Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

You Know Me

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You know me.

You’ve always known me.

Even when I didn’t know you.

You knew me when my biological father left me.

And you knew me when you gave me another earthly father to raise me in love. To show me you.

You knew me when I tried to hang myself at eight years old.

You said, “you can’t come home yet, child. I have more for you.”

I just couldn’t hear your whisper. But it spoke loud and clear when the rope snapped and I hit the ground still breathing.

You knew me when I cried, lonely, afraid, and feeling worthless. You set forth a series of events to arrange our meeting.

You knew me when I ran from you. Others may have given up on me, but you never did.

You knew me when I did right, and you knew me when I did wrong. Your love never changed.

You knew me when I tried to fill my heart with all the wrong things. You knew I would see the truth one day.

You knew I would run back to you.

You knew I would love you above all else.

You knew when I needed to go left, and you knew when I needed to go right. You never stop leading and guiding me down the right path.

Great is your faithfulness.

You’ve provided places to live before I even knew I was moving.

You supplied my needs when it seemed there was no way.

You have healed me. You have healed my family.

You have protected us from harm. Looking back I stand in awe at the ways you have saved us, keeping us in your mighty arms.

What the world has meant to hurt me, you have used to help me. When the world has caused me pain, you have comforted me. Your mercies are new every morning.

You give me joy in place of mourning, and you keep me in perfect peace as I trust in you.

When I cannot see a way… You make the way.

You knew me before I came to be.

You knew me before I acknowledged your name. You know me still.

When man disappoints, you deliver. You remind me of my own imperfections. You lead me to humble surrender.

You spoke the sun, moon, and stars into being, and yet, still you know my name. You know my innermost thoughts.

And you delight in me!

When I disappoint myself, and when I feel my lowest, you delight in me.

You have adopted me into your family. I always have a place at your table.

People may misunderstand me, but you know my heart. You always know.

I weep. I cry burning tears. How can you love me like you do?! All the words of gratitude I can muster will never be enough.

You knew me.

You called me.

You waited for me. You never gave up.

You saved me. You save me still.

You speak to me. In the deepest places you speak your truth. Whom have I but you?

The One who knows me.

I Finally Found Where I Fit In!

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I can recall receiving a specific message tailored just for me from a visiting prophet when I was twenty-one years old. His words were like a soothing balm, the proclamation I had always wanted in life, whether I realized it or not. He didn’t know me personally, yet the accuracy of his comments struck a chord with my misfit heart, and I have remembered them always.

He had spoken, “you feel like an outcast, like you’ve never fit in. But God wants you to know He has a place for you. You’ve always felt like a square peg, and God is saying He has a square hole in mind just for you.”

These encouraging words were just what I needed. I had always felt like an outsider in life. I was the girl in school who tried to hang out at the “cool kids’” lunch table, but had somehow never been able to take a seat there. I didn’t feel welcome.

As a child I was the new kid, from out West, with the weird accent. Totally tubular.

Or I was the sick kid. Epilepsy. Not a well-known condition in small-town U.S.A.

I was the adopted kid, never really fitting in with all the cousins. Treated differently by the grandparents even if they didn’t mean it to be that way.

I was the little girl who was so ordinary that her biological father had left town, never looking back at the daughter he rejected.

I was the quiet girl in school. Pretty, but odd. Puberty didn’t hit until I was seventeen, and I was the last cheerleader who still admitted to playing with Barbies or frogs.

In all the Howard Hughes’ films of the eighties, the outcasts and misfits at least had their own clique. Even The Nerds got their revenge.

But I didn’t fit in anywhere. I couldn’t find my group, and went through most of my young life trying way too hard to find my niche. A loner. Maybe even a loser.

