Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

What the Church Needs to Pray for Most

by

I have a lot of friends send me links to articles, videos, or Facebook posts gone viral. They typically span from one side of the spectrum to the other, much like my friends’ list, and I receive each one with an open heart and mind. Because, you see, I don’t know everything. Sure, I have opinions, but I’ll never claim to know all the answers. So, I will watch that video with an open mind and listening spirit. I may not finish them all, but I give each opinion, each commentary, and each bold-emblazoned rant equal opportunity to be a pass or go for my heart.

Pass or go. When I watch some of these videos I think they are put together very well. I read the eloquent words a particular author painstakingly pens and I think, “they did a great job getting their point across.” Many of the things I read or listen to are very convincing in their natural medium, but it’s there I try to separate the wheat from the chaff. In a world of so much misinformation, so perfectly packaged, we must have eyes to see and ears to hear. But not the way you would think.

Matthew 13: 14 In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah: ‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. 15 For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.’

It’s easy to see with eyes of this world because this world is where we are. I often have to remind myself that I may be “in” this world, but I’m not “of” it. I am seated with Christ in Heavenly places. So, while my body is here in the world, my spirit exists with Christ. I have to keep that mindset. I have to utilize my spiritual eyes and ears in a world so noisy. I have to accept the gift of wisdom.

Wisdom. This must be our prayer. After watching a particularly saddening video from a friend this morning, I sat in the shower praying for wisdom. This is what the Church (we believers) need most.

James 1:5
If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

Remember when I said earlier that I don’t know everything? Well, because of that, I frequently pray for wisdom. We exist in a time of public opinion, in a time of social media, in a time of free-flowing and varying information, but also in a time where the enemy still prowls and seeks to devour. God gives wisdom when we ask! We must have wisdom, but not wisdom simply from our local church, respected “Godly” friend, favorite news channel, or well-produced YouTube video. We must have wisdom from the Holy Spirit. We must have spirit and truth. We must have quiet time set aside to commune with Jesus in prayer, and more time reading and re-reading scripture. We need more time in the Bible and worship than we spend on Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. That way, when craftily concocted notions come our way, the Spirit of Truth will give us eyes to see and ears to hear! Without the wisdom and discernment of the Holy Spirit, we are tossed to and fro.

Have you noticed the world lately?! There’s a lot of people being tossed to and fro.

A large issue with the human nature is the sin of pride. I have taken to laying down pride at the feet of Jesus every morning in the shower. If you haven’t noticed, the shower is my prayer closet. I get up early on work days just so I’ll not neglect that time. I lay down pride, something I struggle with, and that we all struggle with. Human hearts crave love. Most of those hearts don’t realize it’s the love of Jesus they need. So they fill their hearts with other things. But it doesn’t have to be drugs or booze, guys. That’s the devil talking to the church. Nope. Most times the religious folks fill their love bucket with pride. We believe if we are knowledgeable we are loved. If we are right, we feel good. To be wrong, that feels bad. We desire acceptance, and we need people to accept our point of view. To applaud us for it! If anything threatens our existence of being right, we become personally threatened. We get angry. We push away another point of view. We ridicule it, even. Pride. We have ears, but don’t hear. I mean, we already know everything God said. Why listen for more? We have eyes, but don’t see. We’ve already seen what God wants us to see. No need being open for more.

We have become a stagnant people. Hard-headed like our ancestors in the desert, and arrogantly certain of our opinions. We lack wisdom. We have plenty of disinformation, but we’re lacking in any way to tell it apart from what God may be trying to speak.

I would encourage you as a believer to seek God first. Seek Him over the media. Seek Him over what you’ve always been taught or told in your tiny circle. Seek His heart in the red letters of scripture, and pray for wisdom to apply that instruction to your very life. One of my favorite verses in the Bible is about the Fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5). Read it. And then read it again. Sometimes I read this chapter before I go into work. Meditate on it. Ask the Lord to show you how to carry these fruits. And then ask yourself if the opinions you speak are in line with these fruits that tell us the Holy Spirit thrives in us. Ask yourself if what you read bears those fruits. Ask yourself if the information coming to you has the fruit of the spirit, or if it is simply disguised with the fruit of the flesh.

Take the Nap

by

I’ve discovered a skill in my middle age that I never knew before I possessed. In fact, I’ve become quite the professional. As I changed position luxuriously under the stack of warm blankets, my elastic waistband pants shifting against the clean sheets, I stole a glance at the clock. Ahhh, perhaps another half hour. It just felt so good.

I never took naps before this year. This year. Ugh. The year to which all other years would be compared. The year that taught me how to shelter in place for the safety of others, but also taught me how to crawl into a hidey-hole because of the shocking heart within mankind. I had spent the past year reading a lot of books, scrolling through a bunch of social media, and then deactivating social media when the cruel words of people I thought I knew became too much to bear. Somewhere in all the realization of how harsh the world could be, I found solace in sleep. Not too much, mind you, but enough to recharge my aging battery.

As a woman in my thirties, an active mother and busy wife, I snubbed the art of napping. I mean, when you’re raising babies who has time to sleep?! When you’re a working mom, a stay-at-home mom, and a work-from-home mom… how can you nap? When there’s a house to clean, articles to write, a small business to run, and shopping to complete, who can find the time? But more to the point, who can justify such a waste of the day?! I certainly could not. So, I spent a good decade or more utterly exhausted, yet unwillingly to succumb to the sandman outside the set apart hours for nighttime sleep.

