Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

Wrecking Grace

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

I recently shared this image on social media.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christianity’s Only Hope for the Presidential Election

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew 13:13 This is why I speak to them in parables: “Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand. 14 In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah: “ ‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. 15 For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y’all! We’ve missed the shadow part!

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

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

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

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

The Unexpected Peace I Found in Pain

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

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

“What’s wrong with me?!” I wondered.

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

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

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

“What did I do wrong?!” I cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#relationshipgoals

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The awesomeness of God is all-encompassing, and one of the billion things I love about serving the Great I Am is the ability to see my relationship with Him in multiple ways. I remember as a young woman, new to the faith, I found great comfort in the Father Heart aspect of God. As a product of past rejection from an earthly father, it gave me peace to have a Heavenly Dad who would never leave me. Since then I’ve learned to dive deeper into the multifaceted faces of the Lord, and I’ve found lasting relationship in my explorations. At times, He is my groom, the lover of my soul. Other times, a brother, a friend. I’ve even found peace with verses describing the Lord like a nursing mother, even though modern religion would raise us to see God as male only. The thing is, God is so much more. My Savior is everything. But this morning the Holy Spirit spoke a new description to my heart, and I found it so wonderful that I wanted to share.

This morning I was listening to worship music, meditating on the words and my relationship with the Lord, when I felt the Holy Spirit impress these words to my heart.

I’m courting you. It’s like a long distance relationship.

I’ll admit that made me chuckle at first. I mean, if ever there was a relationship I stunk at, it was a long distance one, but as I thought on it more, the comparison made perfect sense. After all, I couldn’t see Jesus, but I knew I loved Him. In fact, the love was so deep and powerful, it often times made me weep with joy. No one had ever made me feel that way.

My past experience with a long distance relationship as a woman in my early twenties had not gone well. He was a great guy, but the distance didn’t make my heart grow fonder; it only made it grow lonely. I mentioned that early rejection previously, and I’m sure that had a lot to do with my need for affection. I felt as if I needed almost constant reassurance and proof of love. I needed to hear the words, and I needed the physical touch. With a thousand miles separating me and this particular fella, it didn’t bode well. I found proximal affection in someone within my zip code, and because of my unfaithfulness, the distant relationship fell apart.

The thing is, something wild happened when I entered a relationship with Jesus. It wasn’t immediate, but more aptly developed over time. It seemed that the more time I spent with the Lord in prayer and reading His love letters to me in scripture, the less I needed that aforementioned affirmation. I knew Jesus loved me. I knew it deep down in my soul. I didn’t need a physical hand holding mine because His Holy Spirit was with me always, and in the lonely times when I couldn’t feel His presence, all I had to do was revisit those love letters in the Bible. They reminded me of His unending affections.

As a young woman I had problems with my self esteem, but once I began a relationship with Christ I knew my worth in Him. I knew in my heart that He adored me, that I was precious to Him, and that despite what I may mess up, He loved me unconditionally.

When you look at your life on earth from a kingdom perspective, knowing that this life is but a breath, and eternity in Heaven is the ultimate goal, you can wonder what your purpose is in this short spell on earth. This morning the Lord reminded me that a main purpose is to develop my relationship with Him. It’s like a long distance courtship, in that I cannot look into the face of my Savior just yet, but it’s a wonderful experience falling deeper in love with Him before the wedding. One day the church will stand before the bridegroom, but we won’t stand at the altar as strangers in some arranged marriage. We will be in the presence of the one we have grown to love deeply. I can remember standing at the altar with my husband. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him; I was so enamored and full of happiness! Can you imagine the joy we will feel on our eternal wedding day?!

In my life on earth I am courting for the greatest relationship of all times. As I make my way through a fallen world full of sin and hardship, I am drawn into the strong arms of Jesus. He comforts me in my trouble. In earthly wedding vows they say things about promising to stick it out through good times and bad times, but many marriages will end in divorce because the couple can’t make it through the bad times together. In our relationship with the Lord we are afforded the bad news first, so to speak. We learn to love Him through the brokenness of this world, and in that we begin to understand all that He can be for us. We spend an average of 72 years learning how to love deeply and unconditionally, through richer or poorer, through sickness and health, and then we are given the ultimate wedding gift and feast as our reward. An eternity with the One who never left our side through it all. In that sense, it’s the furthest thing from long distance there is.

As for now, although I cannot stand before Him, I love Him. Although I can’t see His face, I feel His heart for me. Even though we exist on different realms, so to speak, He never leaves me or forsakes me. My goal in (this) life is to love Him deeper, and to raise my children the same. To show the world the light of His love, and to prepare for the wedding that I know is one day coming.

