Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Please Be My Strength

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I was driving down a picturesque stretch of scenic road, by myself, listening to music. The sun was shining, vast green pastureland stretched out to either side, and in the distance large mountains looked down upon me. The words from the car radio caught my attention.

“Please be my strength.”

I lifted my right hand into the air; a charismatic Christian, worship regular, signaling my agreement and reaching for my Jesus. Then it struck me. He wasn’t somewhere up above, beyond my extended hand. He was here. In my car. I looked over at the seemingly empty passenger seat, and I imagined my Savior riding shotgun (even though He always has the wheel). I stretched out my hand into the side seat, rather than the air, and I closed my hand around His, our fingers intertwining.

Please be my strength.

I can categorically and emphatically say that the past year of my life, basically 2022 in its entirety, has been the most difficult of my life. Harder than bootcamp, tougher than an unexpected divorce in my late twenties, and even more stressful than being an ICU nurse in the height of a pandemic.

I’ll stop here to warn you. If you don’t know me personally, understand and be aware that I’m going to share very personal things. If you think you will possibly read my outpouring with judgement, perhaps you should just stop right here. This post has been on my mind for a few weeks, but it’s been difficult for me to share my inner turmoil with not only trolls hiding behind anonymous computer screens, but also, and sadly for the most part, because of the people close to me who judge me the harshest. Maybe you should stop reading here.

You can always think you will know how to react to a situation, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I know little to nothing. As a young woman who only dreamed of children, I imagined how I would parent. Then I actually had children, and it all went out the window. Most of it, anyway. I got the epidural instead of a natural childbirth, and I co-slept rather than letting my baby cry it out in their crib. I never had the time for every night bedtime stories, and I’ve yet to start a single college fund. Sigh.

The enormity of what I don’t know about parenting, or life in general for that matter, crashed upon my head shortly after Christmas. My oldest, natural born child, my eleven year old started to change overnight. She gave her fidgets away, and she decided she hated the color pink. She started spending more time in her room, and stopped swimming in our pool, or even going outside to play with the neighborhood children. I had seen her height increase dramatically, her hips begin to take shape, while her waist thinned. Along came the budding breasts and hair in places they shouldn’t be for an eleven year old, in my humble, late-bloomer opinion. So, I blamed it all on hormones.

Sure enough, she started the dreaded red wave of womanhood shortly thereafter, and I thought, “maybe this will be a sweet release to the angst she has been feeling.” But that was only the beginning of the tsunami that was heading our way.

In the middle of pre-teen distress, our family, like most of yours, I’m sure, was experiencing a changing economy. It was getting harder to keep the pantry full for a family of five on a single income. I couldn’t help people like I had gotten used to doing, barely having enough extra to financially float my own family. I had taken a job away from bedside nursing to rest my Nightingale wings, but we decided as a family, I could get more bang for my buck by going back to the trenches. At the time, the best paying job was three hours away. No problem. It would only be for a short, three months, to get us back on our feet.

We all hated it! There is a big difference between coming home from your twelve hour shift to your family, and coming home to an empty, one bedroom tiny house. And while the quiet was blissful the first week, it quickly lost its shimmer. The driving back and forth on my off days was exhausting, and then there was the little issue of life upending hundreds of miles away.

We prayed and sought the Lord over the decision of that job, and despite the difficulty, I do believe it was God’s will for me to be alone in that little cabin. See, He was working on me too. I’m a fixer. That’s what I do. At work, and at home. But what do you do when you can’t fix it? I look back now understanding that the little rental house I stayed in three days a week, it was my green pasture. The place I had to lay in while I gave my lambs to the shepherd. If I would have been there, I know I’d have been trying to yield my rod and staff all over everything, forgetting where my strength came from.

Remember the pre-teen angst? Well, it was more than that. I knew it. There was new anxiety. I’m talking about hyperventilating, arms breaking out in hives, absolute panic in crowds, anxiety. Where did it come from?! Why was my formerly, social butterfly unable to walk in Aldi without having to stop and deep breathe?!

There was depression. Real depression. Sadness so deep that it was like a thick fog, and I could barely see my baby through the darkness of it. I recognized the mood. It was one I knew too well, on a personal level, but also a familial one.

This part of our journey was probably the most frustrating for me. When I reached out to trusted people I loved about my baby, I wasn’t met with the support I expected. I actually felt quite the opposite. It seems my child’s battle with anxiety and depression was simply a spiritual attack that I had the power to stop. All it took was some laying on hands. And don’t forget, the doorway to my daughter for Satan to harm her was my own doing. I was/must be allowing things into our home that opened the spiritual realm for my child to be attacked.

I love Jesus. I believe in forces of darkness and principalities of evil. I believe in prayer, I believe in deliverance, and I believe in healing. Truly. I also believe in science, a God-given knowledge of how our bodies work, sometimes against us, and how God gave mankind the tools both spiritually and physically to combat these issues. I was a suicide attempt survivor. I had a grandfather kill himself, and a mother who tried to end her life many times from my childhood up into my early thirties. That kind of family history will have you well versed on generational curses, but also heredity and chemical imbalances in the brain.

Had I not prayed countless hours every day for my child?! Had my husband and I not laid hands on our child, sought healing, but also wisdom for what (if anything) in our environment and home was causing a problem?! Of course we had. I had not stopped praying and crying daily in the shower for months. I thought of my own battle with anxiety and depression, and how I spent years trying to pray harder, read my Bible more, and call out the forces of darkness bringing me down. It was not until I sat in the bathtub on Christmas Eve, wishing I could go to sleep and never wake up, that I sought the help of a doctor. It shook me that a blessed woman, with an amazing husband and adored children would want to die on the happiest day of the year. It shook me to think that I had waited so long, and I vowed to do everything I could for my baby.

Against the advice of well-meaning guidance, I took my child to a therapist. Every week, out of pocket, since most insurances don’t consider mental health a needed health benefit, but that’s a topic for a whole other blog.

I’ll stop here to apologize, as this is getting longer than I anticipated, but I did tell you I haven’t shared in a while. So, let’s get to the message.

I get a message, at work, just before it was time to give report to the oncoming shift, and it was a message that rocked my world. I have been blessed with a relationship with my child where she tells me everything. So, it was killing her to keep her pain a secret, and that day she told me she had been hurting herself. She sent photos of cuts she had made into her arm. She asked me not to be mad! Mad?! I just wanted to hold her!

I drove 40 minutes to my little house, after my 3rd twelve hour shift, packed a quick bag and drove the three hours home. I cried to my sister on the phone (hands-free), while driving through a tropical storm, and later thanked God I didn’t mess up my car when I hit that median. The downpour had been so torrential, and the night so dark, but I had to get home.

I cried incredulous tears to my sister. Why was this happening to my baby?! Didn’t this sort of thing only happen to foster kids in a bad situation, or abused kids, or kids with bad relationships with their parents?! My child had not experienced any kind of trauma. I knew this to be true. Why was this happening?

