Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Can You Love as Adamantly as You Disagree?

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I guess you’ve noticed my drop in posting lately. I’ve taken a step back from social media and public opinion so I could focus on the Lord and His next steps for our family. Despite whether I’ve been writing the past couple of weeks or not, though, my inbox has kept steady with communication from strangers who have come across my writing. This has always been the case, and for the most part I receive lovely encouragement from others. Sometimes I do not. Lately I’ve gotten more ALL-CAPS angry emails than usual, and it hasn’t surprised me a bit considering the state of our country presently. It’s the main reason I took a social media hiatus, but that doesn’t stop my ‘contact me’ box from remaining open.

This past week I received an email from a stranger who had stumbled across a blog post I wrote back in early June 2020 questioning how Jesus might perceive the phrase Black Lives Matter. I could recall it being a well-received post from the people close to me who knew my heart, but as the article swept across the Nation it received mixed reviews. Or perhaps it’s just the angriest voices that speak the loudest. Regardless, the email I received from a man I did not know in reference to this post started by calling me a “daughter of Satan.”

I could go on with the remainder of the insults therein. I could even post it here with his name, but that would be me retaliating for my offense, and that’s not actually what I’m doing here. I don’t take offense. It only makes me sad. Sad that someone who doesn’t even know me took the time to follow a few links to my webpage, contact form, and pen a rage-filled paragraph for me. I guess you could say I’m getting pretty used to it, though. The night before I was labeled by another stranger a “heretic” and guilty of “leading people astray.” I think I’ve had my salvation questioned more in the past few months than ever in my life. But let’s get to the point, shall we.

Let’s put Facebook posts and blog articles aside. I mean, everyone has opinions, and anyone is free to start their own webpage and proclaim them. But, it’s like my husband has told me numerous times, you’ll never influence people with words you share on the internet as much as you will by the life you lead each day. And this was certainly true. I have come to realize this year that opinions will change as we grow. I mean, when I was looking for the link to the recent article I shared above for BLM, I found another I had written in 2016. It was very different. In fact, I think the gentleman who called me a child of Satan probably would have applauded my previous work, but that is neither here or there. My point is, opinions change, people change. Who you vote for in one election may alter drastically in later years, but it’s not our politics that impact the lives around us for Jesus. It’s how we live each day.

My last day of work at the hospital I’ve been at in Orlando, I sat with the most adorable nursing assistant ever. I love her, and she makes me laugh out loud, literally, with her amazing sense of humor. She’s a great tech, and I enjoyed working with her. As we spoke about my upcoming move I brought up the subject of racial injustice. It was a topic newer to me, but one the Lord had really stoked in my spirit this year. Once I opened up the dialogue, and knowing my heart like she did, she began to release her emotions freely. She cried while she expressed her fears to me for her nineteen year old son. She shared personal stories of his interaction with law enforcement, and she recounted a situation of when he didn’t come home at curfew, and her and her mom got frantic with the worry he had been pulled over and shot. She talked about how happy she was that he loved to play video/computer games because it kept him mostly in his room, where she could be certain he was safe.

I couldn’t understand her feelings here. I mean, I wanted to. I sympathized with her concerns as a mother, but I couldn’t fully empathize with her plight. I didn’t have to. I was the mother of four, white daughters. So what I did instead was listen as she spilled her emotions. Then I told her, “I can’t even begin to imagine how this feels, but I can tell you this. This isn’t right. You should not have to feel this way! I love you, and I stand by you in this fight.”

The thing is, I had been working alongside this woman for two years. She knew I was a Christian. She heard me listen to worship music while I charted, but she also knew I loved Jesus by my actions. She saw it in the way I treated my patients for years, but now, on my last day, I made it apparent to her that I loved her like Jesus would have me to. I saw her, and I held her concerns of value. I loved her just by listening. I loved her by offering my support.

I think that too often in this life we complicate things that are really quite simple. Like the Pharisees in the day of Jesus we focus on things that perhaps we should not. When Jesus and His disciples walked through a field the Pharisees attacked them for picking grain and eating it on the Sabbath. They were hungry, and they took of the bounty God had given. But the religious sect focused on the law (no work, or harvesting grain on Sunday) rather than feeding the need of others. I think that today, instead of choosing to walk with Jesus in that field of wheat, we’re sitting on the sidelines checking the boxes that keep us in the category of Christian according to religion. If we can say we support the right causes, vote the right color, and call out the really big sins, then we’re good. If we can attend services on Sunday we can check the box, but we don’t have to do much beyond that. We can neglect those who need us most. We can keep our Christian friends happy, but forget that it’s the sick who need a physician the most. Those are the words of Jesus, not mine. It was His response when the church leaders of the day ridiculed Him for hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I will be transparent here and tell you that when I got that email I was hurt. What’s the best way to try and cut a lover of Jesus? By questioning their salvation, or their dedication to Him. It seems that this is how fellow believers have disagreed with me lately, by calling into question my Christianity. But do you know who has never questioned it? The lost. I have crossed paths with many people who don’t live a life dedicated to the Lord, but they never question that I do. They learn of my Christianity by the cross I wear around my neck, by the music I listen to, by the scripture I post on social media, or by the words I say. They learn of my dedication to Jesus by the way I live my life each day, by the way I treat others, respond to adversity, and most importantly, by how I love.

I read the Bible a lot. Despite some comments from others telling me I need to read my Bible, I actually do. Like, I read it for hours a day, daily. I love the Word, I crave it, and I find it gives me peace when this world seems crazy. In my study of scripture I’ve never found the parts that state a specific political affiliation is required. I’ve never seen the part where Jesus pinpointed the top three sins of all time. I’ve never found the part that tells us to ridicule those with different opinions, or those who sin differently than ourselves. I do recall something about us all falling short, and I definitely remember a time or two where He instructed us to love others like ourselves. Even to lay down our lives for a brother.

Lay down your life for a friend (John 15:13). I used to think that meant dying physically so someone else could live, much like a civilian hero or soldier on the battlefield. And perhaps it does. But I also think it means metaphorically laying down your life, like, being able to lay down what the world thinks, the reputation of man, the opinion of those besides the Father. It means hanging out with tax collectors even when the Pharisees snub their noses. It means offering healing to those that some might leave bleeding on the side of the road (shout out to the Samaritans). It means standing up for what is right, even if it’s not popular opinion. It means demanding change even as people question something that only God can know. Like your heart motives. To lay down your life means to sacrifice for others, just like Jesus modeled to us. It means to love people you’ve never met, take the punishment for something you didn’t personally do, or humble yourself, even to death, albeit death of your presumptions.

I read an excerpt from Jared Byas, Love Matters More, that said, “Somehow we’ve duped ourselves into thinking that what we believe is more important than how we believe. Perhaps it’s time to remember that love matters more than just believing in God in our heads and that love is a verb.”

I wonder what would happen if we loved as well as we disagree? What if we decided to love others as much as we love our own opinion? What if we laid down offense, laid down our lives, and simply loved instead? Could we admit we have been wrong, admit others have been wrong, or try to be better today than we were yesterday? Maybe we could even throw off the labels we wear. We could decide that it’s not Democrat or Republican, so much as listen and learn. It’s not just liberal or conservative, but kindness and kingdom-thinking. Then we could remember that leading others to Jesus is more important than standing on the right side of a political battle or internet argument. Then we could remember that it’s our fruit of the spirit that will make us known as followers of Him, and certainly not the angry words we throw to a stranger.