Raising a Challenging Child

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I sat in the bed watching some late night television, and as my middle daughter entered the room, I knew immediately something was wrong. She was a waif of a child, a tiny wisp, and somehow the slenderness of her face made her expressions all the more animated. A grimace crinkled her countenance, slowly becoming a mask of wailing, and I knew she was about to crumple into emotional tears.

“I’m stupid,” she howled!!

And my heart fell out. It literally came out of my body and dropped onto the floor. It had to of, but then it must have hopped back in, cause I could feel the ache of it all through my chest. I rushed to her.

I’m not normally one to jump up and rush to a crying child. I’m not trying to sound callous. Just being honest about parenting multiple, miniature, drama queens. I mean, it was no thing to hear a scream like a limb had been severed, only to discover the cause was something akin to a broken crayon. But this was different. My sweet, sensitive star was proclaiming insults over herself, but it was more than that. At her tone I had felt a sense of defeat in her voice, as if she was finally admitting to herself the negative connotations floating around out there.

As I reached her side she was confessing, “I spilled my drink! Again!”

A chocolate, protein drink (provided by me to help add a few ounces, at least, to her spindly frame) sat overturned in a puddle of sticky brown, soaking into the carpet, and streaked across the pages of her favorite, Bible story book. She was right about the again part. She had just spilled another of these pricy drinks in the kitchen less than a half hour earlier, but she was wrong about the “stupid” part. So I went about trying to convince her of that, while her dad mopped up thick, chocolate liquid from the hallway. Parenting was hard, man.

I mentioned as much to my husband later. I complimented his gentle handling of the situation, and he expressed my own heart in return, how hearing her ridicule herself had broken our hearts. Had we said things in the past to make her feel this way? Or to make her feel less? Probably. When you sign up for Parenting at the local job fair, no one explains how you can scar a human for life if you aren’t careful. I wasn’t one of these softie-types, who let the kids rule the roost. We believed in discipline, for sure, but we also believed in love. Every child needs both, but some need each piece in different doses.

I could correct my oldest and she’d try to argue with me about it. I could correct the youngest and she blew me off, or wrung out some fake tears of manipulation. The middle one, though. Each word she took to heart. Each word, I had learned over the years, had to be measured carefully. Like I had told my husband that same night, “she’s the child that makes you want to lose your cool the most, but she’s also the child who takes you losing your cool the hardest.”

She was my sensitive soul. She cried with pain when she felt she disappointed anyone. She was accident prone. Yet her tears were usually less about the pain of her mishap, and more about the disappointment she felt over the incident happening at all. Your human brain wanted to scream, “you klutz!” But your mother heart usually scooped in with a “it’s ok, baby. Accidents happen.”

I had learned when she was around three years old that I would need to handle her differently than I had her older sister. I could see it shining in her big, brown eyes. Something different, something spectacular. I had never seen a child so concerned with the feelings of others. I had never seen such a young child surrender her spot in line, her turn to others, or even the last piece of cake. She was a tiny thing, but somehow carried a heart bigger than the ocean. I knew God had created the most wonderful, caring spirit. I realized then that my job would be to cultivate that, and not to dim it. I wondered how many selfless souls had once existed in little bodies, but had suffered the world taking their shine away? I didn’t want to be responsible for that.

And so began the journey of parenting my special sprite. It. Was. Hard. It still is. Sometimes when she cries loudly over something I consider ridiculous I want to scream, “am I in an insane asylum, or something?!” I can’t promise I’ve never uttered those words. All I know is, God has a beautiful plan for this challenging child, and my main goal is to show her more of Jesus, and less of what I think she needs to be. Many times when I pray for her I ask the Lord not to change her, but to help me parent her the best way I can. I ask Him to give me wisdom, to help me lead her to becoming the young woman He has for her to be.

If she was in public school I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way a teacher would suggest medication for ADHD. She’s so hyper sometimes, full of energy and giggles. Sometimes I have to make her stop moving, look into my eyes and focus to hear the instructions I’m giving. I’m grateful we can provide tactile learning in an environment that stimulates her particular style of education. I would hate to see medication change the person she is.

She’s frightened easily. She cannot walk by Halloween decorations or the horror movie section in electronics. If she doesn’t like the “feeling” of a place, she’s ready to go home. If it’s too loud, she doesn’t want any part of it. Yet, in the quietness of our home or vehicle, she’s the loudest kid I know. The shy, timid one among strangers, but the class clown and comedian of family gatherings. I think her giggles could fuel a flight to the moon.

She’s a happy girl. She loves so passionately. She prays for strangers at night. She teaches me how to be compassionate to others, when I am lacking that part of me. She reminds us all how to be better human beings, each and every day. Every time I look at her I am in awe of her beauty, and each night I thank God that I get to be her mommy. I sometimes feel like I fall short in raising her, but I also cannot imagine a better blessing in life. A practice in patience, but also a treasure chest of never-ending joy. That’s the best way I know to describe raising a challenging child. I only pray I can do it well.