As a side-note, I’ll add here, that I have since learned how common self harm is in teens. My child has even shared with me other girls, from good, “Christian,” happy homes, who have admitted to her they cut also. They had not told their mother, so I guess I had that going for me. Hey, you hang on to any little thing you can in these situations.

This wasn’t the end. More conversations revealed more issues. Suicidal ideation. We hid sharp objects, called doctors, had emergency sessions with the therapist. It had been spiraling to this out of control moment, but it wouldn’t stop spinning. It kept going.

There were bright moments. Her neurologist believing her puberty had changed how her seizure medicine affected her, causing the suicidal ideation and self harm. Us getting off the medicine, her brain scan being free of seizure activity (making a new medicine unnecessary), and the emergence out of that darkness that tried to take her. But still, there was more. I could see it.

When you are raised in an Evangelical Christian environment, you’re taught how to handle certain situations. You’re taught about sin, but there is also major focus on particular sins that are especially heinous. The ones that we stand on a firm foundation to fight for. Other sins can be pushed to the side. I mean, they’re still “bad,” but not worth making a social media post about. My husband and I are both divorced previously, but I cannot recall anyone telling me how disappointed God was in my actions not to reconcile with my ex. You think you know how to handle certain situations, that you have it all figured out, but then it gets personal, and that puts a wrench in everything.

One of my daughter’s disappointments in herself was that she didn’t feel like she belonged. She didn’t feel normal. All her friends and cousins spoke about dating and boys, but she wasn’t interested. “This is normal,” we said. “You’re just a kid.”

But to her it was more. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t interested at the present; the thought of ever being a woman romantically or sexually attracted to a man seemed inconceivable to her. It seemed off. It seemed “not her.” We had entered a period of her trying to understand why she felt so different, and honestly, this place of questioning and sharing is what brought my baby out of her dark place. I’d like to think my loving counsel was a help, and I’m sure the therapy and psychiatrist were a benefit, but I believe in my heart that her honest questions and seeking of her true self brought about the emergence.

In Christian circles you are taught how to approach the subject of LGBTQ. You “love the sinner but hate the sin!” But there’s a problem that surfaces when this happens to someone you love more than yourself.

You start to wonder, “how can I love them best? How can I say I love you in one breath, but tell them what they feel in their heart, mind, and soul is wrong, in the next breath? How can I show the love of Jesus best? How can I respond to this situation without crushing the spirit of this child I would literally die for?”

Tough questions. A tough year. In the end, you love the only way you know how. All in. In the middle, you question everything you’ve ever been told. You read scripture, study, pray, have long talks with your spouse, and come to a place of acceptance, of unconditional love for your child, no matter their gender identity or sexual preference.

I remember a conversation with my husband where we agreed we did not have all the answers. We didn’t know what was right or wrong. I’m gonna tell you… you can imagine you know how to handle issues, but after you’ve discovered your child is so confused and hurting that they would rather die, you start to rethink things. Everything turns upside down, inside out, and pouring from the seams. You question what’s of eternal significance. Is it being right about what is a sin and what is not? Or is it leaving some things to God and admitting your own failings instead? Is it focusing on the spirit nature of us all, regardless of slave, free, man, or woman, and understanding we are all one in Him? Yeah, we didn’t want to mess things up, but we knew our Father held it all in His hands. We knew our job was to love our child, to show them the heart of Jesus, and to leave what we didn’t understand to Him. I was back in that green pasture. And I am there still.

He is my strength. He is love. His love strengthens me, and His love pours out of me. That is good enough for me. To see your child on the edge of a cliff, and then watch them emerge bright, confident, and happy being themselves, is priceless. How could I not support that? I am so proud of my baby. Now and forever.

Where I’m At

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I oscillate between sharing my life and withdrawing into an underground storm shelter. Remember that movie with Brendan Fraser, Blast from the Past? Yes, that sounds nice sometimes. To just spirit away with my family and Jesus, playing board games and eating nonperishable goodies. But alas, that’s not what God calls us to. I wish the calling wasn’t always so painful.

I’ve gone back and forth between sharing my life, my insights, or Heaven forbid, my opinion, or simply remaining silent in my own comfortable mind. I have had so many people over the years email, comment on the blog, or message me on social media sharing how much my words have comforted them, helped them feel less alone, or heard the voice of the Holy Spirit speaking to them through my musings. That kind of feedback encourages me to keep going. But then…

Y’all, I have been really hurt. I say I don’t care what people think of me, but let’s be honest, it stings when friends and family judge you. I’m not talking about Facebook acquaintances. I mean friends. I have had women I have known for over twenty years, women in the church who I considered mentors, completely write me off. Women who kept up daily contact and encouragement with me, suddenly ghost me. And when I see those same women encouraging and communing with mutual friends, yeah, it hurts. It hurts to be brushed aside. It hurts that we have become a people, a society, a church, I dare say, that values platforms or something as inconsequential as the opinion on vaccinations over loving relationships. Didn’t vote Republican the last election?! Sorry, your cool kid, insider pass to the Women’s Bible Study clique has been revoked. Why does that still hurt me?

I have had family laugh at me, ignore me, lessen my feelings. I feel the judgment in an almost palatable way. Am I seeing things that are not there, like whispers at the lunch table, assuming the worst is being said behind my back? Perhaps. Perhaps I am, but it doesn’t change the feeling of brokenness inside.

I have spent the last two years discovering a side of humanity I wish I had never seen. On the other side, pre-Covid, pre-Trump, sat a naive woman, who felt certain that people who loved Jesus, loved people. Sure, there were hypocrites, but overall the Christian community was one built on love. I was sure of it. Now, on this side of a pandemic, after the loss of a presidential election on the Right, I see an abrasive, hardened heart of a community I’ve been a part of for over half my life. I cannot comprehend the actions of the majority. I cannot find the connection between the actions of Jesus and the actions I see on social media. The Sermon on the Mount and the rant on Facebook or Instagram are not parallel. The church I have always known and loved has let me down, and I’m still coming to terms with that.

Here’s what I don’t want. I don’t want my picture of my Savior, or my relationship with Jesus to suffer. The loving King who died for me, who died for the immigrant at the border, who died for the atheist at my workplace, who died for the two married men that live next door. This loving Jesus has never left my side. When I’ve felt the hurt and betrayal from friends and family, He has never let me go. So, I think He and I are good. I just keep clinging to His character, so often imagining myself sitting at His feet like Mary, listening to His truth.

The church, however, has fallen from me. I have not returned to corporate worship or any religious gathering in a group. I want to, but I’m afraid. The hurt I have experienced has broke me, and I’m not sure I could take anymore. I want my babies to be around the church. I want to return. I have just been unable to cross that divide. I listen to a church sermon every Sunday, I read the Bible for hours a day, and I spent countless hours in prayer and conversation with my Father, but I’m still licking my wounds. I’m just being honest. You guys know I’m a sensitive soul. My hurt still rears its ugly head almost daily, and I spend just as long laying it back down at the feet of Jesus.

