates. Marriage becomes a contest to see who contributes the most to the family unit. We become bitter, expecting our spouse to give us a reprieve, even though we ourselves have created our own chaos.

Parents forget that children don’t come first! Kids plot parents against one another, having learned early on that we allow it. We spend thousands of dollars a year on things our children don’t need, and we invest even more in a college fund to the most prestigious university. Never once do we invest in our relationship with our spouse.

But date night, you say. We have that!

Ahh, yes, the two hours alone, where you’re both too exhausted from work to do much more than lift a heavy fork to your silent mouth. That sounds lovely.

We have removed fathers from the head of the family, and we’ve replaced them with our darling child. They rule the roost. We even joke about it on Facebook. Isn’t it so cute how sassy my little diva is?!

We’ve placed our work above our families. We’ve given it to coaches and teachers to handle. Yet when something falls apart, our spouse will be the one we attack.

We’ve dropped going to church together on Sunday. It’s seriously the only day we can sleep in. Saturday is packed with extracurriculars. We’re too tired to pray together before bed, and we can’t seem to find the time to instruct our children with the Bible. They already have so much homework as it is!

But then we wonder why our children don’t respect us? We wonder why our spouse is so short-tempered.

What about our quiet time with God? Well, it’s been a while. We planned to do that today, but there was too much to do before we left the house. The house with the crazy, high mortgage, that we spend very little time in other than to sleep five hours a night.

We make excuses.

If only my husband would help out more around the house.

If only my wife would try to understand I have needs.

We’ll work this out tomorrow. I’m exhausted tonight.

One silent day leads to another, and leads to another. We find ourselves living together but feeling alone. We raise children together but exist in silence, an invisible space separating us. We make it so easy for Satan to destroy the foundation of marriage. He uses our busyness to keep us from communicating. He uses our selfishness to increase our anger. He uses our coveting and comparison to keep us working harder for more of what we don’t need. He uses our obsession with the educational excellence of our children to keep us away from time with one another. He uses our preoccupation with our cell phones, tablets, and social media accounts to keep us from making God’s Word a part of our everyday lives. He brings sin into our homes slowly, so slowly that we barely recognize it. We’re sure the movies we watch, books we read, or websites we visit in secret aren’t harming our relationships.

But I’m of the belief that we must take back our families from the enemy. We must claim our right to a happy, healthy relationship like God intended. We have to take back our time. We can’t become confused by what the world says is important. We can’t believe the lies the enemy tells us to focus on. We have to stop investing into the world and get back to investing in love. We can’t spend the majority of our life away from our families, but then wonder why they’re falling apart. We have to stop investing so much in the materialistic aspects of our home, yet neglecting the lasting flesh and blood that resides therein. We gotta stop keeping up with the Joneses and start keeping up with God’s will for our families.

God created marriage, and He didn’t just make it so we’d have someone to help us with the dishes. He didn’t create this covenant with arguments over who forgot to buy toilet paper in mind. He didn’t place us together to run ourselves ragged with busy schedules and overwhelming responsibilities. He created marriage to mirror His covenant with us, and on the day we finally become His bride, do you think He’ll be too busy running the angels to soccer practice to sit down at the banquet table with us? Do you think He’ll be too tired to talk or too overwhelmed by His day of miracles to hold us?

And here’s a thought. Our children are watching us. They are creating their idea of marriage based on our example. What type of husband are you modeling for your daughter’s future expectations? What kind of wife are you showing your son to build a life with? Do you know how Satan is stealing our marriages? Through us! We are eagerly breaking down the future foundation of marriage by our poor example, and our complacence and neglect is pushing our own spouse further and further away. It shouldn’t be so.

We have to take back our marriages before it’s too late. We have to reclaim our time so we can invest it where it is needed most. We have to take our eyes off other relationships and focus them in our own backyard. We have to let Dad lead the family. We have to stop competing. We have got to quit going and going! We have to be still! We have to sit quiet and let the ruach blow over our marriages. We’ll never feel it if we’re too busy striving for more. You have to be still to truly feel the wind blow. We have to stop handing the enemy our family on a golden platter. We have to take back what God has given us. We have to open our eyes to the gift of our spouse, just as God made them, and stop trying to make them into someone else. We have to take time to appreciate our partner. We have to trade in our badge of busy for the soothing silk of stillness. Only in simplicity can we truly see how blessed we are.