I was born again at the age of 19. I can remember feeling such acceptance into God’s family, but it seemed short-lived. I’ll never say this was anyone’s fault but my own. I know my own perceptions are often to blame. It was probably the devil at work in my feelings, and perhaps in the actions of others as well. Regardless, I never felt like I fit into the Church. Most of my Christian peers had been raised in a deep faith, and I was still learning to read the Bible. I didn’t understand all the rules, of what was good, or what was definitely bad. I was on a learning curve when it came to taboos of the Christian walk, and those who corrected me were not usually gentle. Sadly, I have way too many instances of harsh correction by my “sisters” in faith, and I know I have healing still left from those encounters.

I had a past, but one thing I learned about people was, ones outside the church didn’t care about that stuff. They didn’t give a hoot about what I wore, if I watched an R rated movie, or if I had saved myself for marriage. It was much easier to get along with the people who skipped Sundays all together, and so began a season of being apart from God.

It makes me wonder, is backsliding the result of sinful influence outside the church, or is it perhaps the realization one haves that they’ll never be good enough to have a place at the table of religion?

Oh, but Grace. Great, great grace.

I have finally found my place. I have finally found where I fit. For awhile I thought the place that prophet spoke of over twenty years ago was a certain space. For years I wondered where God would move me, or what group of friends He would put in my path. Still corrupted by the ways of this world, and still scarred by past rejection, I still tried to make myself fit. I attempted to insert myself in this women’s group or that ministry opportunity. I allowed my belief system to be that of the majority to which I wanted to conform, knowing that to sit at the table, there are certain standards you must uphold, and certain opinions you must keep inside. The thing is, no matter how much I tried to mold myself into the Godly women I admired, the more unqualified I felt. I wasn’t the trendy mom, the crafty homeschooler, or the first hand up to volunteer for watching the nursery on Sunday. I didn’t like being busy, spinning plates, or overwhelming my schedule. Then I had this habit of seeing the best in others, trying to walk in the shoes of the “sinners,” and remembering far too easily the past I had previously mentioned. I wanted to give money to a guy on the street without worrying if he was going to spend it wisely! I wanted to believe that each time a drug addict ended up in my hospital bed, that they would stop using, and change their life. When others whispered about a short skirt on Sunday, I remembered a “church lady” making me leave a meeting because my t-shirt said the word “suck” on it.

My weird ideas have often left people confused. My fair treatment of those different than myself has made me unpopular in certain circles. In fact, the last year has found me ousted from the table of many of my Christian friends, simply for speaking topics not allowed for discussion. I guess we could call them “square peg” topics in the circular world of religion.

I felt so hurt. I felt the rejection all over again. Kindness was met with anger, and I trudged away licking my wounds. I guess sometimes you think you’ve found the place where God has you to fit in, only to discover you’ll never fit! We aren’t meant to fit in the pretty, round spaces this world provides. It turns out the edges have hidden rough spots, and you can get a face full of splinters, even as others have planks in their eyes.

When I read the Bible, though, I felt like I fit. When I read, re-read, meditated, and prayed over the words of Jesus, I felt totally at home. In His warm embrace I found my place, and in His love I found me.

I’m not in any way trying to lessen the importance of gathering with fellow believers. I truly belief that finding a church home, surrounded with brothers and sisters in Christ is much needed. Relationships are beneficial! The support, counsel, and correction of other believers is required in this confusing walk of life. So, don’t get me wrong, here. I’m not saying to throw out the baby with the bath water. But I am saying that some dirt and grime can get in the way sometimes.

Some people in this world find their place like the perfect glove. For others, they always feel like an outcast. I think it’s good to understand that if you don’t feel like you fit, you’re in good company. Jesus never fit in with the religious leaders of His day, either. People will misunderstand you, they will hurt you, or they’ll unknowingly (perhaps, knowingly) push you out. But at the table of the Father, there’s always a seat saved for you. Right next to Christ. It’s in His love we find our perfect place. It’s in His love that we finally fit in.