Somewhere between 42 and 43, I found a beautiful place of giving no shits. There’s no better way to describe it. I realized the dust would still be there, the laundry too. I discovered my kids would live, perhaps even figure out how to do something for themselves every once in a while. In fact, I realized my husband took joy in allowing me such a simple pleasure. He would turn on the sound machine, and threaten the children with life and limb if they woke Mommy. It gave him the opportunity to give me a priceless gift. Rest.

Somewhere in this century in which we live, women mistakenly equated rest with recklessness, as if being still equaled being lazy. Finally, at 43, I know that simply isn’t true. Our bodies need rest. They need stillness, a time-out, rare moments of nothing. In a world that’s so much, nothing is just the thing we need.

Now, when my time would be better served scratching an item off my mental to-do list, I instead opt for the nap. Time is always fleeting, even faster as you age, but knowing I cannot stop it, I surrender to the nap. It makes me a better mom, wife, nurse, and person when I hit that simple reset, even if just for half an hour.

The dishes are still there when I wake, but the world didn’t spin off its axis as I let them be. The children didn’t implode or even burn the house down. The world kept on going, and I find myself in a better frame of mind to tackle the problems therein. If the last year has taught me anything (and it’s actually taught me far too much), it’s shown me the beauty of simply taking the nap.

A Word for the Church

by

About twenty-four years ago I went on a trip that changed my life. More than a simple trip, it was a mission journey, where I lived overseas for six months learning how to be a better disciple for Christ. I attended a school for missionaries that knew before we could lead others to the love of Jesus, we needed to find healing for ourselves first. It was an amazing experience I will always cherish. I remember at the end of the school (graduation, if you will), a majority of my classmates were deciding which unreached people group God was leading them to minister to. For me, though, I wasn’t feeling that direction at all.

I remember at the time feeling in a human sense that I should be following my missionary friends to third-world countries to serve God, but the problem was that’s not what the Lord had for me. I understood in my spirit that I was being led to the missionary field back home in the United States. My calling wasn’t to tell tribes who had never heard of Christianity about my Savior. My calling was to lead people who had heard about religion all their life to the healing and love that was found in a real relationship with Jesus.

I have always carried that calling in my heart. Over the years I’ve failed tremendously at it, but deep inside that was always my purpose in life. I may be a wife, mother, and nurse, but above all else I am a child of the King. My purpose is to show my brothers and sisters each and every day the freedom I’ve found in Him.

The Great Commission.

Church, we have forgotten our calling.

If you believe in Jesus then you too are called by God to tell others of this love you’ve found! Man, we are messing this up miserably!!

Do you remember how Jesus told His disciples people would know they were His?

John 13:35
“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

How can we be a part of the Great Commission? How can we lead the lost to Jesus?

I would like to give you an exercise. On your Facebook settings you’ll find a section titled “Activity Log.” If you are a Christian I would encourage you to look at your activity log. Look at everything you’ve posted the past few months. Look at all the comments you’ve made on others’ posts. I want you to look at this activity and ask yourself a few questions. Let’s call it “running it through a missionary filter.”

1. Are my comments representative of Jesus to the lost?

I’m not asking if your comments are Biblical, per se. I would hope that we all read scripture and know the truth of the Word. I’m also not asking if your words helped you win a theological debate or argument with another believer who disagrees with you. I’m asking how your words represent Christ to those who don’t know Him. I imagine the words we’ve all spoken lately have the lost scratching their head, saying, “why would I want to be a part of this circus?”

2. Will my words draw those who are hurting to the healing that can only be found in Christ?

The truth is, all human hearts are yearning for something more. We strive for a better job, dream relationships, and more stuff because we are empty on our own. This goes for everyone! We are meant for Heaven, and we’ll never find completeness in this world. But we can find a perfect love that fills our yearning hearts. Once we find it our goal should be to tell everyone we meet. Do you know the best way to tell the gospel of Jesus?

He said by our love they would know us.

Our best witness to the world is how we live and love each day.

3. Do my words and actions make people want to find what I have found?

Is anyone happy with the world we’re in right now? The political environment is atrocious. The civil unrest is horrible. The past year has been draining! But God.

In the Lord I find rest. Do my words show that?

In the Lord I find peace, freedom from fear, and most importantly, they give me an eternal perspective that goes beyond the world in front of my eyes. I pray my words show that I don’t sweat the “small stuff.” And guess what? It’s all small compared to eternity.

I cannot take my political party to Heaven, but I can take my neighbors. I can take my coworkers. I can take my enemies! Yes, even them.

It seems we’ve become a church overly concerned with the matters of this world. If All Lives (truly) Matter, why are we ignoring the eternal life of those we disagree with, those who vote differently than we do, or those who support differing policies? For some reason we’ve convinced ourselves that we can help God win this war by pushing people away. He doesn’t need our help to win a war, but He does desire our help in winning souls to Him. We’ve gotten confused into thinking we can serve God best by pushing political policies, fighting for our personal rights (at the disregard for the rights of others), and creating a “Me versus Them” mentality. Who came up with this idea?

You’ll never help the lost find Jesus by using words or phrases like “the Dems, the evil Left,” etc. I mean, seriously, think about this. When have you ever “won” someone into your vein of thought by saying they are wrong, evil, or insert your favorite expletive.

