Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Why You Should Stop Yearning for Heaven

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You get up early, after staying up late, and you drive to a job that is much the same today as it was the day before. You drudge through traffic, rush through the work day, and attempt to soak up the quickly passing afternoon hours in between. You look forward to the weekend that goes by far too fast, and you do it day in and day out. Countdown to vacation. T minus 89.

You work long hours and long days for the things you can look forward to, like a cruise, the kid’s birthday bash, Christmas, and one day, retirement. You get through the muck to get to the luck. You trudge through the mundane to get to the merry. You hurry through today to get to tomorrow. Such is life.

Colicky babies will surely grow out of it. The terrible twos shall soon pass. One day the needy child will be able to do for themselves. Messy teens will move on. This hard phase of life will get better. You just have to get past it.

You daydream for better days. You beg the clock to hurry. Christians cry out to the Lord, “come quickly! Save me from this strife!”

Believers look fondly forward to a place of no more pain. This is understandable. After all, who doesn’t long to look onto loved ones who have gone before us? Don’t we all yearn for a life without disease, hardship, and most importantly, hate? Yes. Of course. But what do we miss on our journey to Heaven? As a Christian, it is your final destination. My only question would be, do you enjoy the ride?

In everyday life we anticipate what’s next. It’s The American Way. We drive right past the breathtaking sunrise on our way to a workday we’re whittling past for a weekend that won’t go slow enough. In this world we do have trouble, and I wish it wasn’t so. But we also have wonderful.

In the hectic life of a busy mother a baby smiles their very first smile. There will never be a very first smile again. Did she miss it?

An eight year old boy will ask his dad to play catch on a windy, autumn afternoon. In a rush to get homework done and the leaves raked before the upcoming Saturday barbecue, the moment will pass. No one will even realize it’s gone.

The chance to stop for a stranded motorist, to hug a friend in need, to pray for a brother contemplating suicide. It will pass.

The opportunity to hold hands with your spouse, marvel at the musical laughter of your grandchild, or watch a mother robin feed her offspring a morning meal. It will pass.

We yearn for Heaven. We yearn for a life more blessed than the one we currently struggle through. We yearn for peace, and a love that knows no bounds to fill us to overflowing; a love that will take away pain, anxiety, and that turmoil we struggle with almost every single day. There’s no fault found in desiring these things. God made us empty, to be filled with Him. A life where everyone could be filled with God’s healing, peace, and joy; oh, what a day that will be!

Matthew 6:10 (NLT) May your Kingdom come soon. May your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.

I think there’s just one thing we are missing in our yearning for Heaven, in our anticipation every day for the next, better thing.

God. Is. In. Us.

We are seated in Heavenly places with Christ, through Christ, for Christ.

We are here on earth to live our lives to the fullest because of Jesus in us. We are to shine the light of the Lord, and preach the gospel of how Christ changes things. And the easiest way to proclaim that truth is by living a life of exceeding joy in all things. Not just the very good things, or the very easy things, but in all things. And as we exude the joy of the Lord in the everyday mundane our eyes are opened to more of Him, more of Him right here on earth, as it is in Heaven.

We haven’t finished the race yet. We all know this. But I don’t believe it has to be a race in vain. I don’t think we have to run blindly, just hoping the finish line is around the next corner. I think the Lord would have us to rejoice in suffering, see His hand along the track of life, and lead us to a closer walk with Him as we go. We weren’t meant for a fallen world such as this. We’ll never be totally at peace here, but we can obtain a joy-filled, abundantly blessed life while we are here by resting in the fact that God is in us. We will not fail.

We can open our eyes, slow down, and enjoy each moment, each breath, each encounter as the gift it is, and also the learning and growing experience it is meant to be. In this world there will be trouble, but He has overcome the world. We can walk each day victoriously for the battle has already been won. We can stop running so fruitlessly past the gifts offered today. We can understand that each and every moment can be used for the glory of God. They’re not wasted, waiting time until eternity. We can see our interactions with coworkers or the people we serve on the job as a chance to do God’s will. Why would we trudge through or resent that?