Bullying in Christianity

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I found myself writing names on a piece of paper, with the full intention of later ripping it apart. It reminded me of something you’d be taught at a youth Summer camp, which wasn’t all together surprising considering the whole incident made me think of high school. The big difference, though, being that I was a forty-three year old woman, not a sixteen year old girl. Despite the age gap, the similarities were uncanny, and as I reflected on my teenage years, I realized I was again the victim of bullying.

As a girl I had experienced bullying by one of my peers, over a boy on the surface, but underneath due to much more pressing issues. Jealousy, self-esteem problems, and much more pain had led to the bully in school tormenting me. I wondered if pain was the cause of my current day bullying, and I tried to keep that in mind as my own heart was hurting. I remembered how hard it had been back in tenth grade. At the time I felt like the whole school was against me. No one talked to me, no one stood up for me. Just silent faces watching me walk down the hall alone. Oddly enough, that’s how I had felt last week.

As I found myself being attacked by sisters in Christ, I felt like that young woman again, head down, heart broken over supposed friends turning their back on me. I had been the victim of something I didn’t even know existed, until I found myself on the outside of the fray. Before, I had been a main member of the Christian Woman Club, but as my heart sought truth deeper than that of the world, my opinions began to conflict with that of my fellow Conservative friends. Before they had applauded my speeches, but that was when my words mirrored their own. It turns out that if you went off script, Christian women could be like a mafia family.

The key to being part of the Christian clique was to say the right things. You could speak as loudly as you wanted, as long as you spoke to popular opinion. It reminded me of the movie Mean Girls. You had to wear the right color, but it turns out it’s red, not pink, and definitely not blue. Blue was totally out.

As my mind had started to support the causes I felt the Lord leading me to champion, and as my heart of love questioned things that stood in contrast to compassion and kindness, I was met with opposition. Not by my enemies, but by my friends. Yet instead of talking it out, I found myself being shouted at. I was attacked by people I considered friends, and my Christianity questioned by people I had known over twenty years. You were allowed to proclaim yourself as a Christian if your opinions were exactly the same as the majority, but if you spoke anything different, forget about it. You got ousted from the club. So, if I disagreed with the politics, I obviously couldn’t believe in Jesus, and if I spoke love, it was called heresy. You could think, you just couldn’t think differently. You had to be in agreement on what sins specifically were the big, bad ones, and hush up about the seemingly insignificant ones. In other words, you were encouraged to read the Bible, but not so intently that you actually attempted to be like Jesus. That was way too much, and it went in opposition to things like standing up for Christian rights. Because it was good to stand up for the Lord; you just had to ignore the fact that you might have to stand on the backs of the other children of God to do it. Y’all, I don’t think God is proud about this at all. Actually, I think it makes Him sad.

Let’s just say for a moment, for sake of argument, that my ideas were bogus, that I was way off base. Call it backsliding, or whatever you wish. How do you think you should try and talk some sense into me? By attacking me, or by calling into question my salvation? Goodness. Who decided this was the way to go about it?!

After the last year, but especially the past week, I’ve sadly discovered that there’s a large amount of bullying in the Christian community. If you dare to think for yourself, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to your heart, rather than Fox News, be prepared to be called the worst of all dirty words… a liberal. I have seen friends feel led to stand up for injustice, but be silenced by the bullies around them. I have seen friends try to walk in love, but be told they’re wrong for thinking that way. There’s a rhetoric that has to be repeated, and taken in as gospel. Funny thing? When you open your eyes and take a real look, it’s the furthest thing from the gospel there is. The bullies of Christianity are displaying behavior that is the furthest from Jesus there is. How is this furthering the Kingdom?

At the start of this post I mentioned writing down names on a piece of paper. You see, I found myself yesterday feeling down. My heart was broken, and I found myself thinking again and again about the hurt I felt, about the insults hurled against me. I realized that I couldn’t continue in offense, that I had to let the hurt go much like I had purged high school from my memory. I had to remember that I was in this world, but not of it. I had to remember that I wasn’t the names the world gave me, but that I was who my Father knew me to be. My salvation wasn’t based on who I voted for, but rather who I served. I served Jesus, not man. So I tore up the little piece of paper, and I took comfort in knowing that opinions are just as flimsy as that post-it note I threw into the trash.

A Plea to the Christian Community During Government Restrictions

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When I first considered writing this post last night, I think it would have come out very differently than it is today. Fueled by anger for others not seeing the same as me, my thoughts were sarcastic and perhaps not as kind as I prefer them to be. I am human, and as I’m quick to share, I’m a continual work in progress. I think, though, sometimes we all forget that. We forget our friends, and even our enemies, are works in progress. People who don’t see things the same as we do, are works in progress. In fact, if you’re a Christian, you are definitely a work in progress, journeying each and every day towards a life that looks more like Jesus. I share all this to say that the words I’m now putting down are transformed by love, considered prayerfully, and in an aim for all of the collective works-in-progress to grow more like Him. In other words, please don’t take it as a personal offense if you posted this graphic.

Last night I saw this graphic shared on Facebook. I don’t know the origin, and I don’t even know if the data or math is correct. I do know what its likely purpose was, and I do know the reaction it hoped to evoke. One, easy look at the capitalized NOT will let you know the idea of this graphic is to promote a frustration over government regulations and restrictions amidst COVID-19. This specific table for my home state of MS promotes the idea that COVID is NOT that dangerous, not likely to infect most people, and it easily flames the fuel of frustration over shutdowns, public school quarantines, and a worsening economy. It supports ideas that masks aren’t needed, sports should continue unhampered, and of course, that the government is trying to control our personal lives, not help us.

A common reaction to a graphic like this might be, “so why in the world are we stopping life for these kinda percentages?!”

Look, I get it. I do. It’s hard to see outside our own little world. Typically we allow a situation to affect us emotionally or on a deeper level only if it affects us personally. For example, if we don’t know anyone with a disease, it might be harder to believe it exists. If we haven’t known someone otherwise healthy who has died from a virus, we might not consider it deadly. If we focus more on how this all is affecting us personally, we might consider our child missing out on Senior year activities of greater value than the death of a stranger’s spouse. This is a sad aspect of human nature, but it does happen. We all fall to it. It’s easy to throw out our leftovers, never considering that some children will go to bed the very same night with empty bellies. Just because we’re overweight doesn’t mean that hunger isn’t a problem for some in this country.

I better get to the point quickly. You guys are gonna fade away. So, do you know what I first noticed when I saw this graphic? The number 2,128. The question is, how will you look at that number? Some people will say that 2,128 people in almost three million isn’t that big of a deal. I think if that’s how you’re responding, you might want to check your heart. How many deaths will it take to mean something? What is the right percentage to make your personal inconvenience worth dealing with?

Imagine if 2,128 bodies were stacked in your back yard. Would it seem like a lot then? What if number 2,127 was your child? Would it have been worth wearing a mask or social distancing then?