Please pray for me, my friends. Pray that I will find healing, that I will be able to see that Jesus is the balm that covers my hurt. This I do know. I will never be the same. I will never again be the woman I was in 2019. And while that hurts, I am grateful that my eyes were opened to the insincerity of my fellow man.

It’s hard for me to even write this, as I know there are people who will judge me for it, assuming I’m “woke,” progressive, or even worse (LOL), liberal. They’ll pray for me that God open my eyes to the evil of this world, never seeing the evil in their own hearts and actions.

I do find solace (of this world) in the fact that I am not alone in my feelings. There are other Christian, lovers of Jesus, who want to love like Him, not just like the church club says. It helps to hear their hearts that mirror my own. Beth Moore, Skye Jethani, Greg Boyd, Phil Vischer, David French, Russell Moore. Organizations like Women of Welcome, Faith and Prejudice, The Lincoln Project. Personal friends (that I will leave unnamed) who I reach out to with my frustrations and hurt. Thank you. And most importantly, the amazing spouse the Lord has given me. I was raised initially in an atheist household. He was raised quite the opposite, not allowed to watch the (demonic) Smurfs or He-Man growing up. Together we have found this loving Jesus who healed our brokenness, forgave our sinfulness, carried us through addiction, and leads us even now. Because of Him, we are forever changed. Because of Him, we are encouraged to love like He does. Sadly, I’ve discovered that radical love like Jesus doesn’t always sit well with the religious. It didn’t in His day, and it doesn’t in ours either.

I’m not sure what this post is supposed to be about. It seems like I simply vomited my feelings into words, but trust me, you have no idea how much of my gorge I’m holding back and swallowing down. Perhaps for another day. Or, perhaps I will take my baby chicks under my wings and disappear from the grid of public opinion. I suppose only time will tell.

Why Do I Keep Hitting the Rock?!

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I was reading through the Old Testament this morning. I’ve been utilizing a reading plan through the Bible App, and I’m currently still in the wilderness. Wow, that may have been a Freudian Slip.

Anyway, I came to a familiar story of when Moses strikes the rock. For a refresh, the Israelites are wandering in the desert, waiting for the Promised Land, and they keep on complaining, despite all that God has done. In fact, their grumbling is what is keeping them delayed from receiving God’s best. Dang. Is that another Freudian slip?! Nah, I’m thinking it’s simply the Holy Spirit speaking truth.

Back to Moses and those hardheaded Israelites. They come to a place without water. They’re thirsty. They complain. Moses and Aaron ask God for help with this situation, and He tells Moses to speak to a rock and water will flow from it. So Moses gathers everyone together, and then he proceeds to smack the rock a couple of times. Water comes out, everyone drinks, and all seems well, until God reminds Moses that he didn’t have to hit the rock!

As I read this passage today I could feel how relative it was to my own life. Like Moses, I know God can give water miraculously out of a dry stone. Or more to the point, I know that when my life is in want like the Israelites, when my bank account is dry and parched like the throat of a thirsty person, and seeing funds appear out of thin air is as likely as squeezing water from a rock, God is still able. When I’m worried about my children, God is still protecting them as His own. God is in control. The Israelites weren’t so sure, but Moses was. Yet he still smacked the rock.

Like Moses, I am far enough in my faith walk to know that God can. But also like Moses, I have a tendency to hit my rocks instead of simply speaking God’s power. It’s like, I know God can provide, but let me help Him out. I’ll try to work some budgeting magic, get a second job, or sell something I treasure for some fast cash. I’ll get this devotional book for my child, make another doctor’s appointment, or think about it incessantly until things get better. I’m still believing in God, I tell myself. I’m just helping Him out a little.

So, what usually happens? I hit a few rocks and nothing gives. Not a drop. Now, eventually water pours out. You smack a rock enough times, God says, “fine, have it your way!”

The thing is, God doesn’t require us to hit every solid surface we can find searching for His provision. Usually, He just wants us to speak His name. In other words, to trust His timing and provision. This taking it into his own hands, caused Moses to miss out entering the Promised Land, and I realized I don’t want to miss what the Lord has promised for me because I’m making my own way.

It’s a learning process, gang. I’m like, the most forgetful lover of Jesus ever! But thankfully His grace is greater than my tendency to circle around the wilderness looking for my next cup of aqua. Today I’m reminded to speak to the rocks in my life. Speak, Jehovah Jirah, my provider; beating rock for dramatic accompaniment not required. Roger that, Lord.

You Will Have a Judas

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I was reading John 13 this morning. It’s a chapter I’ve read dozens of times, but something new spoke to me this morning from the verses. Don’t you love that? I suppose that’s why it’s called the Living Word. The Holy Spirit speaks what we are ready to hear when we are ready to hear it. Makes me think of when Jesus gave instructions in parables. He said frequently, “those who have ears, let them hear.” We all have the feature of ears, but it’s not until our spirit is ready that we hear the deeper truths God has for us all.

Back to John 13. It’s the chapter on washing feet. I always liked that. Jesus humbling himself to serve others. Such a wonderful lesson. But this morning, a new lesson emerged.

Do you know what Jesus was doing right before He washed His disciples feet? Yes, they were all enjoying a meal together, the famous Last Supper, but John 13 gives us a peek into the thoughts of Jesus. As Jesus is sitting at the table, with the men who are supposed to be His followers, His brothers, dudes He can trust, He knows it isn’t so. He knows Peter will deny Him, He knows Thomas will doubt His resurrection, but He also knows Judas will betray Him.

He thinks on these things. Then He rises and prepares to wash the feet of His brothers. He washes the feet of the one who will deny Him. He washes the feet of the former tax collector who had previously sold his devotion to his country and people for a bigger paycheck. He washes the feet of the doubter. He even washes the feet of His enemy, the one who’d sell Him up the river for a bag of silver. I mean, this is an obvious lesson for us all. Sure, a hard act to follow, but definitely something to shoot for, right?

Yet, it’s the act just before washing the disciples feet that really got my attention this morning. He’s at the table. It says that He knows Judas is going to betray Him. That’s the thought running through His head while He eats His last meal before the death sentence. It’s like He’s on death row, waiting for the final walk down the long hall to torture, pain, and betrayal. People who He came to save are plotting against Him as He nibbles on bread dipped in oil. Talk about anxious thoughts!

I’m an over-thinker, personally. When someone does me wrong, I will replay the incident in my head repeatedly. I’ll ponder what I should have said, creating conversations that never happened. But could have! Lol. I’m also a sensitive soul. When people hurt me, I weep. When they wrong me, I get angry. I get offended. And in all my situations where people have hurt me, betrayed me, and plotted against me, I honestly can’t compare it to the situation of Jesus. But, perhaps I can learn from His example.

John 13:3 Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God

Jesus contemplates that Judas is sitting right there beside Him, and He’s about to betray Him, leading to a chain of events that will end in His crucifixion.