In our ability to slow down, seize moments, utilize the everyday, and appreciate the little things (that we typically ignore in our race for tomorrow), we can bring God’s glory here now. We can increase the harvest. Yes, Heaven is where we long to be, where we are meant to be, but the Lord created Heaven and Earth for our pleasure. Jesus has empowered us to bring Heaven to earth. He longs for His children to enjoy life through Him today, tomorrow, and forever. Don’t just yearn for what’s next, but rather enjoy what He is doing now. It’s the precursor to the divine.

Why Tunnel Vision is a Good Thing

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I sat on the couch praying in earnest. I had woken early, something I tend to do when worried, and as I sat on my sofa sipping coffee I sought the Lord to ease my anxious heart. It was all I knew to do.

Suddenly I saw myself standing in the ocean. My feet rested on a floating dock, but I could see the water washing over my bare toes. A storm raged in the distance, and I watched as it approached quickly. Waves upon waves grew and swelled. I could tell from how they were building that I wouldn’t last long in the middle of it all. Logic told me so. I would drown.

My worries that woke me that morning had come from financial concerns. My paycheck had been a lot less than I had planned, allowances and reimbursements expected had not been included by pure accidental oversight, and it had forced me to shift things around in my budget, to delay payment on some bills. As a person who desired orderly ducks all in a row, this was unacceptable. My mind began to spin with worst-case scenarios and possible pitfalls.

In my vision of standing solitarily in the sea, the waves continued to bombard me, much as warring worries were doing in the present. But as I stood alone, frightened by the surging waters and darkened skies, Jesus appeared to me. He kinda took me off guard. He didn’t appear in the distance like a white knight on His trusty stead, but rather materialized into my arms, like He had been there all along. He was holding me tightly, embracing me, making me forget the storm, and just as suddenly as I focused on His embrace, the storm disappeared. Like it had never existed in His steady presence.

In the world the term tunnel vision is typically considered a bad thing. It connotes being so focused on a particular thing that you can’t see anything else. But is that really a negative trait to have?

In my life I could easily focus on my financial troubles and how they defined me as a provider for my family and budgeter.

After going back to work full time I noticed my young children had become closer to their father, and they seemed to depend on him more than me. Their apparent favoritism for him, in my eyes, brought me some sadness, making me feel like I wasn’t as important as a mother as I used to be.

I had recently written an article I put much time and thought into. I was proud of my work, but it hadn’t been received as favorably as I intended. The lack of fanfare and enthusiasm from the public left me feeling deflated as a writer.

As I got older my hormones were dropping and surging, causing me mood swings and a billion other symptoms. As a woman I felt crazy at times emotionally, unstable, and this bled into my relationships with others. It was often times overwhelming.

But as I’ve been bombarded by the waves of emotions, problems, and roles in my life that I think define me, I realize tunnel vision is needed. My children’s feelings for me no more define me than my ability to pay a bill on time, or my success as a writer. They’re all things that exist in my life, but when I focus on the instability of these things as my reason for being or my definition of self, I’m often left disappointed. In truth it’s who I am in Jesus that defines me. Therefore it’s His truth and His voice I must focus on.

When the storms of life rage, because, by golly, they will, it’s a strict tunnel vision I must maintain to keep from drowning. I cannot look to the left, or to the right. In Matthew 14 when Peter attempted his walk on the water, it was his fear of the wind and sea that made him sink. Had he kept his eyes firmly on the Lord he would have stayed afloat, I do believe. There’s a lesson there.

It’s not our problems that define us, nor our shortcomings. It’s not our roles in this world, or our fear of failure. It’s our heritage as sons and daughters of God that defines us, and it’s our ability to focus on that truth that keeps us afloat in this world. When we take our eyes off truth we believe lies. When we take our focus off Jesus we are afraid. There is no fear in love. But you have to focus firmly on love to keep out fear. You have to maintain a tunnel vision that is so set on the light that no darkness can peek through. In Him we are enough; no matter what the storms may say.

