Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

The Offense of Being Offended as a Christian

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Have you ever been forced to be around someone you don’t like? If you’re a responsible adult, in a work setting, then the answer is probably yes. You can break off an abusive, long term relationship, ignore your in-laws, or cut ties with a toxic friend, but leaving a great job because of an annoying coworker isn’t always economically feasible, and I’ve found myself in this situation lately.

Have you ever been so irked by an itchy personality that you imagine yourself throttling that person? I know, not very Christ-like, but let’s be honest; we’ve all been there once or twice. Some people can just be so different from us, and it’s like they know all the wrong buttons to push! This was what happened to me.

This lady was so prideful. I remember Southern ladies describing it as, “she thinks her sh*t don’t stink.” And that seemed like a pretty good description of this situation. The woman I’m referring to thought she was always right, everyone else was always wrong, and her way of doing things was the only way. It doesn’t make for a conducive workspace.

One morning, I had just sat down booting up my computer with another scheduled, early-arriving coworker, when she walked in. She wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour! I thought I had time to drink my coffee and get my heart and mind in the right place for her abrasive personality, yet there she was.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, even as my mind wondered if she was just checking to make sure we came to work on time in an environment without a time clock to keep us honest.

And so it began. She started droning on about the changes she was instituting for the workplace (as the most senior person in our office), and about all the things we were all doing wrong that she could improve upon.

Y’all, it flew all over me. I had spent the past couple of days she’d been off cleaning up her messes and mistakes! My work-plate had been overflowing thanks to her missed steps, and it made my blood want to boil at her audacity to suggest anyone else was the problem!

The thing was, I wasn’t the only one! Everyone in the office felt the same as me. They were fed up with her constant slacking of job duties, but even more so with her attitude that suggested otherwise. Grrr. It made us all crazy. In fact, when she wasn’t around we talked about how insane she made us all feel. We laughed at her expense, and made jokes about her holier-than-though attitude. It somehow made me feel better, you know?

After a full day of hard work, also filled with plenty of gossip about my troublesome coworker, I drove home and started feeling conviction. I knew it wasn’t right. Not any of it. Not my anger, not my judgement. I shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense, ridiculing her behavior with others, or gossiping period. I confessed of my behavior and asked the Lord to change my heart. Man, it is so easy to fall into sin, and fall away from the heart of God! I asked Him to give me His heart towards this problematic coworker, to help me see her with His eyes. That’s a tough sale, guys, cause when you do that, you no longer want to dislike a person for their erroneous behavior; you want to embrace them in their brokenness. Have you ever realized we’re all the same in that we’re not yet whole?

The next time I worked with this person, it was great! I told my husband it had to be the Holy Spirit. I usually grew angry at her pride and easily offended when her comments suggested I was less of a good worker than she. Because really, isn’t that what these situations really come down to most of the time? Personal offense? But on this day, I took no offense, and we got along swimmingly. I left the office lighter, in a better mood, because instead of feeling angry, I felt peace.

Have you ever noticed how off your behavior is when you’re angry? It’s the opposite of the fruits of the spirit. Instead of peace, we feel unease. Instead of joy, we feel rage. Instead of patience, we feel frustration. Instead of kindness, we feel vengeance. And most importantly, instead of love, we feel the opposite! If God is love, what is the opposite of love? Well, I can tell you, it’s not of God.

The thing is, many times when we feel offended, it’s selfishness. Instead of service, like Jesus modeled, we have placed ourselves to be served. By assuming our desires, opinions, or even our life, are more important than a brother/sister, we are elevating ourselves, which never pans out well in the Kingdom of God. In the Kingdom way, we are asked by Jesus to lay down our lives, to take up His cross, and to put on His yoke. Cause, you see, any other yoke is one of slavery. Slavery to anger, pride, selfish action, and again, the opposite of God’s essence, love. It turns out, His yoke, His way, is easy. That’s why after being a slave to offense, we feel terrible, but after being a slave (servant) to love, we feel amazing. I don’t think we always realize why we’re feeling so bad. We think it’s because of other people’s actions, but I would suggest, perhaps it’s our own hearts causing us harm.

When that person passes you in traffic haphazardly or cuts you in line! Arghh!