But then He fights the pain of the lies of this world with the truth of God. A friend, a brother is betraying Him, yet that doesn’t change the fact that His Father has control over EVERYTHING! And really, isn’t that the only thing we need to ponder, the last thought we need to have, that puts to bed all our anger, hurt, offense, and fear? Yessss.

Our lesson today is three parts. The first we already know. We learn it at a young age. My eleven year old just learned it a couple of weeks ago.

1. People in this world will hurt us. They will betray us, even plotting our demise. I wish this was not so, but in our broken world of sin, it’s true. We will have a Judas.

2. In our Judas moments we must remember the absolute truth from scripture. All things are under our Father’s power! He knows it’s gonna happen. We don’t have to fight our own battles. Our Father has control. We belong to Him, and we will return to Him. The Judases of this world can never take that away from us.

3. We still wash feet. Despite the knowledge of betrayal, the truth that God was in control propelled Jesus forward. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard. I recall the Garden in Gethsemane and how my Savior cried. No one is telling you not to cry. But the example of Jesus reminds us to keep moving forward in love.

This is a lesson I need desperately. So often I encounter trouble and my gut reaction is to fret. Yet God calls me to trust Him. But even more so, in the midst of trouble, I am reminded to keep going, and to do so in love, with a servant heart. I can still give to others, even when fear tries to tell me I won’t have enough. I can lower myself to my knees, even at the feet of my enemies, knowing that despite the plots against me, I belong to My Father, and His plans for me never fail. I pray we all can remember these lessons together and move forward like the example Christ has given.

Is Your Christianity a Slogan or a Lifestyle?

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This morning on the way to work a beautiful worship song came on. The lyrics were simple, yet the weight of the words on my heart was anything but. Tears came to my eyes, overcome, I prayed in the Spirit. As I prayed, I saw a vision.

A faceless person in a riverbed, the water rising and rushing past. The current raised above the person’s head, until they bobbled along, treading water, while lifting their mouth and nose to the sky to suck in much needed breath. Just when it seemed to be too much, the waters receded, and what was left was a person glimmering. Little sparkles of light emanating from their body.

I felt the Lord speak to my heart, “my Spirit is like a rushing river, flooding your soul. Much like my consuming fire, my living water engulfs those who thirst for it. The engulfing process isn’t easy; it feels like you will drown. But in the end, you can shine my glory to the world.”

I thought of my own life. Now, I’m certainly not gleaming! I don’t sparkle like a character from the Twilight series. But I do desire my life to shine the light of God’s love, for His glory to be evident in my life. And over the past few years, drawing closer to the Lord, asking for His Spirit and Truth, I had felt the distress of going under. When the thoughts you’ve always held are challenged, it’s kinda painful. I mean, it’s much easier to stay put on comfortable dry land, secure in the mindset you’ve always known. But is that what God has for us?

I’ll never presume to tell someone how their relationship with Jesus should go, but for myself, I wanted more! He says, “my thoughts are not your thoughts,” but I didn’t want to completely throw my hands up for knowing His heart. I dove into scripture, and I encountered a Savior who started to make me question the status quo. I looked at the behavior of Jesus, and then I held that up to the behavior of us all as followers of His way. It’s not to say I expected anyone (especially me) to reach this level Christ had, but I did recall Him saying “we could be perfect since He is perfect.” And right before these words, He had been speaking of His love. Therefore, I set out to emulate His teachings. Kinda like the old, WWJD, but a lifestyle rather than a marketed slogan.

Now, let me tell you, when you start questioning behavior of the church in relation to Christ’s teachings, you really piss people off. And nothing made the situation more convoluted than American politics. Did anyone ever wonder if the politicians were playing us?!

Your faith is called into question if you can’t actively support immoral behavior in leadership, a heretic for suggesting we separate our political leanings from our serving Jesus (since conservative candidates don’t automatically equal Christ-like), and a liberal for caring about the lives of immigrants or LGBTQIA. It hurts my heart that our Christianity is important enough to impact our political leanings, but not important enough that we demand moral behavior of our leaders. Or that we demand moral behaviors of those outside of the church, but not of ourselves. It’s as if suggesting God loves the sinner, the citizens of countries other than America, or justice and real equality for all is needed, it makes you a trader to Christianity.

The problem was, the disconnect between the average American Christian’s belief system versus the life of Jesus. I mean, we all agreed He was our Savior, but when it came to how we should treat other people, it grew more gray. Even though He tells us the most important commandment. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, and to love others as yourself. To even love our enemy!

You can hold a Bible in the air for a camera all you want, but if you’re going to put the name “Christ,” in your label of belief (Christian), shouldn’t you maybe try and do what He said? And didn’t Jesus say we’d know God by knowing Him? And didn’t He also say, by your fruit they will know you are mine? So, isn’t a huge part of our faith knowing His character and then displaying that for others so they can know it too?!

It’s like, shortly after the formation of the original church (set forth by Jesus), we started inserting our own ideas of how it should go. Many of the letters from Paul to the early church address this. This desire to keep following the law when Christ had abolished our chains to this harsh system we could never achieve. Yet even today, we expect certain boxes to be checked, certain sins to be avoided (while others are ignored), certain sides to stay firmly on in regards to particular platforms, and certain candidates to vote for cause they’re standing on that particular sideline. Whether they’re wearing sheep’s clothing doesn’t matter when you place more weight on culture than Christ.

To question these things isn’t looked upon well, but should we not always be evaluating our heart motives to God’s heart? If we want to claim a religion that follows Jesus, shouldn’t we love as He loves? Shouldn’t we walk in empathy for others? Should we not care for those who need us? There are so many scriptures on this, so why aren’t we giving up “our cloak as well?”

Why do we focus on things of this world, when the Lord calls us to focus on Heavenly things? Why do we worry about what we will eat, or put our surplus in stores for it to rust?

When did we forget salt and light means showing the love of Jesus, not placing ourselves on a pedestal?

When did we mistake the call of Christians to serve others as a decision to only look out for our own?

I could go on and on. Remember when I said I definitely don’t gleam? It’s true. I’m just a work in progress, much like we all are, but I desire to shine with His glory! Not because I must do it to gain His love, but I want to do it because of His love freely given. This love that He asks us to freely give also. It’s hard, y’all. It’s hard to lay down pride, to lay down judgment, and to lay down offense. It’s a daily surrender, but I would encourage anyone, who wants to be engulfed by His Spirit, to seek Him. Read the words in red, the words of Jesus, and ask yourself in all humility if your Christianity is simply a slogan, or is it a lifestyle.

How to Survive Raising Tweens

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I was driving home from work when suddenly my message notifications chimed, and stamped across the screen I saw the words, “I wish I had Wifi so you could come get me.”

At the stoplight I read the messages that followed:

“Mom I feel uncomfortable here I want to go home”

“I’m scared of all these people.”

My heart did that Momma dip, where it falls from your chest, into your stomach, with the weight of concern for your child. I quickly realized she could have typed these words hours ago, anytime really, over the last 8 hours. My eleven year old didn’t have a phone of her own, but I sometimes let her borrow my old one. With it, she could message me at work through a child’s messaging app, if Wifi was available. That day, I knew she had taken my phone to an acting class she attended, so she could video a musical number they were performing.