What God Would Say to Nurses

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Recently I was thinking about eternity. You know, Heaven. I often think about what it will be like, and I anticipate a place described as having no more tears or pain. I mean, who doesn’t? But then I’m reminded of my job. My vocation, my skill, my calling, that thing that I’m good at will no longer be a thing. If there will no longer be sickness, disease, or pain then that kind of makes my job as a nurse obsolete in the hereafter. While I look forward to a time where illness doesn’t exist it did make me wonder about my choosing of a career that won’t be required in a perfect world. The thing is, even in an imperfect world I have days where I question my career!

Don’t get me wrong; I love Nursing, but it’s hard. And it’s hard not to question your career choice when it’s so challenging, when it’s so exhausting, when it’s so difficult to keep doing something in the face of ever-changing medicine and an overgrowing patient population. You love it, but some days you wonder if you’re really making a difference, if you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing in life, and if you’re still where God wants you to be. Just being honest.

Well, since I work as a nurse at the bedside full time, and I’m starting back to work tomorrow after an extended vacation, I was overjoyed when the Lord spoke to my heart this morning during my quiet time in His still small voice.

This is what I felt like He spoke to my heart, and if you’re a nurse then perhaps it will speak to yours as well.

You’ve been thinking a lot lately how your job will exist in Heaven. And it won’t. But I want you to understand it’s important now.

The healing, it is a portal, a symbol of my ultimate healing. What you do opens the gateway to what I’ve already done. I have restored health and life for eternity. In this life you bring my healing, a foretaste of the divine, a prelude of the eternal healing that exists for all.

Take privilege and honor that I chose you for this task. It isn’t for the weak! You hold the key, and the key is light.

You are the light of the world. Believe it.

One day all will be healed. Until that day I have you.

When they see you, they see me.

Nursing can be a difficult and taxing calling, but it is just that; a calling. Nurses are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus, but even more so we are called to show the light of the Lord. We are afforded the opportunity to offer healing on this side of Heaven, until ultimate healing is available. The days can be long and hard, but to know I have been handpicked for such a task as this by My Father gives me renewed purpose and joy. I pray you receive it also.

When You’re Not Feeling It

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I read something recently that rang very true with me. It said,

Feelings are a gauge, not a guide.

It rang true again this morning when I stood in the shower “not feeling it.” Ever have one of those days, where you’re just not feeling it? For me, as a Christian, that hits hard. To not feel the joy I know Christ has given me could almost make me feel like a failure. I’ve always said of my faith in Jesus that “I know that I know, that I know.” I know Jesus died for me, and though doubts may come, in my heart I know it is true. I know God is real because my spirit tells me so. That’s the part of me that’s the guide; my spirit self.

Feelings can make you wake up grumpy. They can make you short-tempered, or even sad. They can make you feel helpless, and somedays even hopeless. They can make you feel frustrated, mad at the world, or like crawling under a rock! They can leave you elated, or totally deflated. You just never know. That’s the thing about feelings; they’re not reliable. They can tell you what your mood is at the moment, but they don’t predict the future or even always tell the truth. Feelings can be wonderful! Who doesn’t love falling in love?! The butterflies and whatnot. But broken hearts stink. The thing is feelings are similar to a storm on the ocean. The waves rise and fall, and they can knock you flat. But they don’t predict the sun that will rise, the rainbow that will grace the blue sky, or the calm current to follow. They’re a gauge of what you’re going through at the moment, but not the guide that maneuvers you through it all.

This morning when I wasn’t feeling it, when I wasn’t feeling the joy that I know persists in my life, I didn’t allow that gauge to push me deeper under the water. Instead I reached for the rope of truth, the guide that kept me steady in a sea of changing feelings. That truth said joy was there even if I didn’t feel it.

I began to speak to the Lord. “You are the rock on which I stand, my strong tower, my refuge of strength.”

Even if I felt I was on shifting sand I knew I stood on a rock foundation. The funny thing is that when you speak truth you see beyond feelings. Feelings can make you feel like you’re in the dark sometimes, but the truth always brings you into the light. And you know what? That feels good!

Come To the Table

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Come to the table.

We live in world of drive-thru, take-out, and fast-food. Fast, fast, fast. We stand up to eat more than we sit. We multitask, eat and run, eat on the fly. We do not come to the table. It simply takes too much time.

