growth Archives - Gina Brenna Butz

Vulnerability on Display

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 5, 2019
Post category:courage identity

A common response I get after a public speaking engagement is, “I so appreciate your vulnerability when you speak.”

I don’t want to contradict them at the moment, so I don’t, but the truth is, I’m generally not vulnerable when I speak.

I’m transparent.

There’s a big difference.

For a long time, I thought I was being vulnerable by sharing personal stories, particularly stories of things I’ve struggled with, in front of others.

But I generally share in the past tense. Like, “here’s something I used to struggle with” or “let me tell you about a time I failed and how God used it.”

That’s not vulnerability. It’s transparency.

Vulnerability vs Transparency

Here’s the difference:

As my friend Iris puts it well, transparency is putting your junk in a window on display for others to see. Yes, it might be awkward, but you get to choose what they see and what they don’t.

You can choose that which has healed over, or is healing over. You can choose that which no longer evokes shame (if it ever did). What others see is completely within your control.

Vulnerability is inviting people into the back room to see what’s still tender. Back there lie the things that do trigger shame. The wounds that are still open. That which you may fear bringing into the light. Sometimes things you don’t even realize are there.

Transparency is letting people see the scars. Vulnerability is letting people close enough that they might touch the wounds. Click To Tweet

Being transparent is good-we need people to see how we are growing, how we have grown. It invites them to do the same. When God brings us through something difficult and we share it with others, it ministers to them.

Not everyone has earned the right to come into the back room to see what is deepest in us. We aren’t meant to show all that to the world. So no, I’m not particularly vulnerable when I speak, by intention. Vulnerability is meant for safe spaces and safe people.

Choosing Vulnerability and Transparency

But that doesn’t mean we get a pass on sharing vulnerably with others. We’re all called to go beyond transparency with some people, or at least someone. We need God’s wisdom and guidance (and a good bit of courage) to know who our safe people are. And when we figure out who they are, we need to bravely invite them into those back room places.

Chances are, some of the stories that we are transparent about now were once things that felt very vulnerable. Because we shared them with safe people first, they can be brought to a place where we share them with others. Healing has happened. The more we choose vulnerability, the more we are able to be transparent about the wounds that have healed.

There’s a place for transparency. And there’s a place for vulnerability. Not everyone has earned the right to see all of us, but everyone needs to see some of it.

Rest for the Sake of Others

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 13, 2019
Post category:faith growth rest

This spring I began a program of spiritual formation through The Transforming Center. “Formed to the image of Christ for the sake of others” is the phrase guiding this process.

It’s that last phrase, “for the sake of others” that keeps running through my mind.

Who we are and what we do is not in isolation. There is power in how we live to impact those around us.

Take rest, for example. I have always been someone with a high capacity for activity. I’m ambitious. I often bite off more than I can chew.

For the longest time, I was unaware of the impact that pace had on me, to the point of outright denial. It’s like the popular meme I’ve seen lately, something like this:

Me: Why do I keep getting tension headaches?

My body: because you’re doing too much.

Me: And why are my shoulders so tight?

My body: Because you’re doing too much.

Me: I wish I knew why I got these stomach aches.

My body: Please for the love of God, slow down.

Me: I guess we’ll never know . . .

Only in my case, it wasn’t just my body telling me. It was my doctor, my dentist, my chiropractor, my friends, my family.

I used to think I could just tweak some things-plan a little better, delegate more, stay in front of the ball.

But after a while, I realized I was being unkind to myself.

So I started slowing down. Leaving more margin. Talking to the little monsters in me that drive me to perform. Giving them permission to stop. Breathing more deeply. It’s been good.

Yet, at the end of the day, I’m still tempted to push through busy days. One more task checked off. A little more productivity to get me ahead. The resistance to rest is never far off.

For the Sake of Others

Except now, when this phrase keeps resonating in my head, “for the sake of others.” And I realize that while I might be able to power through, I have to ask what it does to those around me.

Am I the person I want to be for them when I am strained to my limits?

What does it communicate to them about how they ought to live?