My only thought (after the jumble of cryptically delayed pleas) was, oh, dear… What happened?!

Y’all, they had been mean to her! Some kids in this class had ganged together and made fun of her. The song they had chosen for their mock music video had cursing, and Chloe had decided she wasn’t going to lip sync the curse words like they wanted. She sat the video out! Then, I discovered, as some of her classmates (many older, since the class wasn’t divided by age groups) had been using cuss words in their regular conversations, she asked them to stop. Even going so far as to ask the teacher to tell the group to stop cussing.

Ouch.

My teen years flew through my mind.

Now, let me just say, we’ve explained to our children that this world contains all different types of people, and they are all precious in the eyes of God. We’ve explained that different families have different values, and just because our family chooses not to do, for our own reasons, certain things, that doesn’t mean it’s bad for other families. They understand that they may not see alcohol in their parent’s hands or hear curses from our mouths (except for the occasional slip, wink, wink), but that doesn’t mean people who choose to do differently are bad, or more importantly, that we are morally better.

We have explained these things, but still, I suppose since she doesn’t hear them from home, it makes her uncomfortable. And she let that be known. And some kids bullied her for it. And… it hurt my momma heart for her. Sigh.

I remember being the different kid in school. The weirdo, the outcast, the subject of much bullying. I never wanted that for my babies. I didn’t want them to experience being the outcast, at a young and emotional age, when self worth was still emerging, but more than that I didn’t want them to feel pressured to try and fit in with the “cool kids.” I had experienced that rollercoaster growing up too. So, it’s like, I was proud of her for being different, and for sticking to her principles, but it also hurt me that she had to experience the ridicule of it.

“It makes me not want to talk to anybody outside of my family,” she had confessed during our conversation.

I could understand that. There were mean people in this world. As a homeschooled kid, only ever being around cousins, church friends, or in Christian Co-op classes, she had not really had to face this yet. We talked a long time about the mean people out there, why they’re mean, and how we love them anyway. We talked about how despite the mean people, you still sought the kind ones, because they were out there too, and friendships of that caliber were worth digging for. I think she got it.

In a way, it was really good for her to experience life outside our safe bubble, something I knew she needed. Yet still, my mommy heart worried. As we laid in bed later that night, saying our prayers together, it struck me…

God was listening!

I mean, of course He was listening. I knew that! But the events of the day reminded me on a deeper level of His hand in the life of my children. Every single day I prayed for my babies. I prayed for God to protect them and keep them healthy, of course, but I also prayed for their relationship with Him. Every night we prayed together that they would hear God’s voice and feel His presence. That they would know they’re never alone. As Chloe grew older I prayed the Lord would guide her, give her wisdom and discernment for His will. I prayed for God to give me and my husband those things as we attempt to parent well.

God was listening. He was answering our prayers, and His Holy Spirit led her each day.

Y’all, this gave me great comfort. I guess my heart will still worry for her feelings, and my mind will still become anxious over how she will transverse this world with all its many different people, but I will also have peace knowing we are not alone in parenting our daughters. Even throughout the emotional tween years, and later the crazy teen years (I’ll probably need to re-read this post at that point). And with His Shalom Peace I can survive this parenting journey.

It’s hard not to worry for your children as a Christian parent. You know that their still-developing, immature mind cannot grasp the truth of the spiritual matters that give you peace. They’re not there yet. But then I’m reminded that God is still present, walking them through their budding relationship with Him. I think of John the Baptist, leaping with the joy of the Holy Spirit, while still in His mother’s womb, and I understand that same Spirit is with my babies too. Today, I’ll take it. And I’ll take it tomorrow. I’ll take all the help I can get as I learn more how to parent each and every day.

Have You Accepted It?

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Grace. That’s what we’re going to talk about today. We’ve all heard of it, and if you’re a believer in Jesus, then you have accepted His grace over your life. Or rather, we should.

I wonder sometimes how much we have truly accepted His grace, His forgiveness, that covering that rescues us from death, while simultaneously giving us new life. That’s the kicker, you know. New life! His Kingdom, His will. On earth as it is in Heaven.

As I continue on my journey on earth, drawing closer to Christ, my “work in progress” as I call it, I continue to pick up knowledge and maturity for my walk. I’m discovering how I can live a new life, with a kingdom view, where I try and carry the fruits of His Spirit as I abide in Him.

Wow, that sounds like a lot. So, let’s try and make it simple. Dumb it down, if you will. I’ve always been a fan of the For Dummies books. Maybe we could call this Grace for Dummies, and I mean that in the most loving way possible. I’ll admit I’m the biggest Dummy when it comes to matters of infinite importance, but hopefully by humbling myself to the fact that I don’t know it all, I can grow a bit smarter, if you will, every day.

I started my journey by reading the Bible every day, and in following the teachings of Jesus, and the wisdom of New Testament authors, along with the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I have started to see some things more clearly. Like, grace, for example.

Grace is given freely. It’s a gift to the undeserving (us), and it’s not because of anything we’ve done, so no one can boast about earning it (Ephesians 2: 8-9).

How can you tell you’ve accepted a gift? Like, truly accepted it? I don’t mean like when a coworker gives you something at a work party you’ll never use, but you thank them kindly, and later put it in a box in your closet to forget about. I’m talking about the kind of gift that changes your life.

Y’all, we recently bought large, long shelves for our garage, and they are awesome. They allowed me to organize all the Christmas decor I bought, that I really didn’t need, and I was able to look at my newly neat garage without my left eye twitching. I could easily say those shelves are life-changing. At least in the world of my little garage. So, when I talk about grace, and how it changes you, I’m referring to what the recognition of grace in your life does to transform how you see others.

Accepting the gift of grace should change you.

It changes how you see yourself (hopefully, forgiven and worthy), how you see others (also worthy of the Father’s love), and how you see the world (as a temporal venue, with eternal souls walking around in need).

Think on that for a bit.

When someone hurts you, do you harbor a grudge? Hey, I get it! When someone hurts me or makes me mad, I stew about it for a while. But what I try to do is extend grace. It’s a daily thing, but when I find myself reliving my anger towards someone (and thereby giving it power to negatively affect me), I am quick to remember His great grace. I surrender my anger and offense to Jesus, and I remember the mistakes and sins He has died for on my behalf; then I extend grace.

Freely given. And now may we freely receive.

I look around at the world and the reactions of the humans around me. I wonder, do some react in rage and vitriol because they haven’t truly accepted grace for themselves? You can’t give what you don’t have, right?

How many of us say we believe in forgiveness of our sins, yet on a deeper level see ourselves unworthy of entering His presence with peace and joy? Maybe we think we’re not holy enough, that our prayers can’t go high enough, or we’re withheld the blessing of God because of our actions. In that case, we’re living by the law, and the fact we can never adhere to it fully. We will never achieve that level of righteousness on our own.