I Will Never Forget the Trauma of COVID-19

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Numbers have been declining, face mask mandates rescinded, and I try to be hopeful. I haven’t taken care of a COVID positive patient in two weeks! I want this to end more than you know. I want life to return to normal. I want my outgoing husband to go back to ministering to strangers in love, and I desire for my daughters to play with other children without concern or worry. It’s not fear, you see, that drives me, but rather things I saw and cannot forget.

A few months ago I received my first dose of the COVID vaccine. I felt hopeful. In all honesty, I cried happy tears. I wanted an end to this pandemic more than anyone could ever imagine. I posted a picture to Instagram of me smiling with my vaccination card. A stranger commented about my lack of faith, and my obvious succumbing to fear. That broke my heart.

This morning my husband and I talked about it on the front porch. Before children wake, with coffee in hand, we’re allowed these private conversations. I mentioned how I wanted to see him engage with neighbors more readily, like he used to do. You see, the past year has not just impacted me. It had also scarred my best friend, my spouse who heard my pain after a long day at the ICU bedside. He knew the truth of it.

As we spoke of hope, of how things seemed to be getting better, I was taken back to this past summer. June and July of 2020. I had been working in a major, metropolitan area of Central Florida, and we had been hit brutally by the pandemic.

I said to my husband, “I remember reaching that breaking point where I knew we couldn’t take much more. There were more patients than we could handle. Every shift another person died. A woman my age with young children like us died. Then that man with daughters the same age as ours. Followed by the death of a coworker’s spouse. I took care of him. I helped her put on the PPE right before he died. I remember thinking that could be me, losing you.”

He listened in that understanding way of his. Then I added, “I think a part of my depression at the worst of it had a lot to do with public perception. I would try to escape to social media to take my mind off what I was seeing at work, but I was met with people who made light of the very thing that was breaking me.”

I had to take a big step away from the world during all of this. I didn’t fear a virus, but I did fear the way my heart was feeling towards others who could not fathom what I was going through. Here I was crying into the phone with family who couldn’t hold their dying loved one, and the rest of the country was complaining about not having prom or how uncomfortable a thin piece of paper felt on their face for 20 minutes a day. I rubbed ointment of the reddened bridge of my nose, scarred by a respirator I wore for 13 hours a day, and I rubbed my bruised ego even harder.

It took months, and I mean months, for me to let go of the hurt and offense I felt at others negating my pain. I had to lay it all down and be grateful that they didn’t have to know the things I knew, see the things I had seen, or remember the trauma that could still pop up unexpected as I sat on my porch drinking coffee.

I have forgiven the offense, but I cannot forget the trauma I experienced. I know I’m not alone in this. I think of the wonderful, brave men and women, doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and other healthcare workers who served alongside me during the worst of it. We all had that hollow-eyed look, at the time, and I think even now are like a feral cat hesitantly approaching a bowl of food left in the garage. We want the good news. We want the numbers to go down, and a return to normalcy. Yet we can’t forget. The death, the hopelessness. We were supposed to save lives, yet there was a time where nothing we did worked. If you entered the COVID ICU, your chances of leaving it alive were slim to none. It’s not supposed to work like that.

I’m back on social media, and it’s about the same. It hasn’t changed, but I have. I realize I cannot change anyone’s mind. I cannot be a voice of reason or experience to anyone who doesn’t want to hear me. I let it go, as my daughter’s favorite princess would say. Opinions are still strong, and people like to voice them. People have their opinions on masks and vaccinations, and I won’t try to change that.

I would only say this. Don’t belittle what someone else decides to do, or God-forbid, question their belief system or faith. In 2020 there was this saying, “we’re all in this together.” While I could appreciate the sentiment, it just wasn’t true. We all experienced the COVID-19 pandemic, but exactly how it impacted us was very different. We were not together in the differing traumas we experienced. I didn’t suffer through financial hardship. I kept my job the entire time. Those who didn’t have money to pay their bills experienced a trauma I cannot relate to, but it’s also a reciprocal relationship. I saw things at the critical care bedside that the average person cannot fathom. That is why I try now to not be offended anymore. Others cannot understand my trauma, and I cannot understand theirs. I didn’t have family die. I suffered depression and anxiety, but not as much as I’m sure others did. I try to remind myself of that.