So I suppose the question is this. God has given us marriage. Will you make the pledge to take it back from the enemy today?

When Your Enemy Means You Harm

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I recently had a situation where someone wished to harm me. They had nothing to gain from me by their actions, and the only result of their jabs at me and my family would be their own pleasure. I believe you call that malicious, or perhaps vindictive. Regardless, I called it done. Despite this person’s attempt to cause us emotional and physical harm, we were unbothered. I’ll be honest; I’m pretty sure for a few minutes I wanted to be upset and worried, but I didn’t stay in that place. Thank God, I was able to abide in His truth.

Romans 8:31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

It’s easy to become tussled by our enemies. I have met plenty of people in my life who let the devil use them to do evil, and if we allow it, the attack can not just be physical, but also mental. We can become burdened by their efforts to cause us strife, and we can forget who holds our lives in His hands. It’s ok, we all lose sight. I’ve found humans are a forgetful bunch, but last night I received a wonderful reminder of God’s goodness to us, especially when we are in great need, and I wanted to share it with you.

Have you ever read the book of Esther? It’s a short book, but packed with tons of good stuff. One thing especially stuck out to me as I read it last night. In the book, Haman is a high official to King Xerxes, and Haman decides he wants to kill a Jew by the name of Mordecai. Haman is so excited for his plan of murder he even builds a gallows by which to hang poor Mordecai. Haman is an important fellow, but Mordecai follows the one true God. So watch what God does.

King Xerxes is in bed battling insomnia and decides, out of nowhere, to read a book that keeps record of his kingdom (it does sound like good sleepy-time material). In this book he’s reminded of how a guy named Mordecai outed some bad guys who wished the king harm.

Xerxes is like, “dang. That Mordecai is a good dude. I need to honor him!”

The next day in comes Haman. He’s all pumped to tell the king about his plan to hang this fella, but the king interrupts his idea with a question of his own.

“Haman,” the king asks, “how should I honor a man who really needs accolades for his service?”

Of course, Haman thinks the king is talking about him, and full of pride he suggests a parade through the city in royal duds.

Boy was he surprised when the king said, “great idea! You drive the chariot tomorrow to honor Mordecai!”

Can you imagine his face?!

Here you have the ultimate enemy of Mordecai. He wants him dead. He plans out the details. He’s basically already dug the grave for Mordecai. But God! God had different plans. What Haman meant for harm, God turned to good. Only our God can turn a death sentence into a parade in your honor!

So, whatever enemy you face today, whatever battle you find yourself in, try and remember Mordecai. The same God who saved his life is also fighting for you! God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And He loves His children with an unconditional, all-consuming love. He will move mountains for you. He can certainly handle a bit of malicious intent.

In my own situation, I am still dealing with the repercussions of my enemy’s attacks, but I am not beaten. I stand strong in what God can do. In fact, I’m excited to see how He works it all for our good.

How Do You Give It to God?!

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How in the world do you give it to God?!

Have you heard that before?!

You’re having a terribly stressful situation. It’s one of those times where you feel like you’re drowning, and there’s no buoy in sight. You know that God is in control. You know because that’s what everyone says! In fact, if you do reach out for guidance or share your plight with your Facebook friends, at least one person will say it.

“We’re praying for you, honey! Just give it to God!”

Ok. Great. Now, how do I do that again?

I think this was always one of those things in my Christian walk that kind of bothered me. Early on I asked more mature Christians the same question. Like, how? And most of the time I was told to just surrender.

“Brie, literally throw your hands up in the air and say, I can’t do it alone, God!” A friend suggested.

And yeah, that’s true. I mean, God certainly hears you, and He even answers. Things improve, it seems, after that outward expression of your innermost heart desire, but inevitably it creeps back. What I mean is, you can surrender your anxiety to Jesus on Tuesday, but by Saturday something else may rear its ugly head and the next thing you know, you’re anxious again.

Ugh, I thought I gave this to God! What gives?!

So, I sought that answer too, and I was told more good advice.