Through Jesus, we can, though. We can be perfect because He is perfect. That’s a hard concept to grasp. It’s not that we’re claiming perfection on our own merit, but rather through walking and abiding in His perfect presence and great grace. We become one with Him. Imagine if you held two fingers together and they fused into one piece of flesh. He in us, us in Him, together with the Father in Heaven. Yes, I know, this is cosmic stuff, but it’s also Biblical. Through Him and in Him we have our being, our new life, and the fruits of our life should reflect that.

We forgive because we are forgiven.

We are supposed to be the salt of the earth, but we have lost our saltiness when we give off a sour taste by our actions of anger, malice, and judgement. When we walk in peace, love, gentleness, and meekness, we are exercising grace.

We have one enemy, the evil one, and towards one another (regardless of political leaning, skin color, nationality, or status) we should be walking as one who has accepted grace. We have been freely given His grace, and now we should model that grace to others, thereby showing the light of His love.

So, today’s homework is this. Ask yourself, “am I forgiven?” Believe that you are. Think of the worst thing you’ve ever done. Accept that great grace covers that. Then, approach every person and situation with that in the back of your mind. Humble yourself. Remember that pointing out the shortcomings of someone else doesn’t make your own sin disappear. Only His bloody grace does that. And only His grace can do it for others! But the application of that grace begins with us. We are coworkers with Christ, given authority here on earth to lead the lost to the shepherd. We will never lead them by condemnation, but we will point them to forgiveness by grace through our love. But without it, we are just a clanging symbol.

The Gift of Giving

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I can remember past Christmas Eves, staying up late with my spouse, and excitedly preparing the presents for our children to find on Christmas morning. There were presents from Mom and Dad, but also the secret ones that would be left by Santa. Of course, we knew they were all from us, but our children would still see the magical make-believe of the jolly fat guy in red. I can recall always being a little jealous of that guy. I mean, he got to receive all the glory without doing any of the work! I was the one scouring store shelves for the precious sought after gift that year, yet this invisible man of our imaginations got all the credit! I remember putting a lot of thought into which present I’d let Santa put his name on, and more importantly, which ones I could sign with my real John Hancock. It came down to the fact that I wanted the good stuff to be from “mom,” and St. Nick could take credit for the socks and undies. I suppose it surprised me when I realized this year I wasn’t quite so obsessed with the possession of accolades. I was gonna give Santa the credit for the electric scooters and the humongous Playmobil school house. Which, by the way, was the thing she wanted more than anything else! So, what had changed?

I recently overheard a conversation between women. One lady was lamenting over the fact that the recipient of her gift each year never said thank you. In light of the lack of gratitude, she had decided to withdraw her present passing. She had come to the conclusion to stop giving where it wasn’t appreciated.

I. Get. It.

This Advent Season, the time of anticipation prior to the arrival of Christmas morning, I’ve really thought about the gift. You know, gift with a capital G… the greatest gift. If it doesn’t fill you with shock and awe, then I’d encourage you to keep thinking. Keep focusing on what really went down, until it clicks. Like, for real.

The One, the beginning and end, the Alpha and Omega, the maker of Heaven and earth, took the form of the weakest among us. The One who had all power and dominion, and a pretty sweet home already, made the decision to lower Himself to our level.

First, He came as a baby. The weakest of all humanity. It wasn’t a magic baby, like that fireball kid on The Incredibles. He couldn’t hold up His head, and had to have Mary change his soiled underpants. We don’t often think of our Savior in such a demeaning position, but He did that. He made Himself like us.

Second, He arrived the child of a young woman much like someone you may know. Mary wasn’t the daughter of a well-to-do congressman, or the sole heir of an oil tycoon. She didn’t have a typed out birth plan, with a personal doula, or even a photo ready nursery where He would lay His head. Point being, God’s son could have come down on a streak of lighting, in His full glory, ready to take the throne, and smite His enemies into compliance, but that’s not how it went down. He lowered Himself to the weakest position, placed in the most undesirable circumstances, from a family lineage of prostitutes, adulterers, and murderers, to begin a revolution that would change the future of all mankind. But here’s the real kicker…

He did it without thought of what we would do afterwards.

A Son was given, as a sacrifice to all. Even the ones who would deny Him.

His love is poured out for the very people who hate Him, even knowing they wouldn’t send a thank you card.

Christmas is a reminder of a gift given, with no promise of accolades or even acceptance. He didn’t sacrifice Himself for Himself, but rather for us, even knowing that many would say, “nah. No thanks, I’m good without it.”

It didn’t come in shiny paper and big bows. But it also didn’t come with a return policy. It had no “use-by” date to prevent expiration (until the wedding feast, that is), and no stern statement by Dad of, “you better keep your room clean or we’ll give it to someone who will appreciate more!”

The gift of unconditional love

He just gave the gift. He simply put it out there. It’s like, He said, “I know some kids will reject it, but I’m gonna give it anyway.”

I’m gonna give this because I love you, even if you don’t love me back.

It’s occurred to me that giving is a gift. To place myself as a servant, pouring out love to others, with no anticipation of how they’ll react, is a blessing that alines me with the character of my Savior. I don’t need to take the credit or receive a pat on the back. I don’t need you to acknowledge that I love you for me to love you well. Jesus died for my grandchildren that haven’t even been born, the grandchildren that will have their own free will to throw the gift away if they so choose. Yet, He gives.

May we all learn a little better each day how to be extravagant givers like Jesus, pouring out of ourselves, yet not requiring to sign the gift tag with our name. Giving in love, with no thought of what we can get in return, or if our present will be received graciously. To love is to give, without expectation. To give is the gift. The best gift of all.

How to Feel Joy in Pain

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Yesterday I was driving to run a few errands. I had one day off before returning to my stressful job in the ICU, and that meant the day was dwindling away with unpleasurable tasks rather than sitting by the pool and reading a book. Yet, despite my mundane to-do’s, I cranked up the radio with a smile, hummed happily as I admired the blue sky, and drove forward in joy while the warmth of the day rested on my happy face. I had a minuscule moment of surprise over my unexpected elation, before it hit me why I was walking on sunshine at all. Every day got better than the last!

Look, I’m a realist. I’m not going to try and sprinkle rainbows on your cloudy day. I’m not spouting a magic cure or trying to be a lifestyle coach of optimism. But what I will do is share with you my life experiences.

I suffer from depression, and I also suffer from anxiety. Some days are better than others. Some days, though, I’m sad for no reason, and that drives me mad. I go through seasons where my melancholy mood is worse than others, and I can be negatively affected by work stress and problems in relationships with friends or family. I’m an over-thinker, and my persistence in going over a problem repeatedly will keep me up at night. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not without trouble. I’m not perfect. But I have found what helps.

I’ll go ahead and get this out of the way… I’m on an antidepressant/anti anxiety medication prescribed by my doctor. In fact, I reached out to my physician a couple of months ago when I saw the signs that my condition was worsening and a dose adjustment was necessary. I hate when the devil tries to use our weaknesses against us, like telling us we’re not a “good enough Christian” if we can’t get rid of mental illness by prayer and Bible reading. It’s simply not true!