If someone continues to wear a mask when the mandate has been lifted, that’s their prerogative. If someone wants to wear their mask outdoors or in their car, with no other people in sight, that is their decision. You cannot know what they personally experienced the past year. Keep that in mind. If you’re totally against the COVID vaccine, I respect your personal decision, but I would encourage you to do the same. Every ICU nurse I worked with got the vaccination. Our work didn’t force us to do this. The trauma we experienced did. So, if I could offer any friendly advice as mandates and restrictions ease, it would be this. Don’t lessen someone else’s trauma simply because you didn’t experience it in the same way. Instead be grateful that you can have the perspective you do. Some of us, like myself, wish we could forget.

What the Church Needs to Pray for Most

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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.

I’m Done With God

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“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.

It’s Ok to Be Sad

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I came across a beautiful word today that I felt needed to be spoken out loud.

Parakaleo.

Rolls off your tongue, right? Lol. It’s a lovely Greek word, meaning comfort, but breaking it down really got me going. It also means to call alongside. It’s actually formed by two root words. Para, which means beside or near, and kaleo, which is to call by name. When I read these definitions I immediately thought of my middle child.

Yesterday morning my eight year old daughter got upset. She had planned to spend the night at her grandma’s. She had packed a bag and made a plan in her mind. See, the night before she had gone to MeeMo’s, but when bedtime came she missed her mommy and daddy. Of course, I had gone immediately to pick her up and bring her back home. The following morning she felt remorse for her premature departure from the sleepover, and to solve her feelings of failure at being a big girl, she had planned a do-over. When I dropped the bomb that a second slumber party wasn’t in the agenda, she took it hard.

I wanted to be frustrated over her tears. I tried offering consolation that another opportunity would arise. I tried to tell her she had nothing to prove. I tried to explain my reasoning for saying “no,” but nothing was working. Finally it hit me.

“Come here,” I said, and then I took her into my lap.

I let her cry. She had made a plan, grown excited for it, and then felt the disappointment over it not working out. She needed to feel that disappointment, spill her tears, and receive comfort. Don’t we all?!

The reason this incident with my child came to mind when the word parakaleo left my lips is because of the wonderful parallel we can find in our walk through life. So often we experience times of grief, sorrow, disappointment, and plenty of situations that don’t work out. In those times we can almost feel guilt over our feelings, especially when others aren’t understanding, or become frustrated with us, expecting us to move on quickly. Yet in actuality we simply need the time to let out our feelings, grieve, cry, scream, and most importantly, be held.

Thankfully we have a Heavenly Father who calls us by name. He beckons us to His lap, to weep as long as we need. He is always near, beside us through every heartache, and endlessly understanding of our grief and discontent. Unlike me as a parent, our Heavenly Father doesn’t grow frustrated over our emotional outbursts, no matter how irrational they may seem. So whatever may be causing you sadness today, understand that your Poppa is always near, ready to hold you close, and wipe your tears. When you feel guilty for your sadness, think of my little girl, and remember that God sees you the same. He knows when we need to cry.

The Cure for Uncertain Times

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I always have this set of prayers and scriptures I speak in the shower in the morning. I’ve added to it over the years, but I don’t typically take away from it, nor do I divert from that script. It’s not that I robotically run through my morning prayers; it’s just what has always worked in the past to set up my day. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Am I right?!

This morning was different, though. Even as I felt the same concerns I might usually have for an upcoming day at the critical care bedside, my mind wasn’t on that. It was somewhere else. I realized I was feeling a burden to pray for our country. It’s not like I haven’t done that this year, but this morning the desire was stronger. The thing was, I had no idea what to pray. I mean, can we all agree this year has been full of uncertainties? All I knew was we needed God’s hand. So, I prayed.