Remember justice is His. He will lift you up. Ask yourself these heart questions. What makes our time more valuable than that of another? What ranking does this particular offense hold in light of eternity? Does our response negatively affect our heart, and does it display the light of the One we claim to love? Are we reflecting Jesus to a lost and hurting world? This is something I desire more than anything.

When someone disagrees with something that is very important to us, it’s hard. When someone maliciously hurts us, it’s even harder. It’s crazy hard to lay down the desire to be right, the desire to be vindicated, and the desire to be esteemed, but as a Christian, that is what we are called to. We are asked to humble ourselves, to lay down our swords, and to serve in love. I still find myself in this crazy world, getting offended, but I try to not let that offense rule me, define me, or steer my actions. I’ve found that the true offense to being offended isn’t against the one I perceive as the offender, but rather it ends up being an offense to my own heart and the spirit God has given me. And who wants that!

How to Survive Raising Tweens

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

At the stoplight I read the messages that followed:

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

“I’m scared of all these people.”

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

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

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

Ouch.

My teen years flew through my mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God was listening!

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

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

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

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

Have You Accepted It?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accepting the gift of grace should change you.

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

Think on that for a bit.

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

Freely given. And now may we freely receive.

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

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

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

We forgive because we are forgiven.

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

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

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

How to Feel Joy in Pain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Image from HIScoach Training Academy

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

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

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

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

The Day I Got Flipped Off

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I’m not one to run to social media or pen an angry blog post every time someone looks at me sideways, but the thing is, I’ve seen so much of this lately, that I thought it was worth mentioning. I’ll bet as you read my words you’ll probably be able to relate, and I reckon the biggest question you will need to ask yourself is, which car are you driving?

Last week I was sitting at a red light. As the light turned green I placed my foot on the accelerator and moved forward. Obvious, right? I’m not trying to give driving lessons, but rather explaining in detail my actions. When the light turned green, I went. I didn’t delay. I wasn’t distracted or on my phone. I went forward. The problem for the driver behind me was I obviously didn’t move forward fast enough.

I’ll add another observation at this point. I recall as I moved forward the van next to me also moved forward. At the same rate of speed. Like, neck and neck. I mention this so you’ll understand that I accelerated forward at an average, anticipated speed. I wasn’t going overly slow or even “driving like a granny.” Yet, he honked.

Ahhh, the ever-present horn. Do you know how often people honk their horns in Florida? Like, it’s ridiculous. We’re in the land of sunshine. The place where everyone else comes to vacation. People leave their hectic, fast-paced lives to come to the beach and relax. Yet here we are. Driving 120mph down the interstate, blaring our horn when someone goes under 80, and flipping them off if they don’t gun-it at the red light.

That’s right. The guy flipped me off. After honking at me, for going on green, he passes me and pulls up alongside me to cuss me out through his open window. You know, in case I thought the loud, horn blare was an accident. Then he extended his middle finger my way with an angry glare, before speeding ahead in a dust cloud of angst.

Wanna hear the absolute best part? In approximately half a mile he turns right into a neighborhood. Yep, you heard it right, folks. All that rage, all that effort to show me he was pissed off, and all that frantic hurrying to turn into a neighborhood just ahead. Look, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was going home to a sick kid. Perhaps he was having a really bad day. Perhaps.

The problem is, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been cussed out before. I’ve been flipped off, thrown a hateful stare. I wish I had a dollar for every horn that’s been honked my way. But I really, really don’t think I’m an overly cautious, extremely slow driver. I’ll tell you a secret… I even go over the speed limit. Quite frequently. All that to say, my receiving of road rage has less to do with my driving behavior than it does with human behavior. We currently live in a country with their hand on the horn, at the ready, to blare angrily at anyone in their path. This doesn’t just apply to driving.

Let’s admit a few things about our society. One, people are in a hurry. All the time, and way too much. They’re rushed, harried, and typically hurried over-proportionally to the need. Gonna be late for work? Try leaving earlier. Since when did we value clocking in on time over being a decent human being?

Secondly, people are angry, man. They are stressed out and short-fused. And nine times out of ten, we’re mad about stuff that doesn’t even matter! Like, what makes a person so angry that someone is not driving fast enough that they feel it necessary to curse and throw demeaning gestures? Why?