I come from a long line/family history of mental illness, depression, alcoholism, and suicide. I won’t pretend to be an expert on chemical imbalances and hereditary factors in mental health, but I will say I believe they exist. I’m a believer in nature AND nurture. Your past experiences do affect your future self. Do they control the narrative? No. But we can’t throw out the scars that rejection and other painful instances leave in their wake. Also, I believe in spiritual forces beyond our recognition. I believe in familial curses that can impact one generation after another, and I believe the devil prowls like a lion looking to destroy us. I believe in demonic forces at work in mankind distorting our perception of reality and feeding lies into our thoughts. Never-mind external stressors like working a pandemic in critical care (insert your own personal stressor)!

With so many different factors that play a part in mental health, how can we as Christians say just one thing works? So, if you’ve ever felt guilty, or been made to feel guilty, for seeking medical help for your mental health, please don’t. Throw that out with the garbage. I love Jesus more than the air I breathe, but I still found myself with suicidal ideation the day before my period would start. I talk to God all day long, yet I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about things that were not even things! I read my Bible every day, but I know better than to think I’ve kicked addiction’s butt. I can’t just have a glass of wine and call it a day. It will end up being a whole bottle and headache in the morning. I know the Lord has broken the chains of addiction in my life, but I’m not about to put Him to the test. It’s not necessary. But I digress. I’m just trying to say, this is a broken world. Don’t be surprised if you need a little help picking up the pieces. You can believe in God’s healing and still take an antidepressant. God does much of his healing through the work of His children, be it a counselor or prescription provider.

But let’s get to the meat of this post. I’ve had plenty of patients over the years that have been on a bucket of medication, but they still couldn’t get out of their pit. Remember when I discussed the multifaceted nature of mental health? I believe that my healing, strength, and joy come from Jesus. Yes, I take a daily prescription, and yes, I talk about my feelings, but it’s His strength that keeps me going. Here are a few things that have made a positive difference in my life.

One, I read the Bible every day and spend substantial time in His presence. You can do this a number of ways. I read devotions from the Bible app on my phone. I read encouraging emails from trusted, Christian websites. I will take out my Bible and just open it up where I feel the Holy Spirit leads me and read. That may just be letting it fall open, or going to a book you feel the Spirit impress to your mind. I also journal. I’m going to attach a diagram of words. You can pick one for each day. Get your word, pray and ask God to speak to your heart, and then just write whatever comes out. This is a great way to communicate with Him. On work days I listen to praise music on my commute and I worship like the interior of my car is church on Sunday morning. Some of my best times with the Lord have been in the car!

Image from HIScoach Training Academy

Two, I give Him every day. I discovered my best place to get quiet time that is uninterrupted is in the shower. I bought a shower chair, and I’ll have a seat and talk to my Father. I pray about different things. Yesterday I just talked to Jesus like He was my best friend (because He is), and I told Him different things I had been thinking about my home and work life. He didn’t say anything back, but I knew He was listening, and I felt a weight lifted afterwards. One thing I always do in my shower chair/prayer closet is surrender my life/day to Him. I close my eyes and imagine I’m at the foot of His throne. Then I lay down physical objects that signify my mental battles. I lay down anxiety, depression, worry, doubt, and fear. I also give Him my finances, family, and future. I call it laying down the big three. I ask for more or His Spirit and less of this world. I ask for ears to hear His Spirit and truth over everything else. I do this every single day.

Now, this one I had slacked off on, but I picked it back up because I find it helpful, I see a difference, and it’s super easy. I daily apply the Armor of God (Ephesians 6). I memorized these verses, not exactly word for word, but enough to recite them. I say the full armor out loud and mentally put it on. Take that, Satan! Don’t laugh, bro. It works.

Lastly, I strive to walk in Kingdom Truth. This is sooooo hard. That’s why you see me doing all the above stuff daily. To fight fear, you have to be like a well-trained athlete. You have to daily feed on the truth of God according to scripture. You have to allow that truth to become who you are. The truth of scripture changes you! If you know a Christian who isn’t different from the world and displaying the fruits of the spirit, such as love, patience, kindness, joy, and self-control, then they are just forgetting the truth of God. We all have our moments, but to walk in Kingdom Truth means to understand this world is temporary. The problems we face won’t be forever, but a life full of love in Jesus will last for eternity. Nothing can truly harm us as followers of Him. We don’t fear change, political unrest, or the opinions of others. We don’t allow broken relationships to break us. We understand that while the tears may come right now, that joy comes in the morning (future). This life is a sandcastle, and the waves will eventually sweep it away, but until then keep building your castle for the Lord. Invite others to build with you; even the sinners (oh, wait, that’s all of us). Even the ones persisting in sin (oh, wait, that’s all of us)!

Pain comes, but joy is the River of the Holy Spirit that runs through the heart of every believer. We just forget it’s there. Spending time with the Living Water (Jesus) will remind us of that truth. Depression happens on this earth, but the truth reminds us that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Like Paul, God won’t always take the thorn from our side, but He will use it to help us find our way. Our way back to His truth. The truth that we are sons and daughters of a King who rules the entire earth and Heavens, yet still absolutely adores little ole you and me. We love because He loves us. We lay down our offenses because He laid down ours. We forgive, as He forgives. We help the hurting. We seek His healing and guidance. We allow trouble to roll off our backs like water off a duck, because He is in control of all things! He fights our battles! He protects, guides, and provides. And remembering this truth, that I have to remind myself of daily, spending time with Him, this truth brings me joy even in the midst of pain.

Why I Haven’t Been Blogging.

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I don’t know if anyone has even noticed, but I haven’t been blogging like I used to do. I’ve been writing regularly on this site for eight years, and I’ve always loved it, until recently. I’m sure some people have assumed I haven’t been as vocal because I’ve been busy working a pandemic as an ICU nurse, and while I have been swamped at the bedside, that’s just not the reason. It’s more disappointing than that.

I have always found joy in sharing the things that the Lord has laid upon my heart. Even when I received angry critiques, death threats, or online harassment, I laughed it off. I knew God had given me the gift and calling to write what I perceived the Holy Spirit was speaking. I never doubted that calling or that gift of knowledge and discernment. And I don’t doubt it now. Not sharing a word on this website has been like ending a relationship with a dear, longtime friend, yet despite the heartache, I simply have been too weary to pick it back up. In essence, as I told a family member recently, I have become disillusioned. This disappointment and awakening to reality has made sharing my thoughts so very hard.

Approximately a year ago it really came to a head. I’ve always heard that you can really see what you’re made of when the heat is turned up. Gosh, this is so true. 2020 really turned up the flame under our lives collectively, and I sadly started noticing what people were made of. It wasn’t the world at large that broke my heart; it was the Christian community. The “church,” the collection of those who claimed Jesus as their Savior, for a large part, were reacting to the heat in a way that did not reflect the character and example of Christ. I’ve always loved the verse that states you will know a tree by its fruit, or when Jesus himself said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another (John 13:35).”