I prayed in the Spirit, my unique prayer language falling quickly from my lips. I prayed for forgiveness for my own judgement, pride, and sin. I stood in the gap for others. I stood in the gap for our Nation. As I prayed I could feel the power of the Holy Spirit, and I envisioned other Saints across the country joining me in prayerful petition for God’s will. I tried to embody the scripture to humble myself, pray, seek His face, turn from my sin in repentance, so God might heal our land.

The thing is, although I’ve seen a lot of ugliness come out of this country this year, I am still abundantly grateful to be an American. And although I’ve felt like sometimes people consider the US the center of the universe, the fact is I am exceptionally proud to be born in a free Nation, under God, with the privileges allowed me. I haven’t thanked God enough this year for the blessing of my life as an American citizen. Instead I’ve spent a lot of time disgruntled this year. I am convicted.

I don’t always know what is right, and I don’t always know what is wrong, but I do know I serve a God who knows all things. He also controls all things. So even when you don’t know what specifically you should pray for, you can still pray. You can still seek. You can still say, “I know you got this, God. Please do that thing that only you can do.”

Romans 8:26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.

2 Chronicles 7:14 If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

Christianity’s Only Hope for the Presidential Election

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If there was one thing we could all agree about this year, it would be the monumental amount of disagreement this year.

What’s the only thing that has seemed certain this year? The abundant amount of uncertainty this year.

Indeed, this year has rivaled most in my short, forty-three on earth, and a part of me has desired to hide away in a storm shelter, waiting for the harsh winds of this season to pass. Whether you have experienced fear for your life in the face of a novel virus, or fear that your government is feeding you untruths about a virus, the fact is you’ve experienced fear. It’s easy to forget that fear often manifests in an apparently righteous anger, or in a quest to reveal the truth. Whether we’re enormously offended or staunchly standing for truth, it’s that thread of uncertainty for the future that drives the conversation. This year has rocked everyone’s foundation of security, and it’s ok to admit that. No matter how our response has manifested.

This has been more than just a year of isolation, though. It’s also been a season of unveiling. We’ve seen injustice come to light, but we’ve also seen the worst of humanity bubble to the surface. It seems that fear for the ugliness within ourselves can manifest in denial that a problem even exists. I think that’s been the hardest part of this year for me. Watching the compassion evaporate, and the selfishness multiply. Of note, I don’t exclude myself from this particular response to 2020. I certainly have dropped my basket of spiritual fruit multiple times this year.

I think the biggest problem this year, though, has truly boiled down to how we see, and how we hear. Do you remember the words of Jesus?

Matthew 13:13 This is why I speak to them in parables: “Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand. 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.’

For a large part, as Christians we see and we hear, but only in part. Mostly what we see is of this world, and in actuality it should be the opposite. Most of what we see should be not of this world. We simply forget our heritage. We become so distracted by what’s in front of us, we forget what lies ahead. In this regard we place our hope mostly in the things we can see and touch, and not in things of above (and not below). The problem with this? We will always end up disappointed.

It’s like, if your hope for your marriage is in your spouse, they will fail you. Conversely, if you are counting on yourself to make it succeed, you’ll end up sorely disappointed. Our hope for our relationships should always be on the One who created them, the One who models how we should maneuver through them, and the One who gives the best examples for how to love.

But, our eyes will only focus on the problems in our partner. Our ears will listen to the world for a solution. And then we wonder what happened to the healing.

If ever (in my lifetime) a year has shown us what happens when our senses are too in-tune with the world, and not enough in sync with Jesus, it’s been this year. So, when our eyes are seeing only the problem (and not the solution in Him), our ears are hearing the lies of this world (rather than the truth in Him), and our hope is in the solutions we can visualize with human eyes, we will end up extremely jaded.