As a Christian people we typically support a Pro-Life stance. I know I do! I guess I’m just wondering why Pro-Life only matters to a large majority of Christians when it’s in the womb? Why aren’t we for the life of our neighbors? Or for the life of minorities? Or for the life of immigrants? It almost makes it seem like Pro-Life is more of a political agenda than a way of life like Jesus calls it to be. I mean, Jesus was extremely Pro-Life, but He didn’t draw lines in the sand.

Jesus didn’t say, ‘ love your neighbor, but only if he agrees with you, is the same political party as you, and goes to your church.’ He just said to love them.

I figure a large part of loving our neighbor is caring about what is important to them, not just what’s important to us. It’s about sacrificing personal convenience to show the love of Christ. It’s about serving others and sympathizing with their pain. It’s about seeing that graphic I shared and not ignoring the number 2,128. That’s over two thousand families who lost a loved one. In the Bible Jesus spoke about leaving the flock of 99 to just save the one, but we forget that unless the one happens to be us. Otherwise it’s irrelevant to us.

My plea to the Christian community would be to practice compassion, sympathy, and humility. I would ask you to join me in the stretching process of caring about others more than ourselves, to serve one another in love. Let’s not just look at how a situation negatively affects us, but place ourselves in the shoes of others and attempt to understand their pain. We should be allowing the pain of others to break our hearts like it does God, and consider every situation through a kingdom context. There’s so much more to life than the materialistic and inconvenient nuisances we experience. I’m not saying that real and serious impacts from this pandemic haven’t been experienced, but I would encourage us all to ask ourselves if we’re putting our own life well above that of another. If we want to exercise the opinion that all lives matter, then let’s do just that. Let’s believe that all lives, all 2,128 lives lost prematurely, matter. Let’s do better, guys.

PTSD in Nursing

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Last night my family and I drove to pickup dinner. I had asked my husband if he still felt uncomfortable taking our young daughters into a public restaurant, and he had been quick to say, “yeah, I don’t want to do that.”

The numbers had gone down, but that did little to change the routine we had carried since April. I’m very honest with my spouse about my work, and as such, he suffered from the same problem I did. We knew too much. There was no way in hell we could be blissfully ignorant, and I don’t mean that offensively. I truly wish I could forget this year.

As we pulled up to the restaurant to get our curbside pickup I noticed the large group of people sitting outdoors. The tables weren’t spaced like they had been just a month prior, and people milled about inches from other groups, laughing, smiling, not a mask in sight.

“That doesn’t look like continued social distancing to me,” I said to my spouse, pointing towards the outdoor dining.

The thing was, I didn’t want to be the social distancing police! I didn’t want to see pictures of church gatherings on Facebook and wonder why no one wore a mask. I didn’t want to cringe at friends starting to gather again, throw parties, and enjoy life. I didn’t want to be wary of strangers. I didn’t want to worry about my daughters drifting over to play with some new kids at the pool. I wanted everything the way it used to be, but I couldn’t for the life of me forget the past four months. I just couldn’t.

For nurses and other healthcare professionals who have been in hotspot areas of the COVID-19 pandemic, I think we’ve received injuries that are invisible. We’re nursing wounds no one can see, and the scars we carry are still raised and angry. So while a large part of society has basically forgotten a pandemic was here, nurses are still trying to catch their breath.

I think of a skittish cat, jumping with shackles raised at every tiny sound. I think of someone who has been abused, how they’re always suspicious for when the next hand will be raised to harm them. It wasn’t fear that griped me, but rather an awareness of what the virus could do. For so many people COVID-19 was like a really bad cold, or maybe the flu, but for the hundreds of patients I had seen in an inpatient, critical care setting, it was a death sentence. All that people with no hands-on experience could say about the virus was that its mortality rate wasn’t that high, but you know who I never heard say that? Those of us at the bedside the past four months, sweating profusely in our respirators, while we pumped aggressively on someone’s chest to help their heart restart. The reason you didn’t hear that from us? Because 90% (or more) of those patients did not live. Last I knew, our hospital had tried to save over 200 people, without success. We did everything humanly possible. The virus is that bad. For the families of those two hundred and something lost, statistics for survival rate meant very little. For those of us who had cared for them, it meant even less.

So, here we are with case numbers declining, but I still don’t feel comfortable allowing my children to go to a restaurant or play with other kids in the neighborhood. To me, it’s life and death, and until someone can tell me what makes one person just get a scratchy throat, and the next guy (with similar age and health) be unable to survive, I must remain the way I am. I cannot help it. My poor husband, who has seen my defeat amidst so much death, he cannot help it either. We’re still over here self-isolating, wearing masks in public, and social distancing when we do get out.

Today my husband said, “I hope they’re wrong. I mean, it doesn’t have to get bad again, right?!”

You see, the healthcare field, based on their knowledge and models, has their own predictions for the next few months. Those of us knee-deep in the muck of this novel virus are like the skittish cat I mentioned. We’re waiting for flu season 2020. It will be like the two tropical storms converging, but when COVID couples with flu, it will be a level 5 we fear. I don’t want to listen to projections, but I try to be realistic.

Y’all, I don’t know if it will ever be the same. I don’t know if I will ever be the same. I’m so aware of germ transmission at this point, I’m surprised the skin on my hands isn’t falling off from hand sanitizer and washing them. Today I let my daughters play with two little girls at the public pool. Then I spent the next twenty minutes praying silently for God’s hedge of protection around them, worried I had made the wrong decision. I don’t want to be that mom, but I’m that nurse. I just can’t seem to be any other way.

I’m not alone, y’all. I cannot unsee the frightened look in a patient’s eyes before we stuck a breathing tube down his throat. I cannot forget the fact that although I wanted him to live, he didn’t. I can’t erase the images of the handful of critical care patients who did leave my floor alive, but did so forty pounds lighter, unable to do the things they had done prior to being a COVID survivor, some with holes in their neck to keep breathing. I think back to when I was active duty military after 9/11. At some point, as we continued to receive soldiers from The War on Terror, I grew so very tired of seeing young men (boys, really) with only one limb remaining, or their face mangled. I just wanted the war to end. I think your civilian healthcare workers of 2020 are feeling much the same. We’re tired, we’re anxious, and we’re depressed. We’re overly protective of our families, but we’re also happy to be alive. We’re in need of a break, and even though the case numbers are on the downtrend for now, we don’t really believe the end is even close. We can’t catch a break, and our patients can’t catch their breath. It’s an ugly scene for bedside nursing, and so many of us will never be the same.

When you say your prayers tonight, try and remember your frontline workers. We feel like we’ve been forgotten. And although we’d keep doing what we do even without accolades or good vibes, I personally covet your prayers for my team. This year has been traumatic, and I don’t think it’s something we can ever forget.

Here’s What You Can Do to Stop Human Trafficking

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Unless you’ve been under a rock, I’m sure you’ve noticed the current attention the heinous crime of human trafficking has garnered on social media. As a person who has been a supporter for years of ministries aimed to stop trafficking, one part of me is glad it’s getting its due spotlight. But on the other hand, I’m angered by the motivations for it taking center stage. I’ve seen people throw this very real issue around to match their political agenda, and the sad part is all the hype does little to help this problem if you’re not willing to personally do what it takes to make a difference. I mean, it’s easy to make a social media post about “saving the children,” but the real question is how do you save the ones who cross your path?