Can You Love as Adamantly as You Disagree?

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I guess you’ve noticed my drop in posting lately. I’ve taken a step back from social media and public opinion so I could focus on the Lord and His next steps for our family. Despite whether I’ve been writing the past couple of weeks or not, though, my inbox has kept steady with communication from strangers who have come across my writing. This has always been the case, and for the most part I receive lovely encouragement from others. Sometimes I do not. Lately I’ve gotten more ALL-CAPS angry emails than usual, and it hasn’t surprised me a bit considering the state of our country presently. It’s the main reason I took a social media hiatus, but that doesn’t stop my ‘contact me’ box from remaining open.

This past week I received an email from a stranger who had stumbled across a blog post I wrote back in early June 2020 questioning how Jesus might perceive the phrase Black Lives Matter. I could recall it being a well-received post from the people close to me who knew my heart, but as the article swept across the Nation it received mixed reviews. Or perhaps it’s just the angriest voices that speak the loudest. Regardless, the email I received from a man I did not know in reference to this post started by calling me a “daughter of Satan.”

I could go on with the remainder of the insults therein. I could even post it here with his name, but that would be me retaliating for my offense, and that’s not actually what I’m doing here. I don’t take offense. It only makes me sad. Sad that someone who doesn’t even know me took the time to follow a few links to my webpage, contact form, and pen a rage-filled paragraph for me. I guess you could say I’m getting pretty used to it, though. The night before I was labeled by another stranger a “heretic” and guilty of “leading people astray.” I think I’ve had my salvation questioned more in the past few months than ever in my life. But let’s get to the point, shall we.

Let’s put Facebook posts and blog articles aside. I mean, everyone has opinions, and anyone is free to start their own webpage and proclaim them. But, it’s like my husband has told me numerous times, you’ll never influence people with words you share on the internet as much as you will by the life you lead each day. And this was certainly true. I have come to realize this year that opinions will change as we grow. I mean, when I was looking for the link to the recent article I shared above for BLM, I found another I had written in 2016. It was very different. In fact, I think the gentleman who called me a child of Satan probably would have applauded my previous work, but that is neither here or there. My point is, opinions change, people change. Who you vote for in one election may alter drastically in later years, but it’s not our politics that impact the lives around us for Jesus. It’s how we live each day.

My last day of work at the hospital I’ve been at in Orlando, I sat with the most adorable nursing assistant ever. I love her, and she makes me laugh out loud, literally, with her amazing sense of humor. She’s a great tech, and I enjoyed working with her. As we spoke about my upcoming move I brought up the subject of racial injustice. It was a topic newer to me, but one the Lord had really stoked in my spirit this year. Once I opened up the dialogue, and knowing my heart like she did, she began to release her emotions freely. She cried while she expressed her fears to me for her nineteen year old son. She shared personal stories of his interaction with law enforcement, and she recounted a situation of when he didn’t come home at curfew, and her and her mom got frantic with the worry he had been pulled over and shot. She talked about how happy she was that he loved to play video/computer games because it kept him mostly in his room, where she could be certain he was safe.

I couldn’t understand her feelings here. I mean, I wanted to. I sympathized with her concerns as a mother, but I couldn’t fully empathize with her plight. I didn’t have to. I was the mother of four, white daughters. So what I did instead was listen as she spilled her emotions. Then I told her, “I can’t even begin to imagine how this feels, but I can tell you this. This isn’t right. You should not have to feel this way! I love you, and I stand by you in this fight.”

The thing is, I had been working alongside this woman for two years. She knew I was a Christian. She heard me listen to worship music while I charted, but she also knew I loved Jesus by my actions. She saw it in the way I treated my patients for years, but now, on my last day, I made it apparent to her that I loved her like Jesus would have me to. I saw her, and I held her concerns of value. I loved her just by listening. I loved her by offering my support.

I think that too often in this life we complicate things that are really quite simple. Like the Pharisees in the day of Jesus we focus on things that perhaps we should not. When Jesus and His disciples walked through a field the Pharisees attacked them for picking grain and eating it on the Sabbath. They were hungry, and they took of the bounty God had given. But the religious sect focused on the law (no work, or harvesting grain on Sunday) rather than feeding the need of others. I think that today, instead of choosing to walk with Jesus in that field of wheat, we’re sitting on the sidelines checking the boxes that keep us in the category of Christian according to religion. If we can say we support the right causes, vote the right color, and call out the really big sins, then we’re good. If we can attend services on Sunday we can check the box, but we don’t have to do much beyond that. We can neglect those who need us most. We can keep our Christian friends happy, but forget that it’s the sick who need a physician the most. Those are the words of Jesus, not mine. It was His response when the church leaders of the day ridiculed Him for hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I will be transparent here and tell you that when I got that email I was hurt. What’s the best way to try and cut a lover of Jesus? By questioning their salvation, or their dedication to Him. It seems that this is how fellow believers have disagreed with me lately, by calling into question my Christianity. But do you know who has never questioned it? The lost. I have crossed paths with many people who don’t live a life dedicated to the Lord, but they never question that I do. They learn of my Christianity by the cross I wear around my neck, by the music I listen to, by the scripture I post on social media, or by the words I say. They learn of my dedication to Jesus by the way I live my life each day, by the way I treat others, respond to adversity, and most importantly, by how I love.