Here’s what happens. We experience trials of this world, and we place our hope in the solutions this world offers. We put all our eggs in a political basket, or we place all our efforts into advancing a system of this world. We consider things like vaccines the only way to save us. We consider achieving civil justice the answer to broken human hearts, and while ending corruption is also God’s heart, it will not be the answer for a corrupt man. Changing systems, policies, and political parties will not heal the heart of mankind. We know this! We simply forget to proceed through life like we do.

My point is, there’s not a problem with seeking justice, truth, and a non-corrupt system. It’s honorable to speak truth, but we forget to speak it in love, highlighting the true answer for all of the above. There’s nothing wrong with seeking change through our political party of choice, but if we count on our politicians to change the world, we will never win. Point blank, we have but one hope to turn this year around. We’ve simply misplaced that hope.

We see with eyes of this world, and we hear with ears the same. It shouldn’t be this way. Jesus said in the verses above that our hearts have become calloused, but if we could understand the world with our hearts and turn, that He would heal us. Do you know how we can do that? We must learn His heart. Read that last sentence again. His heart, not the world’s heart.

The heart of this world will have you misplace your hope. It will make you place your future and hope in the systems of this world, but they cannot save you. They will, in fact, fail you. So whether your candidate wins or loses, your future and hope cannot reside there. They must be in Jesus and His heart for mankind, as stated in scripture. We must hear with kingdom ears, and see with eyes focused on eternity. But more than that, we must speak with a love that proclaims the hope we have in Him. Our words don’t ridicule or mock when they’re kingdom-minded. They speak hope, love, peace, and the joy that comes from Heaven.

Sadly, a large majority of Christians will view this as a fluff piece. They’ll say, “yeah, that’s nice and all in theory, but in the real world it doesn’t work that easily.”

That breaks my heart. The truth is, the very simple yet profound nugget in this post can change your entire life. It really is that easy. We really can have victory regardless of an election. We truly can experience peace no matter what the media may say. We don’t even have to hunker down in a storm shelter to escape the problems whirling about us. We only need ears to hear, eyes to see, and love to guide us. No matter what happens in November, the future for a person saved by the blood of Christ is set. Regardless of how this year ends or what the next year holds, there is peace in eternal life with God. In the end, our Father wins, and a new earth and system will prevail. I can handle whatever 2020 throws with that in mind.

The thing is, when you know your future is set, you can pass through the desert unscathed. In the 23rd Psalm it proclaims “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

Y’all! We’ve missed the shadow part!

There is no valley of death. Death is but a shadow.

2020, and all its problems, are but a shadow.

The outcome of the 2020 election, no matter what, is but a shadow.

And do you know the thing about shadows? They mean nothing in the face of what it real. They mean nothing without the light. The light of God’s truth reveals the existence of all things, and our hope should only be in Him. Shadows are shifting, but our Father is solid. And that is where our Hope should stand.

The Unexpected Peace I Found in Pain

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I was a few months away from my thirtieth birthday when my life fell apart. I had a beautiful home, new vehicles shining in the double garage, and the financial stability to add to the rooms of my house pretty much anything my heart desired. Four bedrooms, but basically silent halls. I had a wonderful 9-5, good friends, and who can forget the double shelves of alphabetized DVDs. Life was good. Or as good as life got, anyway. Right?!

I can remember the heartache like no other. My throat was raw with it. The deep pain in my chest rose with bile and acid up my esophagus, and the tears just kept falling. They had not stopped since the night before, and glancing at my red-rimmed eyes in my new car’s mirror made me glad I had not reported to my job site that morning. They would have known immediately.

“What’s wrong with me?!” I wondered.