I’m going to share a personal story with you. Last year I was working at the hospital bedside, and I can remember this particular patient in stunning clarity. She was one of those patients you don’t want to take care of. She was rude, mean, and abusive to staff. She was one of those patients that staff may wonder why she’s even there, if she’s going to refuse care or ignore the advice of the people she came to to help her. Most staff did the understandable. They did the job they had to do, as quickly as possible, then left this woman’s room who seemed angry at the whole world.

For whatever reason, though I tend to believe it was the Holy Spirit, I decided to face the harsh music the day I took over her care. Instead of leaving her room as fast as I could, I sat down at the end of her bed. Instead of meeting her anger with indifference, I chose to meet it with compassion. Refusing her insults, refusing her silence, and refusing her attempts to push people away, I decided to try and meet her wherever she was. It seemed obvious to me that she was hurting, and I took it as a personal quest to let her know that 1) I saw her, and 2) I cared. She assumed the staff saw a worthless young woman with HIV, but I instead chose to see her as Jesus did.

I persisted in my kindness, and I drew her out slowly. I invested the time (that I didn’t actually have) to develop a relationship of trust. Her medical file stated she lived at home with her mother, but our conversation revealed the truth that she was homeless. It ended up revealing much more than that.

As I sat at the nurse’s station that afternoon I was in shock to discover that my patient was a victim of human trafficking. She wasn’t bound and gagged, on a ship to some foreign country like Hollywood had shown me, but she was a victim nonetheless. The shackles around her wrists were psychological in nature, and her voice had been silenced by repeated emotional abuse. My heart broke because this woman believed herself to be worthless. This is what her captor had driven into her mind day after day. She felt that her current life of being sold and bought for sex was the best and only existence she could hope for. She felt useless for anything else. She saw herself as too far gone, incapable of earning a living outside the life her pimp had encased her with, and though he didn’t currently stand over her threatening her life, she had been conditioned to believe her only purpose in life was to be used up until there was nothing left.

It broke my heart. She couldn’t see herself as Christ saw her. She was in bondage to the lies she had been fed most of her life, having been given to multiple men by her mother as a young girl, and it only growing worse from there. Her captor refused to give her the money for condoms, and her diagnosis of HIV was a side effect of her job. It actually allowed him even more control over her, since a diagnosis like that made her tainted goods. He still sold her, but made sure she knew that she would never survive without him.

I’ll never forget trying to keep my face expressionless when she shared, “since I’m sick now I usually just give blowjobs for $10 a pop.”

Forgive the graphic nature, but can you imagine earning at least $100 from the above, just so your boss wouldn’t beat you at the end of the day?

I made a lot of phone calls that day. I reached out to every organization I knew, and I was introduced to programs I didn’t even know existed. Before my shift ended I had helped create a safe discharge plan for this patient, a way for her to escape the dismal existence she was stuck in. The hardest part of all that was convincing her it was possible to leave, convincing her she was worth leaving that life.

I learned a lot that day from experts in the field, people who understood the terrible nature of how most human trafficking manifests itself in society. It wasn’t at all what I thought it was. It wasn’t typically a ring of rich and famous pedophiles like Facebook would have me believe, and though those kind of things existed, it wasn’t the most common way victims were made. They weren’t usually kidnapped from the arms of their parents, but rather released freely by the people they should have been able to trust the most. Sex traffickers were not obvious villains, but rather the people you saw in your everyday, never taking the time to notice.

I think what I learned the most that day is that evil is all around us. Victims are sometimes right in our path. We’re just too busy, too distracted, or too self-involved to see it. We’ll take the time to watch conspiracy videos about evil among us, and we’ll take the time to share posts on social media about the nameless victims of human trafficking. Yet, nine times out of ten, we’ll be too preoccupied to take the time and learn the name of the victims God tries to place in our path. We’ll turn a blind eye to the abuser in our family, our congregation, or our community. I think if we really wanted to combat sex trafficking we’d understand it can start in our own home. It’s the videos your husband watches late at night that feed the problem. It’s the magazines under your child’s bed, the websites visited, and the refusal to see the pain of the hurting that really keeps trafficking alive. So many of us unknowingly support the very thing we abhor.

I once read an article from a former victim of human trafficking, and her story sounded so similar to my patient’s. She recalled how many times she had been physically apart from her abuser, yet still attached to him mentally, and she recounted the large number of people who should have saved her but didn’t. The strangers, the store clerks, the healthcare workers, the neighbors, and the school teachers. God had placed so many people in her path who could have saved her, if only they could have opened their eyes to see. It makes you wonder, if people put even half the energy into everyday encounters as they put into a Facebook rant, could we make a difference?

So, in conclusion, I’m grateful that so many are finally seeing that this problem exists. I am. I only wish they could also see it right in front of their eyes. How many people interacted with the patient I mentioned before the Lord was able to help me see the situation? How many had known something was amiss, but been too busy to give it more than a passing thought that they later blamed on imagination?

If we truly want to be the change for which we champion, then we have to understand that it starts now. It starts here. It starts with every day, every interaction. Not only can we help stop human trafficking, but we can combat a multitude of problems that find their entrance into a solution through personal relationship. In other words, when we can see others, love others, and intervene for others, we can finally set about the good work that God has intended. We can actually make a difference.

Are We Nineveh?

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Are we Nineveh? This is the question that popped into my head this morning as I sat quietly before the Lord sipping my coffee. I opened my Bible to the book of Jonah, and as suspected I felt the Holy Spirit reveal many answers to the question that had been poised in my mind. In fact, many more answers than I anticipated.

Everyone remembers the story of Nineveh, Jonah, and of course, the whale. I think during unprecedented times in life, such as we’ve been seeing in 2020, it’s only natural to figure God must be involved. Of course, He’s always involved in our lives, but it’s the things that shake us that cause most people to take notice of His hand. When the going gets tough, knees get to bending, and even I have been saying since early March that I believe God is doing something big in our country right now. This morning I woke from my dreams, unsure what they had been, but very strongly hearing the words “great awakening” echoing through my mind.

If we consider the town of Nineveh we immediately remember its wickedness. I mean, even Jonah says of the place, “those who cling to worthless idols turn from God’s love for them.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, or even a terribly convincing storm at sea to tell us that our country clings to worthless idols. We worship celebrities, trust in stock options and account balances, and spend more time on reality television consumption than soaking in scripture. Of course, we are Nineveh, right?! One look at cable television, the state of marriage and family, or even how many hours of overtime we pull a week instead of quality time spent with those we love will tell the tale. Our country has to be Nineveh! And God has been trying to capture the attention this year of a Nation gone bad.

As I read the book of Jonah, though, I found words that didn’t quite gel with my assumptions. Certain that the Christian Church was the role of Jonah, the messenger sent to set a country afire with the truth of God’s mighty hand of vengeance, I made my way through the familiar tale. Understanding that the whale was God’s Grace for the church that had too long remained silent, and that like how God had rescued the fleeing man in the belly of a fish, He could carry us believers through the storms of this year. We had only to stand firm for truth, justice, and the sovereignty of the Heavenly Father we served. Yes, we could deliver the message of God to an evil Nineveh; I was sure of it. Our country was on the brink of destruction. It wasn’t the first whisper of end times.