I read the Bible a lot. Despite some comments from others telling me I need to read my Bible, I actually do. Like, I read it for hours a day, daily. I love the Word, I crave it, and I find it gives me peace when this world seems crazy. In my study of scripture I’ve never found the parts that state a specific political affiliation is required. I’ve never seen the part where Jesus pinpointed the top three sins of all time. I’ve never found the part that tells us to ridicule those with different opinions, or those who sin differently than ourselves. I do recall something about us all falling short, and I definitely remember a time or two where He instructed us to love others like ourselves. Even to lay down our lives for a brother.

Lay down your life for a friend (John 15:13). I used to think that meant dying physically so someone else could live, much like a civilian hero or soldier on the battlefield. And perhaps it does. But I also think it means metaphorically laying down your life, like, being able to lay down what the world thinks, the reputation of man, the opinion of those besides the Father. It means hanging out with tax collectors even when the Pharisees snub their noses. It means offering healing to those that some might leave bleeding on the side of the road (shout out to the Samaritans). It means standing up for what is right, even if it’s not popular opinion. It means demanding change even as people question something that only God can know. Like your heart motives. To lay down your life means to sacrifice for others, just like Jesus modeled to us. It means to love people you’ve never met, take the punishment for something you didn’t personally do, or humble yourself, even to death, albeit death of your presumptions.

I read an excerpt from Jared Byas, Love Matters More, that said, “Somehow we’ve duped ourselves into thinking that what we believe is more important than how we believe. Perhaps it’s time to remember that love matters more than just believing in God in our heads and that love is a verb.”

I wonder what would happen if we loved as well as we disagree? What if we decided to love others as much as we love our own opinion? What if we laid down offense, laid down our lives, and simply loved instead? Could we admit we have been wrong, admit others have been wrong, or try to be better today than we were yesterday? Maybe we could even throw off the labels we wear. We could decide that it’s not Democrat or Republican, so much as listen and learn. It’s not just liberal or conservative, but kindness and kingdom-thinking. Then we could remember that leading others to Jesus is more important than standing on the right side of a political battle or internet argument. Then we could remember that it’s our fruit of the spirit that will make us known as followers of Him, and certainly not the angry words we throw to a stranger.

Bullying in Christianity

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I found myself writing names on a piece of paper, with the full intention of later ripping it apart. It reminded me of something you’d be taught at a youth Summer camp, which wasn’t all together surprising considering the whole incident made me think of high school. The big difference, though, being that I was a forty-three year old woman, not a sixteen year old girl. Despite the age gap, the similarities were uncanny, and as I reflected on my teenage years, I realized I was again the victim of bullying.

As a girl I had experienced bullying by one of my peers, over a boy on the surface, but underneath due to much more pressing issues. Jealousy, self-esteem problems, and much more pain had led to the bully in school tormenting me. I wondered if pain was the cause of my current day bullying, and I tried to keep that in mind as my own heart was hurting. I remembered how hard it had been back in tenth grade. At the time I felt like the whole school was against me. No one talked to me, no one stood up for me. Just silent faces watching me walk down the hall alone. Oddly enough, that’s how I had felt last week.

As I found myself being attacked by sisters in Christ, I felt like that young woman again, head down, heart broken over supposed friends turning their back on me. I had been the victim of something I didn’t even know existed, until I found myself on the outside of the fray. Before, I had been a main member of the Christian Woman Club, but as my heart sought truth deeper than that of the world, my opinions began to conflict with that of my fellow Conservative friends. Before they had applauded my speeches, but that was when my words mirrored their own. It turns out that if you went off script, Christian women could be like a mafia family.

The key to being part of the Christian clique was to say the right things. You could speak as loudly as you wanted, as long as you spoke to popular opinion. It reminded me of the movie Mean Girls. You had to wear the right color, but it turns out it’s red, not pink, and definitely not blue. Blue was totally out.