Come to the table.

Taste and see.

This was what the Lord was beckoning me to do this morning. Every fiber of the old me wanted to run, to rush to the next stop. We had one more leg in our trip to arrive at the RV park where we would be staying for my next travel nurse assignment. The control-freak, duck-in-a-row persona was ready to get there. She wanted to see the new surroundings, to ensure there wasn’t a problem, to map out the drive to work (a full three days ahead of time), and to get to the next step. That part of me wanted to hurry and be done, but my spirit said, be still.

Slow done. Relax. Take a breather. Enjoy yourself. That’s what the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart.

Come to the table. Dine with me.

That’s what my Father invited. To commune with me, to sit down together, purposefully, and to make that concrete decision to taste and see that the Lord is good. When I rushed and ran I missed those moments with Him. When I hurried here and there I couldn’t hear His voice. When I raced about frantically I allowed my to-do’s to distract me from His presence. I missed out on the banquet table. I missed a sit-down dinner with Dad in favor of busyness. Life had demands, always, but there was also the choice. The choice to sit.

Come to the table.

We had driven what was supposed to take four hours to our current stop, but that had actually taken seven hours with horrible traffic and bathroom breaks. We had setup our fifth wheel after dark, on a hilly, uneven site, with grumpy, hungry children. We had slept long and hard, but as I sat alone on the couch drinking coffee with the Lord this morning I felt like He was calling me to rest some more! It was so easy to get in the routine of rushing, to dive into distraction unaware, to stand up eating so you could move on to the next task, and in that hurried lifestyle you missed family dinner. You missed time with the Father. And in missing dinnertime you also missed the blessing. God speaks health, healing, and abundant blessing into the lives of His children, but we have to stop and partake to even receive.

Come to the table.

Today I accepted the call to be still, to rest, to wait, to taste and see. We extended our stay at the park we had stopped off at, we delayed our arrival to the next. We hung out together, we rode a golf cart, we enjoyed the beauty around us, we drank it in. We saw the gift of God through nature, time with one another, and simply slowing down enough to enjoy His goodness to us. Where stillness of heart resides, so too does peace.

Come to the table.

Is God inviting you to dinner, today?

Sometimes I Feel Crazy

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Sometimes I feel crazy. I suppose that’s not a very politically correct thing to say, but when I find myself cursing and crying within the same block, it seems to be the best adjective that comes to mind. I can almost picture myself rocking back and forth in a white, padded cell as I blubber to my husband about being unable to control my emotions.

“I don’t know why I’m so mad!” I had yelled, trying to explain why sometimes the little things set me off.

“I don’t have control of it,” I had cried! Salty, unexpected tears cascading down my face.

I sit presently on the couch with a cup of hot coffee, looking out the window at the rain.

I make all things new.

I think about those words that the Lord spoke to my spirit as I watch dark drops of rain water slide down my windowpane. Everyone in my house is asleep, and I spend the quiet time reflecting on life. I feel good this morning. The calming current of contentment that carries me along this morning is in sharp contrast to my outburst yesterday. The one described above. The one where I got angry over minuscule inconveniences, and burst into tears for little reason at all. The one where I felt crazy. Who was that woman anyway?

After my third childbirth, third marathon trek of breastfeeding, and entry into my fourth decade of life everything started to unravel at the seams. That’s how it felt anyway. I was in that difficult season of life. I wasn’t going through “the change,” per se, but the rollercoaster of hormone drops and surges as my reproductive body geared down was enough to send anyone into the closet to collapse and cry. Surely that was the culprit, right? I suppose I needed to label it. To have a reason. Then maybe I could control it.

As I watch the rain drip drop from the sky, cradled into the awaiting leaves, and finally falling onto the damp dirt underneath I think about my desire for control. I suppose that is the hardest part of it all; my inability to control my out of control emotions. Small concerns cause me great anxiety, worry that overwhelms the actuality of the situation. Major upset over things that don’t really matter. Mountainous anger over molehill battles. I have become the queen of overreaction. And even as my outside self reacts my inner self screams mutely, “calm down, Brie.”