But then came the part that upended my assumptions. When Jonah came in hard and fast with his word from the Lord it didn’t go as I would think. The sinning people didn’t throw him out of the gate with a busted nose and bruised ego. They didn’t even laugh. They didn’t come up with reasons why this weird man, smelling strangely of whale innards, must be off his rocker, or perhaps on a secret mission from a crooked government. They didn’t come up with a hundred conspiracy theories for why Jonah would falsify this message, or change the subject to how the fish that brought him in was also carrying illegal citizens in its belly. The people of Nineveh weren’t worried Jonah had an ulterior motive to take their weapons (cause he was from an enemy city, after all), or that being from another region, he simply wished to push his beliefs onto them. No one said, “hey, Jonah. Why are you coming here to us in Nineveh? What about the people of Mosul? They are much more wicked! Don’t the lives of Mosul citizens matter?”

The people of Nineveh did none of those things. Instead they began fasting and putting on sackcloth. They repented for their wrongdoing, and they sought to change their ways so the God of truth would have mercy on them. In fact, their King set the perfect example. He put forth orders for fasting and commanded all his kingdom to serve the One true God, to seek repentance, and to hopefully find favor in His eyes, preventing the fall of their city. I realized at this point there was no way we were Nineveh. The Lord had been trying to get our attention since the beginning of the year. He had sent plenty of messages, in the forms of pandemic and civil unrest, and we had scoffed at them all. We had continued to serve our idols in the forms of politics and personal rights. We had turned from God’s love in favor of fights over flags and fantastic distractions from the enemy in all its YouTube glory. Barely a one put on even a bit of sackcloth at all.

In the end of the book of Jonah we find an abrupt conclusion with a very angry Jonah. The Lord, in His boundless mercy, has given grace to Nineveh. He has decided to not destroy them, and we find Jonah raving mad about it. Here we have Nineveh (a city of sinners) and we have a righteous Jonah. I mean, sure he tried to shirk his duty initially, but being in the belly of a whale for three days has to count for something. Jonah cannot believe that God made him come all the way out here for people nothing like him, and when it’s all over they get the same love Jonah himself does. He’s so beside himself he decides to take a nap, under a tree that God has provided. He likes the tree. But to prove a point the Lord takes it away. Jonah awakens with his anger about the dead tree, but God sets him straight. The end.

I did say abrupt, right? I think it’s because God’s word should be the final one on any matter. At the end we find Jonah mad at other children of God getting more favor than he thinks they deserve, and even angry about something as pointless as a shade tree. But the Lord is quick to remind Jonah what is important at this moment. Loving His people (even the sinners of Nineveh). God’s love is truly boundless. We aren’t left knowing if Jonah got God’s point, and I think that may be where we stand as a country now.

We are Jonah. We’re angry at all the wrong things, forgetting that the grace and love our Father models is what is most important. Our country may indeed be like a Nineveh of sorts, turning towards all kinds of idols and false teachings, but I could only hope and pray that we all could be like Nineveh in our repentance. Yet instead of falling on our knees humbly seeking God’s forgiveness, we are ignoring the messages He is sending. Rather than being a Nineveh with ears to hear, we are a Jonah, quick to run away from God’s will, quick to become angry at little things we consider personal affronts, and quick to judge everyone and everything under God except our own shortcomings.

Are we Nineveh? One can only hope. One can only pray that our king and our people (all our people) will humble themselves before God. Perhaps if we can lay down our perceived anger and take our focus off the vines/shade tree that doesn’t matter in a kingdom (of Heaven) sense, then God will spare our land. One can only hope.

Confessions of a Conservative Christian

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As I watched the rain come down in long, wet sheets I felt the Spirit of the Lord. He was in the cool wind that blew rivers of rain down the sidewalk and in the laughter of my nine year old as she laughed, jumping through puddles gleefully. He was everywhere, but mostly He was in my heart, whispering His desire to pour down His rain. As I watched the summer storm blow through my neighborhood, I knew this was what we needed most. A washing, a refreshing, a cleansing, to take away all the things we cling to, all the things not of Jesus, and to bring us back to His heart.

His heart. That is what had come to me earlier. As I drove and prayed the word “heartbeat” came to mind. Don’t laugh, but for some reason I thought of that scene from the movie with Patrick Swayze, Dirty Dancing, where he is trying to teach the clumsy Francis Houseman how to find her rhythm. He places his hand over hers, on his heart, and he says “lubdub, lubdub,” showing her that moving through dance steps is like feeling the beat through your whole body. I think his words were, “it’s a feeling,” and I understood God was wanting us to get His feeling for the world.

I felt like the Lord was telling me that we needed to get in sync with His heartbeat, and until we could do that, we couldn’t move in the right direction. The Word says we’re one body, but the fact is a body has a head. Unless we’re following the leader it doesn’t work. If one foot wants to go right, and the other foot wants to go left, you don’t end up actually going anywhere.

Naturally this thought led to political parties. I’ve heard a lot of that going on lately. People being accused of leaning one direction too far, and it made me wonder if we couldn’t just go straight, following the true compass for our direction. I have always considered myself a Republican, a Conservative Christian, but society had left me lately feeling like a vagabond, like a wanderer, a sojourner searching for my way home. The thing I was discovering was that perhaps the place I had always felt so comfortable wasn’t my home anymore. Perhaps the Lord was leading me to His home.

Democrat and Liberal had always been like dirty words where I came from, and I certainly couldn’t bend on my moral views. Some things the left stood for I couldn’t stand with, but many ways the right was acting didn’t settle right with my spirit. To me, we all had it jacked up, and we had gotten so busy building our own agendas, we forgot the cornerstone that had been laid down. God was calling us back to that foundation, that heartbeat, that place of love we had wandered away from.

Over the past couple of months I had seen more bickering, more disagreement, and more division than ever before. It’s like the country had two sides, you had to pick which camp you wanted to be a part of, but sadly neither seemed to be a place I’d want to lay my head down at night. I certainly wouldn’t sleep peacefully being a part of either. Then I started to notice other lost children running around in the wilderness in between. Good people, with good hearts, who couldn’t find there place in what the world had become. God was opening the eyes of His children, and once open many of us couldn’t believe what we were seeing. Had we always been blind to how off track we had gotten?

The more I’ve fallen in love with scripture over the past few years, the more I consume the truth therein, the more I see what Jesus wants for His church. One body, unified. His Spirit, in us. Us in Him, seated together with the Father in Heavenly places. Not just after we die, but now, while we wait for His return. We have been commissioned to draw all people to His table, but we forgot that along the way. Instead we decided to throw our own dinner party.

We’ve stopping listening to God’s word and applying it to our lives. We separated church and state, yet stand on our religion to throw large stones at those who are different than us. We have built idols out of our political party, and we’ve covered our home and families with banners made of cloth, rather than banners of His protection and love. We have thrown down the greatest commandment, in favor of cherry-picking the ones that meet our agenda. We have made our buildings and our denominations our house of worship. We have forgotten the temple is us, and the work of Jesus starts in our hearts. Like the Pharisees we have become more consumed with what goes into a man, and turned a blind eye to what comes out. We’re ok with leaders who speak hatred, because they give us better employment rates. We’re ok with leaders who don’t emulate the love of Jesus, because that only matters when we need His love to apply to us. We want the favor of God. We even say we want our country built on that same God in which we trust, yet we close that country’s doors to anyone we deem unworthy of entry. We shout for threat of someone taking our religious freedom, yet we spit in the face of Christianity when we treat our fellow man with hatred, inequality, bigotry, and rage. It’s as if religion has become our God, not the actual Savior who redeemed us.