Does this pace form me to the image of Christ?

I never want others to look at me and think, “I can’t keep up.” I want to live my life at a restful pace and to invite others to it as well. May they never feel under the pile by the pace I set.

One morning recently, I woke up early because my body is physically incapable of sleeping past 6 am at the latest. My first thought was, “Hey, church starts later today. I could work for an hour.” And then in my Facebook memories, I found this quote from my friend Ken Cochrum:

“I feel it when I am not hurried to finish a conversation, a workout, a chapter in the book I’m reading, a phone call, a project I’m working on, or a meal. Hurry in me creates apathy and thinness. Ease creates spaces for authenticity, genuine concern, acute awareness, and ultimately LOVE. Remember, ‘Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.’” (including a quote from Dallas Willard)

Me resting doesn’t just affect me; it changes who I am with others. It makes me someone who walks better with others, it creates space for relationships with them and ultimately leads to love.

This is true of whatever way God desires to form us into the image of Christ.

[ictt-tweet-inline]We are the hands and feet of Jesus to each other, in how we live, work, parent, play, and minister.[/ictt-tweet-inline] How we order our lives not only shapes us, it shapes who we are with others, and in turn, who they become.

I don’t know about you, but this feels like a call to stewardship. We do not live in isolation, therefore we do not grow in isolation. For the sake of others, may we invite God to do more in us.

God’s Long Term Growth Project

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 28, 2019
Post category:faith growth

When I was about 20 years old, I thought, “I feel like God’s done a lot in me. I don’t know that there’s much else He wants to change. I think I’m pretty much done.” Like for REAL, I thought this.

And the Lord, in His mercy, chose not to strike me down.

Decades later (has it really been decades?), I am more than aware that I was not done then, and I’m still far from it now. God continues His work in me.

If you’ve read my blog for a while, you might remember my yellow coffee table. When we first had it custom made overseas, it came to us traffic sign yellow (not what I ordered).

Some might have looked at that table and said, “Good enough.” But I believed under all that eye-blinding yellow, my real coffee table existed.

So I sanded it down.

Better.

Three months later, I sanded it down again.

Still not quite there though.

So, a few months later, I tried again. When my daughter witnessed me doing it, she asked me why. “Because this is what I do now. This is my life. I sand this table for a living.”

Actually, I did it because I had a vision of something greater.

(Truth be told, in the end, I stripped it completely. It’s white now. Sometimes we need a complete overhaul).

The whole process causes me to think about the process of growth in our lives. It’s easy to look at the surface and think, “Yep. Good enough!” But God has a bigger vision for us.

God’s Bigger Vision for Our Growth

That vision involves a lot of stripping and sanding and polishing to get to what is underneath.

He knows our layers, what lies beneath, where the real stuff is. He won’t stop until He is satisfied that we are the way we are meant to be.

It’s a long process. Tiring. Baffling. So often I want say, “Good enough, God. This is good enough. No need to keep working.”

But He does. And what it’s reminding me today is that He is faithful. He will never stop working on us, bringing us closer to Him, molding us in His image.

His ways are higher and bigger and better than what I can see. He sees what lies beneath, the layers of our hearts that even we don’t know. He is determined to reveal every part of us.

God is relentless. He never gives up on us. He doesn’t settle for “good enough” or “close enough.” What He began in us He will complete.

And He is patient. However long it takes, however much it takes, He will fulfill His promises to us and in us. We are his long term project.

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Why I Love Being Middle Aged

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 14, 2017
Post category:faith growth identity

This summer I celebrated my 44th birthday. I’m officially just, “40 something.” I thought this was when I was supposed to have a midlife crisis, or pine for my youth, but as I reflect on it, I actually love being “middle aged.” Here’s why:

I am more comfortable in my own skin.

I’d love to say “completely comfortable” but I’m not quite there. It’s been a journey. I am more able to laugh at my foolishness (and less surprised by it). I’m learning to accept my limits rather than always pushing them. My physical body may not be exactly how I’d like, but I love that it is still healthy and strong.
I can wear what I want.