It’s in your weakness where my strength is displayed best.

The truth of God’s word always gives me peace. I am in a time of my life where I am struggling with my emotions. My mood is often ruled by my out of whack emotions. This is simply another opportunity for me to fall on Jesus. I am certainly weak, and He is certainly strong. I can’t always control the situation, but He has all control.

The rain continues to come down, the daytime sky outside my window remains dim and dull, but my coffee is hot, my heart full of hope. The rain washes away yesterday, and I remember the truth.

I make all things new.

The Thing About My Daughters’ Easter Dresses

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As I sit writing this blog all my children sleep, while visions of chocolate bunnies dance in their heads, and I can smell the clean scent of watermelon shampoo wafting from their still-damp heads. After a full day of playing outside an extra scrubbing was needed, and they will be nice and clean for church in the morning. But this year I find myself relaxing in bed rather than my typical, last-minute scurrying about, laying out color-coordinated, ruffled dresses, white panty hose, shiny shoes, and dainty purses. In fact, their clothes are still sitting in the suitcase. Talk about change!

Over the past few months our focus had changed dramatically. I had minimalized everyone’s closets, and now we all just had a lot less. Every since having my first daughter I fell in love with dressing a darling girl. I would stop at a department store on my break from work, going through the aisles of tiny, adorable outfits, and I would almost always leave with something new and precious. After seven years of this and two more girls brought into the family, I found myself with ruffle pants, monogrammed shirts, and smocked dresses coming out of my ears. I was drowning in darling dresses and pink pinafores. So I whittled them down.

This also came along the time of our decision to travel, so packing up and moving with a dozen outfits versus hundreds is much more practical, and easier to fit in small spaces. Our most recent journey has taken us to the warm weather of Cental Florida. As such I had packed away the winter clothing we had and placed it in storage. I had kept roughly two summer dresses apiece for each of the girls (which is a miracle in itself for a former clothes horse), but I had absolutely nothing for cooler weather. No hose, no dressy cardigans, and certainly no shiny shoes. It just didn’t fit into the new plan. Sun dresses and flip flops I had, but as I checked the weather for a trip back home to Mississippi I was met with a forecast of rain and cool temperatures. So as I packed our suitcase I resigned myself to the fact that this year would be different.

As I packed the only cool-weather outfit I had for my five year old (something more appropriate for working out than Easter Sunday photos) I smiled. I smiled that it didn’t really matter.

My girls didn’t have any Easter dresses. They didn’t have any panty hose or patent leather shoes. No flower hats with matching purses. And that was okay. Here’s what we had instead.

On Friday I asked my seven year old why the day was called Good Friday, and she answered perfectly.

“What’s so good about Jesus dying?” I asked. “Why is that good?”

“Because He died for us. And He didn’t stay dead. He rose again.” She answered quickly.

That same day I had asked my five year old, “why do we celebrate Easter anyway?”

“Cause Jesus died on the cross for our sins,” she sang happily.

Then she added, “He even died for bad people. He died for everybody cause He loves us all!”

This made me smile, and it makes me smile now as I lay in bed the night before Resurrection Sunday. My daughters will not have Easter Sunday dresses this year, but they will have a clear understanding of why the day is so very special to us. They will understand what is truly important about Easter. It’s not matching outfits for pretty pictures. It’s Jesus. And it’s not Easter baskets (which we also got rid of). It’s Jesus.

They get that it’s not about bunnies and chicks, but about The Lamb. And while we have egg hunts and chocolate candies (cause who doesn’t adore Cadbury eggs), they understand what the best gift of Easter truly is. In the morning they’ll find collapsible sand buckets (great for a traveling family like ours) filled with jelly beans and a special, unique treat from Mom and Dad. They’ll visit with family, hunt eggs, eat yummy food, and fall into a sugary coma from a chocolate rabbit. Those are all wonderful things! But they’ll also know those aren’t the best things. Those aren’t the most important things.