“Brie, surrender is something you have to do more than once,” my mentor said. “Sometimes, it’s a daily practice.”

And you know what? She was right about that too.

Okay, so you’re saying I need to just go on and tell God I’m giving it to Him. Check.

Then, I’ll need to do that many times over throughout my life. Gotcha.

But, do you know what else I’ve discovered? It’s taken me some time, but I have realized that giving it to God takes a lot more.

For one, it’s easy to say you surrender a situation with your words, but actually carrying that through in your head is a horse of a different color. You know what I mean. You’re sitting there minding your own business, certain that God’s got this, when suddenly you hear a little whisper of a thought. It’s a soft whisper at first.

It says something like, “but what if it doesn’t work out?”

And then the whisper gets a little louder. So you think about it some more. And it gets louder and louder. Before you know it the drumming of your heart in your ears competes with the urgent cry in your head.

“You’re going to fail,” it exclaims!

The terrible “what if’s” plague you, and you’re under its thumbnail. You know God’s got this, but what if?

What if it’s not God’s will?

Maybe He’s trying to teach me something.

Maybe I did something wrong.

Maybe this is my hard lesson.

Before you know it you’re riddled with anxiety, dread, shame, and a yucky feeling in the pit of your stomach. It manifests with physical symptoms. Headache, acid reflux, high blood pressure, insomnia, weight loss, or perhaps weight gain.

Hey, wait a minute! Didn’t I give this to God?! I must not have done it right.

You did. But I’ve discovered that us humans don’t like giving stuff away. Like, we’re major hoarders. It’s against our nature to give something away, even if it’s a problem we want to be rid of. We want to hang on to it so we can fix it, and only when we realize we can’t fix it, do we give it away! But even then, as our hands of surrender are raised high, we feel like we’re missing something. So in that empty place, we fill it. It has to be filled! Sadly, it’s typically filled with thoughts from the enemy. Remember, it’s not flesh and blood we battle. Yep, it’s the enemy who fills us with the anxious what-if’s. So it’s our job to fill that vacant place of surrender with something else.

I’ve found that the act of truly giving it to God is three-fold.

First, yes, you surrender. We got that part. God is good.

Second, you must fill the vacant place where your problem resided in your mind prior to surrender. And the only thing that will fill it right is God’s truth. Y’all, you have to read the Bible. You have to! It’s the key to surrender. Because once you give your trouble to God, the devil is going to get mad. He’s going to attack you. He’s going to attack your thoughts, and you have to hit back with truth.

You have to know scripture back and forth so when the anxious thoughts come you’ll recognize them as a lie.

You’ll be able to stand firm and say, “wait, that doesn’t sound like God.”

Nowhere in the Bible does He say it’s just your lot in life, that life sucks, or you have bad luck. Nowhere. You have to speak truth to combat lies. You speak them out loud, you repeat them to yourself daily, you speak them over your life first thing in the morning before you even feel an attack. You prepare yourself for battle.

Then… you rest. You rest in His truth. Lies come, you kill them with truth, and rest in your surrender. This is the third and final piece, and resting doesn’t just mean being still. You’ll still have to fight with truth as attacks come, but to rest is to abide. It means you live in a state of believing what you’re proclaiming.

You read the truth, you memorize the truth, you repeat the truth. You repeat it over and over until it becomes passive like breathing. You exist, breathing in and out this truth, wearing it like your favorite hoodie. It becomes so engrained in your very center that it’s not just words; it’s the very sustenance of your life. It’s the meat, and you chew on it until it sticks to your bones. That way, despite if attacks come, you’re not frantically fighting them off. Instead you’re resting in the truth of Jesus that has already won the war. If that doesn’t make you want to jump and shout hallelujah then I don’t know what will!

Bottom line, friends. Giving it to God comes down to abiding in the victory Christ has already obtained for you. Spoiler alert… the devil doesn’t win. Anxiety doesn’t win. Depression doesn’t win. We just lose sight of that, sometimes, and that’s ok. There’s still room at the victory table, and getting a seat there starts with surrender. It’s followed by digging in and equipping yourself with God’s word. Then it’s topped off (it is finished, see what I did there) with abiding in His truth that your are in Him, and He is in you. That, my friends, is giving it to God.