I drove along an unknown roadway. Despite having tossed and turned most of the night, and regardless of the six pack I had numbly swallowed to help usher in the sandman, I had managed to leave my happy (looking) home early to get to work on time. My promotion had brought along new training, and it seemed the best bit of luck that this particular day would be one spent commuting over an hour to work, alongside strangers who wouldn’t question my melancholy. This was back when I believed in things like luck or coincidence.

“Why am I so unlovable?!” I questioned the pristine interior of my vehicle.

I was almost thirty years old, and I felt like I should be thinking about starting a family. Not this. My mind traveled back to the prior week, how my primary care doctor had questioned my desire for children in light of the birth control prescription she was writing. I didn’t know when she asked why we hadn’t started a family yet. We both wanted children. But in the silence of the rubber meeting the roadway that morning, I knew. I finally understood.

“What did I do wrong?!” I cried.

I racked my brain in the dim, morning light. I tried to be a good wife. I didn’t nag. I kept fit and trim. I had even fixed that flat chest situation. Thank you, Mr. Surgeon. I was a good cook, a complimentary companion, and always quick to concede in an argument. So why did he not want me?

“I don’t want to be married anymore,” he had said the night before.

He had asked me to take a seat, then had spoken the words matter-of-fact, like turning off love and ending a marriage was as easy as changing the color pattern of the living room. Perhaps easier.

“Help me, God!” I cried into the silent car, as I replayed the night before my marriage ended.

God. I still believed in Him. I had never stopped, really. I just hadn’t spoken to Him in a while. In fact, the last time I remembered hearing His voice was before I had gotten married. As things began to heat up in our relationship, some six years prior, I remember the whisper of the Holy Spirit reminding me of something I had learned as a young woman at a discipleship training school overseas. The speaker had cautioned the room full of us young adults about the dangers of “missionary-dating.” You might be familiar with the Bible’s instruction about being unequally yoked, and this was the caution the Lord brought to my mind.

So, over a table full of empty beer bottles, in a smoky bar, I had asked my soon-to-be spouse if he believed in Jesus.

“Of course! I’m Catholic,” he answered with a laugh, and that had been the extent of my prayerful consideration of our relationship.

I don’t want to paint the object of my (then) affection and ex-husband in a bad light. I certainly was no saint, and the point of this story is me. I had ignored the voice of God, His guidance, His Spirit, and relationship with Him for over six years. Yet in the midst of my utter failure and pain, He was the One I cried out to for help.

“Help me, God,” I had cried, and calling for His assistance came as naturally as if I had been doing it all along.

And there, in my pain, He met me. There in my brokenness, He spoke to my heart. The words I heard from the Lord at that moment were like a lightening bolt, yet also, simultaneously, like the whisper of a trusted friend placing their hand on my sagging shoulder and speaking the advice I needed. It’s not important what He said to me in that moment, but I can tell you it rang as one of the truest things that has ever been spoken into my life. It was exactly what I needed in that moment, where I felt so unworthy and unloved, but also what I needed to pick myself up from the mess I was in, and move on from a broken situation I could not control or mend.

I arrived to the alternate job site carrying some things I did not expect to find. Hope for the future, and peace for my current situation. I had been feeling a hurt and pain I couldn’t make my way through, but as I put my car in park in an unfamiliar lot, I knew I could make it with God carrying me. Somehow, and for some reason, He had met me in the midst of my pain. I didn’t deserve an answer. In fact, I had given Him the silent treatment for years. Yet when I cried out in my hurt, my Father answered. I still don’t think I deserved that, but thankfully He is a good, good Father. Compassionate, kind, and unending in mercy.

Life has never been the same since I encountered God in the middle of a lonely highway over thirteen years ago. It didn’t immediately become a pathway of roses, but I do know it began to look up from there. He pulled me from my pit, and I have kept in constant communication with Him ever since. I mean, a God who answers a wayward child who is reaping what she sowed… that is a relationship I could never turn my back on again.