Many times in this life we are all guilty of placing a bit too much value on the “window dressing.” You know; the stuff that fills up our days and minds that really doesn’t matter. We fuss about these things when they’re not perfect. Our tempers get short over the little things, and we find ourselves on Sunday morning angry that our kids can’t look just right, get out the door on time, and look the part that we all play unaware. Next thing we know our focus is on all the wrong aspects of life, and we unknowingly pass along this skewed outlook to our children. Importance is placed on what others think, but not on what our Savior desires for our lives. I get it. It’s an easy trap to fall into, and it’s a slope I even have to pull myself out of still from time to time.

As always, and as you’ve heard me say a time or two, I’m a work in progress over here. I’m trying to keep myself reminded of what’s important in life. It’s all about keeping an eternal perspective, and saying to myself, “does this have a lasting impact from a Kingdom view?” So will people remember what I wore, or will they remember how I treated them? Will my children remember how much stuff we had, or will they remember the experiences we enjoyed together? Will they remember the dresses they wore on Easter Sunday, or will they remember the joy they felt over finally understanding the impact of Jesus’ Resurrection power? I know what I’ll remember.

Jesus Weeps

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Today I was driving home from an afternoon outing with my daughter. We joked back and forth, and I smiled at the beauty of my day. As I surveyed the landscape around me, though, it didn’t mirror my mood. The sky was gray, the greenery drooping low under the weight of a pelting rain. The raindrops fell on my windshield like tears, and suddenly I was overcome with empathy for the brokenness of this world. At that moment I felt like even Jesus must be weeping. 

It’s easy to get so caught up in the happiness of my own little world that I lose sight of the pain outside my own front door. In all honestly if I let myself think too much about the ugliness that abounds I would probably fall into a bitter and defeating feeling of depression. Even just a glimpse into the heavenly realm and how the Lord must grieve over humanity was enough to sadden me then. 

Recent news of riots, of people in Virginia thinking they were better than their fellow man. The vileness of it made me want to bury my head in shame as a white, conservative woman. How must God feel to see His children spew hate at one another, to be so blind? Even I was guilty, in a way, pretending like it didn’t happen in my own neighborhood every day. Jesus weeps. 

Image courtesy of TMZ


What of the people who speak false beliefs, all in Jesus name? He must shudder, cry out in grief, but also beat His fists in anger. How can anyone speak hate, division, or revenge in the name of a God who came to earth to serve all. Despised by His own people, He opened up the opportunity for freedom from death to everyone who would accept His gift. Yet some people in the world think the guest list is in their hands. Jesus weeps. 

He loves even those who betrayed Him, but I would imagine it causes Him pain, as if He was being handed over to the guards a second time, when those He calls His own cannot even love their neighbor. He commands us to love our enemy, but we cannot even love someone who is different than we are. Jesus weeps. 

We walk on pedestals, noses in the air, neither seeing our wrongs, nor seeking forgiveness. But we are quick to point out the error of another. We ignore Him, we shun Him, we laugh and curse His name. Oh, forgive us! Jesus weeps!

Humanity is broken, and in our brokenness caused by sin we seek to break everything around us. In our pain, we seek to inflict pain. And in our emptiness we strive to drain those around us. We ache for something more, but not understanding what that is we fill ourselves with everything but His Holy Spirit. We struggle, we fall, we bleed, and we weep. Jesus weeps with us. 

Although Heaven is a place of no more tears I see the scriptures that tells me He counts mine. Is it too far-fetched to imagine He empathizes? I don’t think so. As a Father God who created His children with precision and care is it not only logical that Abba would grieve over the ones who have turned their back on Him? I think so. 

When I say “we” I speak of humanity, the world at large. If you read my words and take offense at we then perhaps you are part of the problem. Perhaps Jesus weeps for you. Because as I see it we are all in this together, and none of us is without sin. No, not even one. We’ve all caused God grief at one time or another, and we must all work to be more like Jesus showed us when He came. 

Today in church we talked about at least 24 verses in the New Testament where Jesus showed us how to respond to one another, live together, and be complete in Him. Though He weeps I don’t think He’s given up on us, and although the current evidence is incriminating I try not to either. I try to believe that the deepest parts of us, those insides knit together by a mighty God, those insides that are all so similar, that those inner parts would cry out for God’s ways. Surely the humanity in us can emerge, converge, and overcome the enemy of this world seeking to destroy us. 