Gosh, there are so many examples of current policy that somehow go against the teachings of Jesus, and while I feel like it’s as plain as the nose on my face, for others the veil of deception is heavy. If we hold the title of Christian then we are good. If our leaders hold the title of Christian, we/they are good. We can check that box on our ticket to Heaven, yet God is asking more of us. We can no longer be the church just in name. God is calling us to be the church in our actions. He is calling us to follow the beat of His heart, not the beat of our own drum. If our politics are beating out of sync with the lubdub of His love, then I believe we are entering a season where He is calling us to a new way.

What if the things we have always known, the sides we have always taken, and the direction we have always stepped needs a revamp. Instead of going to the left, or going to the right, the Lord is saying, “come this way. Follow me.” That is what we have forgotten. How to follow the way of Jesus. It’s right there in red print, but we miss it all the time. Instead of doing things the way we’ve always done, we listen for His heartbeat for our steps. We follow His directions, His example, and we stop supporting anything that doesn’t measure up to that.

I think one hindrance to following the Jesus beat is that it requires us to admit we’ve been doing things wrong. It requires us to humbly confess our wrongdoing and mistakes. It often means doing an about-face and taking another way. It means letting go of our pride in favor of His truth, truth that’s not always easy to swallow because it’s so different from what the world feeds us. But guys, the systems of this world are broken. We can’t keep expecting them to work. It’s time to develop new systems, systems built on Jesus, His heart, His way, His truth.

The systems of this world are like a stain that clings to our Spirit. This is why the enemy can so easily deceive those of us under the spell of our beloved worldly systems. But I believe we are in a rainy season. I believe storms have been building, brewing, and the Heavens are going to pour forth a cleansing rain. Eyes are opening, ears are hearing, and hearts are breaking for truth. Gifts are being poured out on God’s people, and He is calling forth those who follow Him to speak what He is saying. He is calling us to be the new church, one body that doesn’t try to go in opposite directions, but that stays centered on the heartbeat of His love and grace.

Are you tired of the way the world has been going? Me too. I believe God is saying it’s time for things to change. It’s time to do things differently. I don’t know all the answers of how this will work, but I believe as we listen to His heartbeat for people we will gain wisdom for next steps. I’m not naive. I understand the country is run on more than love, but I do strongly believe that should remain the foundation and the filter through which we make our decisions. Join me in prayer as I pray for rain, as I pray for our Nation to get the feeling of His heart, and that we may begin to walk in step, as one, in Spirit and truth, towards the future the Lord has for His church.

As I finished up this post, my husband called me outside to see the large rainbow that covered us. It was God’s covenant, not to destroy us, His promise for our future. If ever there has been a time we need that promise, I believe it is now. But first comes the rain.

The Side Effects Nurses Are Having From COVID-19

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I fell asleep the other night feeling so beaten down and defeated. I had tried to scroll mindlessly through my Facebook newsfeed before bed as I used to do to decompress after a long, thirteen hour shift at the critical care bedside, but it had only succeeded in making me more upset. I wasn’t even mad about the ridiculous post I had seen shared by a friend claiming coronavirus was a “Democratic hoax.” It would have made me mad back in April, when I knew this thing I fought was really real, but at this point, as numbers climbed even faster than I had imagined they would, I was just tired. I had erased the very true comments I had written on the aforementioned post, and I had fallen asleep knowing that was just one more thing I had no control over.

I had zero control over the public’s perception of this virus, and even though I had intimate details of what Covid was really like, it didn’t matter. I could change opinions about this about as much as I could about mushrooms being gross. The fact was a lot of people really liked mushrooms, and I had zero chance of making any of those folks agree with me that they were slippery and weird. Touché. I guess what ground my gears was having an appetite for fungi was a matter of preference, but in my book COVID-19 was as sure as the button nose on my masked face. For me, standing in the muck of this mess, it was not debatable.

And so I drifted asleep feeling bummed that public perception was just one more thing I couldn’t control. This concern toppled over the crown of a hundred other uncontrollable factors I held as a nurse during a pandemic. My healthcare peers and I faced a novel virus, new to us all, and we swam through the treacherous waters together. Initially, much fanfare and support had followed the medical community as we stood bravely against this foe. But now? Not so much. Nurses were no longer the darlings of the working world. We were lumped in with all the other exaggerators, seemingly wringing our hands for a bug that experts on social media described as “basically the flu.” I mean, you can’t applaud someone who combats a fake virus.

The thing was/is, I didn’t need applause. But I did desire someone to take our words for it. Instead it seemed a large part of public opinion favored the advice of YouTubers or folks with one-lettered names like ‘Q.’ I couldn’t tell if people were so scared they convinced themselves it was fake, so distracted by the conspiracy theories that they truly believed it was all a political ploy, or so dense that they didn’t care. After all, I had even seen some people in nonclinical healthcare suggest we all go out and catch it.

Just the day prior I had heard such an idea of herd immunity, and while I understood the general premise and points, I could only reply, “I still can’t figure out what makes you the type of person who this affects like a mild case of the flu versus the people whose lungs are attacked and die. Until they figure that out, I don’t want to roll the dice with my family.”

See, that’s the burden bedside nursing carries. The physicians, respiratory therapists, and nurse aids in the trenches too. We all see what it can and does do to a person. Young, old, healthy, sick. Doesn’t matter. It will kill anybody it so desires. We wish we could end this crap already too, but we’re too personally involved with corona to play roulette.

I see people protesting being required to wear a mask in public places. Meanwhile, I’m triple checking the seal on my respirator to make sure I don’t take this virus home to my family. I see people griping about wearing it for a thirty minute shopping trip. Meanwhile I fall asleep with my nose still feeling numb from the pressure of a mask for thirteen hours straight.

The next morning when I arrived at work, all prayed up, and mostly rested up, almost immediately someone asked me what was wrong. You see, I’m the singing nurse, the smiling nurse, the uplifting one who always lightens dark moods. So when I’m not exuding those things, it’s noticeable. After a second person asked, I realized I was suffering from the side effects of a pandemic. No, I wasn’t sick with a virus, but I was sick with the emotional, physical, and mental toil of the virus. You can only exist in so much uncertainty, sickness, and sadness before you succumb.

I thought of the patient who breathlessly called family to say quickly, “well, they’re putting me to sleep for a while. Talk to you soon.”

The memory left my heart hurting, and I recalled how at the time my eyes had met those of a coworker, both of us hoping that was true, but knowing that statistically and according to gut feeling, the patient likely would not wake up again. And that’s the biggest battle we face. That was what kept us awake at night. That’s what might create future PTSD for many, and it’s what made my spirit feel so heavy since this had begun. The rising case numbers, incidents, and COVID admissions only worsened an already aching heart. It was the thing we wanted to control the most, but the one thing that sadly we could not. No matter how hard we tried. People were dying, a lot of them, and for those accustomed to healing, this bitter pill was especially hard to swallow.