What about this? We’re selfish. Seriously, we are. Something happens in our brains lately that says, “my time is more important. This inconveniences me. I need to be first.”

Someone pulls out in front of you. Oops. It was a mistake. But rage overtakes you. “How dare you slow me down! This is so much of a bump in my very important day that I’m going to show you my anger and let you know what a moron I think you are!”

Grace? Never heard of it.

Patience? What’s that?

Kindness? Is that a new, loaded-tea flavor?!

No, sir. We won’t count to ten, much less three. We will lash out, burn with rage, and speed ahead to life’s next red light. All in the name of gaining five seconds in this race of existence. We’ll step on anyone who dares to get in our way, and you better like it!

My seventy-one year old aunt lives here too, and I’ve noticed she goes to her favorite, familiar stores and restaurants, but that’s it. She doesn’t venture out to areas she doesn’t know. Why? She doesn’t feel like getting honked at and cussed out for slowly down to find her turn. Heck, I got honked at one day in a busy section of downtown for slowing down to turn right in a pothole-laden parking lot. I drive a low-riding sedan and didn’t want to harm my vehicle. Yet that didn’t occur to the angry driver behind me. Their concern wasn’t another person’s vehicle; their concern was their time. Even as they got stopped at probably a dozen red lights before reaching their destination.

After my encounter with the man in the pickup last week who flipped me off, I told my husband, “that guy is gonna have a heart attack!”

His face was red, he was so angry, and for what? In this life we stress out over so many things that don’t matter, and we neglect so many things that do. We get mad at a delayed schedule, but we ignore someone in need. We get red, hot raging over our food taking too long at the drive-thru, but we forget to show kindness to the girl at the window who has done nothing wrong. We fret over our own personal inconvenience, and we neglect the act of love. Sure, we love our kids and maybe even our spouse, but what about the stranger who might just need it the most? I know it sounds like sugary sentiment, but it’s true. The very person you’re honking at could be one step away from giving up on life, and your kindness and grace may be the thing that tips them back in the right direction.

Earlier I mentioned my road-rage scenario might sound familiar to you, the reader, and I encouraged you to ask yourself a question. So, which car are you in? Are you the one throwing rage instead of patience? Or will you be the person on this road of life who shows some love and kindness instead? Maybe it’s not to late to change our course.

I Never Wanted the Pony

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“I bet you can’t dive all the way to the bottom and touch the grate,” he dared me.

I was five years old. A toe-headed, deeply tanned, tiny thing, but boy, could I swim. I wasn’t daunted by the Olympic-sized swimming pool sparkling before me.

“But I got my clothes on,” I answered, waiting to see if he’d take back the challenge.

“If you do it, I’ll buy you a pony,” he replied with a smirk.

And that was all it took. Like a bullet from a gun, I shot quickly into the water, sans swimsuit or not, pointed finger first to touch the drain at the bottom of the pool. Spoiler alert. I reached my goal easily, and broke through the surface of the water, just as quickly, sucking in air hungrily. Almost as hungrily as I ached for his response.

Here’s the thing about five year old me. I really wanted a pony. I asked if I could get one, more than once, not understanding the obstacles that stood in the way of my cowgirl princess dreams, such as living in an apartment, or being dirt poor. I just wanted one, and my father had agreed I could get one. Several times. The poolside promise wasn’t a new thing.

Here’s the next thing. I knew I wasn’t getting a pony. I may had only recently learned to tie my shoelaces, but I understood a thing or two about human behavior. The promise of a pony was like wishing upon a star. It worked in Disney cartoons, but not for little girls who changed schools a billion times a year, chasing dad across the country while he sowed his oats. I didn’t even want the pony. Not at that moment.

I was proud of myself, though. I tried to reel it in, but I couldn’t help it. Sure, touching the bottom of the deep end was nothing new for me, but it was for him. And mom knew I could do it, but he didn’t know. He’d been gone when I learned. Where did he go anyway? With just a backpack and the contents of our bank account, for months at a time?

Yessiree, I was proud. I was cheesing, big time, and I waited for his response with anticipation. Wouldn’t he be so proud?!