Perhaps we need to dig a little deeper. Believers need to be immersed in God’s word and seeking His truth. The way we’re doing it isn’t what He taught. His intercessors (which happens to be all His children) need to be on their knees pleading salvation for those who mock our God, rather than hiding our heads in the sand. And I’ll be the first to raise my hand and admit my guilt. I know I can do better. 

Jesus weeps. But He also loves. He abounds in hope. He intercedes on our behalf. He celebrates our reunion with Him in Heaven one day. 

Until then, we gotta do better guys. 

Do You Find Yourself in the Wilderness? 

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Do you currently find yourself in the wilderness?

You’re in good company. 


The past six months of my life have been different from the previous few years. For many years now I’ve found myself traveling through lush pastures with flowing springs. I have found a contentment, joy, and abundant life living with Christ. I have enjoyed my children, my husband, and our many, many blessings over the past few years. I enjoy those things still, but I’ve found myself clinging tightly to them and my faith in Jesus as I pass through a desert place in life. I want to face palm at past me wondering why other people can’t find peace in life. As I sashayed through flowery fields I wondered why everyone could not smell the roses like me. Talk about a humbling fall. 

So I feel like the past couple of months especially I’ve been transversing through a bit of a dry spell, a valley, if you will. I’ve felt lonely at times, as if I had to really strain to hear God’s voice. It’s been a trying time with many attacks from Satan, and though my husband and I have grown even closer through it, and our faith has strengthened, I’d be lying if I said it was fun. It’s not. The wilderness is never a carefree, enjoyable time. Sure there’s always the joy that comes with being a child of God, but sometimes that’s shadowed by how difficult it is to walk through a storm in life. 

The weird thing about walking through a valley is how it seems up and down. It’s like, sometimes you catch a glimpse of the mountain, it gives you that extra burst of adrenaline, and you walk a little faster with your head held high. Other days you wake up and you feel like a Farside cartoon, just dry bones stretched out across the harsh desert floor. Today I found myself in a funk, and wishing to reignite my spirit with hope I dug into God’s word. I’ve been reading through the Gospels lately, and when I began reading Mark these verses leapt off the page 

Mark 1 (NIV)

12 At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, 13 and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted[a] by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

What I love about scripture is how it can speak to you at different times in your life, and though I’ve read this before, today I noticed something I had not in prior reading. Here in the beginning of Mark we see Jesus being baptized by his cousin, John. We have all imagined how it must have been when the skies opened and God spoke, “you are my son whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

Wow. That is awesome. God speaks to His son and tells Him how proud He is. But check out that verse right after. 

At once the spirit sent him out into the wilderness. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks today! I have felt like I’m in the wilderness, but I’m in good company. If God sent His own son into the wilderness to be tempted, this son in whom He was well pleased, then shouldn’t I be grateful that I find myself in the same kind of place? God leads us to the places where we might grow best to know Him, and really that’s what I’ve been praying for many years. You can’t stay in the green pastures and grow deeper with God. You have to walk in the wilderness so He can give you His strength. That’s where His angels will attend to us, and as Satan attacks that is where we will grow in faith and a deeper relationship with the Lord. 

I can’t explain the change in my spirit after being reminded of something so simple. It’s hard to see the hand of Jesus when you’re away from the shore. When the rains pelt down and blur your vision it’s difficult to see Him standing on the water. Yet there He stands, calling us to His side, ready to calm the skies at the sound of His voice. 

So, do you find yourself in the wilderness today?

Just remember, you’re in good company. 

Do You Want Equality, or Retribution?

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I’m going to be very honest with you. I didn’t want to write this post. I woke up with it fitfully on my brain; I had dreamed of it. Then even as I would try to fall back asleep, I would wake with it flitting through my mind. I tried to explore a couple of topics I wanted to write about, but this one kept getting in the way. So I’ve decided to put it down and see what happens. Just know that anything I feel led to say here is with love, but I am also human, so if I flub my words I do ask for your grace. 