The side effects to COVID-19 on healthcare workers are multifaceted. They’re not just placing their physical bodies at risk, or even that of their families. They are also investing their hearts. The emotional and mental toil cannot be imagined unless you have faced it head on personally. I am a veteran, and I don’t use this term loosely, but I do consider this a battlefield of sorts. Nursing is fighting a war, one they feel they are losing, both at the bedside and in the court of public opinion. We’ve got battle scars already. I can’t imagine how it will feel down the road.

So, if you see a nurse, please cut them some slack. If they’re sharing about the benefits of social distancing, hand hygiene, or wearing a mask, realize it’s because they care. They’re not pushing any hidden agenda, playing politics, or even in on the “government hoax.” The fact is, we’ve seen far too much death already, we anticipate to see much more, and we want to prevent that if at all possible. There’s so much with this pandemic we cannot control, but maybe we can help save a life.

And for goodness sake, stop trying to convince us it’s not a big deal or as bad as the media says! I don’t even watch the news. But I do believe what my eyes tell me. And right now, sometimes through tears, they tell me we have to work together to stop this thing. Please.

We Have Entered a Season of Distraction

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We have entered a difficult season in 2020. It has brought with it unprecedented situations, placing us all in a spot we could have never before fathomed. I remember back in late March of this year feeling like life resembled a Sci-Fi movie, and now it resembles bad, reality tv. I have been saying for months now that I believe something is happening. I believe God is doing something. Perhaps it’s a rebirth, and perhaps He has begun to sort the wheat from the chaff. I wonder, if in this season of difficulty we haven’t also entered a season of testing, and I wonder how we will all come out on the other side.

Yesterday on my way to church I began to pray in the Spirit and immediately had a vision of a piece of metal being forged in a fire. It was a sword. I felt the Lord impress to my heart that we as a Nation were in a purification process, a fire of sorts, designed to burn away all the things not of Him. I realized, of course, that fire is hot. It burns. Many of us would leave the fire of God, drawn to false light, where it was certainly more comfortable, but in doing so we would miss becoming the finished product He intended us to be through this time.

I feel like when we pass through difficult seasons we have two paths we can take. We can take the less traveled, narrow path of Jesus, or we can take the wide and comfortable path. But I guess you remember where that leads. Destruction. I think the problem may come in knowing which path is which, because it’s easy to stumble on distraction from the enemy and get off course before we realize. So I’m going to talk about some ways I believe we lose our course. Consider this a loving, course correction.

Remember the sword in the fire, being forged by the flame to strengthen it? You see, God places us in situations so He can make us more like His Son, and if we’re not seeing Christ in the reflection, then we’ve moved away from the flame (the Holy Spirit). The narrow path, or the hot seat, if you will, isn’t a comfortable path to tread. Your opinion will not be popular. Have you ever heard people say that change is hard? It’s because it’s easier to stay the same. With change, growth, and refinement we must alter the way we have always thought or been taught to line up more with scripture. That is why the path is narrow.

I have seen a lot of things I consider distraction during this season. Distraction comes from the devil, and it is designed to take our eye off what God is doing from a Kingdom mindset. Please understand, this world is not our home, and the offenses we might consider important are not in the grand scheme of eternity. If you find yourself upset over a material thing, consider this might be a distraction by the enemy to take your eyes off what God is really wanting to do.

So, what is eternal? Is it a piece of cloth, or is it a soul being led to Jesus? I won’t mince words here or tiptoe around the subject. It’s really too late for all that. If you are a proclaiming Christian, but you are more concerned with what banner flies over your state than you are with the feelings of brothers and sisters in Christ, then you might just be distracted from what God is really trying to do in our country. He desires all people to come to Christ. It’s easier for followers of Jesus to lay down petty indifferences, but for a nonbeliever, they will only know the heart of God through your actions. So I ask, are your actions bringing nonbelievers to Jesus? That, my friends, is a kingdom mindset. Not pride, heritage, or personal opinion. We should only be interested in the opinion of Christ.

But back to distraction. I first saw it come in fast and hard during the difficult time of social isolation. As people sat at home, worrying about their health, their finances, or their stock options, instead of taking their concerns to Jesus, they found peace in YouTube. It’s laughable, except it’s not.

During a time when people were afraid (and really the basis of this issue is fear), they sought something to give them a sense of control. They couldn’t understand or stop a novel virus, but they could gain a sense of power in knowledge. Remember that tree the Lord instructed Adam not to eat from? As a learned woman, I am all about the pursuit of knowledge, but knowledge becomes a stumbling block when it instills fear. Do you recall Adam and Eve hiding after they had eaten from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? God calls to Adam, and Adam finally responds that he was hiding from God, fearful because he was naked.

God asked, “who told you that you were naked?”

Today, I wonder, who tells us what we should fear? What we should place of value? What we hold as an idol above God? I watched hundreds of friends place their trust in their pursuit of awareness. I’m all for being aware (or woke, if you will), but if I am placing my hope in my own awareness, what good is it? I saw so many conspiracy theories, all promoting themselves as “the truth,” but in this false light we were rejecting the real truth. People became so distracted by what someone else (serpent or otherwise) was proclaiming as the truth, that they missed what God was doing with COVID.

God was trying to bring His children closer, show them His heart, show them His provision, His healing, and His power. That fire burned, y’all, and many of us jumped out to pursue a false light. We spent time chasing a white rabbit rather than seeking the Heart of the Father. Time that should have been spent in scripture and prayer was spent on social media and our smartphones. We failed the first test.

We’re not doing any better now. I said earlier that if you look at the reflection of yourself, that you are the metal being refined in the fire, do you see His reflection, or do you see the world?

Enter the next great distraction.

If you cling to a distraction over being the hands and feet of Jesus, then you are the problem. Remember, I promised not to tiptoe around this issue. If your heart would rather grab at any straw it can to explain why you can’t be loving, then you are part of the problem. Wait, I said I’d spell this out obviously for you.

Let’s take Black Lives Matter, as an example. After the death of George Floyd, God shined a big ole light on racial inequality and injustice. Eyes that had been closed for years suddenly were opened. Hearts changed. I changed. I’m not too proud to admit it. I followed the heart of Jesus, and I was able to see the areas where my own pride had prevented me from humbling myself like my Savior would do. But, since the devil is a liar, he had to bring distraction to trip folks up.

Did you know that you can believe that the lives of your black brothers and sisters matter without taking on all of the core values of an organization of the name BLM? For instance, I do not support Planned Parenthood at all due to their abortion stance. The organization Black Lives Matter does support it. Yet, I can still support people of color by saying yes, your life matters, and until everyone in this country agrees it does, I will stand with you and proclaim Black Lives Matter! It doesn’t mean I’m a leftist, liberal, or pro choice. It actually means I’m pro life, because I believe that all lives truly matter, and I show that by supporting people who have been wrongly oppressed for years.

If you’re using the disguise of the BLM organization’s beliefs as a reason for you to not support your friends of color, you might just be distracted by the enemy. Like, really, you probably are. You see, it’s easier to grab at a reason not to support racial equality than to admit you have been wrong in the past, to admit your country was wrong, the founding fathers were wrong, and a lot of what your grandma taught you was wrong. Remember, the narrow road isn’t easy. It involves admitting the ugliness of your flesh. It involves admitting you were wrong. It involves change. It involves doing things differently. Why? Because that’s the kingdom way!