As my mind had started to support the causes I felt the Lord leading me to champion, and as my heart of love questioned things that stood in contrast to compassion and kindness, I was met with opposition. Not by my enemies, but by my friends. Yet instead of talking it out, I found myself being shouted at. I was attacked by people I considered friends, and my Christianity questioned by people I had known over twenty years. You were allowed to proclaim yourself as a Christian if your opinions were exactly the same as the majority, but if you spoke anything different, forget about it. You got ousted from the club. So, if I disagreed with the politics, I obviously couldn’t believe in Jesus, and if I spoke love, it was called heresy. You could think, you just couldn’t think differently. You had to be in agreement on what sins specifically were the big, bad ones, and hush up about the seemingly insignificant ones. In other words, you were encouraged to read the Bible, but not so intently that you actually attempted to be like Jesus. That was way too much, and it went in opposition to things like standing up for Christian rights. Because it was good to stand up for the Lord; you just had to ignore the fact that you might have to stand on the backs of the other children of God to do it. Y’all, I don’t think God is proud about this at all. Actually, I think it makes Him sad.

Let’s just say for a moment, for sake of argument, that my ideas were bogus, that I was way off base. Call it backsliding, or whatever you wish. How do you think you should try and talk some sense into me? By attacking me, or by calling into question my salvation? Goodness. Who decided this was the way to go about it?!

After the last year, but especially the past week, I’ve sadly discovered that there’s a large amount of bullying in the Christian community. If you dare to think for yourself, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to your heart, rather than Fox News, be prepared to be called the worst of all dirty words… a liberal. I have seen friends feel led to stand up for injustice, but be silenced by the bullies around them. I have seen friends try to walk in love, but be told they’re wrong for thinking that way. There’s a rhetoric that has to be repeated, and taken in as gospel. Funny thing? When you open your eyes and take a real look, it’s the furthest thing from the gospel there is. The bullies of Christianity are displaying behavior that is the furthest from Jesus there is. How is this furthering the Kingdom?

At the start of this post I mentioned writing down names on a piece of paper. You see, I found myself yesterday feeling down. My heart was broken, and I found myself thinking again and again about the hurt I felt, about the insults hurled against me. I realized that I couldn’t continue in offense, that I had to let the hurt go much like I had purged high school from my memory. I had to remember that I was in this world, but not of it. I had to remember that I wasn’t the names the world gave me, but that I was who my Father knew me to be. My salvation wasn’t based on who I voted for, but rather who I served. I served Jesus, not man. So I tore up the little piece of paper, and I took comfort in knowing that opinions are just as flimsy as that post-it note I threw into the trash.

A Word for the Church

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I saw a battlefield, complete with hundreds upon thousands of warriors battling it out. Like a scene from Braveheart, the mass of tangled bodies violently punched, stabbed, and speared anyone within range of their hastily swung arms. Each soldier wore specific battle garb, like armor, a specific color to designate the side for which they waged their war. As the men tore angrily at one another I realized something peculiar. They were all wearing the same colors. The soldiers fighting one another were on the same side, the same team. Across the field another army watched with glee. They laughed at the scene, understanding they didn’t need to lift a single, physical weapon. The army they wished to conquer was destroying itself.

At that moment the Lord spoke these words to me. “Sometimes it has to become broken before it can be fixed.”

I think you’ll agree that a lot has become broken over the past five months. Broken relationships, broken congregations, broken hearts. There have been broken bank balances, broken trust, and definitely broken systems. I think it’s time to start fixing.

Racism is a horrible sin against mankind, but so is pedophilia. Sadly, we have come to a place in life where we imagine we’re capable of ranking what breaks God’s heart the most, but I am of the opinion that neither of these two compare to the pain He feels over watching His children battle it out. Broken, bloodied, distracted, and confused, fighting the wrong enemy all along. The real enemy isn’t the bigot or the child molester. The real enemy is standing across the battlefield, laughing at the chaos he has created.

I recently felt led by the Holy Spirit to read the book of Haggai. You know, I couldn’t even recall if I had read it before. It’s only two chapters, you must realize, but inside that dynamic duo was a glimpse of today. Somehow, in the midst of the enemy’s confusion, we have become distracted by the walls of our own houses, and we have forgotten that we are required to keep building. In Haggai it was a temple, and today it is much the same. But rather than a physical building, we are needed for the construction of God’s kingdom.

When asked by the disciples how to pray, Jesus spoke some words we have forgotten.

Your kingdom come, your will be done. On earth as it is in heaven.

So many of us Christians long for the kingdom of Heaven, but we forget that His kingdom is being built here on earth, right now. We are the builders, yet we’re separating the materials, finding them “unworthy,” and tossing them aside for the pieces that look just like our own.

I was led to Ephesians 4 last night, and I was reminded by the Lord that the one body has many parts. Some of us will fight for racial equality, and some of us will fight for the children, both unborn and beyond. The thing is, we can fight for all those things. We can believe strongly in one injustice, while also fighting for another. The Lord positions His warriors where they will fight the best, but we have mistakenly taken up arms against one another, leaving the enemy laughing at how he is winning despite never stepping on the battlefield, except in our minds.