Church, we have forgotten our first priority! It’s not about us. It’s about saving the lost. It’s not about what political party is right. It’s about showing the love of Jesus to those who need Him. Guess what? We all need Him. We all need that love of Jesus. We’re not only pushing the lost away. We’re also pushing believers away. The Church is in the wrong war, and the casualties of this war are heartbreaking. We’re not winning against evil. The devil is actually laughing at how easy it was to get the Religious Church to misrepresent Jesus to the world at large. My heart breaks.

I repeat it again. They will know you are His disciples by your love.

So, will they?

My concern is that in times like these we as Christians must measure our words. When we allow our political opinions to override our love of one another, we speak poorly. This goes for us all. I’m just praying we can be the salt and light that leads people to Christ, not to a political point of view. I’m seeing the church at large replace the Great Commission with the great need to be right. It simply breaks my heart for those seeking the love of Jesus in this lost world, but finding the current political environment instead.

The Mess Won’t Keep

by

“Well, that was the last of the Christmas money,” I said to my husband, as I stooped over to sweep up the pile of plastic bits and pieces. Leftovers from toy packages.

“That’s good,” he replied, while tying up a trash bag of discarded cardboard.

Our house had looked like the morning after a frat party when we got out of bed, and we set to tidying quickly so we could relax and enjoy the day ahead. As parents of three daughters, all of the age that still played with dolls and such, we were used to picking up our fair share of strewn toys. But nothing could turn a house upside down like the aftermath of the holidays. Considering we had two birthdays in December, the situation was doubled. Add in the fact that long-distant relatives sent gifts too, and the mess never seemed to end.

That was life with little kids, though, right?! I mean, it wasn’t just me that consistently stepped on tiny, plastic shoes, or tripped over a misplaced Barbie car, right?! If my kids were breathing they were making messes. It didn’t matter the rules set, boundaries placed, or chores assigned. Their trash and treasures proliferated throughout our home. Most days began (after coffee, of course) with me corralling their belongings back into their bedrooms.

“The mess won’t keep.”

These are the words my aunt spoke to me over the phone recently after I had finished another round of “return thirty, three-inch, laughing little dolls to their case.”

I knew this. I knew all the truths that little ones didn’t stay little. I had personally watched a decade fly by since I had my first child. But it was her mood this particular morning that caused me to pause and count my blessings rather than count how many times I had picked up their clothes from the bathroom floor.

I ended up spending some time with my aunt this particular day. She was feeling down, and we went shopping and lunching together to lighten her emotional load. You want to know the weird thing about grief? It has no expiration date. My cousin had passed away thirty years prior, but that didn’t lessen the sadness that had erupted within her unexpectedly that morning over the loss of her son.

“I’ll never get him back,” she had told me.

Even though she was eternally minded and took solace in seeing loved ones again one day, like anyone, the loss of the here and now was many times much too hard to bear.

We had a good day, and though I know I left her back at her home still working through her grief in her own way, she had reminded me once again not to take a thing for granted. Not the work. Not my daughters. And certainly not the mess. After all, the mess wouldn’t keep. The old adage was true. We weren’t promised tomorrow, and cherishing my children was about more than how quickly time passed. It was true that time was fleeting, but time also was abrupt. The time we had with someone could be cut short at any moment. That was the real truth of it.

That evening I hugged my babies a little tighter, and I allowed the kiss on my husband’s lips to linger a little longer. I promised myself to keep in mind the truth of life’s fragility. This world was a mess. My house was a mess. Many times my life is a mess! But I’m reminded to count it all as joy. A beautiful mess, if you will. My job was to embrace the mess. After all, the mess wouldn’t keep.

How Christianity is Missing the Harvest

by

In reading my Bible this morning a verse really stuck out to me. It’s like the words zoomed off the page, and I knew the Holy Spirit was speaking those words just for me at that moment.

I think of that old song by The Byrds, Turn, Turn, Turn, where they sing, “there is a time for every purpose, under heaven.” Taken from the 3rd Book of Ecclesiastes, the words basically explain that every event in our lives is for a purpose. Even the hard ones. If ever there was a season that I would question its purpose, it would probably be this one. There have been hundreds of memes joking about the horrible year that was 2020, and we laugh. But I think most of us laughed to keep from crying.

Whether you want to quote The Byrds or the original author, likely Solomon, the verse/lyrics tell us, there’s a time to weep (which I did a lot the last year), a time to laugh (which thankfully I continued to do). It also says there’s a time to plant (which I try to do daily), but also a time to reap (which brings me back to the beginning of this whole thing).

John 4:34-35
“My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. 35 Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.

Ripe for the harvest. Y’all, I believe our country is ripe for a harvest.

The conversation in John 4 takes place between Jesus and His disciples right after He’s spoken to the Samaritan woman at the well. This is significant in the fact that Jesus just told this woman a time was coming when she wouldn’t have to go to the mountain or Jerusalem (to the temple) to worship. Jesus tells her that His Father is seeking worshippers who will worship Him in Spirit and Truth. He lets her know that time is coming, and it’s coming through Him. As a Samaritan and a woman she’s been “unworthy” according to the religious leaders, but the Messiah arrives to rock the foundations of the Law and to tear the temple curtain in half. Meaning, people like the sinner at the well are welcome to seek forgiveness and eternal life as much as anyone else.

Over the years (since the arrival of Christ), the enemy has come to distort the message of Salvation, and he’s often come under the guise of religious law. If you’re looking for the devil, you won’t find him in a bar or strip club. You’ll find him in the church, whispering his lies softly to those who will listen. You can look back in history at the destruction of mankind in the name of the Lord, and each time after Satan has used man to destroy the message of love and forgiveness, the Holy Spirit has raised up purveyors of truth to heal the rift zealotry has left in its wake.