Recently my husband and I watched a great movie called The Free State of Jones. If you haven’t seen it I suggest you check it out. If you don’t know the history of your nation then you really should take the time to learn it. History is how we face our past mistakes and then learn from them. The best way to commune with others is by trying to walk a mile in their shoes, and though you can’t always make the same hard trek they have, you can lay a sympathetic hand on their shoulder and say, “I’m sorry, friend.”

As Ben and I watched this film we were naturally affected by how this huge piece of history ties into our lives. As children of God, and more importantly lovers of Jesus, our main goal in life is to approach other children of the King in a way that pleases our Father. That’s not always easy in this life, but when you see what a wretch you are personally and how God redeemed you, it just makes sense. 

At one point, though, my husband said something bothersome. Bothersome because it was true. 

“It’s like the Civil War is happening all over again.” He said sadly. “We’re not going forwards, we’re going backwards.”

His words come back to me this week as I watch anger around me. I see people speak certain things, and I can almost picture the rage dripping off their tongues. They’re angry, and anger is good. Righteous indignation can move mountains, and it can get points across where mere meek words are unable. But anger is also a double-edged sword, and many times it can cut the people who wish to stand boldly with you. So as they lay bleeding on the sidelines in shock and awe they wonder, what did I do exactly?

So many wrongs lay in the past that they absolutely cannot be made right. They can’t! Saying sorry doesn’t work, and although raising your children to think differently than perhaps your grandparents did goes a long way, it will not bring healing. Only Jesus can do that. Equality is a goal, and I see it moving forward, but sometimes I wonder if that’s what everyone really wants. Sometimes I think people don’t so much want equality. Instead they want retribution. They want payback for their pain, and I just can’t help but think that’s not the answer. 

When your anger becomes a feeling of “I have been wronged, and now I need justice by any means necessary,” there isn’t healing. There isn’t forgiveness. There isn’t a forward momentum, no matter what may be assumed. There’s only regression. There’s only hate. There’s only division. 

In my reading of God’s word I’ve found forgiveness brings healing, but I also know that isn’t easy. In instances where I have been personally wronged and rejected (and no, I’m not trying to make an exact comparison) I have found that the longer I project anger towards my enemy the longer I hurt. But when I allow God to heal my pain and show me the good people in my life I am able to go forward in joy. I also discovered I can’t change some people’s hearts no matter how mad I get, but God can take care of it. 

This is hard. Sigh. I’m not trying to say that injustice doesn’t exist, and I’m not trying to sweep it under the rug. What I am trying to do is encourage everyone to look inside your heart, pray, and ask the Lord, “do I seek equality, or do I seek retribution? Am I desiring your healing, or am I wanting an eye for an eye, and hurt for my hurt? Is that what you desire for me, or do you wish to heal this land?”

Sometimes we all can focus so much on ourselves that we lose sight of God’s bigger purposes. Where is He taking us? What does He have in mind? I don’t believe it’s division, to fall backwards, or to slay our friends who just want to try and understand our pain. 

This morning this verse came to mind. 

Philippians 2:3-4 ESV 

Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.

I just wonder if God might more readily be able to bring healing to our land if we can stop saying me & I? This is where I am hurt, or this is how you’re offending me. What if we could focus on how our brothers are hurting, or how our sister might need encouragement today. What if we died to self, forgave our enemies, and laid down our anger that has become like a shackle around our neck?

What if we could seek equality and justice without seeking revenge or retribution? What if instead of asking “how are you gonna make this right” we asked “what can we do to move forward in healing?” Is it time to seek forgiveness rather than searching for a needle of injustice in a haystack of life? 

The thing is if you want to seek negativity you will always find it. If you want to gather together angry voices they won’t be hard to find. What’s harder is letting go of past pain, asking for God’s restoration, and moving forward in a state of forgiveness. It’s not easy to be the bigger person, but in my experience it feels so good. 

I hope my husband is wrong. I hope we’re not falling backwards to a place where people will hate me and judge me because my skin is white. I wish my fellow man could see past my pigment to the soul that will be with me for all eternity. It has no color, only love. I wish we could see with soul eyes. Is that too much to ask?