The kingdom of Heaven has many rooms, and we must stop trying to be the arrogant innkeeper. We cannot place a sign on the door that says only those with a mask may enter, anymore than we can throw out the ones who refuse to wear one. There is a place for us all, and this place is woven together by the common thread of the enemy we share. He is the prince of this world, but we cannot forget that our Father’s kingdom rules in the end. We need to regather the troops, guys.

The kingdom of Heaven isn’t divided by skin color, anymore than it’s divided by political party. Nowhere in the gospels does it say eternal life is dependent on how you vote, or by who you feel you must stand behind for the White House seat. I think we have forgotten that we can make our battle plans all we want, but that it is God who directs our steps. He will place who He wants as Commander in Chief, and we cannot fight an unnecessary war with one another. I think another thing we forget is that the war isn’t taking place in just one country. It spans the globe. We cannot be distracted by our own small minds or our pride.

I have been convicted, and I think we all could take to our knees in repentance for putting too much of our efforts as warriors of God pointed towards our brothers and sisters, rather than focused on Satan and his demonic army. We must be willing to listen to one another and have real discussions. We must be willing to set down pride, admit wrongdoing, and understand it’s ok to not be right about everything. God doesn’t need soldiers who are rigid against everything, yet fallible to sin in their own life. We cannot stand firm on one principle while simultaneously bending to sin of indifference in our everyday. In other words, we cannot stand against rioting, but not speak out against racism. We cannot hold firm against abortion, yet never open our hearts or pocketbooks to unwanted children outside the womb. We cannot claim homosexuality is a sin, but secretly surf the web for pornography after the family is asleep. We cannot ask people to follow us and our God of love if the words we speak don’t convey love. Gosh, we have a lot to learn, but thankfully God is willing to keep working on us. What we must do in the meantime is recognize the real enemy we fight, and stop wreaking havoc against anyone the Lord has placed in a different position than our own.

I started this post with a vision of a terrible battle, but I wasn’t finished telling you what I saw. After the initial impression of battling brothers, I realized that little by little, one by one, recognition dawned. On the faces of the soldiers you could see their eyes opening to truth, their hearts turning towards reconciliation, and their efforts combining to finally fight together. As their hearts turned towards one another the army was awarded by a power it couldn’t have fathomed before. Charged with the strength of unity they were finally open to the potential of God’s power. Like a sonic boom or a shock wave from some sort of blast, an explosion occurred within the spirits of the saints, and the pulse of power was visible as it blew outwards toward the camp of the enemy across the way.

What does all this mean? I hope that you see it means we’re in a war. We are in end times. God is positioning His saints, and we have to stop attacking our comrades if their position doesn’t look exactly like our own. We must understand the playbook of the enemy, and that he will use politics, division, and our own pride against us. He will cause us to fight one another, while he sits back laughing and watching the destruction. Y’all, there is a lot wrong with the church as a whole, but we cannot burn it down thinking that will win the real war. There is sin on the battlefield, but we cannot keep throwing our own soldiers out of our camp. We have to find that common ground, that unifying thread that is Jesus, and we must bind it around our hearts and minds.

The only way I know for us to win the war is together, but it’s not just a simple “getting along” we must do. Each heart must seek Christ, fully and first. We have to seek it before political agendas. We must seek it before injustice and personal hurt. We must seek it before platforms and specific causes. We must seek Him, and in doing so allow the Holy Spirit to speak the truth of each and every matter. Each and every one! If we focus on what we feel He is saying on one subject, we’re going to miss the big picture. We’re going to throw out the good building materials with the garbage, and this is only delaying the construction of His kingdom here on earth. You say that you long for Heaven! Well, understand that now, here on earth, that is where we must gather the pieces. Here, on earth, is where we bring together the sons and daughters to fill all the many rooms. We aren’t building a mansion so it can be empty. We are building a forever home, where I believe I recall scripture saying that the Lord is not willing for anyone to perish, but desires to give everyone a room, that He desires all to have everlasting life. That’s gonna be a big place, so let’s start building now.

Some people don’t want to share their Father’s home. They think that some don’t deserve to be there like them. But I reckon those are the ones who might end up being told to depart, that He never knew them. I hope not. I hope we can come together before it’s too late, and that we can come together against the real enemy. Once we do that, we can get busy building, rather than being busy fighting. Like I said, the kingdom is going to be epic, and I for one am willing to put in the work now. Will you join me in the building?

Are We Nineveh?

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Are we Nineveh? This is the question that popped into my head this morning as I sat quietly before the Lord sipping my coffee. I opened my Bible to the book of Jonah, and as suspected I felt the Holy Spirit reveal many answers to the question that had been poised in my mind. In fact, many more answers than I anticipated.