All I can remember is the chuckle. A half laugh, half “well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed at the sport of a smiling girl, and then he turned and walked away, probably afraid I’d get his smoldering, filterless Camel wet. I guess I remember something else. I remember my heart breaking. It didn’t ache for a pretty pony to keep in the nonexistent backyard, though. It ached for affection. I wanted him to be proud of me.

I can look back on the muddled years of my past, and I can see that same longing. Love me! See me! Make me feel worthwhile! I floated through friendships, relationships, and most facets of my life like a little girl kicking like crazy to reach the bottom. If I could just touch the grate, he’d be proud. Maybe he’d even stay around for a while. If I could just be skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough. If I wore the right clothes, the other girls would accept me. If I slept with him on the first date, he’d have to like me. If I agreed to be agreeable, then my husband wouldn’t leave me. So many parts of myself I gave up or gave away, just hoping to finally feel the satisfaction of being worth something to someone. Anything to anybody.

I never got that pony, and I never found what I was looking for in the arms of mankind. Don’t get me wrong; I found love. I currently reside in the most fulfilling and joyous marriage I could fathom, but I had to come to a place in life where I realized my self-worth and personal happiness couldn’t be found in the acceptance, opinion, or affections of this world. As the years went by and I scoured the pages of my Bible, I finally understood my purpose and fullness were found therein. A Savior who called me precious, that was what mattered most. A God who became man, to give His life for me, that was what I had been longing for. An unconditional love that said, ‘you can have all of me, and you don’t have to give me a thing,’ that was what had been missing. I didn’t have to perform, fit into a box, or do anything other than just believe that love was there for me. And when I finally realized His great grace was enough, that His strength was sufficient, and that His love never failed, I stopped kicking. I stopped striving to reach the bottom, to obtain the love of the world, or to fill my cup with empty promises. Because, I never needed the promise of a pony. I only needed perfect love.

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.

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.

Is It Just Being a Woman, Or What?!

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Today I feel great. More than great, actually. I’ve smiled enough today that the corners of my mouth are sore, but I’m definitely not complaining. It’s nice to come out the other side of a dry spell. I guess that’s what I’ll call it. I’m talking about that barren place of your emotions where you feel empty, where you feel as if you resemble the desert floor when it hasn’t rained in a long time. Dry, open, weeping, even without tears. You’re even too empty to cry.

Last week I experienced a span of days where I awoke feeling downtrodden. In the mornings I would even awake with my heart racing, trying to remember the dreams that had kept my subconscious spinning, the ones that must have had some purpose if they left me feeling so anxious and coming apart. Through the day I would worry on simple issues, the nonexistent problems that I somehow tried to make matter more. I would imagine trouble when it shouldn’t even be a thought, and I guess what bothers me the most about that is it’s the total opposite of who God has created me to be.

One of my down days I actually sat by the pool with a book, my adoring husband beside me, and my darling children playing before me. My life was surreal, spectacular, amazing. So I couldn’t for the life of me understand why I felt so bothered. As I prayed for an answer I felt one come.

This is how I am answering your prayers.

Over the past year especially I had asked God for more of Himself. I wanted to draw closer in my walk with the Lord. I wanted to be used by Him. I wanted Him to rid me of everything that wasn’t in line with that. So it occurred to me that Him allowing me to feel the temporary, intermittent emotions of anxiety was for sure a way to increase my dependence on Him. It wasn’t that I felt He caused these feelings. No. They definitely were not of God or what He intended for my life. Instead they were the side effects of a sinful, fallen world. So while He had all authority and power to break the chains of anxiety and rid me of the spirit of depression, I also saw how allowing these things to touch me drew me into closer dependence and trust on Him. His power was indeed made perfect in my weakness.

Last week I felt like I was running on empty. I wonder sometimes if it’s just being a woman. Or maybe it’s being a working mom. But other times I realize it’s just part of the human condition. Throughout my brief episode of unhappiness I did persist in joy. Did I feel joyful?! No, not really, but under the surface of my visceral emotions flowed a steady stream of certainty. It was the joy of knowing the Lord held me, even if I couldn’t feel it. It was the river of the Holy Spirit, my faith in Him. So many times when I felt hopeless in my emotions I would simply repeat the same phrases to Jesus.