I believe we are in a period of time where Jesus is calling purveyors of His truth to rise.

Open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest!

I don’t want to save people! Only Jesus does that. But I do want to show people the healing that can be found only in His love. I want to offer freedom to the captives and daily success through this troubled world.

Boy, is this world troubled. The pain, loss, and hatred of 2020 has planted open, hungry hearts in the center of mankind. The ground has been made soft by this past year. I don’t believe God gave us COVID to judge mankind, but I do believe He can use it to draw His children into His loving arms.

So, how does one reap in a season of harvest?

I’ll tell you how NOT to reap.

We will never reap by an Us versus Them mentality.

We will never reap by separating ourselves from those who need us the most.

We won’t reap by ignoring the reality of racial inequality and injustice, simply because it makes us uncomfortable to admit it still exists.

We cannot reap when we close ourselves off in a church building, with a sign of rules posted outside the door.

We cannot reap by placing politics at the forefront of our purposes.

We cannot reap when our hope is in who is elected to the oval office, rather than who is the King of Kings.

We cannot reap when we ignore the sins of pride, rage, hatred, or malice, while only focusing on the sins of homosexuality or abortion.

We cannot reap when we speak words of division and anger, rather than words of kindness and love.

We cannot reap when we publicly bicker with fellow believers on social media who have differing opinions.

Do you love Jesus? Do you believe He died for our sins so we might have eternal life?

If the answers are yes and yes, then we as the church of Christianity should stand united to reap.

Who did you vote for? Are you a Republican or a Democrat?

These are the questions that distract us from the ripe fields.

There’s a wind of deception blowing through our land. Why do you think that is?

The Father seeks those who will worship Him in Spirit and Truth.

Satan seeks to divide, deceive, and distract.

I believe we have come to a season of harvesting. I believe for many Christians it’s a time to turn, turn, turn.

To turn away from political entanglements. To turn away from a deceiving Religious Spirit that whispers anything other than the Saving Grace of Jesus!

We are in a season of harvesting, but many of the “workers” are trying too hard to separate the wheat from the chaff. This is not our job, gang. The Messiah decides what needs to be gathered into the barn and what gets thrown into the fire. I fear many think too highly of their position as wheat, and I certainly don’t want to be told by my Savior to depart, that He never knew me.

So, how do we successfully reap in this season?

We reap by reading our Bible more and our social media feeds less.

We reap by seeking the truth of the Holy Spirit, not by seeking truth in the media or on YouTube.

We reap by loving God with all our heart, and not giving the best of ourselves to our politics.

We reap by loving our neighbor as ourselves, not by saying “we gotta take care of our own first.”

We reap by laying down pride, by turn, turn, turning from self-righteous indignation.

We reap by admitting where we have been wrong.

We reap by modeling forgiveness. Y’all, I’ve been working on this one. My heart hurts from religious friends who told me I wasn’t a “true Christian” when I questioned if Donald Trump was the best representative for Christianity. I have had to lay down my offense over and over, understanding it’s not about me. It’s about doing His will. In the verses above in John, Jesus said his food was to do the will of His Father.

We need more of that! We’re getting a bellyache lately from filling up on worldly food, making ourselves sick on politics and conspiracy theories. We cannot reap if our diet is unhealthy! We must feed on His truth, His bread of life, and His living water. I am certain we will never find those foods stocked on the shelves of this world.

We reap by loving first. Loving God, and loving others. The “others” here includes those who think different than you, look different than you, vote different than you, and live different than you. If you’re interested in being in a “Saved Club” where you and your closest friends get to go to Heaven, then by all means, continue the work you’ve been doing. But if you desire to truly open your eyes and see the field, then I encourage you to step away from the worldly distraction. Step away from the law, and step into His grace. Step into the neighborhoods, lifestyles, and groups you sneer at, and join the Father in showing EVERYONE the way home.

Lost in the Wilderness of 2020

by

This morning I was reading my Bible. Sometimes when I’m reading the Word the passages will fly by as my eyes peruse them, soaking in the scriptural meaning, sure, but not speaking like a sword penetrating my soul. Does that make sense? What I mean is, sometimes I read the words, and while they’re good words, they read just like words. But other times, I read the words, and like living words they reach out and grab me by the neck, shaking me and saying, “listen to this, child.” I guess it’s like my kids. Sometimes they hear me. But other times, they really hear me!

Anyway, this morning I read a particular passage from Psalms. I like the Psalms, sure, but most of the time I’m just like, yeah, David, dude, that is so true. I prefer the words in red when I’m looking for some truth to shake me, but I’ve also noticed that God has spoken to me in the middle of one of the most seemingly boring books of the Bible (Numbers), so I know He can speak revelations through more than just Revelations. If you know what I mean. But back to Psalms.

Psalm 78:15 He split the rocks in the wilderness
and gave them water as abundant as the seas.

Talk about timely. If you’re not familiar, this Psalm is referencing a time in the past. The writer is remembering the goodness of God to supply His people, the Israelites, water to drink when they were traveling through the desert and dying of thirst. I mean, imagine the scene. Sun beating on your face, nothing but dry sand in sight. You cry out to your leader, “we’re thirsty, man. Our water bottles went dry miles back. I don’t see a rest stop anywhere close!”