Sure, I’d like to still stay within the boundaries of looking socially acceptable (or at least not land myself squarely in “completely out of touch”). But more and more I take a look at what passes for “this season’s trends” and think, “Yeah, maybe next year.” Or maybe never. I’m aiming for “classic” these days. No one’s expecting me to be cool anymore, thank the Lord. Wearing what I like instead of what’s expected is awesome.
I have wrinkles.

Now, this is a “by faith” kind of love. Sure, I wish I didn’t have them, but the fact that I do is a reminder that I have lived. They are lines of experience, evidence that I have seen and done much. The sun has shined on my face in a dozen different countries. I have laughed. Hard. Those wrinkles are an accumulation of joy at the blessings I’ve been given.
I have life long relationships.

There’s something about being able to say, “I’ve known this person for decades, and they know me (and still like me).” What a blessing! My husband and I just hit 20 years of marriage. Soon we will have been married longer than we were single. One of my closest friends I have known for over 30 years. The amount of history wrapped up in those kinds of relationships is priceless, and there’s an aspect to it that only comes with a lot of time.
I’m more at peace with the world.

I get less worked up about most things and more passionate about what I feel really matters. There’s more gray in the world that I knew, and that makes it easier to major on the majors rather than every little thing that seems out of sorts. Along the way I’ve realized most of my attempts to control the world are futile (though don’t be surprised if you still catch me trying). What we think is huge is small in comparison to God’s sovereignty.
My mess doesn’t bother me as much.

For so much of my life, I aimed for having it all together. Being messy felt like a one way ticket to being shunned from good society. But some time back, God started teaching me that not only can others love me in my mess, they often love me more when I let them into it. The more I own my depravity, the more I see that God’s grace is greater than anything I lack. He is leading me to rest in my flawed existence and know I am still loved.
I have experienced God’s faithfulness.

None of these things could be true of me apart from the relentless, tender grace and love of God that has pursued me every day of my life. I love that I can look back and trace the lines of His faithfulness to me through countless years, places, and experiences. He has been my most steadfast companion over all the mountains and through all the valleys. The more I live, the more I can attest to the truth of it, and it makes me love Him more. If I’ve learned anything, it is that He is good.

So there you have it-me enjoying my 40s. The best part is, these things I love will only continue, and I have hope that they will get even better with time.

My middle-aged self on a mountain in Colorado

The Sanctifying Work of Motherhood

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 11, 2017
Post category:faith growth parenting

Motherhood has been one of the greatest instruments that God has used to sanctify me.

It makes me vulnerable and helpless. It terrifies me at times. It stretches my heart and mind. It flattens me with the gravity of the responsibility to shape a soul.

My children delight me. They teach me. They make me laugh and cry. They infuriate me.

My children deepen my faith.

Discovering I was pregnant just months before moving overseas was not my plan. But through that God taught me that His assignments for my life are good, His timing is perfect, He knows what He’s doing with me.

Those first months of motherhood, my eyes were opened to how intertwined my value was with what I do and how well I do it. Through the years, God has been using motherhood to slowly pried my fingers from that lie.

In the dark hours of the night, when no one (including my deep sleeping husband) knew that I was awake with our son, God knew. He drew my heart into knowing His character, seeing Him see me.

Trying to fill the endless hours of toddlerhood with meaning, while so much of it was mundane, slowed me down. I found God’s delight in the over and over. He taught me that faithfulness in the small moments is of great value in His eyes.

Homeschooling undid me. It brought me to my knees, to absolute helplessness before Him. It daily asked of me more than I had, while reminding me that He is more than enough for all I lack. It taught me that I am dependent on the manna of His strength and wisdom every day.

Walking our kids through the heartache of transition wrecked me. How do you help someone navigate a heart flooded with emotion when you’re drowning too? God was the anchor I needed to be a life preserver for our kids. For all that was asked of me, He poured in more.

And in the hairy moments when our kids have resisted my mothering, I have learned about the love of God. When I sting with anger and hurt, He reminds me over and over again to stay the course; this is how He loves us. He has taught me to take deep breaths and keep on loving.