Everyone remembers the story of Nineveh, Jonah, and of course, the whale. I think during unprecedented times in life, such as we’ve been seeing in 2020, it’s only natural to figure God must be involved. Of course, He’s always involved in our lives, but it’s the things that shake us that cause most people to take notice of His hand. When the going gets tough, knees get to bending, and even I have been saying since early March that I believe God is doing something big in our country right now. This morning I woke from my dreams, unsure what they had been, but very strongly hearing the words “great awakening” echoing through my mind.

If we consider the town of Nineveh we immediately remember its wickedness. I mean, even Jonah says of the place, “those who cling to worthless idols turn from God’s love for them.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, or even a terribly convincing storm at sea to tell us that our country clings to worthless idols. We worship celebrities, trust in stock options and account balances, and spend more time on reality television consumption than soaking in scripture. Of course, we are Nineveh, right?! One look at cable television, the state of marriage and family, or even how many hours of overtime we pull a week instead of quality time spent with those we love will tell the tale. Our country has to be Nineveh! And God has been trying to capture the attention this year of a Nation gone bad.

As I read the book of Jonah, though, I found words that didn’t quite gel with my assumptions. Certain that the Christian Church was the role of Jonah, the messenger sent to set a country afire with the truth of God’s mighty hand of vengeance, I made my way through the familiar tale. Understanding that the whale was God’s Grace for the church that had too long remained silent, and that like how God had rescued the fleeing man in the belly of a fish, He could carry us believers through the storms of this year. We had only to stand firm for truth, justice, and the sovereignty of the Heavenly Father we served. Yes, we could deliver the message of God to an evil Nineveh; I was sure of it. Our country was on the brink of destruction. It wasn’t the first whisper of end times.

But then came the part that upended my assumptions. When Jonah came in hard and fast with his word from the Lord it didn’t go as I would think. The sinning people didn’t throw him out of the gate with a busted nose and bruised ego. They didn’t even laugh. They didn’t come up with reasons why this weird man, smelling strangely of whale innards, must be off his rocker, or perhaps on a secret mission from a crooked government. They didn’t come up with a hundred conspiracy theories for why Jonah would falsify this message, or change the subject to how the fish that brought him in was also carrying illegal citizens in its belly. The people of Nineveh weren’t worried Jonah had an ulterior motive to take their weapons (cause he was from an enemy city, after all), or that being from another region, he simply wished to push his beliefs onto them. No one said, “hey, Jonah. Why are you coming here to us in Nineveh? What about the people of Mosul? They are much more wicked! Don’t the lives of Mosul citizens matter?”

The people of Nineveh did none of those things. Instead they began fasting and putting on sackcloth. They repented for their wrongdoing, and they sought to change their ways so the God of truth would have mercy on them. In fact, their King set the perfect example. He put forth orders for fasting and commanded all his kingdom to serve the One true God, to seek repentance, and to hopefully find favor in His eyes, preventing the fall of their city. I realized at this point there was no way we were Nineveh. The Lord had been trying to get our attention since the beginning of the year. He had sent plenty of messages, in the forms of pandemic and civil unrest, and we had scoffed at them all. We had continued to serve our idols in the forms of politics and personal rights. We had turned from God’s love in favor of fights over flags and fantastic distractions from the enemy in all its YouTube glory. Barely a one put on even a bit of sackcloth at all.

In the end of the book of Jonah we find an abrupt conclusion with a very angry Jonah. The Lord, in His boundless mercy, has given grace to Nineveh. He has decided to not destroy them, and we find Jonah raving mad about it. Here we have Nineveh (a city of sinners) and we have a righteous Jonah. I mean, sure he tried to shirk his duty initially, but being in the belly of a whale for three days has to count for something. Jonah cannot believe that God made him come all the way out here for people nothing like him, and when it’s all over they get the same love Jonah himself does. He’s so beside himself he decides to take a nap, under a tree that God has provided. He likes the tree. But to prove a point the Lord takes it away. Jonah awakens with his anger about the dead tree, but God sets him straight. The end.

I did say abrupt, right? I think it’s because God’s word should be the final one on any matter. At the end we find Jonah mad at other children of God getting more favor than he thinks they deserve, and even angry about something as pointless as a shade tree. But the Lord is quick to remind Jonah what is important at this moment. Loving His people (even the sinners of Nineveh). God’s love is truly boundless. We aren’t left knowing if Jonah got God’s point, and I think that may be where we stand as a country now.