They were in the desert, no water, no river, no oasis, no spring. Just rocks, sand, and a thirsty crowd. But God! He tells Moses to hit his staff on a rock, and to the surprise and delight of the group, water comes out. And not just a trickle, either. It flowed out like a rushing river, as abundant as an ocean.

Y’all, I don’t know about you, but this year has been like a desert for me. Sure, I knew the God who parted the Red Sea, but I’ve felt lost in the wilderness of 2020. As a critical care nurse, watching large numbers of my patient population die of a virus we’re still learning about, it’s been hard. My job is to make people better, but that hasn’t come easy this year. It hasn’t hardly come at all.

And the relationships! I’ve suffered broken friendships, a broken heart, and a disillusioned mind. As an extremely sensitive soul, this year actually sent me into a dark depression, and while I don’t like admitting it, I spent almost two months laying solely in bed on my days off work. I lost weight, I lost sleep, and I almost lost hope. I reached out to family and friends for prayer when I realized how bad I was feeling, and I reached out to my doctor as well. I haven’t experienced a season of darkness like this in over twenty years. I thought my walk with Jesus was too mature to feel so helpless, but this year showed me that I need more of Him than ever before.

2020 has been my wilderness, and perhaps it’s been yours too. I just want to remind you of the things our Father can do. He can take a rock and wring it out like a sponge, so He can certainly rain His Spirit into our dry and cracked crevices. That is what I’m needing.

This morning I stood in the shower and I asked God if there was a single word He had for me for the New Year?

“Journey,” He said. “You may have stopped traveling, but you haven’t stopped going places with me.”

I told a friend earlier that my goal was to travel into the new year with as little weight as possible. No, I’m not talking about a diet resolution. I’m talking about the weight of this world that we often carry. When the Israelites were in the desert hungry, the Lord rained down manna. Bread from heaven. He gave them just enough for each day (excluding the extra the day before the Sabbath). If they tried to gather more and carry it to the next day, it rotted. That happens in our lives too. We aren’t meant to be self-reliant, but rather God-dependent. We cannot try to gather for ourselves the things He never intended, and the worries of yesterday will only fester as we carry them into tomorrow.

So, I lay down the weight of this past year, and I go forward into the new year with just enough for each day. My rock-splitting Father will provide the flow of living water I need as I journey further into His plan for my life.

The Unknown Scandal of Christmas

by

One of the greatest things about the Christmas story is how it ushered in a new kingdom, one of grace over the law, and one of forgiveness of sin. It took God, made Him a man, and used the sacrifice of that life to cover the sin of all mankind. Christmas means the birth of our Savior, and most are familiar with that as the plot and reason for the season. But did you know there’s more? There’s a bit of scandal that religion would want you not to notice, but I think it’s a piece of the story that God really needs you to hear.

We find the prelude of the birth of Jesus during a time when religious law was held very high. We required the church building, and we required the priest if there was hope to be found. You needed things like a perfect lamb without blemish. An animal so white that it resembled snow. You needed to hand over this sacrifice, and then the priest could convert your sin onto the animal, shedding its blood for you. You needed the priest, you needed the temple, and you needed the Holy of Holies. Considering the importance of the religious leaders of the time, who were experts in the scriptures, by the way, it only makes since that God would deliver His son on their doorstep. I mean, we’re talking about the saving of mankind, forgiveness of sin, and eternal life! Who better to handle the task of Jesus coming to earth, of Immanuel, God with us, than an important religious leader?

This life-changing event would require much fanfare. Perhaps something akin to a limo, with paparazzi and flashing lights. We’d want the announcement made almost like a presidential address, right? Give the details to a high-ranking official to announce over a loud speaker, with a parade, and vendors selling frankincense and myrrh in little gift bags for the crowd to hand out. Release some doves to symbolize peace on earth, and pass a plate for the ultimate love offering.

I know they didn’t have the renown childbirth centers we have nowadays, but there were plenty of skilled midwives. There were palaces with fluffy bedding and golden cribs made just perfect for a king! Yet it didn’t go down like that at all.

A young virgin from nowhere’s-ville was chosen to be the mom. She didn’t have an important last name, come from a rich family, or even a fancy degree in theology. Considering she was being asked to carry and raise God in the flesh, she was basically a nobody, nothing, from Nazareth of all places! And her husband? I think he built bookcases or something tradesy like that.

When the time came for the Prince to be born the birth announcement came in the form of a Heavenly host of angels. Now that’s more like it! But then they stopped short of taking their song to the temple. They instead stopped off in a field.

Shepherds, y’all! Sheep herders! The lowest of the low. The bottom barrel, basically. Did you know shepherds were not even allowed to testify in a court case in their day? Talk about an untrustworthy witness. So why choose those guys?!

And then there’s the birthing suite! As a woman who has gone through childbirth three times I can tell you, animal excrement ain’t the smell you want assaulting your sinuses. How about some lavender for goodness sake?! But no. The Savior of mankind was born in a feeding trough, with no electricity, no cable television, and definitely no doula. No cutesy lullaby over a loud speaker. Instead he probably got mooed at or something. It’s really quite scandalous! The king of a hundred fields, with a mansion that has enough room for everybody entered the earth under such paltry circumstances, into a family without riches and fame. The church couldn’t even send flowers because somebody forgot to tell the head pastor the virgin wife of that carpenter fella was in labor. The whole thing could be considered pretty embarrassing if you think about it. I mean, other than some prophet 700 years prior, God didn’t even tell any of the church leaders about His son’s arrival.