Do you realize what a shake up it was for the Jewish believers when Jesus arrived on the scene?! He upended everything they had held dear. They wanted to hold to their laws of Moses, but Jesus wanted to show them a new way. Many couldn’t bare it. It was too hard to let go of the old way.

If it’s easier for you to believe this is a political stunt to throw Trump out of office than to believe that humans of flesh (a different color) and blood (the same color) just want to be treated the same, then you are part of the problem. You are allowing the distraction of political parties to blind you to human decency. The narrow path says it’s time to change the system that was built on unequal laws and assumptions. The wide path says this is a way for “the Left to take our Bibles and guns from us.” The narrow path begs us to look more closely at a judicial system that treats people of different colors and backgrounds differently, and this same narrow path demands an upheaval. The wide path would say to focus instead of material things like pancake syrup and state flags rather than the fact that black men are arrested more because they’re black, not because of crimes committed. Yes, it hurts to admit the truth, but it’s better than grabbing at distraction that’s so much easier for us to swallow. Distraction goes down like Aunt Jemima’s syrup.

Let’s look again at the forged metal. When you look at your actions do you see the character of Jesus, or do you see the world’s distraction? Are your words, actions (and inactions), and social media posts bringing further division or attempting to bridge a much-too-long racial gap?

Yes, there are angry people of color out there, but they have every right to be. How would you feel as a mother or father if you feared for your son’s life simply because of the way he looked? Don’t allow the rage or violence of nonbelievers to threaten your ability to be a beacon for Christ. Your actions should draw people to the cross, and your humility should allow you to lay your own down and follow His example. Jesus would always tell you to proceed with love, and if your reflection from this year’s season of fire isn’t showing you that, then you need to jump back in. If you look and see distraction is causing you to proceed in anything but love, get back to the right path. You’re lost, bro. Let love guide you.

Don’t let this season be one where you remain distracted, but let it be one where God changes you for the better. Allow the Lord to burn away everything not of Him. Let only love remain. Because in the end, it’s not a flag that we will take to heaven. It’s not bragging rights that our political candidate won or our theory on the Rothschilds and Rockefellers was correct. It will be the souls we lead to Jesus that accompany us. It will be our children that we have shown the way. It won’t be a record of how many times we were right, but we will be shown a record of how many we treated wrong. The narrow path lays down anger, turns the other cheek, gives a coat too when a shirt is demanded, and understands love is the greatest commandment of all. Anything else is just distraction.

I Want to Be an Abagail!

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Today I was reading in the book of 1 Samuel (chapter 25), and I was touched by something I read and how it spoke to things going on today. So bear with me, as I’m going to put an Old Testament story into my own words, and allow it to speak to your heart also what the Holy Spirit spoke to me.

There was a man named Nabal. He was a wealthy guy with land and herds, which gave him power in a way, but he also was hard-hearted. David happens to be near Nabal’s land when he’s running from Saul. In the area where Nabal’s sheep have been grazing, David and his men have been kind to Nabal’s servants, not taking their supplies (even though they outnumbered them and could have), and actually going so far as to surround and protect the herds from outside aggression.

David and his men are in a place where they’ve been falsely accused and treated unfairly by the murderous Saul (who if you remember, was influenced by Satan at times). In their running for their life they need some food, and thinking ‘well, we’ve been kind and helpful to Nabal’s men. Let’s ask him in humility if he can spare some kindness (and food) our way.

Nabal refuses. He even shouts back insults their way, like, ‘why should I help you? Your problem isn’t my problem!’

Nabal had what he needed, and even though evil forces were trying to murder David, Nabal turned his back on him. Nabal was quite comfortable in his good life. Why get involved in this Saul/David squabble. In fact, how dare David ask for his help, or expect kindness when he’s being unjustly pursued.

But enter Abagail. Oh, Abagail. My heart smiles.

She’s standing back watching all this. Servants brought it to her attention and she’s like, ‘this isn’t right!’

Meanwhile, David is rightfully angry. He’s like, ‘why is Nabal so mad and hurling insults at me? I have been kind, helped him, and now when I need him in this situation I’m in, that I did nothing to cause, he throws shade my way! That’s it! It’s on!’

David is ready to throw down with Nabal. Kill him, in fact. He gathers his men and says ‘let’s march!’

Look. God doesn’t want David to pay back Nabal. He knows that evil for evil is pointless, and that in the end, it will only harm David more. So God raises up Abigail to stand in the gap.

Abagail gets together a ‘love offering,’ if you will, of water, bread, meat, and takes it directly to David. I like that she didn’t send her servants to do this. She went. Just a woman (remember the station of women in Biblical times). She had no real authority, but she did have the truth and sight of the situation, so she went forward in love.

She meets David halfway in his march to put a hurting on Nabal. She jumps off her donkey and apologizes to David! Y’all, she didn’t do a darn thing wrong. So, why is she apologizing?! It’s like she decides wrong has been done. Nabal can’t see it. Someone has to speak for what’s right. Someone has to help David and his men who have been treated so unjustly by Saul (the king, super power).

Abagail says she’s sorry for Nabal not seeing this. She’s sorry he’s so full of himself that he can’t see what’s right. That he can’t see it in his heart to help someone who is oppressed. She says ‘here David. Take these supplies. Please accept my apology for Nabal. I will stand in his place for what he did. Blame me!’

In our humanness we can’t imagine why she would do this. It’s her pig-headed husband who’s being a jerk. Yet, I think God put this on her heart. I think He opened her eyes to what was wrong, and even though she wasn’t wrong, per se, Nabal was her husband. He wouldn’t humble himself, but she could in his place. God didn’t want David causing himself and his men more harm by doing evil. So He appointed Abagail to intercede and to stand up for justice, to stand in the gap and offer love.

That was all David needed. He let go of his anger to kill Nabal. In the end, like, less than a month later, Nabal died! Talk about God fighting for you!

David says to Abagail after, ‘the Lord knew I didn’t need to pay back evil with evil. So He sent you to me. Now, God has taken up my cause and fought the battle for me.’

Then he married her. ? That part makes me laugh. But remember, women had no way to support themselves at this time. So really David marrying her is God’s way of providing for her after her husband’s evil causes his demise. She did what was right in God’s eyes, the evil is taken care of by God, and then God takes care of Abagail for following His lead. Talk about an inspiring story!

Y’all, I want to be an Abagail! I want to stand for what’s right. I want God to be able to open my eyes when something near to me is wrong. Even if I haven’t done the wrong, per se, I want to see it and act accordingly. I don’t want to stay in my comfortable home and send my servants with some money for the cause. I want to get on my donkey, take the journey, then jump off my ass (see what I did there) and stand in the gap. Humble myself, because y’all, scripture says she threw her face into the dirt at David’s feet. Wow. Talk about humility.

I want to be an Abagail. I want God to use me to prevent harm, to shine His light and truth before further harm ensues. I want to be used by God to provide myself where He leads, to give to those who need my help, and to even get dirty (laying in the desert sand) if that’s what it takes.

Do you want to be an Abagail too? Understand that many people will not understand your actions, but God will reward your heart that mirrors His own.

Art by Morgan Harper Nichols