We are Jonah. We’re angry at all the wrong things, forgetting that the grace and love our Father models is what is most important. Our country may indeed be like a Nineveh of sorts, turning towards all kinds of idols and false teachings, but I could only hope and pray that we all could be like Nineveh in our repentance. Yet instead of falling on our knees humbly seeking God’s forgiveness, we are ignoring the messages He is sending. Rather than being a Nineveh with ears to hear, we are a Jonah, quick to run away from God’s will, quick to become angry at little things we consider personal affronts, and quick to judge everyone and everything under God except our own shortcomings.

Are we Nineveh? One can only hope. One can only pray that our king and our people (all our people) will humble themselves before God. Perhaps if we can lay down our perceived anger and take our focus off the vines/shade tree that doesn’t matter in a kingdom (of Heaven) sense, then God will spare our land. One can only hope.

The Second Prodigal Son

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We all love the parable of the Prodigal Son, and if you’re like me you’ve seen yourself mirrored in his runaway actions. We take joy at the Father who loves us, despite our sin, and the gratitude for being lost, but then found brings us joy. Who hasn’t sung the words to Amazing Grace and thanked the Lord for once being lost, but finally being found? We see ourselves in this Lost, Prodigal Son, but we rejoice that we now have eyes to see! But my question today is, do we truly see? Do we really? Or are we as lost as the second, prodigal son?

It’s easy to remember the son who strayed in the story, the one who was seeped in sin, but came back begging for his Father’s forgiveness. What we disregard is the second son, who (in regards to) at the end of the parable we’re left open-ended. Did he see what the Father was trying to impart?

In the familiar parable, if you’ll remember, the Father rejoices over his lost son’s return. He gathers for him a ring, the finest of robes, and prepares a wonderful feast. What we might forget is the second son, the brother of the lost, who in is own actions is just as wayward. As we read this parable we see Jesus introducing us to another prodigal, one who we cannot know if he was ever found.

The second son stands outside the banquet feast, sweltering in his anger. When speaking with his father he admits his rage and envy.

Luke 15: 28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

Upon reading these verses I wondered what Jesus might have been trying to convey, what warning He could offer to us today. I realized that although I had always seen myself as the first son, I had to be careful not to become the second prodigal. The second prodigal was like the church. He was the child who knew his father, and he resided in his home. He wasn’t lost, per se, yet I think he was blind. Even though he lived among his Father, he was blind to his father’s heart. He was blinded by his own pride and selfishness. Do we as believers fall into this trap?

When the lost come to the Father’s house, are we quick to say, “but Dad, look at the way they have sinned against you!”

Do we try and usurp the celebration with our own eyes of judgement? When the Father says love, do we say, “but, Dad?!”

Do we rush out in compassion and open arms like our Father, or do we stand outside arguing why there’s cause for celebration?

Jesus gives us three parables in Luke 15, once again overstating his point, knowing we needed such. He tries to impress the importance of “the one.” The one who is lost, the one who is hurting, the one who needs compassion and a welcoming embrace. Yet, do we, as the second prodigal, get lost on where His heart stands in this matter? Do we instead look at the one as oneself? In other words, do we make everything all about us?

I matter. I didn’t do anything wrong. My sin isn’t as big as his. What about my feelings, my rights, and my opinion on the matter? We miss the Father’s cause for celebration. We miss the Father’s desire to pluck his one son from the pig pen and bring him to the table. We miss our brother is hungry and in rags for clothing. Instead we ask, “what about my goat, or my royal robe?!”

Luke 15: 31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

And that’s the end of it. The final line of the parable. I’m left wondering, did he see his Father’s heart? Did he ever understand why he was just as lost, and just as much of a sinner by begrudging his brother? Will we ever understand the same?

The Father’s heart is pure. He doesn’t say to his son, “how dare you squander my wealth? What makes you think you can come home now?!”

And do you see what he says to the second son?

“All you have is mine.”

As believers, we shouldn’t act as nonbelievers. To think another brother is taking what belongs to us, that is putting a limit on the Father’s infinite riches, and this should not be so. We are lost when we worry our brother is taking what belongs to us. The truth is our Father gives us what we need. We are lost when we point out the sin of our brother. Our Father doesn’t pinpoint ours, but offers forgiveness for all. Remember, Jesus did not come to judge the lost, but to save them. We mustn’t take up the gavel. We are lost when we cannot see the Father’s heart for our brother. The only question is, will we stay lost, fuming outside the banquet, or will we heed the words of our Father and join the celebration?

All our Father has is ours. We shouldn’t fear what might be taken. Our Father’s heart is one of forgiveness, compassion, and love. How can we view our brothers and sisters with anything less?

There was a second Prodigal Son that day, and my hope for humanity would be that he would listen to the voice of his Father, seeing that He gives us all more than enough. The parable leaves us wondering, but my hope is that we the church will write the ending. My hope is that we will join with our brothers and sisters at the Father’s table, not looking at what our brother (who was hurting) has been given, but looking at what we (in our own good gifts) may give back.