When I see my sin and shortcomings mirrored back to me in their behavior, I am humbled. God has used it to keep me honest, telling me again and again that what I need to give them is not a perfect mother, but a confessional one who owns her mess and points them to the One who has redeemed it all.

As they step closer and closer to that door to adulthood and further from my grasp, motherhood has taught me to pray desperate prayers. It has pushed me to trust that God loves them more than I do, and He goes with them when I cannot.

God has used motherhood to reveal my weaknesses, my idols, my self-saving ways. And He has used it to redeem me, to pull me close to Him, to teach me dependence, to give me a greater picture of His love. It has been a holy pathway to Him.

As the Ride Winds Down – Thoughts on the Last Moments of Childhood

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 9, 2016
Post category:parenting

As the Ride Winds Down - Thoughts on the Last Moments of Childhood

This summer I spent a good amount of time with my niece and nephew, who have a combined age of 3 1/2, and I was taken back to those early days.

Days when it felt like time stood still. When I never actually finished a story in a conversation because someone was suddenly tugging on my leg (they were such good stories too). When I was proud that I showered or made dinner. (Who am I kidding? I’m still proud when I make dinner).

Fast forward to me now. The seasons go by like the days used to pass. Now it’s their stories and jokes I love to hear. They’re making dinner (praise Jesus). But I’m realizing that this ride is starting to slow down.

In a few weeks, I will sit in the silence of a house void of children as they head back to school. I know that I will blink and it will be my reality every day.

I no longer have to buy sippy cups or crayons or children’s toothpaste. We don’t go to the library or playgrounds to pass the time. I’m staring down the last years of their childhood. Like a kid who feels the carnival ride is winding down, I want to eke out the last moments of this precious ride.

Enjoying the Last Moments

That’s why, kids, I want you to just come and sit with me in the evenings. No, not even to do anything, but just to be together. I linger for end of the day unexpected questions at bedtime. And I sneak back in after you’re asleep just to look at you (I’m creepy like that. And also because, sweet girl, you say wonderfully nonsensical things when you’re half-awake).

I love that I get to drive you to school. It gives me just a little more time with you. I look forward to seeing you every morning and I thank God that I get you one more day. Those moments when you do still need me are so precious.

I want to go crazy making sure we do all those last “we said we would” activities and vacations. Let’s play games and go for walks together. I will fight for weekly family time, even if all we do is sit around together and wonder what we should do.

This is when I wonder if we’ve taught you everything and how you’ll do without us (I’m sure you’ll be fine – it’s me I’m worried about). I want to tell you everything I think you’ll need to know for all time (I realize you’ll just be graduating though and we will continue to communicate, but just in case).

I question if we’ve loved you well and if you will say you enjoyed the ride too.

It’s slowing down, but it’s not over yet.

I’m sitting alone one night and she comes in to say, “I was turning on my fan and thought, ‘I just want to see my mommy.'” He’s at home alone and decides he’s bored enough to clean the whole house for me. She has a hard day of school and decides the best place is my lap, curled up just like she used to when she was just that little. He starts each day by finding me for a hug.

I’m going to cherish every last second.

Embracing Suffering – Guest post at Thrive Connection

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 26, 2016
Post category:dependence on God grief trials

Suffering in this world—great or small and in one form or another—is inevitable. It is not something like jury duty that you just have to hope will not happen to you. You will not avoid it if you simply “play your cards right” or just “walk in the Spirit.” Nor is it some detour to get through quickly so you can get back to the real work of ministry.

Suffering in the Christian life is essential. It is a tool for transforming us into the kind of people God designed us to be.

Read the rest of this post at Thrive Connection.

I Am Not My Child’s Savior

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 29, 2016
Post category:dependence on God faith growth trials

I Am Not My Child's Savior

I am not my child’s savior.

This thought occurred to me yesterday as I walked around our neighborhood. Pondering the fact that our daughter’s team, playing in a tournament an hour away, was not doing well, left me unsettled.