How to Find Your Happy

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I could probably gripe about a lot of things that annoy me when working as a nurse, but if I had to pinpoint my biggest frustration it would probably be computer problems. Like, ugh. Since when do I have to be an IT Specialist?!

I’ve been charting electronically for eighteen years or so, and in all that time I’ve discovered the number one fix when having computer trouble.

You call the Help Desk (appropriately named), and you plead, “help me! My screen is frozen!”

I mean, you just wanna finish charting. You have sooooo much to do and so little time.

Usually the IT person will fire back with, “have you restarted your computer?”

“I need you to turn it off, give it about fifteen seconds, then turn it back on.”

Reboot. Unplug. Reminds me of calling Comcast Cable. Am I right?!

The IT guy will take control of my mouse and locate some screen I didn’t know existed where he’ll “end” the running programs. Heck, I’ve had instances where I had a handful of programs running at once and didn’t even realize it.

A couple of years ago I realized I wasn’t as happy as I knew I should/could be. I mean, I was happy for my family, time with my husband and kids, our home, and the nuggets of great moments mingled here and there, but something wasn’t right. I loved my life, but it’s like the program wasn’t running like it should. I was frozen by anxiety, stalled by worry, and run down with fatigue. It turns out I had too many tabs open on my dashboard, and I was running more programs than my server could handle. I wasn’t operating at full speed, and I seriously needed to delete some cookies, but not being very techy, I didn’t have a clue.

Remember that movie “How Stella Got Her Groove Back?” Well, I guess I could have titled this post appropriately as, “How Brie Got Her Happy Back.”

Remember how the Help Desk always tells you to turn off your computer, or to end your multiple programs? Well, when I cried out for help in life, God came back that I had too many tabs open. It was overwhelming. I wasn’t running at my full potential of joy because I was running too many irrelevant programs. I had to delete some cookies. Empty the trash.

I started with unplugging. I stopped running and got real quiet. Once I turned off my anxious mind and sought the Lord for what was important in life, I was able to hear His direction. I had to close some tabs. I had to evaluate what I could close out, and what I needed to keep open.

I decluttered not just my mind, but also my life. I stopped activities that weren’t building up my relationship with my family. That direct sales business that was consuming me? I let it go. All the clothes I had to wash? I gave them away. All the trinkets I had to dust? I sold them. The big house I couldn’t keep clean? I let it go. The busy tasks that I thought I needed to do to be a “good mom?” I stopped. The comparisons of myself to other women? I turned my eyes from others, and instead I sought the Lord.

“What do you want for my family, God?”

All the things I had thought were important, I realized they were not so much.

I asked myself, “is this ________ leading my children closer to the Lord? Is is glorifying Jesus? Is it building my witness? Is it built in love, and does it display God’s love to others?”

If the answer was “no,” then I re-evaluated if that was a tab I needed to keep open, or if it was bogging down my productivity.

If it was keeping me busy, but not making me fulfilled, I let it go. Y’all, you’ve never seen such a decluttering. Not only did I sell or give away furniture I had accumulated over a twenty year period, but I also trashed false ideas the enemy had planted in my mind over several decades. I let go of fear over things I couldn’t change, and I got rid of material possessions that took up my time and money. We re-evaluated how much we worked. If we downsized our life, couldn’t we also downsize our work week? The answer was yes. If we got a smaller home and less cars, couldn’t we gain more time together? Absolutely. If we dumped our full schedule and let go of our preconceived notions of how our life should look, we found a hidden treasure.

It was our happiness. Peace in simplicity. A feeling of fulfillment in simple pleasures. A healthy operating system that ran more smoothly with less windows open. The to-do list got chiseled down, and the moments of quiet increased. The problem is, we live in a society that celebrates busy! The fuller your plate, the more successful you must be. But we debunked that myth. We live in a world that says more is better, and then we wonder why our days at work drag like a slow internet connection, or our off days disappear like a hastily deleted file. I’ll tell you a secret. More isn’t better; it’s only overwhelming your system.

Running from one thing to another is typically something people brag about, but then they wonder why everyone in the family falls apart prior to bedtime. Wives and husbands are craving a date night because their schedules are too full for everyday moments together. Families are on countdown for vacation so they can escape the hectic pace of their life. Why is it this way?