Here’s the thing, though. The birth of a King in a manger isn’t the really scandalous part. It’s not even that He chose to tell dudes in a pasture the news first, or pick a regular-joe family to raise His son. The truly sordid secret is what it means for you. Not because it’s disreputable or improper, but rather because of how surprised we often seem when we take it into account. You see, the really wild part about the Story of Christmas and how it came to be is what all that means for you and me right this moment. It means we are worthy.

The details of Christmas should show you that God can take a seemingly nobody and use them as a great somebody. It means, He doesn’t require perfection, but rather a willing heart.

Luke 1:38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”

The way God took the greatest news of all time and asked the lowest of society to tell everyone shows us that while here on earth you may be seen as less, in the greatness of His kingdom, you are worthy to go tell it on the mountain!

The way God let His son be born in a barn, that should tell you that God cares about more than how much money your family has, what kind of car you drive, or the house you own. He cares about the heart, and He can take a person from the lowest pit to the highest place imaginable.

He can use a young lady from Nazareth to further His kingdom, a tradesman to raise His boy, and shepherds to announce the whole shabang. With that in mind, realize that He can certainly use you.

I was leaving a shop yesterday when I saw a poorly dressed, older man playing a guitar and singing. A jug tied to a pole held a couple of dollar bills. Of course, I dropped some in there myself, but more than that I stayed and listened to him play. I gave him my time, my interest, and my applause. I knew that his earthly dad may have never given him a bit of praise, but His Heavenly Father loved to hear him sing and play. I saw that man through the eyes of Jesus, and I took the time to pray with him between sets. It reminded me that you don’t have to be a preacher or involved in ministry to do the work of God. The Lord is ready to use anyone of us ordinary people at any given moment. It might seem quite scandalous to think that is true, but I believe the best thing we can take from the Christmas Story, beyond the birth of a Savior, is how God can use any of us to further His kingdom purposes, in a most unique and perfect way.

I’m Done With God

by

“Don’t preach to me. I’m done with God.”

This is something a friend said to me recently, and afterwards it really got me to thinking. At the time I remember my head said, “He’s not done with you, though,” yet the words that came out of my mouth were more subdued.

“Ok.”

That is what I had said. To back down was easier than to engage, but that doesn’t mean it’s always the best answer. Thinking over the situation I realized my friend was done like a lot of people were done. It wasn’t so much that he was done with God, but rather that He was done with religion. I get it.

Religion, to me, is like book learning. I read all the material in nursing school. I even took notes. But I did not develop a love for the field until I entered into it hands on. I mean, I was intrigued by anatomy and physiology. The idea of healing made me happy. But it wasn’t until I saw the power of how my healing hands affected another human being that the field of nursing brought me joy. If I just looked at it as a paycheck, I’m sure I would have found something easier on my back with better hours long ago. Droves of nurses flee the bedside because the stress of the field is frustrating and overwhelming. Some of us stay because we’ve fallen in love with what we do. I think for much of the world, they’re easily burned out on religion. I get it.

My friend had asked me some questions about that angry God in the sky. I think the hellfire and damnation part was causing a great divide in his heart. He couldn’t understand how he could follow a Father who would let good friends of his not experience eternity in Heaven. I think he was kinda seeing God like the mean kid in high school who threw the best parties, but you only got invited if your parent’s bank account was up to par. I get it. Book learning will only teach you so much. Heart learning is the only way to get the right answers.

At the time I simply said, “I’m not the judge of who goes to heaven or hell. I leave that up to Him.” But I should have said more.

I should have admitted, “I don’t know all the answers, but I do know my Father.”

I know Jesus. And to know Him is to trust Him.

I don’t know why good people die young. I don’t know why my mother died at 54, or why a good friend of mine just died at 51. But I do know God is good. I didn’t just learn that by going to church, and not even just by taping some inspirational Bible verses on my bathroom mirror. I learned it by love.

I don’t know what happens when hurting, lost people die. I know what scriptures say about things like “weeping and gnashing of teeth,” and I believe that the only way to eternal life is through Jesus, but I don’t know what happens in the unseen. I don’t know what happens on a spiritual plain between here and there. But I know Him. I know He is love. I know He is forgiveness. I know He is the way.

I’m not a Biblical scholar, and I’m not an expert on the law. But I do know Grace. I know that it saves. I do know mercy, and I know the Father’s is abundant.

I think my friend, and a lot of people out there aren’t so much done with God as they are just getting started with Him. The beginning of any relationship can be rocky. The Holy Spirit calls us in. Our hearts are made to be filled with Him. But changing the way we live our lives? That will never come by memorizing scripture. It will come, though, by falling in love with the One who breathed those words into life. And that sweet Ruach, breath longs to blow off the pages into our lives.

This is hard to write. See, I don’t want to discount the truth of the words written in the Bible, but I do want to impress that they are more than just words we must adhere to. They are a doorway into a relationship, a happy home built into our hearts, and therein the answers are found. Without the relationship the words can be meaningless. I know many atheists who have read the Bible front to back. Without the love embossed on the pages, we lose sight of the author’s heart.

I don’t know all the answers to this broken world, but I do know the heart of the God who saved it. I found that the difficult questions of life no longer bothered me as much when I put my focus on the final answer to it all. Jesus. I remember a song I learned when I was young, based on scripture.

Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness. And all these things will be added unto you.