First game was a bust. Second game they knocked two in the goal in the first ten minutes, but let their lead slip away into a tie game. Those two games meant advancing was impossible, regardless of the outcome of the final game. Our daughter walked away from the second game in tears.

Nothing is more important to her right now than this sport. All her future hopes are wrapped up in this. And while we both know that the hold on her heart is too strong, I remind myself it is not my job to make sure her dream doesn’t die. It’s not my job to make it all better. All my unsettledness was because I could. not. fix it.

Oh, but that’s what I want to do. Take away the pain. Erase the loss and disappointment. We all want that. We want wins, and good grades, and close friends, and safety. Eliminate everything that could hurt our kids.

So I set myself up in the position of savior in her heart.

Why We Try to Save

It’s heady stuff to have a person who thinks you can do anything. We slip into the superman complex because it makes us feel good about ourselves that we can be the rescuer, the savior, the protector.

Maybe if we just stay close enough, say the right words, step in at just the right moments, we can fend off disasters. We believe the lie that we can control their worlds.

It feels right. It feels like love, to protect others from pain. But then I look at God and His word and I remember that the path to maturity always involves suffering. It makes us like Him.

Ultimately, apart from putting way too much pressure on ourselves to be more to them than we can be, saving our kids takes away the opportunity for them to look to the real Savior, to learn to rely on Him and receive from Him what they need in times of struggle.

Why We Shouldn’t Save

Being away from my daughter this weekend was hard, but so good for her. She needs me to get out of the way so that she can learn to lean on the One who is always there, who knows the value of failure, loss, loneliness, and pain to mold a heart into His image, and whose wise hands guide her in ways I never could.

We do our people a disservice when we don’t encourage them to turn to Him in times of fear, hurt, discouragement. Our lives are meant to be lived in dependence on Him. Pain is a pathway to that dependence.

“It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what’s keeping things running right.” Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

All that energy we spend trying to keep others’ lives running right is not what keeping things running right for them. In fact, it might just be what keeps them from Him.

So let’s resign as the controllers, the rescuers, the saviors of our children. Let’s trust the true Savior and teach our children to look to Him in times of trial.

Promises to My Children

Get Quiet Enough to Listen

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 19, 2015
Post category:dependence on God faith peace rest

Years ago, a speaker named Dave shared a story that stuck with me. He and his friend, Pete, worked for a logging company, the details of which are fuzzy to me, but it involved getting logs into a stream. On occasion, for fun, they rode the logs down the stream for a bit. One beautiful lazy day, they lingered on the logs a bit too long and realized they were in rough waters. So rough, in fact, they weren’t confident they could get to shore. Dave asked Pete what he was going to do. Pete, having been a swimmer in college, decided to try for shore. Dave saw that, even with his skill, it was a struggle. He thought, “What am I going to do? I can’t swim that well!” Meanwhile, the water became faster and more turbulent.

Pete ran along shore, encouraging Dave to try to swim. Seeing the danger ahead, Dave made a break for it and paddled as hard as he could for shore. Despite swimming frantically, he got nowhere. Pete ran alongside, shouting at him, though the words were lost in the sounds of frenetic splashing and raging water.

Finally, Dave decided to give up. He could see the rapids ahead. He was a goner. Why fight it? So he went limp. At that moment, he finally heard Pete’s voice. Pete was shouting, “Stand up, Dave! Stand up!”

So Dave stood up and walked to shore.

Whenever I recall this story, I see myself. I see how I frantically try to work to get life in order, to get to solid ground, when all the while it is right there underneath me, if I would only rest in it. God, for some reason, chooses to speak to us in what Elijah experienced as the “gentle whisper.” We can’t hear it when we are scrambling on our own.

This past month, everywhere I look I am reminded that I am someone who tries to overcome the uncertainties of life by grabbing them by the horns and wrestling them to the ground with all my strength. I fight to keep control over situations that are so beyond me, (the spiritual lives of our children, for example) as though if I just try harder I can conquer them. The result is a tense, overworked, overwhelmed soul who fails at being God.