When our systems break down either physically, emotionally, or mentally, we cry out to God, “why?!”

And He’s just shaking His head, “I told you to be still.”

Perhaps the cure for anxiety is letting go. Maybe the solution to financial worry is getting rid of the root of the problem. I’m saying that I think the secret to finding your happy is in the action of taking your eyes off the things that cause you stress. Everyone laments about their stressful life and full schedule, but how many are actually finding a solution? If you’ve got too many files open, close them out! If you’re holding on to problems you cannot change, people who cause you pain, and past hurts, then it’s time to delete the cookies. Empty the trash. Unplug. Give your system a break, and when you restart, I’d consider removing all the dangerous files.

I had to get to a point in life where I said, “is this impacting my eternity or my children’s salvation?”

No? Then I’m letting it go.

I asked, “does this have a kingdom impact? Is it glorifying God?”

No? Bye-bye.

And finally, “is it done it love?”

If it’s not done in love or showing His love, then I’m not really about it. I can be happy at my job, because I’m showing His love. I can be happy with less stuff, because I have all I need. Love. I can do less activities that keep me busy, and spend more time loving my family. For my husband and me, every day together is like a date night. When thoughts come to my mind that cause me anxiety or depression I’m immediately questioning, “but is this love.” God doesn’t give me thoughts that aren’t centered or from a place of His love for me. Even His conviction is from His love, but fear never is. When I clear my mind of the outside noise, I can more easily clear it of the inside noise. Interesting how that works.

So, how do you find your happy? By looking for it! It’s just not found where you think. It’s not found in a bigger house and fatter bank account. It’s not found in pay raises and job promotions. It’s not even found in a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth (sorry Mickey fans). Are you ready for it? Your happy is found right where you are. It’s right here. It’s directly in front of you and in your grasp. You just can’t see it for all the distractions. You’re running too many tabs all at once and holding on to files you should have gotten rid of long ago. If you’re crying out to the Help Desk, I can tell you already, they’re gonna ask if you’ve turned it off.

Restart. Reboot. End Program. Because you can only run on so much before you crash.

We’re All Defective

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Once I cared for a young man who had survived an overdose attempt. He was young enough to be my son, and as I looked at his handsome face and deep, kind eyes, I did feel an almost motherly affection for him. In fact, after we had gotten comfortable with one another I jokingly addressed him as “son,” and he in turn called me “mom.” It was a good day, that day, and my time with him reminded me of something we can all forget.

We’re all broken. In one way or another.

He had just so happened to hit his rock bottom place. Do you remember yours? Maybe you haven’t hit it yet.

I can recall mine. I was around the same age as him. College. That time where you’re supposed to be grown, and it seems like everyone expects you to have it all figured out. It’s funny to me, an age where an individual has the ability to lay their life on the line for their country, is also an age where so much uncertainty can be. But I’ve found that it’s in those lonely, indeterminate times that God meets us. When our hands are thrown in the air, when we cannot find the answers, at the end of our rope; there He is.

This young man reminded me so much of myself. Sensitive, tearful, soft-spoken, kind. The tears in his eyes felt like my own, and if I could have placed my understanding of life at forty-two into his own fragile state of mind, I probably would have, but I also know that we must all get to that place in our own time. It took me a long time to get there. I still pray now that it won’t take him near as long.

During one of our many, heartfelt conversations he shared his broken spirit, in shaking, emotional words.

He cried, “I’m defective!”

And my heart broke for him. Empathetic, I felt his pain. I had known it myself. I wanted to run to his rescue, to console my son, to encourage him, to tell him how lovely he was.

I wanted to say, “no you’re not!” But something held me back.

How many times had others tried to make me see myself like Jesus saw me? Precious, loved, made new? Until I was ready to see myself like God intended, it was just words. And although it was all true, I was beautiful and made perfect, it wasn’t until I accepted my brokenness that I could allow Jesus to fix me.

So instead I answered him, “yes, you are defective! So am I! So is everyone. It’s called being human. And it’s ok.”