I haven’t seen the love. In fact, I’ve seen quite the opposite. I always enjoyed sharing what God was teaching me and revealing to my heart. I never claimed to know it all, and I was always quick to say that I’m a work in progress. I learned that laying down pride and humbling myself daily to the Holy Spirit is so important, because in this posture He reveals His heart to ours. By listening to His direction in humble submission I can see where I have been wrong in the past. And boy, was I wrong.

You see, a large part of me enjoyed the accolades from my fellow Christians. I had not always been a Christian. I didn’t start reading scripture regularly and daily until my thirties. So, as a “newer” believer, I leaned heavily on the church and elders I respected to guide me. Approximately three or four years ago, when I committed to hours of Bible study and quiet time at least 4 days a week, I started to notice a disconnect between the scripture and the behavior of many religious people. In other words, the fruit wasn’t there. Again, this discernment wasn’t from a position of pride. It wasn’t like I thought, “gosh, look at all these church folks not following Jesus like me!” No, it wasn’t like that. More than anything, it was a sad revelation. I became aware of a religious heaviness and spiritual oppression that persisted in some areas. I could feel it. It was heartbreaking.

I continued my seeking daily of God’s will as the years went by. My family sold all our possessions. We went from having everything to basically having nothing. Nothing but each other and God, that is. In this season of casting off the world we found a deeper walk with the Lord. We found God’s priorities for our family. We discovered how to trust Him more deeply and depend completely on His leading. It was glorious!

Along our season of walking deeper with Jesus, came an awakening to the world around us. We became more aware of how we could please the Lord in our daily lives. We changed our actions and behavior based on scripture. We wanted to walk in the Fruits of the Spirit, at all times! Even when the heat got turned up, it seems.

In 2020 the whole world caught fire, but it seemed to me that it was the church that let themselves get burned the most. Not at first. At first everyone was very loving to their neighbor, but as it got hotter out there, the rotten fruit came out. Again, please understand this doesn’t come from a place of pride for me. This comes from a place of heartache for my brothers and sisters in Christ. I haven’t spoken because my heart hurts too much to have uttered a word.

Somewhere in the fire of lockdowns, sickness, and financial strain, my brothers and sisters became very angry. I didn’t have a problem with the anger. I mean, I got angry too. The problem was where the anger was projected.

The Christian community is quick to say “it’s not a battle of flesh and blood we fight, but a spiritual one against the forces of darkness. Like, every believer I’ve ever met will agree. So my question is, why have we been fighting flesh and blood?!

I do blame social media for a large part of the problem. We live in a sinful world, born with a sinful nature of this world, and social media has been more than happy to feed that fleshly character. I have seen blatant, political propaganda be slurped up happily like it was the Gospel, and in this vehicle of political and religious angst, I’ve seen the church derail. Instead of a battle of good and evil, where God always wins in the end, we’ve lost our Kingdom-view glasses, and we’ve started a battle of us against them.

Republicans versus Democrats

BLM versus All Lives Matter

Like, you can’t support the police and support justice and equality.

Somewhere along the way we labeled everything that didn’t fit into our box as unGodly and bad. Vaccines became bad. While they’ve always been a way to combat disease, they suddenly became a way to “take away freedom.” I’m not sure where this started, but it really took off! It became a trend that if you were a Christian you couldn’t get vaccinated. False information began to fly around. Some of the most ridiculous and false information I’ve ever seen. Suddenly the Covid vaccine contained baby parts and changed your DNA. Don’t even get me started on the magnets and chip discussions. But I digress.

I don’t want this post to be about the vaccine. You can love Jesus and decide not to get the Covid vaccine. That’s not the point of this. The point is, people began to widely accept unvalidated, false info. The point is, Christians started believing we were in a battle of flesh and blood, that the pharmaceutical companies (flesh, real men and women), that the Democrats (flesh, real men and women), that the president (flesh, a real man) was out to destroy them. Instead of putting faith in God, or trusting Him to fight our battles of a spiritual nature, we took to horses and chariots to fight the flesh of those who oppose us.

I have heard preachers state the Democrats are trying to attack the church and take away our freedom to worship. There’s no thought of the Lord fighting for us, but only how we must arm ourselves with rifles to keep them sinners out!

We don’t see people as children of God. We see them as the enemy.

Our fruits are not patience, peace, gentleness, kindness, and especially not self-control. The fruits of many Christians have become rage, judgment, selfishness, and the exact opposite of love.

Christians have been proclaiming “faith over fear” and wrongly assuming that getting a vaccine or wearing a mask is fear. Those things aren’t fear. They’re wise, selfless, scientifically proven ways to decrease virus transmission. The real fear is the fear of losing our man-made religion! The Bible states nothing can separate us from His love, yet we’re afraid of the democrats closing our church building! Doesn’t add up, guys. The real problem today is fear among Christians. The Bible states there is no fear in love, yet proclaimed Christians are afraid of governmental control, vaccine and mask mandates, and liberal lawmakers. That makes it seem like maybe love isn’t there, since fear is so prominent. I mean, the fruit isn’t speaking like we’re His disciples. Just saying.

When the Holy Spirit began speaking to my heart how to bear His fruit and be a disciple of His love, I tried sharing this with my Christian followers. The problem was, while my words were based on scriptural truth and the words of Jesus Christ, they didn’t coincide with the popular thoughts of the Christian Church (of this world) and religion. So, while my blog posts gave a WWJD, kingdom view, they upset the religious realm of this world. Therefore, my thoughts were met with anger. In fact, met with rage! I was vehemently persecuted like I was Satan himself. I was called a “baby murderer” when I questioned if the former president’s behavior was something a lover of Jesus could support. I was attacked in flesh and blood as if who held a political office was a kingdom matter that meant the tie-breaker for who won the spiritual battle at the end of times. Do we see the problem here?

I stopped writing because the deception that tells man that his religious practices and political affiliation will save him, was too deep for me to speak against. I stopped writing because the false narrative was so much more tasty for people to ingest than God’s truth according to scripture. I stopped writing because I became disillusioned with how people I had loved, trusted, and respected in the Christian community could treat other humans with so much hatred and disdain. It broke my heart to the point of paralyzing me to speak on it.

Will I write again after this post? I hope so. I write for God, and God is love, and sharing His love is my calling. I want to share His love here. I hope I can share it by modeling it. I hope I can model it by loving my enemy, by bearing good fruit, and by encouraging others to do the same. We can be disciples, but we will only ever be an exclusive club rather than His church and bride if we can’t draw people to His heart by love. Our politics won’t win souls to Jesus. Our anger, rage, and judgmental behavior of those who believe differently than us certainly will not. So, maybe I’ll start trying again to model that love. That love that knows no fear, that love that is patient and kind. That does not envy, boast, and is not proud. Love that does not dishonor others, and is not self-seeking, not easily angered, and keeps no record of wrongs. Love that does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres (1Corinthians 13). I will persevere.