It was true all along. To seek is to find, and to find is to know. To know isn’t to know all the answers, but it is to know that whatever the answer is, it is good. It is good because He is good. There are so many things we cannot understand, fathom, or explain, but we can get a little bit closer to the answers by knowing His heart. All I know is, my God is love, and He loves all His children. I will trust Him to sort it out and do things in a magnificently beautiful way. A way that upends religion, much like He upended those tables.

I said before that I didn’t think my friend was so much done with God, but rather he hadn’t got good and started yet. What I’m saying is, you can go to church every Sunday and listen to the entire sermon, but until you spend time alone with Jesus, talking to Him, reading His words, and asking Him to speak the truth of those words through His Holy Spirit into your heart, you’re gonna get tripped up on the details. You’re gonna think the Judge in the sky is angry over your sins, and you’ll forget the Savior who said, “forgive them, Father, they don’t know what they’re doing.” Even as they tortured and killed Him! He spilled His blood for the crowds that yelled “crucify Him,” and until you know that Jesus like a best friend, you’re going to be done too.

Religion will make you say grace before a meal, but relationship will have you give away your last bit of food. Like any relationship, that is cultivated by time together, a love life with Jesus will change your perspective of who He is.

You won’t say, “how can God do this to me!”

You’ll pray, “Jesus, help me through this. I don’t know what you’re doing through this, but I know it must be for my good.”

God loves us too much to be a big, mean kid with a magnifying glass burning ants on the sidewalk. But the only way to see Him as He intends is to get to know Him. I should have told my friend when he asked me tough questions, “my Father, the Dad I know, He isn’t looking down from the clouds with a menacing grin while He throws people in a fire pit.”

If that’s who you think God is, then I would encourage you to dive a little deeper. Get to know Him, and then all the hard questions will have the same easy answer. Realize you’re not done; you never really got started. And He is certainly no where near completed with us.

Wrecking Grace

by

I don’t usually share interactions I have with others, but I felt this was a good learning tool for us all. I always say I’m a work in progress, and I think we should all strive each and every day to grow into the people God intended us to be. I read a classic devotional just this morning that stated, “it takes God all time and eternity to make a man and woman after His own purposes,” (Oswald Chambers). With that in mind I keep my heart open to how I might most emulate Jesus.

I recently shared this image on social media.

The original poster wrote, “no matter where you stand, history is being made, and that brings me to tears ❤️”

It also touched my heart to see this powerful image. The fact is that women, and especially women of color, have not been afforded the same opportunities in this country. To witness such gains is a sight to behold. There are many things in (of) this world that are not right, and racism and unequal rights are one.

Not long after sharing this post I started receiving political comments. Yes, Kamala Harris is a Democrat and Vice President elect, but I wasn’t fishing for a political argument when I shared this. Sometimes I forget that we all see things in a different light.

One friend on my post said, “it’s a shame that a woman that wants to legalize prostitution and murder the unborn is praised and admired.”

To which I replied, “it’s not necessary to comment negatively on a post where I’m celebrating and supporting friends of color (and all women) who have finally (after way too long) obtained a well respected government office. I think perhaps that’s a problem with society today, and sadly the breakdown of Christianity and its witness to a lost world. We cannot manage to hold onto our values without crushing others. I am a pro life lover of Jesus. I also support minorities as Jesus commanded. The wonderful thing about life is we can do multiple things. I choose to do my multiple things in love.”

My friend ended up replying that she wasn’t against women or minorities, that I must have misunderstood her. And here’s the thing, I never thought she was. I assumed her passion for politics and pro life issues caused her to comment negatively about the VP. The problem is, many people do misunderstand our intentions when we polarize issues. So I wanted to share a few things I truly believe in my heart and spirit to be true.

You can disagree with someone politically, yet still love them. To love them is to give them worth. To love them is to see them as God sees them, and to understand they are made in His image whether they realize it or act like it. One friend commented she’d be happier if Kamala was a Godly woman. I would too. But as I told my friend, perhaps we can pray for her. We can pray that God will place a loving person in her path who shines the light of Jesus rather than condemning her for where she is in this life.

There are more than two sins in the Bible. Murder (abortion for the Conservative) and Homosexuality aren’t God’s top agenda for 2021. People forget this, but pride is a sin. Sorry, Mr. Trump. Rage is a sin. Dang, that’s half of my Facebook timeline. Greed is a sin. But I’m sure that’s not behind anyone’s stance on taxes, government aid, or immigration. Sorry, that was sarcasm. Like I said, I’m still working on me.

My point is, you cannot hold firm to one topic of this world and let that be your guiding force. You cannot decide to spew hateful comments, ridicule people, or allow other sinful behavior just because someone’s value system isn’t like yours. If you think this world needs Jesus, then show them Jesus. Turn the other cheek, give your coat when they ask for your shirt, touch the lepers, feed the hungry, stand up for the marginalized, and let all that you do be done in love. Eat with prostitutes and sinners, and show them unconditional love. Love the Lord with all your heart, and love others as yourself.

It’s ok to be a Christian and still love minorities. You can support your friends who say, “black lives matter” because they do! You can lay down politics long enough to answer back, “yes, your life does matter. I’m sorry people have made you feel like it doesn’t.”

It’s ok to love people who don’t have the same moral compass as you. Again, how do we love? Not by condemnation or judgement, but by esteeming them with worth. We are all children of God. Like I tell my girls, “just because your sister makes you mad doesn’t mean you aren’t sisters. You can’t say you hate her. You can’t speak ugly things to her. You’re sisters.”