It’s time I went limp.

Anne Lamott says it well, “It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend keeping things running right is not what keeps things running right.”

God calls us to resign as God, because we are not good at it. He calls us to let go of our frantic ways and trust. Trust that He is our solid rock, our peace, our salvation, our guide. He will keep things running right. We just need to get quiet enough to hear Him.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.” Isaiah 30:15

Hopes for My Daughter On Turning 13

Post author:Gina B
Post published:April 15, 2015
Post category:growth hope parenting

Hopes for My Daughter On Turning 13

Ok, you finally made it. 13. I have to confess, it’s felt like you’re a teenager for awhile now. You have your emotional ups and downs, and you’re mature beyond your years. That’s my polite way of saying sometimes, girl, you’re a handful. But, I am quick to remind myself that you are far from the terror I was at 13. I wish that on no one.

But whatever handful you are, it’s what you are supposed to be. This is a tough time, and I’m going to tell you that it’s going to get rockier before it gets better. Being a teenager is turbulent. I remember.

I hope it goes well for you. I hope so much. I hope that you navigate these years with confidence, not in yourself, but in who God has made you to be. You are beautifully and wonderfully made. I know you doubt that sometimes, when you look at the widow’s peak you wish I hadn’t given you, or your drive for perfection that frustrates you. But trust me – it’s ALL good. I hope you never let someone else’s words or looks cause you to doubt that truth.

I hope, as you grow and mature, you never lose your childlikeness. It’s different than being childish. Childlike means you stay open, humble, willing to learn, ok with the fact that you’re not there yet, willing to let others help you in your weak places. Jesus
said the kingdom belongs to those people.

I hope, as you grow, that you are gentle with yourself. You’re going to make mistakes. You won’t know what you’re doing. You will have ups and downs and disappointments and regrets, but it’s all part of the process. This is how we learn, so I hope you can smile at the fumbles and say, “Now I know!” and move on with compassion and grace.

I hope you value yourself in relationships. I hope you continue to choose to spend time with people who build you up, who love you as you are, and with whom you can stand your ground. I hope you always believe that you are worth pursuing. I hope you never think you have to change to make yourself likable or attractive to anyone.

I hope you know how normal all this is. I know some days you’ll feel like you could conquer the world, and other days you’ll be shaking in your boots. Sometimes you’ll think I’m the smartest, best mom ever, and other days you’ll think I’m a idiot. Your
emotions will run wild at times and cause you to think and do things that surprise you. I hope you take it all in stride. (I hope I do too!)

I hope you keep following your dreams. They are good dreams. I hope they become clearer and more tangible, but at the same time, I hope they never take the place of God in your heart. I hope you can hold them open to Him and trust that He will do with them what is best for you.

I hope you cling to Jesus. If there is anything I hope for you, it is this. I hope that as you grow, you see more and more how desperately you need Him, and how He is more than sufficient for everything you need. I hope you love Him with everything you have. I hope you taste and see that He is so very good. I hope this relationship guides you and brings you joy.

I hope in Him for you, kiddo. He has great plans for you. Welcome to 13.

Vulnerability on Display

Vulnerability vs Transparency

Choosing Vulnerability and Transparency

Related posts:

Rest for the Sake of Others

For the Sake of Others

God’s Long Term Growth Project

God’s Bigger Vision for Our Growth

Why I Love Being Middle Aged

I am more comfortable in my own skin.

I can wear what I want.

I have wrinkles.

I have life long relationships.

I’m more at peace with the world.

My mess doesn’t bother me as much.

I have experienced God’s faithfulness.

The Sanctifying Work of Motherhood

As the Ride Winds Down – Thoughts on the Last Moments of Childhood

Enjoying the Last Moments

It’s slowing down, but it’s not over yet.

Related posts:

Embracing Suffering – Guest post at Thrive Connection

I Am Not My Child’s Savior

Why We Try to Save

Why We Shouldn’t Save

Get Quiet Enough to Listen

Hopes for My Daughter On Turning 13