I trust you.

I love you.

Help me.

Slowly I climbed out of the pit, and I am certain the rope thrown to me was divinely woven in patient love. Though I couldn’t see the way out I never let go of that rope, and He never let go of me. I am reminded of the familiar Psalm, Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Thank you, Lord, that my joy is here, it has never left, and it never will.

What We Nurses Must See

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“She’s the one who saved my life today.”

I looked shocked at the older man who matter-of-factly described to his family my job in such a flattering fashion. I had not considered it that way at the time; I had just acted. That’s what I’m supposed to do. But as I left the room later and turned quickly before I started to cry too, just like my patient’s daughter, I realized that yeah, I guess I had saved his life.

I stood at the nurse’s station half an hour later giving report on this man. A man who a couple of hours before had been in respiratory distress, his heart racing at a beat far too fast to last, his eyes bulging with that look of fear and dread someone has when they’re feeling like they might die. He was the man who “had the difficult, demanding family” per the report I’d received at the beginning of my shift. He was the gentleman whose leg I had patted earlier as I told him honestly, “I love you.”

Whenever I heard in shift report that a patient and their family were difficult to please I took it as a challenge. I used to take it with dread, but over the years I’d learned to take it with a grain of salt, or to take it as an opportunity to use my gift. I don’t know if it was my friendly smile or my slow, southern drawl, but for some reason folks just found it difficult to be mad at me. I was what they called “a people person.” I found that strange since I’m a self-declared introvert. I felt uncomfortable talking to acquaintances at a social gathering, but put me in a frightened, sick patient’s room and I flourished.

I had entered his isolation room slowly, announcing my arrival. I had briefly pulled down my mask at the door because I wanted him to see my smile. It was genuine. I had pulled up a stool so I could sit level with his face, and I had grabbed his hand as I spoke. I spent an extra amount of time I didn’t have answering his son’s many questions, and then I had repeated the same answers to his daughter, even though she was present the first time I spoke them. I enjoyed giving people the answers they were seeking.

That afternoon when I had rounded with a specialist I grinned under my mask. It always made me feel good to hear the same reassuring answers I’d spoken before repeated by a colleague. It didn’t bother me that they trusted the words more after they came from a physician’s mouth. Instead I just focused on the fact that I had been given the first opportunity to provide what they needed. It’s like he was reiterating what I had said, and that made me smile. My smile made me remember my prayer that morning in the shower.

I had been so tired. Waking up early, twelve to thirteen hour shifts, and a family to attend to as well. It’s no wonder I was tired, but some days did feel worse than others. Some mornings were more difficult to get going. Some mornings were filled with angst for the upcoming day. Some mornings you just didn’t feel it. You didn’t want to do it. You wanted to crawl back in bed. The thought of others depending so highly on you caused almost a sense of dread. You didn’t even know if you could keep your eyes open on the drive in, much less be held responsible for life and limb.

In the shower I had prayed about my career. “God, if you want me to be able to keep doing this I need you to return my joy for it.”

Ha. When I stood at that man’s bedside, after a day full of decreasing his apprehension and increasing his and his children’s knowledge on his health, and I listened to him describe me so loftily, I felt the joy. I felt the purpose. I felt the calling. I felt the pride, but you know, the pride in a good way. I got to do something really special. It wasn’t just special because it was Nurse’s Week and they were giving us some compression socks for our trouble. It was special because people said I saved their lives, because people cried happy tears over my efforts, because they said thank you for helping them finally understand their dad’s prognosis and listening to their fears. I felt joy that I could be given the power to do that; to lessen anxiety, to give back a heartbeat, or to simply hold the hand of a dying man if no one else was there.

There’s joy in realizing your purpose is higher than yourself. Sometimes you just have to be reminded of that. Nursing is exhausting, often exasperating, and endlessly demanding. But it’s also so much more. It’s the tears of gratitude, it’s the life-saving grace, and it’s the high calling that allows you intimate entry into people’s lives to make a difference they will never forget. He told me that as I left, you know. He said, “I’ll never forget you.”