The Lord not only pulled me from my pit, but He filled me with a new song. He gave me a new life, a wonderful husband, beautiful children, a path with purpose, forgiveness, redemption, and all the blessings that are promised in His Word. I haven’t written about my divorce in a long time, but this story has been on my mind lately. Although the circumstances are sad and broken, the healing and restoration is something I never want to forget. I’m so grateful we can serve a God of redemption, who writes us a new story, even when we’ve ripped the pages. He truly makes all things new. This story, while my personal account, is also the story of all mankind. We are all the broken pieces, who had searched for fulfillment in all the wrong places, yet aren’t left on our own. All we have to do is call for help, and He will hear. Even if we haven’t spoken in years. He hears, and He rescues the fallen.

How to Hear the Voice of God Better

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Do you remember the Kevin Costner film from 1989 titled Field of Dreams? In the movie (based on a novel) an Iowa corn farmer is walking through his field when he sees a vision of a baseball field and hears a voice say, “build it and he will come.” Although everyone thinks he’s crazy, he is so certain that he’s supposed to build a baseball field in his cornfield so Shoeless Joe Jackson can come play there, that despite public opinion he plows down his corn and steps out in this unconventional calling. I won’t ruin the plot for you if you haven’t seen it, but let’s just say that his commitment to carry forth the word he’s given does more for his personal life and spiritual growth than something as simple as a baseball legend coming to visit.

The words uttered in that film, “build it and he will come,” resounded with me deeply when I recalled them yesterday and not because I loved that old movie so much, but rather due to the spiritual significance they spoke.

If we build it, He will come.

Our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit, and as such, when we consecrate that space for Him, He is faithful to meet us there. The problem with our temples is they become too crowded for His Spirit to comfortably reside there. Our minds are filled with worries, and our hearts filled with anxiety. We harbor guilt, anger, and unforgiveness on the shelves of our mind. We spend our time on television, social media, or our busy schedule more than we do laying a good foundation in our spirit. Hey, I’m guilty too, but if you desire to hear more from the Lord, I’ve found you must close out the distraction and noise of this world to be able to listen. His voice is a whisper.

  

I’ve taken to practicing a daily unloading of the world. Usually first thing in the morning while in the shower I will quiet my heart and mind, close my eyes, and picture that I am standing at the foot of a throne. In the highest seat is Jesus, and I mentally and emotionally unload my burdens. I pray in surrender and tell the Lord something like, “today I give you all my anxiety, worries, and uncertainty. I exchange them for your Spirit and peace.”

I’ve noticed a tremendous upswing in my day with this simple practice of surrender. In it, I am acknowledging His supreme power in my life. I’m admitting I cannot do it alone. Many times I will imagine myself walking in a field with Jesus, simply spending carefree time with my Savior. I will pray out loud something like, “thank you that I am in you, and you are in me, and we are one with the Father, seated in Heavenly places.” By repeating these powerful words of truth I am acknowledging scripture, believing that the troubles of this world mean little compared to His power, His kingdom, and His plans for me.

When we can pray, listen, and read the Word, the Lord will speak to our hearts. He will impart His plans, His knowledge, and His heart, but I’ve found the key to hearing that still, small voice is pushing out the noise that distracts us. And when I say noise, I don’t just mean the television or screaming children. I’m referring to the noise in our heads, the to-do lists, or the lies from the enemy that say how we perform in life is more important than who God made us to be. The lies that compare us to others, or worry about the opinion of others versus who God says we are. To hear from the Lord is to lay down your life, meaning you would give up anything and everything, including and foremost the things of this world.

There is no room in our bodies, hearts, and minds for anything other than God, but we continue to fill the spaces with it. The thing is, those things don’t satisfy, they just leak out leaving us feeling empty. If we build it, though, He will come. If we empty our houses, clean them of the things not of God, and open the doors in anticipation of His Spirit, He will come and make His home in us. And much like our friend Kevin Costner learned, He will bring us much greater things than we ever imagined.