If God had a clubhouse with a sign above the door I am very certain what it wouldn’t say. It wouldn’t read,

No Sinners Allowed

It wouldn’t proclaim,

No Brokenness Can Enter Here

The Lord certainly isn’t the little boy on the school bus in Forest Gump saying, “you can’t sit here!”

No, I like to think that Jesus is more like Jenny, patting the empty seat beside her, a smile even though we’re a little weird, a little different, a little defective.

No, I think if God had a clubhouse, the uneven, wooden slab above the door would read in faded, red paint,

No Perfect People Allowed

It’s only once we’ve accepted His invitation inside that we are made perfect through Him. And even that is a journey.

We’re all broken, you see, in one way or another. Many of us experienced a horrible childhood, some worse than others. Some can move on from the ashes, and others not so much. I do know this; we all need a hand out of our mess. We’re all defective, like my young patient felt, and it’s in that mangled mess that God can save us. It’s in our weakness that His strength emerges, and it’s in our hopeless, helpless, unrecoverable life that He can make all things new.

You know what you can’t see when you’re at the bottom? The top. You know what you can’t see in the midst of misery? The way out. It’s ok. It’s ok because He is the light at the end of the tunnel. He is the hand that pulls us out of our mess.

God doesn’t expect our perfection to come to Him. He just wants our love. He takes care of all the rest. So, while the bad news is that yes, we’re all defective, the good news is that He in turn is our perfector.

What God Would Say to the Woman Who’s Not Enough

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Most of us women, at one time or another, feel as if we’re not enough, like we’re lacking some fundamental trait that will magically transform us into the women we wish to be. Not a patient enough mother, or perhaps you’re a wife who suffers to serve. We desire to be that mighty woman of God, to get it right at least every now and again. A fight with our spouse, or a harsh, thoughtless word screamed in frustration at our children prove to us where we have fallen short once again. If only we could be the kind of friend our girlfriends need, or have the time and energy to volunteer at church. If only we could keep the kitchen clean, laundry basket empty, or keep up with our graying roots like other moms seem to do.

We see our Facebook friends dressing trendy, our Instagram idols redecorating their homes. The lady next door doesn’t have trash falling out of the backseat of her minivan, and the mom of four at church, her kids are always so well behaved! A condescending look at the grocery store, the well-intentioned yet hurtful advice from an older woman at church, and the thoughtless comment from your husband all cement the idea that you need to step it up. You need to change, improve, work on you!

Wash your face, wipe your eyes, and work on you! Make time for yourself, yet cherish time with your children, time that is fleeting, and that you’re constantly reminded passes too quickly. How does that work?!

You’ll miss this, they say, all while taking afternoon naps themselves that you can’t personally enjoy.

So you strive to do better. You endeavor to be a Proverbs 31 woman, even though you feel like a Prozac 24/7 kinda gal. If you feel depressed you must not be godly enough, so back to the drawing board for you. Watch your weight, exercise, pray, repeat. Count backwards from ten, take your vitamins, and drink more water. Go out with your girlfriends, read a book, take time for yourself. Stay attractive for your spouse, serve him in love, and give him the affection you yourself feel like you’re lacking. Be in the mood, even if you’re not. Meal prep, crockpot, freezer meals. Keto, Paleo, Weight Watchers, Hello Fresh. So much advice, yet so little time. I don’t know about you, but I just want to not be tired anymore, and to wake up without a sore neck and back. Also, why am I anxious about nothing at all?!

Being a woman is hard, but working to be the woman you think you should be is even harder. It’s not easy being everything for everyone, yet still feeling like you’re not enough. Not good enough, pretty enough, young enough, thin enough, strong enough, happy enough. You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, sure, but maybe you just want to be the cup you yourself could enjoy. You want to be the mother your children deserve, the wife your husband desires, and the woman God needs you to be. Why is it so hard?!

Well, take a breath and listen. This is what God would say to you today.

Stop! Don’t work on you. Work on knowing me better. Stop striving to be the “mighty woman of God” you think you should be, and instead simply rest in who I have created you to be.

I don’t want you to be like her. I created you to be you. The things you see as flaws, I put those there. I thoughtfully formed your crooked nose and short legs. And even the flaws that the world has harshly placed upon you, I can work with those too. Don’t doubt what I can do.