Jesus said He didn’t come to judge the world, but to save it. If you’re a Christian then you believe salvation comes through belief in Christ. So, how do we lead others to this saving grace? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not by building a ‘me against them’ mentality. It’s not by voting red, blue, or anything else. I have never seen such worldly thinking as this year. This earth is not our home. An election isn’t our eternity, and a president isn’t our savior. Our eternity is life with the Lord, and our commission here on earth is to tell people this good news. Y’all! We’re failing miserably. We are alienating the lost. We’re killing our witness. We are wrecking the gift of grace by not showing it at all. We must do better.

I don’t even know how to end this post, and when I don’t know what to say, I just pray.

God, help us. Speak your truth to our hearts. May we abide in mercy, and extend that to those hurting around us. May we lay down pride, and see your love for each person we meet. May we arise at the end of this fiery year as a new and better church, a bride who has her eyes fixed on her groom, not on the font of the wedding invitations. May we remember our end goal of victory, and not fuss over who all is and is not playing according to all the rules. You are the ultimate referee making those calls. May we remember that. But mostly, Lord, make us extravagant lovers, the kind of people who would lay down their life, even for the sinners who don’t deserve it. Because we are all the undeserving, yet you loved us anyway. Remind us to extend that same grace and light of love each day. We’ve forgotten.

2020 Tried to Crush the Spirit of Nursing

by

“He what?!” I replied in shock.

“He died last night,” my nightshift coworker answered.

I didn’t tell him goodbye.

I didn’t say that last part out loud. I simply thought it to myself. I guess I couldn’t speak it out loud. It was as if I feared giving my feelings a verbal voice would cause the cool, professional demeanor we all strived to maintain to instead crumble in grief. I suppose that part is wrong, though. We didn’t strive to be aloof; we just had to remain disconnected in a sense to keep doing the job. Especially this year.

If any year could go down in history for trying to crush the spirit of nursing, it would be 2020, the year of COVID-19. As a critical care nurse I have watched too many people die this year. I mean, outcomes are often poor in the ICU, but this novel virus has taken things to a whole new level. There was a period of time this year where I watched at least one patient die per my shift, and many times more. One patient doesn’t seem like a lot, until you add them together, day after day, month after month, shuffling in for another crazy shift, praying that a success story would emerge.

A story. You see, it wasn’t just a room number or patient vacating a bed. It was a story, a beautiful life story, a real person, with family, friends, and a purpose in this world. As a bedside nurse you learned these people’s stories. You spoke to crying wives on the phone, you watched hysterical daughters try not to fall apart as they waved through the glass window to their mom who didn’t know they were there.

You said things like, “he seemed like he was doing better yesterday…”

Or you lamented, “I feel so bad for her three, young children at home.”

Sometimes we shared the stories. They were just too heartbreaking to keep inside. We didn’t mention things like names, but rather the way the father of four had made us appreciate life. I had told my husband about this most recent life story.

“Can you imagine,” I asked my husband, “being stuck in a glass box for over three weeks, not seeing your family, just strangers in masks who come in every once and a while? Can you imagine not being able to breathe good enough to even take a bite of food? I feel so bad for him!”

I had not taken care of him the day/night he died. They had given me another assignment. All day I had considered going into his room to say hello. I kept meaning to go in and try and brighten his day, but the hours had passed without me doing it. Whether it was the busyness of my own assignment, or the fact of all the personal protective equipment I had to put on to enter his room, I had missed the opportunity to say hello, or even goodbye. I knew he was doing bad, but I was hopeful he’d make it. I was always hopeful.

“I wish I could hug your neck.”

That’s what he had said, in between labored breaths and the roar of the sealed mask pushing air into his stubborn lungs. I had sang to him. He frigging loved it. He said I made his day. I had come in frequently, even though the gowning up was a chore, and we weren’t supposed to overly expose ourselves. Lord, I had even gotten down in his face, through his sputtering coughing, trying to hear what he spoke in his weak, short of breath conversations. I remember simply praying for God to keep the seal of my own mask tight. That man needed someone to know they cared, to give him a quick sip of water before he frantically asked to put the oxygen mask back on. And it made me feel good when I scratched his back and he said, “you’re the best!”

That’s what I thought of when I found out he didn’t win his battle with COVID-19. His story. And his personal story stacked on top of all the other stories from this year. The woman my age, who also had three daughters. Or the guy who couldn’t speak English and looked scared to death as we tried to explain emergent intubation without an interpreter present. I thought of all the weeping families, and I also thought of the gratitude they had bestowed our way even in the midst of their own grief.

I think about those sad stories, too many lost for a single year, and I try not to think about the coming months, the tragedy they could bring. I cling to things like memories of where I helped ease pain, prayed with a spouse over the phone, or the hope that this virus is getting weaker. I think of Queen Esther in the Old Testament, and how her uncle surmised amidst danger and possible death, “perhaps you were made for such a time as this.”

Maybe that is why we do what we do. Perhaps we were made for such a time as this. I’m pretty tired of unprecedented happenings this year, but I would encourage all my nursing peers with this thought. If not us, then who? Who would care for the hurting and dying? Who would scratch backs, offer a cool drink, or sing a joyful song in the middle of a trying situation?

2020 has tried to crush the spirit of nursing, but we’re pretty good at fighting back. Just know, I grieve with you. I recall life stories cut short with you. I link gloved hands, across the world, and I lift you all up in my prayers. We will beat this.