The world will say you are not enough. Even my other children will tell you that is so. Satan will whisper lies so stealthy you will think they are truth, but I promise you this. You can only find my truth in my Word. If it’s not in the Bible, then it’s not for you to believe.

Stop seeking self-improvement, and instead seek my face. Spend time with me. Pour over my truths in scripture, and let that truth flood your soul. Allow it to take over your thoughts so that when lies from the enemy come, because they will, you can overpower them with who I say you are.

Stop working on being better, and start being better in me. Remember that my strength is in your weakness, that you have been made perfect in me, that I am in you, and you are in me. Together, there is no lack. There is always enough.

You are what I say you are, and you are enough. You can rest in my perfect peace, knowing the plans I have for you, plans for a wonderful future.

Stop fighting battles I have already won. Stop waging war on yourself. I take it personally. I created the stars in the sky, ones you cannot even see, ones that shine so fiercely they are blinding up close, but you are still my most precious creation. Just as you are. Stop trying to alter my design.

Stop planning to do better, and simply follow my path I have laid out for you. You cannot see it for your own anxieties of becoming lost. When you feel lost, go back to my map. Read the words there in red. They tell you the way.

Stop working on being a better you, and focus on residing in me. I am your safe place. I can block out the whispers that say you’re not enough. There’s nothing wrong with desiring to be a better you, except when you begin to think you alone hold the key to change. Only I can change hearts, and only in me will you find the completeness you desire. Stop trying to be everything, and rest in the fact that I already am. In me you have fullness of life. In me, you are already enough.

35 Things Nursing is Like…

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Have you ever had one of those days? Like, I’m talking about the kind of day where you hit a brick wall mentally in what you feel like you can handle for the shift, but then you realize you have to keep going? Through that concrete wall?! Yeah, I had one of those recently. It happens in the field of nursing.

But thankfully there’s also the days where you wanna pinch yourself and say, “I can’t believe they’re paying me so much to do this!”

Regardless of the day, good or bad, crazy busy or super slow, blessed or a mess, you can typically think of some amusing ways to describe it. I know when I was losing my marbles the other day I thought of a really good one. So, without further ado, here’s 35 descriptions of nursing, or comparisons, if you will, that I thought might brighten your day. Enjoy.

Nursing is like…

  1. Forest Gump’s box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.

  2. A magician’s handkerchief. You can think you’ve reached the end of a task, but it just keeps coming and coming.

  3. Working in a restaurant. It’s either dead or dinner rush.

  4. Murphy’s Law on Steroids.

  5. Reading stereo instructions. Upside down. In Mandarin.

  6. Riding a bicycle. On ice. Very thin ice.

  7. A cruise. On the Titanic.

  8. Final exams. But if you fail someone dies.

  9. The movie Groundhog Day.

  10. That dream where you’re falling.

  11. Being lost in the desert. Your lunch break is the oasis in the distance. But it keeps being a mirage.

  12. The nightmare where you’re naked in front of a classroom. Except the class is your patient’s family. And the speech you’re giving is the answer to irrelevant questions.

  13. A debate. And your opponent is WebMD.

  14. A Maury episode. “You stated you didn’t need anything else. Your use of the call light 0.2 seconds later determined that to be a lie.

  15. Being a firefighter. But all your extinguishers and hoses are filled with gasoline. And there’s no accessible emergency exit.

  16. Playing Tetris. Your level is the elevator. Before the door closes you have to stack your patient, bed, IV pole, Respiratory Therapist, transporter, and self. God Speed.

  17. Being a lip reader.

  18. Being a mind reader.

  19. Playing Good Cop/Bad Cop. You play both parts. In the same shift.

  20. Waiting tables. But there’s no tips.

  21. An episode of Dr. G.

  22. An episode of Hoarders.

  23. An episode of Intervention.

  24. An episode of My Strange Addiction.

  25. That song from The Lamb Chop Show. “This is the shift that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend!”

  26. Being the coyote on Road Runner when he would run into a brick wall thinking it was a light at the end of the tunnel, then get up and keep the chase going.

  27. Being lost in the woods, thinking you’re about to find your way out over the next ridge, then realizing you just walked in a circle.

  28. Leading a horse to water, but then it getting admitted within thirty days for dehydration.

  29. Being a personal assistant to a Kardashian. Not the ones on the show, but maybe one of their less well-known cousins.

  30. Being a superhero, but anyone who knows you just thinks you’re Clark Kent or Peter Parker.

  31. Those circus performers who balance multiple spinning plates on tiny poles.

  32. MacGyver. With fewer supplies on hand.

  33. A plane going down, and trying to remember to put on your own mask before helping others.

  34. Dinner at the inappropriate relatives’ table. Have you heard the conversations at the nurses’ station?!

  35. Nothing you see on the medical dramas on television!

What ones can you add? Let me know in the comments.

If My Mother Was Still Alive

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If my mother was still alive she’d be turning sixty-five years old today. As a middle aged woman of forty-two, myself, that seems so young. Since I’ve started living an RV lifestyle I am surrounded by men and women decades older, who are full of life and vigor. It doesn’t seem fair sometimes that a woman who loved life so much is gone. It doesn’t seem right that a lady who desired grandchildren so intensely passed away before she met even one of (now) seven grandkids. Most of the time, I just try not to think about it.

Have you ever had someone in your life become someone else? What I mean is, they change. One day you’re close, the next day, not so much. It’s usually some huge event that fosters change, but sometimes, I guess, people just evolve. They become someone new, and that someone doesn’t fit into your life anymore. It’s almost like they died, like they dropped off the face of the earth. Or even if you do speak, it seems like such a foreign conversation.

You ask yourself, who is this person?!

It’s happened to me before. Someone I love dearly moves on to a new life, with new friends, new hobbies, new interests, and it feels like the person I once held so dear is no more. Except for the moments.

I’ve discovered, in my own personal experience that you are sometimes given glimpses, or precious moments of time where the old personality of your friend or loved one emerges, even if just briefly. Just such a moment occurred for me recently, and afterwards I joyfully shared it with my spouse.

“Do you know what I wouldn’t give to have a moment like that with Mom?” I asked my husband.

As we spoke I explained to my husband that while it could make me sad to lose a relationship through distance or time, that when it was reunited it was even sweeter than before. Though the relationship I had once known was gone, those spectacular glimpses into our prior connection were a treasure. And though they were far and few in-between, they still were wonderful. Like a breath of a sweet fragrance your memory had locked away for safe keeping.

If my mother was still alive today I would cherish each second with her for the fleeting time it was. Because now I realize that even one, five minute, phone conversation would be like Christmas morning. Even one hug, one glimpse of her smile, one sound of her raucous laughter, that would be the biggest thing for me. One small encounter would mean the world. One smell of her perfume, one minute of advice, one session with her gentle, listening ear. What I wouldn’t do for that one moment of time!

I wish I could buy her a birthday card today, but even more, that I could watch her read it. I would scour the card aisle, reading every one, and even then I know it wouldn’t get close to conveying how much I loved her, missed her, needed to see her face. But I sure would love the opportunity to try and see.

I wish she could meet the girls. I would let them visit whenever she asked, and I wouldn’t complain when she spoiled them! I’d laugh about how ridiculous they acted when they came back home hopped up on sugar and leniency. I promise I would.

I would listen to her say, “you did that exact thing when you were little!”

In fact, I yearn to hear her say that. After all, she was the only one who knew those things.

Did I learn to crawl first or cruise?

Was I easy to potty train?

Surely I wasn’t as persistent as my second child is, or as independent as the third!

What do you think, Mom?

I think that if my Mom was still alive I could finally pick up the phone and tell her what’s on my mind, instead of intending to call for a split second, before sadly remembering I cannot.

I would ask her advice. I would share how wonderful life has gotten over the last ten years, even though she hasn’t been a part of it, and I’d let her know that’s the only piece missing. Her.

As it stands, I long for forever, to not have to wish for mere moments, but to enjoy timeless togetherness. For that will be a fine day indeed. But until that day I’ll enjoy every morsel of each one that exists for me here on earth. I’ll savor the moments that pass too quickly and fade into memories before your very eyes. I’ll enjoy every smile, every laugh, each and every one. I’ll cherish my relationships, my family, and all the in between.